#actually have I ever gotten up on my soap box on this blog?

[livinonedge]

Truth be told, I’ve always considered myself a fangirl (hence my original and slightly embarrassing username). But I’ve always shied away from posting my opinions online since I’ve always been slightly afraid of becoming a person who would get in fights over my opinions. But every so often there is an exception, and this is it. Feel free to skip this post if you don’t want to read one of my very few rants.

When I was in my first year of high school, I began to watch anime after avoiding it since it was a “weird” interest. I began with the typical started anime, Sword Art Online and I quickly realized I was missing out on a whole lot of stories because I was afraid of being seen as “weird” at school or to my family. I quickly began to watch more and more anime and I began to develop my tastes in anime that I currently have today. Sometime my late freshman year/ early sophomore year (the summer between if I remember correctly), I found an anime series based off the manga of the same people who created Death Note, which I was, and still am, a huge fan of.

The anime was called Bakuman and even though it had no relevance to me, since it was mostly about creating manga, I still fell in love with it. After I was a sophomore, I decided to buy the manga and read it for myself. I had always been reluctant to buy any manga or anime content since my parents didn’t know about my interests but that all would change.

After I read the series through (and discovered that there was actually an entire arc the anime cut out that I actually really enjoyed!) I realized how much I actually loved this work. I’m very picky about calling something my favorite (since I tend to like a lot of different genres) this manga quickly became my favorite and still is to this day.

Yes, I do recognize that there is some dialogue that personally I am not a fan of, but I’ve always seen that as something that makes the work it's own. It was created back when I was 8 and I read it at age 14. Naturally, there would be societal differences and since I’m not exactly the targeted audience my own views should not line up with the work. But to me, that just improves the story since it dates it. By dating it, it seems more real to me. Like this could have potentially happened starting in 2008 and if not much had changed, could have finished in 2018. To me, that’s the sign of a fantastic work.

However, that’s not why I love this story so much. After all, I have no aspirations to work in the manga/anime industry and even if I wanted to, I cannot draw to save my life. However, to me, the main theme of this work is dreams, for as cliché as that sounds.

When I was in my first few years of high school, I had given up on the one dream I had for as long as I could remember. I wanted to become a writer. However, I learned about the truth of reality too early on. By the time I was in sixth grade, I stopped writing. I realized the dream was basically one-in-a-million and knew that my skills were not up to par. As a result, I believe this is where my fear of rejection began. I was terrified of trying my hardest and failing at what was my dream. As a child, I couldn’t take that. So, I gave up on that dream of mine, even though I wanted nothing in the world but that.

However, years later Bakuman came into my life. When I was watching the anime, hearing the story for the first time, I was so hopeful for the character’s dreams to come true. I knew it was anime, was a work of fiction, so I figured it would work out in the end. But as the ending got closer and that dream had not been accomplished, I began to worry for these characters I had gotten so attached to. But in the end, (SPOILER ALERT) the dream does come true. Even though I knew it was optimistic (which I thought was interesting coming from the creators of Death Note), it was inspiring to me.

My sophomore year, I came to a realization as a result of reading Bakuman. If I have a dream, I cannot give up on it. No matter how impossible it seems, it could come true, so I have to try. I was not able to take the first step that year, but the following year, I was finally able to do it. For the first time in over five years, I allowed someone else other than myself to look at my writing (I am referring to creative writing, I still did write for my classes it’s just my own creative writing is personal to me and feels like a part of myself). I remember how terrified I was because I was scared to death my piece would be rejected and I didn’t know if I could take that, even though I was 17. I also began to let myself dream of what I wanted to major in in college. That was when my mom recommended photojournalism to me based on my love for photography. It eventually turned into journalism after a few months, but I was holding on for the results of my creative writing to decide if I should go forward.

I remember thinking that I had not gotten selected since I was seeing some people get letters from my school about it. I was not as crushed as I thought I would have been, but I still remember that feeling. I was ready to give up my dream that had now become two dreams once and for all. But, as it turned out, I was selected.

I don’t think any of my friends knew I had submitted something so imagine their surprise when in English class I received a copy of the magazine that only those who were in it received. And I heard what others had to say about my work. I remember nearly crying in joy because I was receiving compliments from people I wasn’t even friends with. I remember them telling me how they actually cried over my short story and people shared their interpretation of my work with me. I couldn’t believe that people cried, let alone liked my work. I remember thinking that my goal wasn’t even to make others cry. But once I heard that, I understood. I wrote that short story about my own struggles. I claimed it was about being an introvert, but it was also about my fear of rejection when it came to my writing. I cried when I wrote it because it was so personal and close to my heart. From then on, I submitted another short story the following year and applied to and got accepted at a university for a journalism degree.

When I reread Bakuman for the third time these past few days, I realized all of this. At the time it was happening, I didn’t know that that manga was influencing me so much. I thought it was all me, but the truth is, no human will ever do something because of pure motivation on their end. For as much as I am called a cynic, I truly believe after realizing this part of myself that every action a person takes in their life is determined partially by other’s influences, whether that influence is small or large. For me, Bakuman was a huge influence on how the rest of my life will turn out. After all, it is responsible for pushing me to obtain my dreams in the first place.

As a result, I think this series will always hold a special place in my heart. When I was rereading it, I also was able to connect to the characters differently because I was actively working towards my dream and am beginning to get results. I’m not saying that everyone should connect to this series as much as I have, but I feel like this series does not receive as much respect as it should. Yes, I do admit that it probably will never be considered a classic. I respect that too. But I still feel like people should give it a try, either the manga or the anime (though I personally prefer the manga).

That’s my whole motivation behind this post. I want to give this series a bit more love than it currently gets. It is over ten years old now and even though I believe it to be dated, it still has meaning to me and I want others to be able to find it if they desire. No piece of work will ever be perfect. No book, movie, anime, manga, video game will ever be flawless. Bakuman itself has flaws in my opinion. I consider it slightly sexist at times and there are two jokes involving the LGBTQ+ community (though they are very minor to me, I do understand that some people could find these two comments very offensive). This manga is far from perfect. It was written in 2008 for a boy’s manga magazine after all. The main problems I see in the work are direct results of that. I am by no means excusing it if this was done today, I’d probably be right with the people destroying the series. All I ask if someone reads this series as a result of this post is to keep this in mind. Bakuman is the product of 2008 to 2012 and the anime from 2010 to 2013. Of course, there could be things that people now won’t agree with. That’s the thing with time. As it goes on, we improve and change ourselves.

As for me, I don’t doubt that this series will remain important to me. It helped shaped my teenage years and is still shaping my life as a young adult. It might not remain my favorite manga series for long (honestly I’ve rediscovered and started reading Platinum End by the same authors and I find it really good) it will always hold a place in my heart that is mostly reserved for things I loved in my childhood.

#getting up on that soap box #actually have I ever gotten up on my soap box on this blog? #it's been forever since I've done a personal post #personal #my thoughts #bakuman

[searchingwardrobes]

Not the Type: 1/7

Here it is, my contribution to the @captainswanmoviemarathon​ ! Aka, the Bring it On AU no one asked for. I have a love/hate relationship with this movie. On the one hand, I love it as a rom com. On the other hand, as a sports movie, it’s awful. I was a cheerleader myself, and did a brief stint coaching, so I have some issues with this movie. First of all, where is the coach?!? Can you imagine a male driven sports movie without a coach? Remember the Titans with no coach? Glory Road with no coach? Miracle with no coach? I mean, come on! And do you really think a high school is gonna let their students do stunts that can potentially cause paralysis or death without adult supervision? And while they do portray the cheerleaders as athletes, in my opinion, they still hyper-sexualize them. The girls are also way too catty with each other. I can tell you from personal experience, that you need massive trust to do those stunts. Just sayin. Anyway, this whole soap box is to say that this is a LOOSE adaptation of Bring it On written by someone who loves the sport it portrays. But don’t worry, this modern day Lieutenant Duckling AU will have plenty of fluff, feels, flirty banter, and epic kisses. I would like to say this is the cheerleading version of @welllpthisishappening​ ‘s Blue Line universe, but I don’t pretend to be that brilliant. Laura’s writing did inspire me as I wrote this “sports fic,” however, so massive props to her: the queen of sports writing!

Massive thanks to the mods of the Captain Swan Movie Marathon event as well as all of the other writers. The discord chats have been a blast - especially when you all helped me brainstorm a title for this. Thanks to @hookedonapirate​ for being an awesome beta and to @rumdrum91​ for giving the first chapter a quick once over even while you are insanely busy.

This fic is about . . . 85% complete? It will be updated every Saturday. I’ll shut up now and get to the point . . .

Summary: Emma Swan first notices him in the stands at the Friday night football game. She can tell right away Killian Jones is not the football type. Then again, she's not the cheerleader type either, but here she is with pom poms. Life hasn't ever gone the way Emma planned. Lately, that's actually been a good thing. Maybe Killian Jones is a good thing, too.

Rated: T

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells​​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​ @let-it-raines​​​ @teamhook​​​​ @bethacaciakay​​​​ @xhookswenchx​​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​ @shireness-says​​​​ @stahlop​​​​ @scientificapricot​​​​ @welllpthisishappening​​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​​​ @thislassishooked​​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​ @kday426​​​​ @ekr032-blog-blog​​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​ @nikkiemms​​​ @optomisticgirl​​​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​​ @carpedzem​​​ @ohmakemeahercules​​​​ @branlovestowrite​​​ @superchocovian​​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​​​ @vvbooklady1256​​​ @hollyethecurious​​​​ @winterbaby89​​​​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​​​ @jennjenn615​​​ @snidgetsafan​ @spartanguard​ @itsfabianadocarmo​

Bounce left, bounce right. Two hip shakes. Roger rabbit, Roger Rabbit. Bobby Brown, Bobby Brown. Cabbage patch. Electric slide. Repeat.

Emma repeated the steps to the dance like a mantra in her head. A cheerleader was supposed to smile all the time, but she couldn’t conjure one up as she bounced through the choreography that dated back to 1989. Okay, maybe they threw in the cabbage patch in 1994, but still. This shit was old.

The band sped up as they played through another round of “Louie, Louie,” and the cheerleading squad was racing through the dance like a tape on fast forward. The band thought it was hilarious and never ceased to tire of the schtick.

Emma was doing what felt like her hundredth Roger Rabbit when she caught sight of him. A large book half covered his face, so she could still see his arched brow and smirk. She held his gaze as she went into her Bobby Browns, and he lowered his book, still staring openly, a crooked grin filling his face. Was he mocking her? She stared him down as she did the cabbage patch, and his eyes widened. She tilted her chin as she went into the electric slide, and his tongue swiped his lips.

“Louie, Louie” finally, mercifully, ended. Emma whipped her ponytail as she broke the guy’s stare. She bounced up and down, waving her pom poms and shouting “Go Knights!” Mary Margaret had finally gotten her to stop rolling her eyes.

“Well look at you, Emma Swan,” Ruby said as they all turned to watch the game and cheer the offense.

“What?” Emma stood at attention, just like all the other girls, her poms on her hips.

“Don’t play dumb, Emma,” Ashley quipped on her other side. “We’re better at it than you.”

“That guy,” Ruby explained. “You were having cheer sex with him.”

“Cheer sex? Seriously?”

Emma tossed her poms down to the ground and tightened her ponytail angrily. She hated football season.

🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Emma whirled around to find herself face to face with the guy she was definitely not having cheer sex with. Whatever the hell that was. She rolled her eyes. Mary Margaret couldn’t do anything about it during half time.

“Just because I’m baring my midriff and my skirt barely covers my hips doesn’t give you permission to ogle me.”

His blue eyes widened. Very blue, actually. No! It didn’t matter if his eyes were pretty; he was a creep.

“You misunderstand me, love.”

