#i enjoyed writing this a lot

[sanjithesimp]

♡ secrets ft. itadori yuuji ♡

a/n: idk where this idea came from but i might do a second part hehe.

w.c: 889 words

warnings*: nsfw (minors DNI).(all characters are aged up). cheating. unprotected sex. masturbation. fingering. alcohol mention.*

summary: you were taking a hot shower after a long day of exorcizing curses, you felt your muscles relax and you let your mind drift. some flashbacks came to your mind, from a few months ago. when megumi was on a mission, when it all started…

playlist suggested to listen while you read this

you were taking a hot shower after a long day of exorcizing curses, you felt your muscles relax and you let your mind drift. some flashbacks came to your mind, from a few months ago. when megumi was on a mission, when it all started…

yuuji and you were a few of the students that stayed behind. you both were alone and you were missing megumi more than ever. you knew it shouldn’t have happened but it did.

it was a cold night, after a mission you decided to go and get a few drinks, and even though you could handle alcohol, this time it was a bit more than the usual. yuuji was drunk too so you decided to go back together to your rooms.

if only you hadn’t had the last couple of shots…you walked and tripped until you finally were back at the school. you prayed that sensei yaga or someone saw you both in that state.

“stay” you whispered, as yuuji was helping you inside your room.

“it’s late, you should get some sleep” he said, as tucked you in your bed but you tugged his arm.

“please..stay” you insisted, even though you would probably regret it later.

you knew yuuji had a thing for you since the day they went to harajuku’s station to pick you up. you would never admit it out loud but you also liked him since you saw him that day. but once you really got to know megumi, you fell in love with him and after a few months you started dating. your feelings for yuuji faded away.

but right now, in the state you were, those feelings came back. and you couldn’t hide them anymore.

as yuuji laid beside you, you turned to face him and without hesitation you started kissing him. his arms wrapped around you to pull you closer, he dreamed about this so many times but it was so wrong, in so many ways. you were his best friend’s girlfriend, and you were making out in megumi’s room, but he couldn’t deny how much he wanted this to happen.

you started taking off each others clothes, until there was no fabric in between you. he admired your body for a moment, taking it all in and memorizing every inch of your skin, taking in your warmth.

“what are you waiting for?” you asked him as his eyes were wide open, you giggled as he kept on looking at you. you were still very drunk and needy, so you couldn’t wait any longer.

and within seconds, yuuji had changed positions by him being on top of you. “are you sure you want to do this?” he asked you as you both knew what it implied, but at this point you didn’t care. you just needed him to fuck you and make you forget all about megumi being far away.

his kisses were soft, as his hands roamed through your body, taking a handful of your ass while the other one pinched your nipple. cute moans and whimpers escaped your mouth, making yuuji impossibly harder than he already was, you could feel his cock pressing against your cunt.

“aren’t you going to stick it in?” yuuji smirked at how bold you were, never hiding how horny you were. he wanted to fuck you, but not just yet, he wanted to enjoy it as much as he could.

“not just yet…you aren’t ready for it” then you took a peak at his cock, it was indeed bigger than you expected, making you audibly gasp just by the thought of being filled with it.

his fingers slipped inside of you, you were already wet, he groaned at how tight your walls were around his thick fingers. he pumped them in and out of you, the squelching sounds as well as your moans were music to yuuji’s ears.

your slick was running down your thighs all the way to the messy sheets, you were almost too close to your orgasm and he hadn’t even slipped his cock inside you. it was heaven, it was even better that what you had imagined.

“yu- fuck me..right now” you whispered in his ear, your nails clawing at his back. once he heard those words there was no turning back, it was as if something had switched inside him.

“spit on it” he said, and you did so. he then pumped his cock a few times before slipping it inside you, until every inch of him filled you up completely. his tip pressing your g-spot every time he thrusted in and out of you…

he made you cum so many times that you had lost count, and your legs gave out. all those times you sneaked into his room after classes, all those nights you fucked on the beach and swore this would be your little secret.

you heard some steps approaching to the shower, you had caught yuuji a few times watching you as you took a shower so you started to touch yourself.

“are you going to just stand there and do nothing, or come fuck me right now…” you say as you continued rubbing your sensitive clit, your back arching as you slipped your fingers deeper inside you. you moaned softly.

“babe, i’m back” you jumped, hearing megumi’s voice.

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated

#i enjoyed writing this a LOT #@tumblr and whoever ruined my post #im not going to be defeated #reposting my little fic hehe #hope yall enjoy it #megumi smut #fushiguro smut #megumi x reader #megumi x y/n #yuuji itadori x you #yuuji smut #yuuji itadori x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[in-your-dreams-vn]

Gives dev tikka masala and fried dumplings. How does the boos help out an overworked, delivery food MC that their boss is bad?