“Not your love.” Though he did have a hot accent. What? No! Nothing about him was hot.

He sighed. “Look, I couldn’t help watching you. All the other girls had fake smiles, but you . . . “ he shrugged. “You looked like you hated being here as much as I do.”

Emma blinked in surprise, and her gaze darted to the hardback copy of The Two Towers clutched in his hand. She also took in his slightly disheveled hair, slender build, and Pink Floyd t-shirt. Clearly not the football type.

The students in line behind them for the concession stand grumbled for them to move, so they both shuffled forward.

Emma smiled apologetically and extended her hand. “Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones.”

“So, what are doing here, hipster?”

He chuckled and ducked his head. He looked a lot more bashful than he had in the stands.

“Granny insisted I put down my guitar, stop singing depressing songs, and get my ass here to support my foster siblings. Her words exactly.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “You’re Ruby’s new foster brother!”

He leaned closer and winked. “Guilty as charged.”

******************************************************

“Cheer sex, Ruby!” Emma snapped as she returned from the concession stand with her bottle of water and bag of pretzels. She lifted the items up on auto-pilot for Coach Ava’s approval, which she received. The Coach insisted on healthy snacks during games and practice. Some of the girls chafed at the rule, but Emma had no problem with it. The last thing she wanted was someone hurling from the top of a pyramid because they had just wolfed down chili cheese fries or something.

“What?” Ruby asked before taking a bite of the apple in her hand.

“Cheer sex,” Emma repeated, “with your foster brother? Ew!”

Ruby rolled her eyes as she chewed and swallowed. “Let me emphasize the foster part. If you wanna bang Killian, I won’t stop you.”

Emma let out a groan of frustration as several of the other girls giggled. “I’m not banging anyone.”

“Exactly! And why is that, Emma?”

“Leave her alone,” Mary Margaret admonished. “Just banging someone isn’t what she needs.”

Emma appreciated Mary Margaret’s positivity - usually - but she wasn��t in the mood for another speech on true love. “I’d actually prefer a complete change of topic.”

“Good,” the girls jumped at the sound of Coach Ava’s voice behind them, “because you only have five minutes left of half time to finish those snacks. Which is kind of hard to do when you’re yapping.”

“Okay, coach,” the girls grumbled good-naturedly. They all loved Ava, and not just because she was Mary Margaret’s mom. She really cared about all of them and was both tough and fair as a coach. Better even than some of the gymnastics coaches Emma had had. Emma had never planned on being a cheerleader, but Emma was used to things in her life not going according to plan. That was usually for the worst, but lately she had to admit it had been for the better. She hadn’t planned on being adopted by the Nolans, either, and that had been the best thing to ever happen to her. When the social worker brought her to her new foster mother, Ruth, and foster brother, David, she had fully expected it to be nothing more than yet another brief stay. She hadn’t expected to be loved.

She hadn’t expected to love in return.

Emma tossed her empty pretzel bag into the trash can near the stadium stairs. She took another swig of her water, then tossed the bottle into her cheer bag that was monogrammed with her name and a megaphone. It was cheesy and matched the bags of all the other girls.

She hadn’t expected to like this group of girls, either. Hadn’t expected to find a group of athletes, but she did. Yes, since age thirteen, life had been surprising her rather than throwing her curveballs. Maybe thirteen was actually her lucky number. Now she was seventeen and had an actual family in addition to fifteen sisters.

With pom poms.

🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈

Emma crammed her first and second period books into her locker, grabbed the stuff she needed for third, then slammed the door shut. She took off down the hall at almost a sprint. TV and movies were shit in portraying high school. Kids hanging out by their lockers chatting at any and all times of the day. Complete and utter lies. Storybrooke High gave kids five minutes - five minutes! - to get to each class. There were some breaks where she didn’t have time to stop at her locker, but her American History book weighed about three tons and she refused to lug it around all day. She didn’t care if it was completely out of her way. She was chucking that book, damn it, before she threw her back out. Three weeks into the year, and she had it timed down to the second.

She did not have time to be slammed into and knocked to her rear end. “Hey!” she shouted at the jerk who’d plowed into her.

A hand reached down and hauled her to her feet. “Apologies lass.”

She knew that accent before she looked into those blue eyes. She suddenly realized she was still clutching Killian’s hand in hers. She yanked her hand away.

“Yeah, well watch where you’re going next time.”

He grinned in a way that was three-fourths charming and one-fourth roguish. “A pleasure as always, Swan.”

Then the ridiculous boy bowed over her hand and kissed it! She rolled her eyes. He arched his brow.

“Advanced Trigonometry?”

He was offering her a pad of graph paper that had her homework scrawled all over it. She snatched it from him and stuffed it into her bag. It was then she realized the zipper was broken. Great. Just great.

“Why are you so interested in my class schedule?”

He shrugged as he rocked back on his heels. “I’m impressed is all.”

She lifted one shoulder, then dropped it as she attempted to balance her busted backpack in both arms. “My mom insisted on one advanced course this year, and math’s the one subject I don’t suck at.”

He tilted his head. “Intriguing.”

“Why?” she snapped. “Because you assume cheerleaders are moronic sluts?” The bell rang, and she dropped her head back with a groan. “Great! Now you’ve made me late.”

She shouldered past him, and her hackles raised when she heard his low chuckle. He laid a hand on her arm before she could move away and lowered his head to her ear.

“Most guys would find your attitude off-putting, but I love a challenge.”

“Sure you do,” she muttered as she stalked away.

At practice that afternoon, she was informing Ruby that her brother was an absolute pain in the ass.

#cs ff #cs movie marathon #captain swan movie marathon #cs bring it on au #high school au #lieutenant duckling

[shortythescreen]

come over

Warning(s): NSFT/18+, friends with benefits, sex with feelings lol. 

Relationship(s): Octane/Female Reader.  

Author’s Notes: this was my first post on ao3 and i’m trying to actually start using this blog so. here’s the post, lmao! my spanish sucks but i understand everything, hence the ref to a meme in spanish. :) 

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3.

come over?

That’s what lights up your phone screen at damn near three in the morning. You roll over, squinting at the bright screen as you grab it from your bedside table. It’s one of the lamest texts you’ve ever gotten. It’s barely a step up from the even more basic ‘u up?’ and you’re half tempted to leave him on read. Octavio can do better than that.

Yet, you scroll through your compilation of gifs and send him one of a woman rolling her eyes. Sure, it’s disdainful but he now knows that you are, in fact, awake.

About three months ago, you were offered a job by Apex, the corporation running the well renowned Apex Games. The offered pay was astronomical in comparison to what you made at your humble little gig as a thorn in a journalist’s side. Room and lodging would be included in the miniature city built just for Champions and the people who made the games happen.

All you had to do was do what you do best. Take pictures.

Every advertisement, webpage, and piece of merchandise is covered with your pictures of the Legends. Those that you take in the studio given to you and those that you take off the clock. Every picture on your camera belongs to Apex, even with your signature scratched at the bottom of all of them.

Because of this, it had taken a select few Legends time to warm up to you. Others, not so much.

Octavio, better known as Octane, might as well have sat in your lap when you walked in with a camera hanging around your neck.

Though you’re a lot quieter than ‘The Adrenaline Junkie’, you have about as much impulse control as he does. So one night when he’d visited you in your studio a little past business hours, brandishing a bottle of Hennessey Black the size of your head, one thing lead to another and, well.

The events of that night lead to you getting texts from Octavio at damn near three in the fucking morning asking you to come over.

i have a box of wings and a bottle of Smirnoff with ur name on it.

You bite the tip of your tongue. The offer’s tempting.

and other things, if you can keep up. ;)

That, even more so.

Against your better judgment, you text him back with words instead of a gif. You’ll be over in ten minutes.  If he drinks all the liquor before you get there, you’re leaving. You imagine him cackling at his screen because if you know him at all, and you do, he’s probably polished off at least a quarter of the bottle on his own.

Octavio’s apartment is a five minute walk from yours but you gave yourself an extra five to brush your teeth and find your shoes. The penthouse suites offered to all the Legends is right across the street from your simple one bedroom.

When you first moved in, you thought maybe Apex Corp wanted you to take paparazzi sort of shots of their competitors. They’ve never asked you to and you haven’t bothered to try, so you guess they just gave you what was available.

Whatever. You don’t mind living in earshot of some of the deadliest people in the Outlands. Especially now that you’re fucking one of them.

God, you never thought you’d be in this position. Sure, you’re not fucking blind, most of the Legends are attractive. Bangalore has a smirk that drops panties and a voice that’s a little more gravelly than the average woman. Wraith’s got the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen, powers or otherwise, and her skin is flawless. Gibraltar could probably defeat half of his opponents by throwing them.

Even those that you can’t see the faces of have appeal – Bloodhound’s shroud of mystery has gained them quite the following online and what Octavio doesn’t show of his face is made up for by his stupid little crop top.

You just… Didn’t anticipate any of them finding you attractive too. Least of all the speedster with a penchant for picking up bad habits. Like fucking the photographer. You run your hand down your face as you exit your house, locking it behind you before jogging across the street to the penthouse suites.

Even if you had toyed with the possibility of warming one of their beds, you certainly didn’t think you’d wind up in Octavio’s. Maybe Elliot, who’s got a reputation for getting around, or Ajay, who’s could crush you with her thighs. Octavio, whose accent and stupid selfies had caught the attention of many Apex fans, was the last legend you expected to end up making your heart do the jitterbug-

It’s not, you’re not, you vehemently remind yourself as you enter the elevator of the Legends’ suites. Absolutely not. No way. You walk down the hallway to Octavio’s door, reminding yourself over and over again you’re most certainly not catching feelings and whatever dance your heart is doing has something to do with the lack of sleep.

Even though that makes no sense, it’s what you tell yourself, because there’s no fucking way you’re into Octavio like that. Not into someone you’re just hooking up with. Not into someone who’s only interested in hooking up.

You knock once on his door and you barely have a chance to step back before Octavio’s tearing it open. His mask is gone and even though you’ve seen his face a million times by now, you still take a moment to breathe him in. He’s got the prettiest green eyes you’ve ever seen, glassy with alcohol, and you notice that he’s in need of a shave, his cheeks tinted dark by pinpricks of facial hair.

“It’s three am,” you tell him.

“Yet here you are, amiga,” he smirks.

“For the booze,” you reply and he snickers, shoving out a plastic cup you hadn’t noticed he was holding. The stench of Smirnoff envelops you and you sigh, snatching it away and shouldering your way into his apartment.

“What are you doing up, anyway?” You ask, flopping on the couch and taking a large enough gulp of your cup to make your nose burn. You squeeze your eyes briefly closed, letting out a little ‘ahh’ as Octavio’s weight sinks the opposite side of the couch.

“Couldn’t stop watching The Flash. But Barry got kinda boring, so I texted you,” he says and you snort, opening one eye to glance at him. You hadn’t even noticed the title glaring at you from the flat screen only a few feet away, the only light in the apartment aside from the stove.

God, he’s so unfairly pretty. He’s resting his tousled head of green hair, the same green as his eyes, in his hand, propped up on the back of the couch. His PLUS ULTRA tattoo peeks out from the three quarter sleeved shirt he’s wearing and you go for your drink, hoping you can excuse the warmth in your chest as Smirnoff.

“Of course you were. You’re so fuckin’ basic.”

“I’m on brand.”

“You’re at home. Alone.”

“Not anymore.”

You snort, finally beginning to feel that warmth in your chest drip down into your stomach. The easy, fuzziness that comes with being here, with drinking and banter and the promise of something so much sweeter.

“Well, thanks for inviting me,” you say, “now where are those wings?”

As promised, Octavio brings you a takeout box with about thirty wings. With liquor brewing in your stomach, you probably could demolish them, but you’re barely buzzed and still willing to be polite.

It’s the wee hours of the morning, so you’re grateful that each of the Legends have soundproof walls. You and Octavio put on old telenovelas, even though your Spanish is slim to none, and he makes you laugh by describing the scenes to you.

“Oho man, she’s such a bitch. The mother basically just told the son’s lover acompáñame a ver esta triste historia.”

“I don’t speak Spanish, Oc,” you remind him around a mouthful of a wing coated in ranch.

“Remember how the girl’s parents died when she was six?” He asks and you nod your head, vaguely remembering the shitty graphics acting as flashbacks. “The son’s mother heard that and might as well have said ‘that’s cute’.”

You were right to assume Octavio had already had a hefty serving of alcohol before he’d texted you, as he brings out the bottle when your glass gets low, a little less than half of it gone. He’s got a higher alcohol tolerance than you and it’s obvious the more you two delve into the Smirnoff.

He smirks at you when you whine about the wings getting low, polishing off what must be your twelfth. You’ve officially had enough alcohol to stop being polite and Octavio loops an arm around your shoulder. When had he gotten so close to you on the couch?

“There, there,” he murmurs into your hair, “there will be wings tomorrow, mami.”

“But I want them now,” you complain, only to completely forget your train of thought as you bury your nose in the collar of Octavio’s shirt. “Fuck, you smell good. Do you always smell this good?”

“I smell like liquor,” he snickers, kissing the top of your head and you shudder as he slides his fingers through the small hairs at the base of your neck.

“And soap. What soap do you use? I bet you use Old Spice. Old Spice is so basic but it smells so fucking good,” you ramble, tilting your head just enough so that your lips brush against his collarbone.

“Gracias,” he hums, tilting his head back a smidge. You take this as an invitation and begin placing careful, open mouthed kisses up the length of his neck.

Octavio sighs through his nose, arm around your shoulders sliding down your side to pull you half into his lap. Your teeth scrape his pulse and his grip on you tightens.

“You didn’t say yes or no,” you absently mumble as he grabs a handful of your ass. He squeezes before you pull back just enough to meet those pretty green eyes of his, dark with want.

“Yeah, it’s Old Spice,” he says, then leans in to devour your mouth with his.

Octavio kisses like he moves. Quick, eager, his tongue pushes into your mouth and makes you groan. You haphazardly drape one leg over his, twisting so your chest is flush against his. He bites your lower lip and you whimper, half grinding against his prosthetic legs, cool against your heat.

His free hand sneaks down to grab your other ass cheek, pulling you up to straddle him. His lips leave yours with a pop and he bites his lower lip as you shudder against his dick jumping under your hips.

“We haven’t even started yet,” you say, allowing him to slip his hands beneath your shirt, gripping your breasts and rolling the peaks under his thumbs. You sigh, continuing, “how are you so hard?”

“How are you so sexy?” He snarks, releasing your tits in favor of grabbing the hem of your top. He pulls it off eagerly, eyes hot.  

“You too,” you half beg and he obliges, tugging that snug fitting shirt over his head. You hum, hot with liquor, and with lust, and with the look he’s burning into your chest. He leans back into the couch, drinking in your disheveled state before reaching up to cruelly pinch your nipples.

You gasp, trying to lean into the sensation and alleviate the pain. Octavio only pulls harder, biting his lower lip when you’re almost chest to chest.

“Asshole,” you hiss and he grins, giving you a flash of his tongue piercing.

“You like it,” he says as you relent, going still in his lap. Octavio finally releases his almost too tight grip on one nipple in favor of looping an arm around your waist. He’s torturous to the other, squeezing, rolling, tugging. As a reward for the way you buckled, he slurps the free one into his mouth. You moan, his mouth all wet warmth and cool metal. His thumb flickers teasingly across your other pebbled nipple and you arch your back.

“Oc, please,” you pant and he pulls off of you with a pop, cupping the tit he still has a handle on to flick his tongue across it.

“Por favor? Por favor que?” He half laughs only to break off in a needy groan when you grind against him. “Fuck fuck fuck, okay, stand up for a sec.”

You roll yourself along his dick for a moment longer, relishing in the way his hips instinctually jerk against yours. He squirms beneath you, opting to tightly grab your hips.

“Shit, mami,” Octavio pants, sharply thrusting up before trying to push you off. “C’mon, c’mon, you’re wearing too many clothes.”

You finally climb off him and he follows you forward, sharply pulling down your sweats. A long, sticky trail connects you briefly to them and he outright groans at how filthy that is.

“You’re so wet,” he all but whines, fascinatedly rubbing a finger between your lips. Your breath hitches as he pointedly drags his knuckle across your clit, teasing you with the not quite enough touch.

“Shorts off,” you growl, and he hurriedly obeys. His cock springs free as his shorts hit the carpet and your mouth waters. The tip is swollen and pink, leaking with excitement. You’re half tempted to get on your knees, swipe the pre up with your tongue and put him at your mercy.

“Oh, mami, yes, you can do that for me later,” he babbles, making you realize you’d said that aloud. You try to climb back into his lap, only to have him grab you by the shoulders. You yelp as he tosses you onto your back on the opposite side of the couch, maneuvering himself between your thighs.

You two have been doing this long enough to have done away with condoms and you’re so fucking grateful for that as he pushes himself between your lips. Your slick helps him along as he glides the tip against your aching, swollen clit.

“Oc,” you impatiently murmur and he smirks. Octavio is a bastard at the worst times and not even the bedroom is exempt, because he grabs his shaft and taps the leaking tip of his cock against your clit.

“How bad do you want it, hm?” He asks and if you weren’t so overwhelmed, you’d roll your eyes. You settle for propping yourself up on your elbows and thrusting your hips up. His cock catches on your hole and his breath hitches in his throat.

“That bad, huh?” Octavio breathlessly whispers and you glare at him through the fog of your lust.

“Aren’t you supposed to be quick?”

“You want it to be over? Aw, okay, guess I’ll-“

Before he can pull away, you wrap your legs around his waist and yank him against you. Octavio slips, caught off guard, and he catches himself on the arm of the couch, letting out a strangled groan as the tip of his dick breeches your swollen cunt.

“Fuck,” he grits out, suddenly unconcerned with teasing. He drives himself the rest of the way inside and you sigh, relieved to be so wonderfully full.

“I’m trying,” you gleefully counter and he sharply thrusts into you with a laugh that’s half moan.

You reach around, clawing at his lower back as he fucks into you. His elbow lands on the space next to your neck and you find his hand cupping the crown of your head, simply resting there as he fucks you like he’s trying to win a race.

Octavio moans and curses and whines just as much as you do, his green eyes squeezed shut. You rake your nails up the length of his spine and he groans, giving you an especially brutal thrust. Your mouth falls open and he takes the opportunity to sloppily kiss you, tongue pushing past your lips to twist with yours and he doesn’t taste so much like liquor anymore.

You sob into the kiss as he angles his hips down a little, hitting right there. He gets the picture quickly and he aims just so, abusing that place that makes you see stars. His hips snap into yours and you grab his shoulders for purchase. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

It’s him, pulling away from your kiss to watch you with amazed green eyes. It’s him, grabbing your hips and yanking you onto his dick. It’s him, passing a thumb over your clit, making your eyes roll back. It’s him, hissing your name as his hips begin to stutter and shake. It’s him.

“C’mon, mami, c’mon, I won’t last,” he gasps, fondling your clit desperately and your jaw drops at the sensation. “C’mon, baby, need it, need to feel that tight pussy squeeze my dick, you can do it, do it for me, please, baby, please-“

You say his name as your orgasm hits you, shaking legs tightening so harshly around his waist you can feel every tremor of his hips. He fucks you through it, relentlessly rubbing your clit and you whimper, reaching down to try and shove his hand away. It doesn’t seem to stop him and finally with two, three more thrusts, he’s coming.

Octavio buries his face in your neck, saying something so low and garbled that you barely pick up that it was in Spanish. You don’t care to ask what he said just yet, too busy catching your breath as you clutch his back.

“Shit…” He breathes, turning his head to rest his nose against your still racing pulse. Now, though, it’s not just with need, but you don’t tell him that.

“How’s that for keeping up?” You ask and he snickers, slowly pulling out of you. Octavio reaches down, grabbing his shorts and tucking them beneath your hips to catch the spunk dripping out of you.

“I’ll go get a wash cloth,” he says as you paw at the coffee table for the TV remote. You groan at the time it shows you.

“It’s almost seven, you ass! I have to be to work in two hours!”

“Guess I kept you up all night. At least you weren’t bored.”

“I hate you,” you groan, scrubbing your hands over your eyes. Octavio snickers, making his way towards the bathroom.

“Oh, hey, wait,” you say, propping your head up. He stops short, meeting your gaze. “What did you say? I was kinda preoccupied and didn’t hear.”

“Kinda? You wound me,” Octavio says, placing a hand over his heart. You unceremoniously flip him off. “You think I remember what I said while I was nutting, chica?!”

Octavio grins roguishly. You roll your eyes, throwing one of the couch cushions at him. It doesn’t get anywhere close to hitting him and Octavio snickers, bending down to toss it back onto the couch. “Who knows?”

Octavio turns back to the bathroom and his playful expression slackens. His brow scrunches up as he flicks the light on, closing the restroom door behind him and staring disbelievingly into the mirror.

Te amo, he’d gasped into your neck when he was overwhelmed with the smell of you, the feeling of you, the taste of you.

#nsft #apex legends #apex lemons #octane #octavio silva #apex legends imagine #octane x reader #octane/reader #lemon #shorty writes #apex octane #apex legends octane #female reader

[haro-whumps]

Box Boy Bedtime

(CW: slavery, dehumanization, videotaping, implied noncon, creepy + intimate whumper, creepy comfort, brainwashing)

Tag list:  @thatsthewhump @whump-it @ashintheairlikesnow @fairybean101 @finder-of-rings @comfortforthepain @shameless-whumper @that-one-thespian @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog

Part 1

*click* *click*

“Position six,” Ren ordered blithely, and Soren stretched his hands out in front of him, close together so Ren could tie or handcuff if they wanted. They lifted their fancy camera again and took two more pictures, one frontal view, one profile.

*click* *click*

“Position seven.” Soren stood straight and crossed his arms behind his back. Ren was photographing each position to spruce up the guidebook. Sure, the infographics were useful, but why would they want to look at pictures of stick figures when they could have their sweet Soren acting them all out? 

On and on the camera clicked. Soren, for the most part, seemed calm. Like when he would make beadcraft keychains and get really into it, practiced and second-nature and thoughtless.

“Position seventeen,” Ren ordered, and blinked with surprise when Soren walked away from them, to a nearby wall where he placed his palms and forehead against it with his legs spread and ass out. Ren laughed, but took the picture, and then rounded to the side. Pretty Soren glanced up at them, and when they smiled at him he smiled back, bashful and pleased. Ren really hoped that they caught that on camera. 

At the end of it all, Ren clicked through the photos on the tiny display screen, making sure that they didn’t need to retake any, and gave Soren a quick kiss on the cheek when they were satisfied.

“We’ll need to do this again when your hair’s all grown out,” they mentioned off-handedly, “But I think these will make great placeholders for the booklet until then, yeah?”

“Mhm,” Soren hummed with a nod, leaning in close to them and glancing at the camera display, seeing himself keeling pretty.

Ren lifted the camera again and adjusted the focus, close range now. 

“Exalted?” Soren asked, confused, and Ren pulled their eye away from the lens a quick moment.

“Just for fun, because you’re pretty,” they said brightly, and brought the camera back up just in time to see Soren blush and duck his head, a lock of hair falling over his bashful smile.

*click*

“Such a pretty little angel,” Ren murmured, smiling fondly down at the photograph. “I’m going to go print these out, m’kay? I bet you’re tired.”