Yes thank you! I eat all the food! Gimme!

Lynde

If you are overworked he will make sure that you rest properly! He will tie you to the bed if he has to!

If your boss is the kind to call you in last second and you are too kind to say no he will snatch the phone from you and tell them to fuck off. (not like that but he will be angy)

He will accept your decision to stay working since money has to be made somehow but he won't hesitate to tell you to search for a better job.

When you get home tired and aching from walking/carrying food boxes Lynde will run you a hot bubble bath and massage your feet.

He will cook for you (to the best of his abilities which isn't all that much) and do all the chores just to ease your stress and exhaution.

If you can't fall asleep after a particularly stressfull day he will sing you a lullaby and gently pat your head until you do slip off into the dreamscape.

If you have a nasty boss that abuses you he is quick to track them down and starts tormenting them. Psychological warfare is the name of the game and Lynde is a master of manipulation.

Don't question why your boss suddenly gave you that vacation you were asking for. He just had a change of heart is all~

Traum

They will wait for you in the dreamworld and show you all the best places to relax.

They take you into the Cloud Tower so you can watch the stars of the dreams while snuggling on the soft ground or take you to the Misty Sea to collect strange seashells and listen to the murmur of the waves.

They wish that they could ease your workload but as long as they can make sure that you are well rested and full of energy again for the next morning that is fine too.

If you vent about your asshole boss to them they won't hesitate to ask you for a phyisical description.

They will hunt your boss down, find out their deepest fears and haunt them.

Even if Traum's particular Sleep Paralysis form isn't what your boss is afraid off no one can survive getting their head bitten off.

Don't question your boss' sudden disappearance and just ignore the police asking questions. He just ran away with his side bitch. Nothing more, nothing less~

#💤 traumfänger #🎀 lynde baum #🛏️dreaming #in your dreams #thanks for the fluffy ask #I enjoyed writing this a lot

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Sensitivity✨

I am an absolute SLUT for Luci’s wings so I wanted to write something with them :), huge thank you to @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis for the help 💖

Also I’m legit on a cruise ship rn, but @amberlouise473 knows I gotta feed y’all like I’m tossing corn to my chickens 🤣

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: You’re super curious about Lucifer’s wings, but neither of you knew how sensitive they were. You didn’t know how sensitive you could be either…

Warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping, ruined clothes, pet names, oral (f receiving), face riding, over stimulation, multiple orgasms

It was time for bed and Lucifer was still working. You knew he worked late sometimes but this seemed a little later than usual. You decided to take a look to see if he was still in his office. Sure enough, you saw him sitting down at his desk when you entered the room. But when you looked closer, you saw that he’d fallen asleep at his desk, his head resting in his arms. He looked so peaceful lying there, you almost didn’t want to disturb him. But you knew he’d feel a lot better if he actually slept in your bed instead of hunched over his desk. Quietly, you walked towards him trying not to make any loud noises that might startle him. You placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking it lightly.

“Luci?,” you whispered, “Luci, it’s time for bed, wake up sleepy head.” He moaned quietly, but your shaking didn’t seem to have done the trick. You shook his shoulder a little hard. “Luci, c’mon hon.” Nothing. You took your other hand and placed it on his other shoulder, shaking him even more. “Lucifer!,” you nearly screamed!

With that, Lucifer’s eyes shot open, pushing himself off the desk. “AAHHH!!! WHAT?!?! What’s going on?!,” he yelled. You never saw him so frazzled before, it was kind of cute. But what you really didn’t expect was to see Lucifer’s wings spring out from his back. It must have been an involuntary reaction from the shock of being woken up so suddenly. His eyes found yours and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, it’s you, darling,” he breathed. “You really scared me there! I guess I must have fallen asleep, forgive me.” You were only half listening to him at this moment, your gaze was still fixed on his angelic wings. You’d only seen them once or twice before, but never for long. It was then that Lucifer turned his head and noticed what had caught your attention. “Oh! Sorry about that, it’s a defense mechanism, as silly as that sounds. I’ll put them away-”

“No, wait!”, you shouted louder than you meant to. Lucifer cocked an eyebrow at you, not understanding why you had stopped him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just…I never get to see your wings. They’re really beautiful.”

A light blush dashed across his face, he gave you a shy smile. “O-oh, thank you! I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.”

“That’s a shame,” you pouted, “I think they’re incredible.” You walked closer to him to get a better look at them. Their white and red coloring were breathtaking. Their length took up almost the entirety of the room you were in, and his office was not small in the least. A tiny part of you wondered if he always had red feathers, or if they had changed after he…

Perhaps that was a question for another time.

“Are they heavy?,” you inquired.

“Oh! Umm, I don’t think so,” Lucifer pondered. “I don’t really notice if they are. I might have gotten used to them over the last 10,000 or so years.”

“Can I…touch them?,” you asked shyly, averting Lucifer’s gaze.

He smiled. “Of course, love. Let’s go back to our room, shall we?”

Lucifer’s wings disappeared for now as he gently grabbed your hand and led you out of his office. Once you reached your bedroom, he unfastened his shirt and threw it off to the side. It made you blush, even though his bare chest was not a new sight to you. Lucifer noticed your reddened face and smirked.

“It’s a little easier this way, don’t you think?,” he chuckled. He walked over to the bed and sat down, crossing his legs in the process. He tapped his thigh, offering you a seat in his lap. You smiled and wrapped your legs around his torso, straddling him. “You ready?,” he asked with a little smile. You nodded your head eagerly. In an instant, his three sets wings appeared again. You noticed something was a little different though.

“I could have sworn they were bigger,” you puzzled.

“No, you’re right, they were,” Lucifer laughed. “I can control how large or small they need to be. They might have broken something in here if they were any bigger!”

You chuckled lightly. They were even more breathtaking up close, his scarlet feathers glistened even in the dim lighting of the room. You stuck out your hands and touched the top of his first set of wings. Unexpectedly, Lucifer inhaled sharply from your touch, screwing his eyes shut. You pulled away instantly.

“Oh no!,” you gasped. “Did I hurt you? I swear I barely touched them! I’m sorry!”

Lucifer exhaled slowly and opened his eyes again. “No, no, it’s alright, love,” he cooed, “it wasn’t painful. I just didn’t expect the sensation. Let’s just say they’re…more sensitive than I originally thought.” It was only then you felt a bump forming between your legs.

Oh…OH!

You quickly caught on to what he was referring to. And having you straddle his lap probably wasn’t helping. A small smirk crept across your face. You couldn’t resist the urge to make him squirm from your touch; the thought excited you.

“Well, in that case…” you smiled slyly, reaching out for his wings once more. This time, you gave them a slightly firmer grip than before. Lucifer nearly yelped from your touch and buried his face into the crook of your neck. You ran your hands up and down the tops of his wings, almost massaging them in a way. Lucifer was unable to hold back his moans.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart,” he panted.

You loved the sight of him bending so easily to your simple touches. You wondered if you could break him. You began to shift your hips in his lap, grinding on the now very apparent bulge in his pants. Lucifer nearly sobbed as you ground your hips against him. You moved your hands down to his second set of wings to give them some attention. You could tell he was unraveling quickly.

“D-Dear,” he choked out, “i-if you don’t stop, I’m g-gonna…f-fuck…”

His plea only made you grind against him at a faster pace while continuing to stroke his sensitive wings. At this point he couldn’t even form a coherent sentence, only broken moans and gutural sounds left his lips. You moved your hands down to his smallest set of his wings, pinching them between your fingers.

“FuckfuckfuckFUCK,” Lucifer cried out as your movements finally pushed him over the edge. He bit down on your shoulder as he came, completely ruining in pants. Once he came down from his high, he looked into your eyes, almost distraught.

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. “I-I didn’t think that…I didn’t mean to…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. His wings disappeared from sight as he buried his head into you chest

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you told him as you lifted his head up to plant a tender kiss to his lips. The small tears that had formed in his eyes fell down the side of his face, but you wiped them away with your thumbs. “Luci, please don’t apologize,” you soothed. “You never have to feel sorry for that! Did you feel good?”

Lucifer steadied his breathing, trying his best to calm down. “Yes, love, it was amazing. You’re amazing.” He lifted you off his lap and placed you on the mattress while he stood up, discarding the rest of his now filthy clothes. “But I absolutely refuse to be the only one being pleasured tonight.”

Without warning, Lucifer leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, filing your mouth with his tongue. You moaned against his lips, feeling as though you might be devoured by him. Lucifer tugged at the hem of your pajama pants, asking permission to remove them. “Mhmm,” was all you could mumble. In one swift motion, your pants had vanished and all you felt was the cool air on your legs. Lucifer brought down his fingers to your folds, loving the feeling of how wet you were for him. He captured your moan on his lips, but suddenly pulled his fingers away, leaving you to whine in protest.

Lucifer broke your kiss and brought his soaked finger to his lips, tasting your sweet nectar. “Mmm, you always taste so delectable, darling,” he marveled. You couldn’t help but blush at his words, he knew just what buttons to press when it came to you. He crawled back up on the bed and laid flat on his back, his head propped up by the pillows. “Come have a seat, sweetheart,” he teased as he pointed to his coy smiling face.

Your face became extreme hot as you crawled towards the demon king. You made your way on top of him and came to a halt when your dripping cunt hovered right above Lucifer’s eager smile.

“A meal fit for a king, truly,” he laughed as he dug his face into your aching pussy. You nearly screamed as his forked tongue worked his magic along your slit. He devoured you, making sure every inch of you was consumed. His lips found your clit and started to kiss and suck at it. He’d only just started and you were ready to snap.