Soren glanced up hopefully. “It, has been a long day, for me, Exalted.”

“Oh, I bet it has,” Ren cooed, reaching out to brush that stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Go ahead and take a bath, sweet honey babe. I got you some nice products that’ll help your pretty hair grow out faster, and soap that’s good for delicate skin. And you’re so fragile, aren’t you my little bird?”

“Yes, Exalted,” Soren sighed happily, leaning into their palm. “Thank you.”

They kissed him again, then gave him a nice sharp pat on the cheek. “Go on, then. I’ll check in when I’m done printing these out, and then we’ll get you nice and comfy in your bed.”

He smiled at them so gratefully, warm and soft with a genuine affection, and that delighted want-have-want-have fluttered inside Ren’s chest again. They had to put in genuine effort to leave the room, leave their precious Soren even for a moment, but they really did want to bedazzle the handbook with photos of their precious angel, so it had to be done.

Besides, they thought with a private chuckle, it wasn’t like they’d really left Soren. They jiggled their computer mouse and tapped twice on their tablet, pulling up the video feeds while the computer woke up. They’d tested all the cameras well before Soren had arrived, waving to themself and watching their own waving on the tablet screen. They could access the video feeds on their tablet, computer, phone, and work computer, so even if something broke or ran out of power they would always have plenty of alternatives. They hooked up the fancy camera and started the download, examining their pet.

Soren was naked, and while that wasn’t anything particularly special, knowing that they were seeing him naked while he didn’t know that sent a thrill up their spine. He was examining the adjacent bathroom, also redecorated before his arrival, seeming to have trouble taking it in. The tub was massive, with water jets in the side and all sorts of soaps and bubbles lining the inner rim, easily large enough to lie down completely submerged within. Nothing but the prettiest of bird baths for their little angel. The shower curtain looked like an honest tapestry, and the mat was cloud-like in shape, texture, and appearance. 

He applied the hair products liberally, thank goodness, they would hate to have to correct their precious Soren so early in, and seemed to enjoy the soak, afterwards. It even looked like he started dozing, a little, which made Ren giggle delightedly when they realized. Oh he must be very tired. They idly pasted the photographs into the booklet while he bathed, and when he pulled the plug of the tub they got up and headed back over.

They’d timed it just a tiny bit too early, winding up in Soren’s room before he emerged, pink from the heat and in a towel, but they smiled and acted like they just arrived.

“Oh, you’re out? Perfect, Soren. Come here,” they said, hands outstretched, and he rushed to them, rushed to the safety and warmth and comfort they offered so freely. “Let’s get you dressed and to bed. It’s been a long first day, huh baby?”

“Yes, Exalted,” he murmured into their shirt, fingers pressing ever so gently into their back where he clung to them. 

“Here, I put your pajamas in this drawer,” they said, showing him, pulling it open by the gold-painted handle and taking out a soft and fluttering nightgown. Soren, once again, ran his hands over the fabric eagerly, stunned by how soft it was, and put it on before tugging at the bottom of it with a sudden spike in anxiety.

“Um, Exalted?”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“Do I, get to wear, maybe underwear, or pants, with this?”

Ren laughed, squishing his freckled cheeks. “Of course not you silly goose!”

“Y-yes, Exalted,” he muttered though his smushed face, making it come out more “yef evahded.”

“Alright, into bed with you, angel,” Ren ordered cheerfully, stroking their hands up over his face, then down his pretty hair, shoulders, arms, and finally taking him by the wrist, guiding him to the golden canopy. They pulled at the cloth, opening it a little wider, and Soren climbed in, fumbling a little when the mattress and thick comforter dipped more than he had expected them to. Ren laughed at him, giving a playful swat to his rump as he crawled past.

“Now, gimme goodnight kiss,” Ren said sweetly, crawling in after him, on top of him, caging him in with their limbs. They dropped their weight onto him again, their hips forcing his legs open and apart, and he began to tremble ever so sweetly as they kissed him. They took their time with it, deep and heavy, hands sliding beneath his light body wrapped only in the thin nightgown, feeling the planes of his shoulder blades and the divot at the small of his back. Soren wrapped his arms around them too, one hand in their hair and the other clinging around their neck, and he pressed up against them, into their touch. Needy, needy, needing them, needing them so badly. 

It was with great satisfaction that they pulled away, feeling his body follow, feeling the way he held on just a second too long before realizing he had to let go, seeing him staring up at them with wide-blown pupils and parted lips, wet with spit. It was with great satisfaction that they had riled him up all sweet and supple and wanting, and would now be leaving him without granting him any satisfaction whatsoever.

“Under the covers, precious boy.” Ren giggled, “You’re very good at goodnight kisses, now go to sleep.”

“Y-yes, um, Ren,” he said, and Ren felt another thrill shoot up their spine. That was the first time he’d used their name since coming out of that box, and it felt important that it was happening then. That it was happening now.

Once he was settled in amongst the pillows, thick comforter pulled up to his chin, they gave him one final caress along the side of his pretty face, golden hair damp beneath their fingers, and stood, pulling the canopy closed behind them. They went to the balcony doors, then the windows, pulling the billowing curtains shut one by one, and then turned off the bedside lamp. “Sleep tight, my darling,” they crooned, turning off the overhead lights before shutting the door. They pulled at the chain of their necklace, producing the key, and locked Soren’s door behind them. He would never leave that room without them.

They watched on their phone to see if he would touch himself, with the door locked and no one around. They wanted to know if he would take care of the little problem they’d given him, if he would shudder out a gasp and moan their name, if he’d be silent, or if he’d refuse his own touch at all, squirming to get comfortable until it went away. 

He actually ended up falling asleep mere moments after they pulled up the video feed, body slumped and boneless, laying half on his side. They blinked, but, well. He really had been tired, then. 

Poor thing, so exhausted, he really must have had a hard time, then, before coming here. Before being Ren’s, like he was rightfully meant to be.

Why hadn’t he come begging? When things got hard, surely he had to have known they’d take him back… Maybe they hadn’t impressed that on him enough. They’d been foolish and ham-fisted, then, maybe they hadn’t told him frequently enough that they loved him, that they’d always be happy to do anything for him, that they never minded one single request he ever made. Or maybe he truly had gotten a real stick up his prideful ass, so upset over a little temper flare he’d rather risk everything than come back where he belonged--

They grabbed their wrist, forcing their fingers to relax before they cracked the phone screen. They counted their own pulse, feeling their heartbeat press up against their thumb. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if some fuck had screwed Soren over and left him desperate for any option or if he’d just had a long stroke of bad luck. It didn’t matter if he was too proud to come begging for forgiveness for rejecting them, or if he’d thought they wouldn’t forgive him, even if he begged. It didn’t matter how he’d become desperate (even though the thought of someone purposefully scamming their sweet, precious Soren set their pulse skyrocketing), it didn’t matter why he’d signed himself over to Whumpees-R-Us, it didn’t matter what had happened between that godawful haircut and Ren finding him on the internet listings. 

All that mattered now was that they had him. He was there, and he was theirs. He’d messed up, but they’d managed to fix it, the stars had aligned and even though he’d done a domino line of stupid things they’d still managed to get him safe and warm and home and eating out of their palm, finally, finally!

They turned off their phone and turned on the final recording device, a baby monitor disguised as a little figurine angel on the bedside table in Soren’s room. They didn’t expect anything to happen overnight, Soren clearly needed his rest, but it would be a good habit to establish.

How fortunate, then, because something did happen that night. They woke to sounds of distress filtering in through the monitor, and for a moment couldn’t place the noises, before sitting bolt upright. Soren.

They were at his door and fumbling with the key in an instant, then rushed to the bed, throwing back the canopy.

“Soren?”

Soren gasped, eyes flinging open and jerking upright, eyes blindly searching his surroundings in a panic.

“Ren?” Soren cried, head snapping to them. He reached out, hand shaking, and Ren took it, sliding onto the bed with him. “R-Ren, I, I, y-you’re--”

“I’m here, baby, I’m here,” Ren murmured, realizing now that it was just a nightmare. He’d only had a nightmare. “Shhhh, angel, it was just a bad dream.”

Soren made aborted little half-words, eyes searching their face, and then he nodded, sobbing, chin wobbling in the way that meant he was trying not too.

“Come here, come here,” Ren crooned, pulling him into a crushing hug, feeling his rabbit pulse beneath their fingers. “It’s okay, my delicate little crybaby, I know you need to let it out,” they murmured, mouth to his ear, “Precious little crybaby, sweet little crybaby, it’s okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe, you’re in my arms, sweet little crybaby boy.”

He cried into them, clinging to them, never once trying to stifle himself or push away after they’d told him it was alright, and they relished it. What a glorious thing to wake up to. Soren was scared and shaking and desperate and needing them. He wanted them so badly, cried out for them in terrified half-sleep, and wept into their shirt. When he seemed to start calming down, a ping of sour mood hit Ren and they kissed Soren’s hair.

“What was your nightmare about, sweet angel?” Ren asked, syrupy and smooth, and was silently delighted when his shivering picked back up. 

“Y-you, didn’t want me, you p-put me back in the box, and,” Soren hiccupped out, and Ren had to press their face into his hair, hide their reaction from his eyes. How perfect! “And you sent me back, and everything was confusing, a-and terrible, and I didn’t know what I did wrong to,” Soren sobbed, high and cracking, and Ren stroked gently down his beautiful hair, “m-make you not want me anymore!” Soren’s breath jerked, chest spasming with it, and Ren pulled back, eyes soft and concerned and betraying none of their inner delight.

They took his hand and lifted it to his collar, pushing his fingers around the gold.

“Soren,” they crooned, “whose are you?”

Soren blinked, sniffed loudly, and gripped his collar tightly, other hand coming up and joining the first.

“Yours.”

“Who do you belong to?” they asked, just as gently.

“You, Exalted,” Soren said, body slowly unwinding, trembling dissipating, knuckles white from his grip.

“You will never,” Ren pet the hair back from one side of his face, “ever,” they pet the other side, “belong to anyone but me. You’re mine, Soren, forever, forever and ever. No one else will ever touch you, no one else will ever get you, you’re never leaving this house unless it’s on my leash.”

Soren hiccupped as he smiled up at them, pressing into their palms, cheeks tearstained and ruddy.

“Never, Soren,” Ren soothed, “You’ll never leave me.”

Next

#whump #slavery #bbu #box boy #dehumanization #brainwashing #creepy comfort #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #slave #videotaping #videorecording #pet #ren #soren #possessive behavior #mine #writing #nightmare #touch starvation #touch starved

[aesthetic-survivor-of-twd]

Why do you not post not much as you use to? I get you have college if you're running a blog then you should commit to it. I only followed you because you were a freqent poster but you don't post as much anymore :/ You were also away for long time last year and I think you owe it to us to post more frequently. but feels like you don't care about your followers and not taking anything seriously. Sorry but I might have to unfollow if you don't fix this. I'm tired of this and you should have time.