“O-Oh my God, Lucifer, shhhiiittt, I’m so close…s-s-so close…,” you whined.

“God can’t hear you down here, angel,” he teased you before continuing to lap at your folds. He made quick work of you, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

“Fuuuuccckkkk, imcummingIMCUMMIMG,” you screamed as you finally felt your walls clench and spasm around nothing. Lucifer happily swallowed your juices as your orgasm started to recede. You tried to lift yourself up off Lucifer’s face, but he kept a firm grip on your legs.

“I’m not done with you, love,” he chuckled. With a snap of his fingers, golden shackles formed around your ankles, the chain hooked underneath Lucifer’s back. A twisted look of fear and passion flashed across your face. You were trapped.

“L-Luci…what are you-” you tried to asked but were cut off by another long lick up your sensitive cunt. A gutural moan escaped your mouth, you still hadn’t fully recovered from your orgasm.

“I thought it would only be fair to ruin you, since you ruined my clothes,” he chastised playfully. “But if at any time it becomes too much for you, tell me and I’ll let you go immediately, okay?”

“Al-Alright,” you stuttered, trembling from the anticipation.

Lucifer hummed against your lower lips. “I’ll make this a little easier for you, sweetheart.” You saw Lucifer’s form start to change beneath you. His horns had erupted from his head while his eyes shifted to a deep red and gold color with onyx irises. “Something for you to hold onto,” he murmured sensually.

Tentatively, you took hold of his horns and braced yourself for his next move. You didn’t have to wait long before you felt his tongue attacking your cunt once more. The grip you had on his horns could have torn your skin clean off with how tight you were holding them while he nipped and sucked your overstimulated clit. Before you knew it, your second orgasm hit you even harder than the first. Then your third, your fourth, your cunt was getting absolutely abused by Lucifer who hadn’t shown any signs of slowing down since he started. After your fifth orgasm washed over you, your legs had given out from under you, completely collapsing on top of Lucifer.

“No more…,” you begged. “No more, please…”

Lucifer snapped his fingers and the shackles around your ankles disappeared in an instant. You conjured up the remainder of your strength to push yourself off him and roll over onto your side, an absolutely breathless mess. You could hardly keep your eyes open. You could feel yourself losing consciousness until Lucifer pulled you flush to his chest.

“You did so well, my dear,” he murmured against your ear. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“Sleep…” was all you could muster. Lucifer chuckled lightly, kissing your cheek ever so softly.

“Goodnight, love,” you heard him whisper as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. It was the best sleep you ever had.

~~~~

“I just think they’re neat!” - Me w/ Lucifer’s wings also Lucifer inventend pussy eating, this is fact, ALSO also something something handlebar horns

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #my writing #I’m not sorry for this #this was super self indulgent 😂 #enjoy the new goofy Luci face! #a goofy face is my calling card lol #I was writing a lot of this in a public area I hope y’all appreciate the risks I take lmao

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

#tloz #a link to the past #zelda #link #my art #I was happy with that first one but for some reason decided it still needed a companion piece so I spent way too long on that second one... #I don't think there was any time during the progress where I was happy with it but hfduhdfu at least I got to Attempt drawing moss hell yea #I also at some point sat in Pyu's art stream and said I enjoy drawing legs As I was being murdered by the infamously impossibe (imo) squat. #it's ok I had fun !! but I need to learn how to let doodles be doodles or I'll never finish stuff at this rate dfsuhfd #if everything in my tloz tag looks like it was drawn by different people uuuh 2023 was art crisis year ngl...... #I'm falling back into my old ways rn though #anyway I think about these two a lot I think they're both stone faced and awkward ppl in different ways but they try rly hard to be friends #like I like to think it starts out so incredibly awkward and a bit sad bc they keep stepping over each other's toes accidentally the harder #they try but idk they find comfy middle ground idk in my brain they have a very interesting friendship I wanna get around to drawing it #in a proper way that might make sense.... #if I don't write 200 tags I will die maybe it's bc I grew up on dA or smth #and yes I know how to find 1 (one) type of mushroom /I/ am not mushroom girl unfortunately smh

[sporesgalaxy]

TWO THANGS

when I say "love" with no descriptors, I don't mean romantic by default

when I say "art" with no descriptors, I don't mean visual by default

#relevant to my recent posts . everyone should live like this in my opinion but life isnt perfect.......... #adddna #I'll admit I tend to give visual art examples because I enjoy making visual art meself #but i say art and mean writing and music and sculpture etc #and i say love and mean the general concept of humans caring about each other a whole whole extra lot

[tshortik]

I love you messy artstyle i love you visible brush strokes I love you textures and rough edges I love you imperfections I love you roughness and colour blobs I love you scratchy sketches and bold stylisation and dirt and imperfections I love you ugly and raw emotion!!!!! ❤️

#i talk sometimes #art talk #i made a tweet like this on twatter ages ago but i've been feeling this a lot lately #also this is the start of me writing more on this blog and not only using it as art because who cares!! i don't!! #I wanna translate raw emotion into colors and shapes. I wanna know where to ignore all details and where to go ham you feel me? #i used to dream about developing a style like for MtG where it looked like a masterful oil painting that oozes realism and details #and i've realised the last two years or so that I would actually hate that for me. I know I wouldn't enjoy doing it. For myself. #it's that pipeline from wanting to be the perfect realistic wotc artist to accepting that I will never be that #instead i wanna learn how to stylise better and get a good brush economy going yknow. I wanna be bolder. #i doubt i'll ever be as incredible as all these MtG artists no matter what anyone says. but it's ok!! i don't have to be!!! #i just luv art man!!

[corvidcall]

None Of You Know What Haiku Are

I'm going to preface this by saying that i am not an expert in ANY form of poetry, just an enthusiast. Also, this post is... really long. Too long? Definitely too long. Whoops! I love poetry.

If you ask most English-speaking people (or haiku-bot) what a haiku is, they would probably say that it's a form of poetry that has 3 lines, with 5, and then 7, and then 5 syllables in them. That's certainly what I was taught in school when we did our scant poetry unit, but since... idk elementary school when I learned that, I've learned that that's actually a pretty inaccurate definition of haiku. And I think that inaccurate definition is a big part of why most people (myself included until relatively recently!) think that haiku are kind of... dumb? unimpressive? simple and boring? I mean, if you can just put any words with the right number of syllables into 3 lines, what makes it special?

Well, let me get into why the 5-7-5 understanding of haiku is wrong, and also what makes haiku so special (with examples)!

First of all, Japanese doesn't have syllables! There's a few different names for what phonetic units actually make up the language- In Japanese, they're called "On" (音), which translates to "sound", although English-language linguists often call it a "mora" (μ), which (quoting from Wikipedia here) "is a basic timing unit in the phonology of some spoken languages, equal to or shorter than a syllable." (x) "Oh" is one syllable, and also one mora, whereas "Oi" has one syllable, but two moras. "Ba" has one mora, "Baa" has two moras, etc. In English, we would say that a haiku is made up of three lines, with 5-7-5 syllables in them, 17 syllables total. In Japanese, that would be 17 sounds.

For an example of the difference, the word "haiku", in English, has 2 syllables (hai-ku), but in Japanese, はいく has 3 sounds (ha-i-ku). "Christmas" has 2 syllables, but in Japanese, "クリスマス" (ku-ri-su-ma-su) is 5 sounds! that's a while line on its own! Sometimes the syllables are the same as the sounds ("sushi" is two syllables, and すし is two sounds), but sometimes they're very different.

In addition, words in Japanese are frequently longer than their English equivalents. For example, the word "cuckoo" in Japanese is "ほととぎす" (hototogisu).

Now, I'm sure you're all very impressed at how I can use an English to Japanese dictionary (thank you, my mother is proud), but what does any of this matter? So two languages are different. How does that impact our understanding of haiku?