Oh go fuck yourself anon.(Notice: This is the ONLY time i'm going to respond to this type of Ask. Because I've gotten a few of these the past few days and this is one of the only ones that isn't just verbal abuse )I would normally reply privately in these matters, but since you don't have the balls to come off Anon, I'm just gonna reply to you as normal._____________With all due respect, I don't owe you anything.I'm aware that i'm going to sound like a total bitch here, but I'm not going to let myself get slandered like this without defending myself.I have spent SO much of my life running this blog ever since it was created.Yes, I have probably been lagging behind lately (for understandable reasons) but I would just like to state that well before I had my deadline back in November I had been spending nearly every waking moment on this goddamn blog replying to Asks (you might think I'm exaggerating but I assure you I'm not).There were times I was so involved with this blog that I neglected a lot of real life stuff that I SHOULD have been paying attention to. But instead I chose to keep this blog running as frequent as I possibly could because I knew people liked seeing my posts on here.I spent a lot of time keeping up with news updates to later post and to keep you all informed with the game.After Telltale went downhill, all I did was keep checking for feedback and replying to all the hysteria fueled Asks I kept getting because everyone was in a panic (hell it ended up even making me stressed to the point where I had to have people calm ME down).I even pulled an all nighter on a college night so I could stay up to stream episode 2 for people at 5am (UK) because so many people wanted to experience the episode with me. So I thought, "Hey I'll make this a cool little event on the blog!". And I ended up sleeping in afterwards and missing half of my morning class that day.And then there is a bunch of drama bullshit that I kept getting pulled into by people on here privately and later on Twitter despite not even having anything to do with it.The point that I'm trying to make is that I've worked hard on running this blog every day - despite it not always being a pleasant experience for me.I'm not saying I deserve a pat on the head or a medal for running this blog.^ I'm a college student that runs a twdg fan blog on Tumblr for fuck sake. It's not a big deal.But I don't think it's unreasonable to at least want some form of respect for it either.Like, I'm just in shock that I've received this Ask... Did you honestly expect me to fail college just so I can entertain you 24/7? I LOVE this blog and the people on here. I truly do. I never lied when I said that i'm glad I met you all or that making this blog was one of the best decisions I have ever made. Because it truly is.But I'm also a human being that has a life to live outside of Tumblr and who has their own fair share of bullshit to deal with in life just like everyone else on here does.I can't just dedicate my entire life to nothing but this blog. Because then the blog no longer becomes fun and instead just feels like a full time job which I then feel obligated to do and start to resent it.I often try to avoid rants like this as long as I can on here because I try to keep it positive so I don't upset people, but I'm sick of getting private messages like this from people that seem to think my sole existence in life is to be your personal entertainer.It just feels like such a slap on the face to see stuff like this.It's nice to know that all those days I stayed up at like 4am to reply to Asks and all the times I was in college responding to Asks when I was meant to be doing college work or consoling people when Telltale shutdown despite barely handling it well myself resulted in this. Really makes me feel great. Thanks.This is the only time I'll be addressing these messages since I'm already having a bad day and need to vent. But if you still don't like what I've said or that my blog still isn't up to your standards then just unfollow, please. I'm sick of trying to please people like you. Actually, just unfollow either way. Do yourself a favour and step off of your fucking soap box, take a good look at yourself in the mirror and grow the fuck up.

#Asks #rant

[aquaticalay]

Coffee (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Here’s an imagine I wrote a long time ago, for my old blog. Decided to post it here!

It’s about the reader in Bucky who are hallmates, and goes for morning coffee everyday, until one day the reader has a depressive episode. Enjoy!

(Y/n) never really had a lot of neighbors. Maybe that old lady down the hall, or that single father with two annoying boys on the other end of the hall. Not that she didn’t like them. She even loved helping the old lady, Mrs. Lewis, with her garden work and laundry, and she often babysits for Mr. McHale, the single father whose wife died a few years ago out of lung cancer. Boys were a handful. The thing is, there was nobody her age here to keep her company. That, was why she was excited when she heard that someone was moving across the hall from her.

When she heard about the rumors, she also heard that it wasn’t just anyone; it was an avenger. That made her extremely happy, now that she could probably count on somebody to help her when she has one of her depressive episodes again.

When her neighbor moved in, she knocked on his door.

A man with a metal arm opened the door.

No, Bucky Barnes opened it.

She felt like she was about to faint, but she tried to keep herself steady. “So It’s true,” (Y/n) had said the first time they met, “The new guy really is an avenger.” Bucky chuckled and held out his hand.

“I’m (Y/n),” She introduced herself. “Bucky,” he replied. “I know that,” she said, laughing quietly. “Would you like to come in?” Bucky offered. (Y/n) nodded, stepping inside.

The first time she went in there, it was a wreck. The paintjob was ruined, the furniture misplaced, and boxes scattered around like heaps of trash. “A lot of work to do, huh?” (Y/n) asked slowly, a smirk growing on her face.

“I’m probably gonna start tomorrow,” he said, running his finger through his luscious brown hair. “What?” (Y/n) questioned, “Does it mean you’re gonna sleep here tonight?”

Bucky arched an eyebrow, “Is there a problem?” (Y/n) just laughed, “No offense, but this place is a wreck.”

“You got any other ideas?”

“Well I’ve got a couch,” said (Y/n), saying it like it was no big deal. “So you’re saying I should bunk with you?” Bucky asked, slightly delighted. (Y/n) shrugged, “Why not?”

“I’d love to,” he smiled.

“How about we go get some coffee first? I know a nice place just a block away. I feel like should get to know the man who’s going to be bunking with me.”

Bucky looked shocked at first, but he smiled widely, “Sure.”

-

That was how they started their morning coffee routine.

Every day, (Y/n) would wait outside her door, waiting for Bucky to come out, normally because (Y/n) always woke up earlier than Bucky. Then they would walk to the exact same coffee shop they did when they first met. She never considered it a date, just some friendly interaction between a regular civilian and an avenger.

Since Bucky came into her life, she never had a depressive episode. She was happy now, knowing someone would look out for her. They even exchanged spare keys, in case anything bad happened.

Sure, being an avenger, Bucky would go on some missions, but when he left, he usually came back after two or three days. He’d tell her face to face whenever he has to go, but when he doesn’t have the time, he’d leave her a note. He refused to text or call her, because where’s the fun in that? Every interaction with Bucky was personal, and (Y/n) wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

Bucky woke up to the sound of his alarm.

Shit.

He was already twenty minutes late. Sure, it was Sunday, neither he nor (Y/n) has work to attend to, but he wouldn’t miss coffee for the world. He got off his bed and got dressed, not even bothering to take a shower. He knew he stinks, so he just rolled on some deodorant and frantically opened the door, expecting (Y/n) to be a ticked off by his tardy behavior.

But instead he saw an empty hall.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. It wasn’t like (Y/n) to wake up late. He knocked on her door and called her name. “(Y/n)?”

No answer. She is probably already on her way to the coffee shop. Bucky decided he would for her there.

-

The walk was frustrating. He got so used to (Y/n) on his side, now that she wasn’t beside him, he felt empty. Over time, he had gotten to know (Y/n). It was pleasant, having someone to hold on to when everything was falling down around him. He also developed feelings for the girl. Something he never knew the winter soldier could even feel: Love.

That was why he loved being with her. It made him feel like Bucky Barnes, and not the assassin Hydra made him to be.

When he got in the coffee shop, his eyes scanned the room for a familiar sight. But she wasn’t there. He decided he’s use his phone. Not that he was actually any good at it, but at least he was better than Steve, thanks to (Y/n).

‘(Y/n), I’m in the coffee shop. Where are you?’

Send.

He waited for a few minutes, but she didn’t reply. So he decided to call her. Sure enough, the phone rang. But that was all it ever did.

She must’ve put it on silent, Bucky thought.

He decided he’d get (Y/n) and himself some coffee and headed home.

-

When he got home, he saw the old lady outside her apartment. “Hello, dear,” she greeted. Bucky smiled, struggling to remember her name. “Hi, Mrs. Lewis,” he replied, smiling triumphantly when he managed to snatch her name from somewhere in his mind. Mrs. Lewis reminded him of his sister, now that she was had grown to an old woman and Bucky stayed young over the years. The first time Mrs. Lewis saw Bucky, she marveled him, addressing him as Sergeant Barnes who served in the Howling Commandos, thanking him over and over again for saving her husband, who was now laying peacefully in his grave. Bucky managed to remember her husband as a soldier in his platoon from his days in the 107th. “You seem restless,” she pointed out. “Um… yeah. It’s just, I can’t find (Y/n),” he answered, hoping that Mrs. Lewis would have a lead to where she is. “I haven’t seen her either,” said Mrs. Lewis, “She should’ve been awake by now. I’m getting worried.”

“Well then, I better start searching for her,” he smiled and resumed his walk down the hall, finding himself knocking on (Y/n)’s door again. “(Y/n)?” he called frantically. “(Y/n), are you in there?”

He eventually gave up knocking and pressed his left ear to the door, letting her heightened senses do the work. He wasn’t able to hear much, but he got even more worried when he heard soft sobbing from the other side. He knocked again, louder this time. “(Y/n), I know you’re in there.”

No answer.

He sighed stressfully as he unlocked his own door, grabbing the spare key to her apartment. Those were for emergencies. This was an emergency, wasn’t it?

He unlocked her door, searching for any signs of her.

She went in her bedroom just to find her squeezed in between the wall and her bed, her eyes red with tears and exhaustion. Bucky cursed under his breath, kneeling, trying to get (Y/n) up. “Oh my god, what happened?” he asked worriedly, lifting her up.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m really sorry, these things- these things just happen and- and I thought I wasn’t going through another one I-”

Bucky silenced her, lifting her chin so they were looking each in other’s eyes. “Don’t be sorry,” He said softly, walking to the bathroom. “I assume you haven’t taken a bath yet,” he guessed.

“That bad, huh?” she whispered, trying to amuse herself.

Bucky took each article of clothing off piece by piece, both of them blushing red when she was completely naked. (Y/n) even tried to cover herself. “No,” Bucky told her, before stripping off himself “You’re beautiful.” She grew redder at his words, and even redder when he’s completely stripped off. (Y/n) started, “What are you-”

“Relax,” Bucky reassured. “We’re just taking a shower.”

They both stepped in the shower, Bucky turning it on to a warm medium pressure. He caressed her, slowly rubbing the soap on her body like she was the most fragile thing in the world.

And out of nowhere, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Bucky?” She called, whispering in her ears. “I’m sorry.”

“I told you,” said Bucky returning her embrace, “Don’t be.”

After the shower, he dried her, dressed her in comfortable clothing and carried her to the bed.

He pushed her back slowly so she was half-laying down on her bed. Bucky grabbed her coffee and gave it to her, smiling softly. “I got you your favorite.”

(Y/n) returned the smile and took the coffee, wiping her tears. “Have you eaten breakfast?” he asked getting off her bed. (Y/n) just shook her head. “Stay here,” he ordered.

An hour later, he returned, with a bowl of soup on his hand. (Y/n) took the bowl and Bucky turned on her favorite movie and sat comfortably next to her. “I’m sorry it took so long,” Bucky apologized. “I had to do your laundry and dishes.”

(Y/n) smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me, you idiot. I needed that.”

He hugged her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “I love you,” He confessed, suddenly blurting out the words. “You don’t have to return it, I just thought you should know.”

(Y/n) smiled softly placing her lips to his.

“I love you, too.”

Bucky laughed. “You taste like coffee.”

-

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[thevintagebluebird]

Unpinned - Winter Squash and Wild Mushroom Curry

Tumblr tells me it’s been six months since my last post. That seems pretty on-brand for me and this blog. Valentine’s day is coming up, and I could offer you all flowers, chocolates, and promises I don’t intend to keep: or I can just try to cook new recipes and take photos of them more often. 

Let’s see, what’s new...well, we left the nightmare world of 2020 behind and are now firmly in the nightmare world of 2021. Still in lockdown. Still hanging out on Zoom. Oh! But the fella and I did the unthinkable: we MOVED! Yes, after eight long happy years together in a two-room apartment, the pandemic finally broke us. Working from home gets really cramped when you can’t walk behind your partner’s conference call to get to the bathroom. With everyone fleeing the cities for the space of the suburbs, apartment rents in our little commuter city plummeted! So we finally, FINALLY found our unicorn apartment. Same city, same rent, AND THREE BEDROOMS BABY. And that means no more plastic blue countertops here! So allow me to present my first vegan recipe AND my first post from the new digs: 

Winter Squash and Wild Mushroom Curry! Straight off the never-fail pages of the New York Times cooking section, I printed this recipe sans images and left it hanging on my fridge for weeks, waiting for the right moment. Apparently at 4:45pm driving home during a snowstorm I realized it was THE right moment, because I stopped at the grocery store, loaded up my cart with a concerning amount of mushrooms, and got to work.