Well, if you think about the fact that Japanese words are frequently longer than English words, AND that Japanese counts sounds and not syllables, you can see how, "based purely on a 17-syllable counting method, a poet writing in English could easily slip in enough words for two haiku in Japanese” (quote from Grit, Grace, and Gold: Haiku Celebrating the Sports of Summer by Kit Pancoast Nagamura). If you're writing a poem using 17 English syllables, you are writing significantly more content than is in an authentic Japanese haiku.

(Also not all Japanese haiku are 17 sounds at all. It's really more of a guideline.)

Focusing on the 5-7-5 form leads to ignoring other strategies/common conventions of haiku, which personally, I think are more interesting! Two of the big ones are kigo, a season word, and kireji, a cutting word.

Kigo are words/phrases/images associated with a particular season, like snow for winter, or cherry blossoms for spring. In Japan, they actually publish reference books of kigo called saijiki, which is basically like a dictionary or almanac of kigo, describing the meaning, providing a list of related words, and some haiku that use that kigo. Using a a particular kigo both grounds the haiku in a particular time, but also alludes to other haiku that have used the same one.

Kireji is a thing that doesn't easily translate to English, but it's almost like a spoken piece of punctuation, separating the haiku into two parts/images that resonate with and add depth to each other. Some examples of kireji would be "ya", "keri", and "kana." Here's kireji in action in one of the most famous haiku:

古池や　蛙飛び込む　水の音 (Furu ike ya　kawazu tobikomu　mizu no oto) (The old pond — A frog jumps in The sound of the water.)

You can see the kireji at the end of the first line- 古池や literally translates to "old pond ya". The "ya" doesn't have linguistic meaning, but it denotes the separation between the two focuses of the haiku. First, we are picturing a pond. It's old, mature. The water is still. And then there's a frog! It's spring and he's fresh and new to the world! He jumps into the pond and goes "splash"! Wowie! When I say "cutting word", instead of say, a knife cutting, I like to imagine a film cut. The camera shows the pond, and then it cuts to the frog who jumps in.

English doesn't really have a version of this, at least not one that's spoken, but in English language haiku, people will frequently use a dash or an ellipses to fill the same role.

Format aside, there are also some conventions of the actual content, too. They frequently focus on nature, and are generally use direct language without metaphor. They use concrete images without judgement or analysis, inviting the reader to step into their shoes and imagine how they'd feel in the situation. It's not about describing how you feel, so much as it's about describing what made you feel.

Now, let's put it all together, looking at a haiku written Yosa Buson around 1760 (translated by Harold G. Henderson)

The piercing chill I feel: my dead wife's comb, in our bedroom, under my heel

We've got our kigo with "the piercing chill." We read that, and we imagine it's probably winter. It's cold, and the kind of cold wind that cuts through you. There's our kireji- this translation uses a colon to differentiate our two images: the piercing chill, and the poet stepping on his dead wife's comb. There's no descriptions of what the poet is feeling, but you can imagine stepping into his shoes. You can imagine the pain he's experiencing in that moment on your own.

"But tumblr user corvidcall!" I hear you say, "All the examples you've used so far are Japanese haiku that have been translated! Are you implying that it's impossible for a good haiku to be written in English?" NO!!!!! I love English haiku! Here's a good example, which won first place in the 2000 Henderson haiku contest, sponsored by the Haiku Society of America:

meteor shower . . . a gentle wave wets our sandals

When you read this one, can you imagine being in the poet's place? Do you feel the surprise as the tide comes in? Do you feel the summer-ness of the moment? Haiku are about describing things with the senses, and how you take in the world around you. In a way, it's like the poet is only setting a scene, which you inhabit and fill with meaning based on your own experiences. You and I are imagining different beaches, different waves, different people that make up the "our" it mentioned.

"Do I HAVE to include all these things when I write haiku? If I include all these things, does that mean my haiku will be good?" I mean, I don't know. What colors make up a good painting? What scenes make up a good play? It's a creative medium, and nobody can really tell you you can't experiment with form. Certainly not me! But I think it's important to know what the conventions of the form are, so you can appreciate good examples of it, and so you can know what you're actually experimenting with. And I mean... I'm not the poetry cops. But if you're not interested in engaging with the actual conventions and limitations of the form, then why are you even using that form?

I'll leave you with one more English language haiku, which is probably my favorite haiku ever. It was written by Tom Bierovic, and won first place at the 2021 Haiku Society of America Haiku Awards

a year at most . . . we pretend to watch the hummingbirds

Sources: (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

Further reading:

Forms in English Haiku by Keiko Imaoka Haiku: A Whole Lot More Than 5-7-5 by Jack How to Write a Bad Haiku by KrisL Haiku Are Not a Joke: A Plea from a Poet Who Has Had It Up to Here by Sandra Simpson Haiku Checklist by Katherine Raine

#poetry #haiku #writing #literature #anime life #long post #i want to apologize but i had to get something off my chest #and the thing was. i love haiku #and when i see posts on here about haiku. i get so angy. #well ok i really get more disappointed bc nobody is really engaging with the form on its own terms #anyway i hope you enjoy some of my favorite haiku because theyre in there!!!!! #i didnt really get into the history of haiku. and i also did not get into why i got really into it #but i will say that i was really inspired by Jacob Geller's video A Thousand Ways of Seeing a Forest #which is a lot about translation #(which i mean. as an interpreter AND a poetry-enjoyer. really appealed to me lol)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Get Souped!

#poorly drawn mdzs #better drawn mdzs #mdzs #jiang yanli #I'm back! #She would never say 'get souped idiot' but I like to imagine JC and WWX would say it to each other if the other got sick and needed soup #JYL would never throw soup without knowing full well you would be able to catch it #She would rather fall face first than drop a bowl of soup after tripping. #She’s been hard at work preparing this soup! And all of you get to have some B*) Thanks for all the support while I was on break! #‘was your break relaxing op?’ unfortunately it was like being kicked down several flights of stairs. Didn't draw much sadly #Though I did end up writing a little mdzs fic! I haven’t written anything in a long while but it was fun. Maybe I'll post it....maybe... #regardless of all this rambling; thank you for all the kind messages. ill try and reply soon! #i have a few more fun doodles before I'm ready to crack into season 2! #Enjoy the soup in the mean time! #(PS: I know that's not the right hand shape for the meme redraw but augh...the OG hand angle was...way too hard to draw). #edit: retagged as better drawn mdzs. I put a lot into this one

[mercymornsimpathizer]

tbh I think people deeply misunderstand the dynamic between harrow and ortus. imagine ur thirty years old working a minimum wage job and living in ur moms basement. ur manager is an overacheiving high schooler who knows the employee handbook by heart. like she will garnish ur wages if u don't upsell vigorously enough but also she needs a ride home because her learners permit says she's not allowed to drive past 8 pm. ortus nigenad is victim of the alienation of labor, send tweet.

#harrow nonagesimus #ortus nigenad #the locked tomb #etc etc etc #i think we all have a lot of sympathy for harrow bc she has truly gone thru hell #but also like. cmon guys. she also deliberately and conciously put everyone else thru hell and enjoyed it too #ortus simpathizer hours #also idk what has come over me but i have the nearly irressistable urge to write tbh as turburculosis h #get it cuz like tb #anyways.

[ellana-ravenwood]

I know you probably abandoned this blog. But I want to say your writing has helped me. I have always had trouble with self-confidence, but I read your work, and I started to try and put myself out there more.

Oh...oooh..this made me incredibly happy. Thank you for taking the time to send this to me. I'm really touched, and happy my writing helped you in any way :). And I haven't abandoned this blog, I just got a little...busy with this :

Hehe.

I love you all. I will be back soon.

#ask #i really didnt abandoned writing here #i just really got super busy #and like i said in my previous ask from a few months ago #I have been enjoying life a lot #I am happy #so happy #so you know #less time or need to post here #but i will be back #soon

[oocsydney]

this is more or less just a late night personal anecdote (so please forgive my rambling), but hbomb's plagiarism video got me thinking the differences between journalism and marketing

during my undergrad in journalism, I was required to take an ethics course. we learned how to write our own code of ethics, as well as the core tenants in the SPJ Code of Ethics.

it was honestly one of the most invaluable courses I've ever taken in my life, and not only did I learn a lot about journalism through it, but I learned a lot about myself and what kind of person I wanted to be

then, when I studied marketing in grad school, I remember asking one of my marketing professors about ethics in marketing, and I remember him saying:

"ethical marketers starve."

I still think about that to this day. It's one of the main reasons why (despite having a master's in marketing) I did not pursue that field out of grad school

not to say that all marketers are unethical, I'm sure there are ethical ones that exist. but the fields of journalism and marketing are so diametrically opposed to each other, and the reason is because of ethics. one field is (or should be) in the pursuit of truth. The other is in the pursuit of profit.

the James Somertons (self-proclaimed marketers) of the world likely never consider the ethics of their work, but instead behave like marketers: try to appeal to the masses and sell themselves, try to get as many subscribers as possible, have fancy sets and lighting and props in his videos, churn out as many videos as possible to stay relevant in the YouTube algorithm at all costs, be "controversial" (even though most of his words were stolen or misogynistic or straight up lies).

our world is so centered on the idea of profit and self-attainment that we forget to ask ourselves if we're being decent human beings. I wholeheartedly believe that it's possible to be ethical AND successful, all while lifting up our fellow creators and writers without stealing from them. no one has to starve.

#hbomberguy #james somerton #this is mainly just me rambling #but i do wish it was required as an area of study for a lot of business schools #also i was falling asleep writing this so enjoy my sleepy hot takes lol

[bowtiepastabitch]

Historical Analysis: class and injustice in 'The Ressurrectionists' minisode

Alternate title: why we're tempted to be upset with Aziraphale and why that's only halfway fair

Okay so first off huge thanks to @makewayforbigcrossducks for asking the question (and follow-up questions lol) that brought me to put these thoughts all together into a little history nerd ramble. That question being, Why is Aziraphale so clueless? Obviously, from a plot perspective, we know we need to learn some lessons about human moral dilemmas and injustices. But from a character perspective? A lot of this minisode is about Aziraphale being forced to confront the flaws of heavenly logic. This whole idea that "poverty is ineffable" basically boils down to 'yeah some people are poor, but their souls can be saved just as if not more easily that way, so it's not our problem and they probably deserve it anyway for not working hard enough,' a perspective that persists in many modern religious circles. Aziraphale isn't looking at the human factor here, he's pretty much purely concerned about the dichotomy of good and wicked human behavior and the spiritual consequences thereof, because that's what he's been told to believe. His whole goal is to "show her the error of her ways." He believes, quite wholeheartedly, that he's helping her in the long run.