Verdict: Is the Pintrest photo complete bullshit? I need to hit up my local Indian grocery stores because I have no idea where you find a branch of curry leaves in Shaws, but other than that not really!

Is it crazy expensive/time consuming/confusing? No! It came together shockingly fast! The mushrooms can start to add up a bit but 100% worth it.

Does it taste good? So good I’m considering making it again TOMORROW.

Winter Squash and Wild Mushroom Curry

INGREDIENTS

3 tablespoons vegetable oil

10 ounces butternut or other winter squash, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces

Kosher salt and black pepper

1 or 2 small green chiles, such as jalapeño or serrano

3 medium shallots or 1 small onion, finely diced

½ teaspoon black mustard seeds

½ teaspoon cumin seeds

Handful of fresh or frozen curry leaves (optional)

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 teaspoon ground coriander

Pinch of ground cayenne

½ teaspoon ground turmeric

1 pound mushrooms, preferably a mix of cultivated and wild, trimmed and sliced 1/8-inch thick

¾ cup coconut milk

2 tablespoons lime juice

Cilantro sprigs, for garnish

In a wide skillet, heat oil over medium-high. When hot, add squash cubes in one layer. Season with salt and pepper. Cook for about 2 minutes, letting cubes brown slightly, then flip and cook for 2 minutes more. Use a slotted spoon to lift squash out, and set aside.

Cut a lengthwise slit in each chile to open it, but leave whole. (This helps the chiles heat the sauce without making it too spicy.)

Add shallots, salt lightly and cook, stirring, 1 minute. Add mustard seeds, cumin seeds and curry leaves, if using, and let sizzle for 30 seconds, then add garlic, coriander, cayenne, turmeric and chiles. Stir well and cook for 30 seconds more.

Add mushrooms, season with salt and toss to coat. Cook, stirring, until mushrooms begin to soften, about 5 minutes.

Return squash cubes to skillet, stir in coconut milk and bring to a simmer. Lower heat to medium and simmer for another 5 minutes. If mixture looks dry, thin with a little water. Taste and season with salt.

Before serving, stir in lime juice. Transfer to a warm serving dish and garnish with cilantro.

Look at that spread. And LOOK AT THOSE NON-70S-BLUE COUNTERS! I may have gone a tad overboard with the mushrooms but they are nature’s meat, after all.

My sous chef for the evening. Pretty dang excited to marry that cutie in the aftertimes.

Ah yes, my favorite part of any recipe: trying to do shoddy math in my head. It calls for 10oz of butternut squash which, due to packing/shipping small boxes almost every day for the last ten years, I can eyeball fairly well, but this was a 1lb 12oz box. I have no idea why they didn’t pack a pound, a pound and a half, or 2lbs, but there ya go. I hate cutting butternut squash so I really shouldn’t complain.

Stop what you are doing to feed the cat because she is a cruel mistress and demands a sacrifice NOW.

Ask your partner if the 3″ cubes look close enough to 1/2″ cubes and admit that they probably need chopping. Oh well. Chop ‘em.

Does he look fly as hell? Yes. But these are our snazzy utility sunglasses. Not only do they make you the coolest person in any room, they also a) reduce overstimulation in a pounding nightclub b) keep the oils from onions from burning your eyes during chopping c) I guess block the sun sometimes.

Get those now-tiny cubes into a hot pan! Perfect! ...for now. Foreshadowing.

Wash your fungus. Now, I’m not fancy and don’t have wild mushrooms or foraged mushrooms (I haven’t gotten to see my mushroom guy at the Somerville Winter Farmer’s Market in a while). I got some shiitake, baby portabella, and plain ol’ white mushrooms. Store brand baby.

Snazzy sous chef grillin’ the onions.

So it’s about time I admit: I did not have some (read: many) of the spices this recipe called for. I have never seen curry leaves. I don’t know what black mustard seed looks like. I don’t own coriander. We turn into weeping piles of burned sand whenever there’s a pepper in the house. So I did a lot of substitutions: entirely left out the chiles (sorry flavor fans) and skipped step 2, swapped ground cumin for the seeds, used curry powder in place of leaves, and threw in a dash of cardamom instead of coriander (it smelled like something that would be happy in a curry dish plus they’re close alphabetically). I added a good dose of black pepper to make up for the lack of mustard seeds (?!) and, anyway, my meals are often struggle meals. 

Ah yes, the other inevitable moment of the evening: when I realize there’s no way the rest of the ingredients will fit into my pan. Tall Allan to the rescue, pulling down our dutch oven gifted by the lovely Ann and Joe when we helped them move a million years ago! It doesn’t get nearly enough use. Maybe I should store it somewhere I can actually reach.

WHOO NOW TWO DIRTY HAND-WASH-ONLY PANS!

Ok now we’re getting somewhere, starting to smell pretty damn good...

If you are not a cilantro-is-soap person, chop up your fresh leaves. I did splurge on these because I also have salsa and can make next-level nachos next time I need a snack. Or put it in a salad or whatever. Mainly nachos.

This is the moment you realize that despite crafting this blog for a few years and being both a person who cooks food sometimes AND a professional pantry chef in years past, you STILL don’t ever closely read the recipe all the way through first. The curry needs rice. What are you even doing with your life. How could you forget to start the rice. Now everything will be done in minutes and you’re starving and the rice is RAW. Concede defeat, promise to make rice FIRST next time, and pull out some tiny bit of starch: these mini whole grain naan breads. They are my new obsession. They’re $3.50 for four slices but holy heck I love them so much.

Done! The whole thing came together in under a half hour, and looks nice on a plate!

We’re skeptical that sans rice this vegan meal will be filling enough, but moments after this photo was taken and before a single bite was had, our doorbell rang and who was it but THE KENTS with GIRL SCOUT COOKIES!  Delivered to our door in a snow storm no less! Desert safely secured, we sat down to discover our fates: it was GOOD!! Filling! Tasty! 

Final final verdict: I’ve yet to try a NY Times recipe I didn’t end up loving (the one and only salad recipe I have is their orange/radish/pistachio dish I was shown a few years ago - amazing) and this was no exception. We’re trying to eat less meat (and have already virtually cut beef and pork from our normal rotation) so finding easy vegan meals is really exciting. We freakin’ love mushrooms and I can’t wait to make this again. Probably later this week.

#unpinned pinterest pintrestfail recipe cooking

[fatbottombucky]

Sorry I Kept You Waiting*Steve Rogers x Reader*

Requested by @iamthemaskhewears:  Hi! Can I please request a Steve x Reader imagine? They have been dating for a while, and he wants to propose, but he gets nervous and so awkward, he just can't do it, so he asks the team to help him set up something and he finally proposes? Only to realize the reader knew all along cause she found the ring some time before?? Can you make it extra fluffy?? Thanks :) Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton (Laura Barton), Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff(Both mentioned) Ratings: Teen

I Love You *Lance Tucker x Reader* (My other Valentines’ Day request)

Note- Who else just loves Evans and Atwell because I forgot how much of a fucking fan I am of those two! Can they like... get married and have cute babies, please? Thanks. 

A Month Ago

You were busy doing laundry, a riveting life as always. It had to be done and since Steve had been on a week-long mission it was left to you. Steve actually loved cleaning, you hated it, and Steve loved things being in order and neat. You loved constructive chaos, your desk, yes was a mess but you knew where everything was.

So, it was no surprise that you had no clue where any cleaning products are. You didn’t know where bleach was or where the mop was kept, it was like a Steve scavenger hunt. Eventually, you got everything you needed together and began creating up a cleaning plan, it had been going good. Surprisingly well, you didn’t over soap the floors so they were slippery and you didn’t get bleach in your eyes, it was a success.

You went into the small laundry room of the small, two-story apartment you shared with Steve. Admittedly you had no clue how to work the washer, you are an Avenger, you don’t have time for this but that was no excuse because Steve knows how to work the washing machine. You grabbed the flower smelling detergent from the top shelf; tried would be a good word.

Sighing loudly you climbed onto the machine, peering at the shelf and holding it so you wouldn’t fall, you grabbed the detergent and set it down but something caught your eyes. A small, red velvet box was hiding behind the detergent. Your heart raced and you grinned giddily, you knew exactly what it was. Instead of peeking, despite wanting to you put the detergent where you left it and decided to play dumb.

Which was gonna be difficult considering your boyfriend didn’t propose till a month or so later.

Now – Steve’s p.o.v

“I have no idea how I’m gonna do it,” Steve sighed in defeat beside his two best friends. “I just want it to go perfectly, I know she’s gonna say yes but I have this unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I go to ask.”

Bucky snorted, “What makes you think she’ll say yes?” Sam nudged the ex-assassin with a small glare, Bucky continued to chuckle to himself. “Kidding, seriously, just ask because she loves you and you love her.”

Bucky wasn’t a big help. Steve should have expected that after the accords and the fighting he was still getting used to… this. Living in Wakanda was easier but it came with trials. You happily packed up everything important and moved here, Bucky was as important to you as he was Steve, and that only made Steve love you more.

You got along with everyone; there wasn’t a single person here that didn’t like you.

“It’s Valentine’s Day; T’Challa is hosting that grand ball, why don’t you propose there?” Sam asked with a little shrug.

Steve thought for a few seconds. “I mean, she does want to go. I was gonna cook or something but that sounds better,” Sam grinned smugly at Bucky who rolled his eyes in response.

Steve sent you a text saying he’d meet you at the party tonight, he got a rather colourful message back by saying you wish he told you a week in advance. You now are having to go find Natasha and Wanda to pick a dress, he reassured you, you’d look beautiful whatever you wore.

** Steve stood beside T’Challa and a few of his friends, waiting for you to arrive. Bucky had opted out of joining the party, he was still a little nervous around crowds of people. Sam eventually showed up, a date of his own beside him, happily introducing Steve to who he was spending Valentine’s evening with.

Steve stood, impatiently, waiting for your arrival. Steve had talked it over with T’Challa and Sam, gotten a little advice from both but he was still nervous. He eased a little when Clint showed up, along with Laura, both of whom got him laughing over Clint’s embarrassing story of the proposal. It took the edge off of the night, he felt a little happier knowing he was surrounded by friends.

Clint nudged him and nodded to the door, he snapped his attention to where you stood. You were wearing a sparkly, red, silk dress that swoops to the floor. Your eyes are casting over the crowd before they settle on him, beautiful grin lightening up your face and all the nerves, plus butterflies fluttered away with that one look. Natasha and Wanda were at either arm of you, also looking graceful but his eyes were locked onto you.

When you finally walked over to him, your hands instantly going to adjust his tie, he let slip a few chuckles as you grinned up at him. Silently he nodded to the dance floor as a question, you gave a shy little smile with a small nod allowing him to take your hand and lead you to the dance floor, the nerves fighting to come back.

You had your arms wrapped around Steve’ neck, his on your waist as you both swayed to the soft music of the band. Steve could feel the ring box in his jacket pocket, it growing heavier with each passing minute you danced with him. He had to do it, now or never, and he didn’t like the latter.

Steve still wasn’t the best dancer, still, he grabbed a hold of your hand and spun you, you giggled lightly and looked at him with a bashful grin. He then spun you back into his chest, your giggles ringing through his ears as he looked down at you.

“Will you marry me?” Steve’s voice coming out breathless and slightly shaky with anticipation.

“I wondered how long you were going to keep me waitin’,” you smiled coyly up at him and Steve eyebrows furrowed. “I found the ring a month ago, I decided to do laundry and have been waiting ever since.”

He sighed gently and blushed, of course. He was stupid to think he could hide something from you, even if you weren’t looking for it, you always somehow found out.

He pulled the box from his pocket; you grinned as he presented the ring to you and looked in awe at the gorgeous, simple diamond ring. He takes it out of the box carefully and lightly takes your hand, placing the ring on your finger and moving it so it reflects the light. Glimmering under the chandelier lighting.

“Happy Valentine’s Day Y/N,” he mutters pulling you to him for a kiss which you happily returned. “Sorry, I kept you waiting.”

“I’ll let you off just don’t keep me waiting at the altar?” 

He grinned, seeing your friends just a little behind you all grinning and giving thumbs up. “Wouldn’t dream of that, I did have this whole plan and speech for you but... seemed like the perfect time.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him sweetly. Always with the planning. 

(I changed it slightly but still, hope this is okay. I’ve come to realise how much I struggle with writing requests, it’s been so long that I just find it very difficult, I am sorry if this isn’t great. Hopefully this is good. - Rosalee)

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#Steve Rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers oneshot #captain america imagines #captain america x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

[saleggdbdiscount-blog]

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[janiklandre-blog]

Sunday, February 12, 2017

10:10 a.m. a cold and rainy day - just put in 12 of you, one by one into Bcc - perhaps I should go to contacts, where I have noticed list is offered - who knows - I might even figure out how to do a list. Have been writing letters to some of you how horribly frustrating it is to be 84 and needing help for every small step - two year olds jiust do it - well I remember in Prague watching old women standing on top of an escalator not daring to use it - and the subways were built by Russian, very deep, very fast escalators - I never checked are there even stairs, or an elevator. In New York a group called I believe active disabled have achieved getting a lot of elevators - that I too prefer at Hudson Yards - on the New York West Side, West 34th Street where a millionaire paradise is going up - hundred of apartments costing millions - builders do not care if many stand empty, it's an investment for all the money they've made on our many wars - but a subway to get there was built at great cost, very deep, you need three fast escslators and especially at times when I reluctantly use a rolling suitcase - I am scared on these escalators. The reason I've been going there is to use Megabus to Amherst - that started out on 8th avenue, several buses a day, $10 for the ride, I was always offered a soap box to sit on, escorted first on the bus - then it went to 9th, then to 10th, now it's on 11th, almost in the river, nothing to sit on, no shelter from rain or sun, one or two buses a day - the 9 o'clock bus comes from Vermont and goes to 32nd and 7th ave to let passengers off and ast best is by 10 to take on waiting passengers who are urged to be 30 minutes early, so have been standing 90 minutes in rain, snow, hot sun - the young seem to love it - hardly made for a woman at 84 - and the cost now $20 plus - a very secret phone number to reserve, $5 extra - the young on their smart phones, reserve, csncel, reserve again, flash their cell phone - I am given on the phone about 20 numbers and the driver is hesitant to let me on - brace new world. Only for the most intrepid of the disabled in wheel chairs - but access they must be given, first, holds things up another 15 minutes - and it's only for the feisty - but - there are some some. In nyc indents for the disabled have been made at every side walk crossing - mostly used by zooming bicycles, now the silently motorized by battery, considered eco friendly - no bicycle in nyc ever has a bell, they zoom at top speed by you grazing you - many disabled scooters also go at some 25 miles an hour - buses travel at 5 miles an hour, terrible congestion - then of course there are the fast roller scaters, scate boards, also motorized by now - it is a pretty wild city - Steve W. assured me: they have better reflexes than you have - I hope so - terrorized jumping out of their way - which is said to be wrong. Almost every body I know has gotten hit - a miracle I have not been hit yet. Well. all my virtuous friends - good decent people who don't write horrible stuff - are in church at this moment, confessing to God they are sinners - I think in Latin something like mea culpa, mea grandissima culpa, in Polish - their churches are full - moje vyna, moje vyna, in English I have sinned, greatly sinned - in Germany I've most rarely been to church and then it was still Latin in the Catholic churches - well I guess it's a good idea to confess to your brothers and sisters whst a great sinner you are and asking God for forgiveness. When I was in Prague people still confessed to a priest - and when my Catholic childhood friends went to their first confession they were given a list of sins to confess and I puzzled with them what adultery meant - and a number of others sins helping them to figure out what they should confess. Still, I was envious of them, they were in the vast majority, I was alone, an outsider - and alone and an outsider I am to this day. A lonely sinner. I hope confessing on what now is a blog - though I still need Molly to help ignorant old me figure out how to tell people how to get to the blog, she sent me written instructionsd I cannot figure out - terribly frustrating. Our first two sessions were wonderfully long sessions and I learned so much talking to this wise far beyong her years 23 year old - and mistakingly believed she had more time than she does - volunteering, working three job, performing and time consuming travel from and to Brooklyn. I just wrote to her - yes, skeletal Ken was wonderful and we loved our long Thursday afternoons - he came at 12 and left at 7 - alas he was already deadly ill when he first came - and Molly is young and strong and brilliant. Ken, Ken - how many times did he show me to write this in word, to double space it, how to transfer from word to email - yes, the two year olds do it with ease - and I - well I love computers - but my senses alas are not really geared to them. In theory I know it all - practice is something else. Our Goethe also had something a bout grey theory and difficult practice. It's freezing here - I have a shawl my daughter in law knitted for me on my knees I am wearing a down jacket and still, my hands are cold. How could such a terrible heating system ever been constructed - I've long expected stupidity to become the end of mankind. Oh yes, and by the way, yesterday's blog ended in the middle of a word - C.B. m - because suddenly the weirdest images appeared, I had no idea how to get rid of them and reminded me of a woman called Susie, she has died, who believed the computer actually being God and giving her important mussages - well I was about to write something possibly nasty about C.B.and the wise computer put a fasrt end to it and I quickly sent what was there before that might disappear altogether - I was much calmer writing on my wonderful Olivetti Lettera - what I had written was there on paper, reliably - and then I would go to the the copy shop and make 50 copies and then I had 50 labels and always bought interesting stamps - and one German friend ? would return the letter, grammer corrected, underlined in red and in big letters: do not send any more of these horrible mass mailings - send a letter addressed to me. Well, at least I heard from her - two or three might respond - yet often much later I would meet one in the street, enthusiastically embracing me and telling me how wonderful my letter had been and please send more - and so - when Ken came into my life and at least learned email I loved with a click to be able to send it to hundreds - and now that it is a blog, that Ken warned me of - Ken, I promise to be careful My hands are freezing. Many of you even if you started probably have long stopped reading. I should be in church. But with no one to talk to - and when I love talking, I do love talking and have many times been told to shut up - and please, either get depressed again or take pills that will make you shut up - have you no shame - do you ever listen to anyone  else - and as it happens, I do. I am aware I am loved for listening, not for talking. This has been made amply clear to me by the virtuous - who love to hear their own important voices - they are saying something of meaning and importance - not babble by an old biddy - and if I may so, I have a lot more kind interest in people than I do. What still went through my mind - using initials rather than names, to be cautious as Ken recommended - this is turning into something like a roman a clef - there is a key as to who C.B. is, who M.H. is - and many I won't even mention by initial - those whose friend I want to remain. I will not give you the key - that is what the tedious students of literature will - should any of my writing ever become seen as literature. Well, some of what I have written so far already would be labelled subversive under a dictator - and Krugman in the NYT yesterday obliquely sufggested how easy for governments it is to orgsanize a terrorist attack and then declare a state of emergency - he called it "a power grab" he suggested will happen - and all I can say: be prepared. Perhaps not the best of times to go public with my writing - but then again luckily I'm still the tiniest of fish - even though not long ago cops stopped me on an empty road in New Hampshire - emptied by the bypass that was made - and when ignorant me began to open the door of my rented car with Massachusetts plated - two jumped out of their cars guns drawn, yelling - do not move - when I produced my driver's licence they sneered: New York driver, no wonder she csnnot drive - caution stopped them from commenting on the Jewish name - then I was interrogsted, where was I coming from, what was I doing on this road, where I was going, my answers producing sneers, then the disappeared into their car to study me on their computer, ordering me not to move - some 30 or more minutes later returned: we are bering kind to you and letting you go away with a warning - I much thanked them and as humbly as I could muster asked what sin I had commited: you made an illegal turn. I had been on a small road only used by locals, had passed some bored high school kids, they had called the cops - all of them totally bored - enjoying to find a danferous old woman with an accent - and being so wonderfully kind and professional - keeping America safe! Yes, you can be white, Protestant, I was baptized Lutheran as a precaution in 1943 - an American - but this is a country of xenophobis and I had another very unpleasant incident of that sort on a train heading for New York - where I was tsken for a German tourist - I always have my passport on me - when I produced it, great suspicion it was fake. Well, I was still going to comment on those in church - they have told me I am too loud, too self centered, too overbearing, a nasty maniac - she writes!!!! - yes I write, and with no one to talk to I also write about how insulting they are, how heartless, how hurtful - even in nyc - my "friends" are xenophobes, anti-Semites - and what is the word for people who cannot stand old people = there must be some word too. My s5 iPhone rang, 508 - what could that be - Eastern Mass as it turns out - a person who does not want to mentioned in this here blog - and so it goes  - it's noon - I am hungry, but my decoration teeth have fallen out - hopefully tomorrow at 9 either Maggie of the dentist will be there - I can barely drink coffee - all this would never have happened - had I had a good doctor who would have warned me of the side effects of those beta blocker pills whose name I keep forgetting - it seems they keep my veins open to allow the blood to flow to prevent a stroke - but it seems they also acidified my saliva - my dentist told me long ago - three women doctors, all the nurses gave me dire warnings of going off these pills and now I'cve taken them 7 years and and my veins must be used to them - but my teeth are history - until now I've had a bridge - but he said I would havce to go to denture - not a happy prospect - but these keep falling out - not very happy either two Chinese just arrived, speaking this mysterious language  - now a good doctor would have warned me of side effects - also loss of balance, falls - and suggested weight loss, exercise and checking my blood pressure - and I would be in much better shape today - good doctors - a privilege of the rich - who then can boast in what great shape they are at 105. Marianne

[differentdove]

all the questionsss :D

Top of tha mornin to ya, anon! I guess you DO wanna know something! Is it you that wants to know everything? If not, thats a pretty popular view, hahaha! But i like your hutzpah, kid! 1:   Full name : Madison Grace 

2:   Age : I am nineteen 

3:   3 Fears : I mean, I dont really have but one fear, but I suppose silence, darkness, and opening up to people, but those are just due to inner issues and are things easily fixed that i deal with on a daily basis. 

4:   3 things I love : I love Paul and dinosaours and my family! 

5:   3 turns on : Passion, no fear of social standards, hilarity! 

6:   3 turns off : Common camo, no consideration of others, my ex bf!

7:   My best friend: all of my friends now??

8:   Sexual orientation: ?????????

9:   My best first date: That is by far this last one i went on! It was incredible, i will never forget it! 

10:   How tall am I: Smol standing at 5′6′’

11:   What do I miss: I miss traveling. I cant do it so much anymore as of this exact moment, but i do what i can

12:   What time were I born: I was born exactly on the dot at 8:45 in the morning! 

13:   Favourite color: ALL THE COLOURS! 

14:   Do I have a crush: Nope! 

15:   Favourite quote: I dont really have one, but ill just put the last one that i shared. I came across it by accident and it is actually a lyric, but it says: “We make each other better, we may not be perfect, but we are perfect together” and its such a sweet, aweome song and it made me too emotional than i am confortable with.

16:   Favourite place: I do not have one, actually! 

17:   Favourite food: How could you ever pick just one? There is so many delectable things out there! 

18:   Do I use sarcasm: Wha-whaaaattt! Pshhhh, haha, do i, do I use sarcasm?!?!? Hahahaha, noooooooooooooooo. 

19:   What am I listening to right now: I just have The Office playing in the background, ive gotta shower here soon, but I am tryna crunch out these questions first! 

20:   First thing I notice in new person: Existence? 

21:   Shoe size: That is a tricky question, but the shoes i am wearing today are a 9.5H

22:   Eye color: As of rn, they are lightish brown! 

23:   Hair color: Browwwnn

24:   Favourite style of clothing: I mean, i dont have an answer for this, but eccentric? 

25:   Ever done a prank call?: I mean, do middle school girls do dumb things at sleep overs?…yes. 

27:   Meaning behind my URL: I have used this url for soooooo many years now, it is basically my signature username. I came up with this in,,,a round fourth grade time, and that was when i was really noticing my connection to mother nature and i was the weird kid and so ‘different’ stood out to me, (”different” being a good connotation and “strange” being the opposing) and ‘dove’ was a nice word, showing a bit of religion and peace and so i feel they fit together very nicely! It also turned out for Morning Dove to be my first larger role, and my ancients gave me this bag of random jewlery from all over and it had a beautiful handmade dove in it with beads.  

28:   Favourite movie: N/a

29:   Favourite song N/a

30:   Favourite band Really, how does one pick these things?

31:   How I feel right now: I,,,I feel, not necessarily happy, but, almost. Content?

32:   Someone I love: Rachel

33:   My current relationship status: Single and ready to fla-stay that way.

34:   My relationship with my parents: Nonexistent?

35:   Favourite holiday: I dont have one! I really kind of like all of them! Well, except for valentines day. Thats so stupid, im not even gonna get that soap box.

36:   Tattoos and piercing i have: Sadly, i just have my lobes pierced, but i want soooo many more piercings that are underway. I want too many tattoos, and i cant really get them, so im just gonna deal without. 

37:   Tattoos and piercing i want: Well, the next is my conch ear pierced. I have an ear map of ones that i want. 

38:   The reason I joined Tumblr: I mean, this is not my original tumblr, but it was actually my friend Tahlia who suggested it. I was making really cool art out of fruit at lunch and she wanted me to post it, and so she told me about it and i cant remember what that blog was, but i will remember eventually. But i joined off of her recommendation and here i am! 

39:   Do I and my last ex hate each other?: No, i mean,,, he hurt me beyond belief and its really something ive been trying to get the heck ut of my life, but no, i dont hate him. I know he despises me, but i feel what i feel and as much wrong as he did me, i do not hate him. 

40:   Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?: I meaannn, technically yes, but ive not gotten a “good morning” text in a good while. I tend to talk to people very late, and so we will say good bye n good night, but not really, no. 

41:   Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?: I have not. 

42:   When did I last hold hands?: Goodness, that is a time ago, huh. Thats not something ive thought about in a good while. I held a mannequin hand earlier, but a human, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh?

43:   How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?: It depends, anywhere from and hour to five hours.

44:   Have You shaved your legs in the past three days?: HAHAHAHAHAHA

45:   Where am I right now?: I am sitting on my couch in the living room. My home. 

*the part where i shorten answers, sweet and simple. AKA i didnt realize how long this was and i want to get them all, but im on a time crunch*

46:   If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?: Then it would be whichever friend is there. We have good care for one another. Or the DD

47:   Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?: Suuuuuuuuuuper loud, man. 

48:   Do I live with my Mom and Dad?: Ugh. Unfortunately. 

49:   Am I excited for anything?: I am excited, yes. I get to give a gift tomorrow and get ready for KCACTF.

50:   Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?: Theres not really anyone, of any gender, that i have told everything to. 

51:   How often do I wear a fake smile?: too much. 

52:   When was the last time I hugged someone? I hugged this guy today…

53:   What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me? I mean she IS married, soooo

54:   Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?: Huh? No?

55:   What is something I disliked about today? I should have gotten something different at the restaurant, i didnt know it would be huge.

56:   If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?: The frozen head of walt disney

57:   What do I think about most? Theatre? God? Honestly, my thoughts are nothing to mess with

58:   What’s my strangest talent?: I can,,,uhhh, I am great at champagne towers? 

59:   Do I have any strange phobias?: Nope. But my friend is afraid of two things. Whales and jello.

60:   Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?: Boooooth

61:   What was the last lie I told?: Im hanging out with Shelby and Ariel.

62:   Do I perfer talking on the phone or video chatting online?: Both is pretty cool. Talking is easier for my situation (more available, etc.)

63:   Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? Yep. YEP.

64:   Do I believe in magic? Of course! 

65:   Do I believe in luck? Yes, but sometimes you have to make your own luck.

66:   What’s the weather like right now? It is actually starting to snow! :D

67:   What was the last book I’ve read? A Meisner book by friend lent me.

68:   Do I like the smell of gasoline? Overall-yes. but i hate pumping gas, and thats really the only time i smell it. 

69:   Do I have any nicknames? Not particularly, no.

70:   What was the worst injury I’ve ever had? Probably my heart, itm.

71:   Do I spend money or save it?: I am trying to balance. 

72:   Can I touch my nose with a tounge? Yes, i can, actually.

73:   Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?: My ipad has pink in the case! 

74:   Favourite animal?: None. All of them.

75:   What was I doing last night at 12 AM?: Dude. Freaking out over Gravity Falls! 

76:   What do I think is Satan’s last name is?: Uhhhhhhh, what? (McBadguy)

77:   What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?: I mean, all of the musics. Ooh lala? By ginger minj.

78:   How can you win my heart?: I dont know you, it depends on you. But i feel my sparkling personality is a shooin. 

79:   What would I want to be written on my tombstone?: “Theyre not dead. Theyre never gonna die, but still chipped in for a cool tombstone, TAKE THAT DEBORA.”

80:   What is my favorite word?: I dont have one, but there is this thing where people say a word and it just sounds perfect with their voice. My freshman english teacher had one. And its just strange and itll stop me in my tracks. 

81:   My top 5 blogs on tumblr: Theres so many great ones! I highly reccomend lots of my mutuals, theyre all perfect hoomuns. 

82:   If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?: Made you look. 

83:   Do I have any relatives in jail?: Not that i know of.

84:   I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?: The power to have every power.

85:   What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?: Really anything on my personal life. 

86:   What is my current desktop picture?: I dont have a desktop.

87:   Had sex?: Regerts. So many ragreeerrrts

88:   Bought condoms? Nope. 

89:   Gotten pregnant? Nope. 

90:   Failed a class? Yes. And it is not hindering me. 

91:   Kissed a boy?: yes i have

92:   Kissed a girl? Yep

93:   Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? No. 

94:   Had job? I have, i need another, though.

95:   Left the house without my wallet? Only all the time. 

96:   Bullied someone on the internet? Of course not. Thats never okay. 

97:   Had sex in public? I mean, technically, but no, not really. If ever. 

98:   Played on a sports team? Yeah, several actually. 

99:   Smoked weed? The devils lettuce. That gateway drug? THe wacKY TOBACKEE?!?! Yes. 

100:   Did drugs? Yep. 

101:   Smoked cigarettes? No, goodness no. And thats not gonna happen. ick

102:   Drank alcohol? Yep. 

103:   Am I a vegetarian/vegan? Never had this question before, i am vegan, yes! 

104:   Been overweight? Never not

105:   Been underweight? HAha, yeahright

106:   Been to a wedding? Yes! I love weddings! My last one ive been to was my dear friend Kelley. 

107:   Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?: Minimum. 

108:   Watched TV for 5 hours straight?  Childs play.

109:   Been outside my home country? Yes and i cannot wait to go back

110:   Gotten my heart broken? Hahahahaha only a lot. 

111:   Been to a professional sports game?: A few actually! I love it

112:   Broken a bone? No, knock on wood

113:   Cut myself? Yes. Dont do it. 

114:   Been to prom? Twice. Prom ruler yoyo

115:   Been in airplane? Yes! Its great, good memories. 

116:   Fly by helicopter? Gosh i wish. I had an opportunity to at school, but i didnt learn until after the fact, They didnt think id want to. WOULDNT WANT TO. PSSSHHH. HA. 

117:   What concerts have I been to? So many. THe last big one was P!ATD and FOB in Georgia

118:   Had a crush on someone of the same sex? Maybe?

119:   Learned another language? I am working on it, yeah. 

120:   Wore make up? I am actually wearing it at this very moment. 

121:   Lost my virginity before I was 18?: Ugh. Regeerrrtttsssssss

122:   Had oral sex? Nope. 

123:   Dyed my hair? Nah

124:   Voted in a presidential election? Sadly i have not. not yet. 

125:   Rode in an ambulance? No, actually. And i hope i never will. Unless its just a fun parade-type thing. Or a car chase.

126:   Had a surgery? Besides oral surgery, no.

127:   Met someone famous? A few, yeah. Shout out Fanboy

128:   Stalked someone on a social network? Mildly, yeah. 

129:   Peed outside? So. Hard. 

130:   Been fishing? Nah

131:   Helped with charity? Yeah, i love volunteering!

132:   Been rejected by a crush?: Yuuuppppppp. 

133:   Broken a mirror? ……maybe a little

134:   What do I want for birthday? Is surprise party a bad answer? Ive always wanted oneee

135:   How many kids do I want and what will be their names? Ahhhhhh, who knows. Not present Madison. Thats future Madisons problem. 

136:   Was I named after anyone?: No, but who knows. 

137:   Do I like my handwriting? Yes. Its changed so much and is all over the place, but its great.

138:   What was my favourite toy as a child?: Iiiiiii, i dont know. 

139:   Favourite Tv Show? N/a.

140:   Where do I want to live when older? Nowhere. I want to keep traveling and live in cast/crew housing and yes.

141:   Play any musical instrument? Clarinet, beginners piano, beginners cello, beginners bagpipes. 

142:   One of my scars, how did I get it? Ive not one on my right leg, four o’clock from my knee that i got from my kittens the last time i saw them…

143:   Favourite pizza toping? Vegan thingssssss (a rare commodity where i live)

144:   Am I afraid of the dark? Not teccchnically, but i cant be in it. 

145:   Am I afraid of heights? Nooooo, theyre wonderful! 

146:   Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad? Nope. Its only illegal if you get caught. 

147:   Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end? School is being a dumb dummyhead.

148:   What I’m really bad at. Everything, really?

149:   What my greatest achievments are. Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh…?

150:   The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me. Honestly, i have those stored atm and really couldnt tell you. 

151:   What I’d do if I won in a lottery. MADE SURE I CASKED THE TICKET ASAP. THOSE THIGNS HAVE A QUICK EXPIRATION DATE.

152:   What do I like about myself. Uhhhh,,,,,,, my minds not there atm. Come again. 

153:   My closest Tumblr friend. Teccchnicaly its @shelby ashley 3, but idk if thats cheating. 

154:   Something I fantasise about. Fantasise? Idk if you know me, but thats a vvv tricky subject. 

155:   Any question you’d like? Well, you didnt specify for this, so i suppose were finished! You might have noticed by now, but i am not able to answer every question in the ‘traditional’ way, but i hope you had fun reading these and you learned something new! I enjoyed answering them! I hope you have a wonderful day!

#anon #ask me more things #my inbox is always open #anon asks #me answering #ask games #love these #gross #cool #some questions are so trickkyyyyy #plus #being on a laptop i cant do upside down question marks #which sucks #but this post would be chamged so much #oh well #live and learn #ah no #no no no #tough day #anyways #thanks agai-...nope #thanks anon #i wish you the best #have fun reading these #most of them can be elaborated and spurn new conversation #so if you wanna know more #you can always send me more asks or a message #all under our discretion #cooll #well