"the lower you start, the more opportunities you have"

So here's what we're asking ourselves: Why did it take him so bloody long to realize how stupid that is? Sure, he's willing to excuse all kinds of things in the name of ineffability, but if someone in the year of our lord 2023 told me he was just now realizing that homelessness was bad after experiencing the past two centuries, I'd be resisting the urge to get violent even if he WAS played by Michael Sheen.

Historical context: a new type of poverty

Prior to the 19th century (1800s), poverty was a very different animal from what we deal with now. The lowest classes went through a dynamic change leading up to the industrial revolution, with proto-industrialization already moving people into more manufacture-focused tasks and rapid urbanization as a result of increasingly unlivable conditions for rural peasantry. The enclosure of common lands and tennancies by wealthy landowners for the more profitable sheep raising displaced lots of families, and in combination with poor harvests and rising rents, many people were driven to cities to seek out new ways of eeking out a living.

Before this, your ability to eat largely would have depended on the harvest in your local area. This can, for our purposes, be read as: you're really only a miracle away from being able to survive the winter. Juxtapose this, then, with the relatively new conundrum of an unhoused urban poor population. Now if you want to eat, you need money itself, no exceptions, unless you want to steal food. Charity at the time was often just as much harm as good, nearly always tied deeply up in religious attitudes and a stronger desire to proselytize than improve quality of lie. As a young woman, finding work in a city is going to be incredibly difficult, especially if you're not clean and proper enough to present as a housemaid or other service laborer. As such, Elspeth turns to body snatching to try to make a better life for herself and Wee Morag. She's out of options and she knows it.

You know who doesn't know that? Aziraphale.

The rise of capitalism

The biggest piece of the puzzle which Aziraphale is missing here is that he hasn't quite caught onto the concept of capitalism yet. To him, human professions are just silly little tasks, and she should be able to support herself if she just tried. Bookselling, weaving, farming, these are all just things humans do, in his mind. He suggests these things as options because it hasn't occurred to him yet that Elspeth is doing this out of desperation, but he also just doesn't grasp the concept of capital. Crowley does, he thinks it's hilarious, but Aziraphale is just confused as to why these occupations aren't genuine options. Farming in particular, as briefly touched on above, was formerly carried out largely on common land, tennancies, or on family plots, and land-as-capital is an emerging concept in this period of time (previously, landowners acted more like local lords than modern landlords). Aziraphale just isn't picking up on the fact that money itself is the root issue.

Even when he realizes that he fucked up by soup-ifying the corpse, he doesn't offer to give them money but rather to help dig up another body. He still isn't processing the systemic issues at play (poverty) merely what's been immediately presented to him (corpses), and this is, from my perspective, half a result of his tunnel-vision on morality and half of his inability to process this new mode of human suffering.

Half a conclusion and other thoughts

So we bring ourselves back around to the question of Aziraphale's cluelessness. Aziraphale is, as an individual, consistently behind on the times. He likes doing things a certain way and rarely changes his methodology unless someone forces his hand. Even with the best intentions, his ability to help in this minisode is hindered by two points: 1)his continued adherance to heavenly dogma 2)his inability to process the changing nature of human society. His strongest desire at any point is to ensure that good is carried out, an objective good as defined by heavenly values, and while I think it's one of his biggest character hangups, I also can't totally blame him for clinging to the only identity given to him or for worrying about something that is, as an ethereal being, a very real concern. Unfortunately, he also lacks an understanding of the actual human needs that present themselves. Where Elspeth knows that what she needs is money, Aziraphale doesn't seem to process that money is the only solution to the immediate problem. This is in part probably because a century prior the needs of the poor were much simpler, and thus miraculous assistance would never have interfered with 'the virtues of poverty'. (You can make someone's crops grow, and they'll eat well, but giving someone money actually changes their economic status.) Thus, his actions in this episode illustrate the intersection of heavenly guidelines with a weak understanding of modern structures.

This especially makes sense with his response to being told to give her money. Our angel is many things, but I would never peg him as having any attachment to his money. He's not hesitant because he doesn't want to part with it, he's hesitant because he's still scared it's the wrong thing to do in this scenario. He really is trying to be good and helpful. So yes, we're justifiably pretty miffed to see him so blatantly unaware and damaging. He definitely holds a lot of responsibility for the genuine tragedy of this minisode, and I think Crowley pointing out that it's 'different when you knew them' is an extremely important moment for Aziraphale's relationship with humanity. Up until now, he's done a pretty good job insulating himself from the capacity of humans for nastiness, his seeming naivity at the Bastille being case in point.

In the end, I think Aziraphale's role in this minisode is incredibly complex, especially within its historical context. He's obstinate and clueless but also deeply concerned with spiritual wellbeing (which is, to Aziraphale, simply wellbeing) and doing the right thing to be helpful. While it's easy to allow tiny Crowley (my beloved) to eclipse the tragic nature and moral complexity of this minisode, I think in the end it's just as important to long-term character development as 'A Companion to Owls'. We saw him make the right choice with Job's children, and now we see him make the wrong choice. And that's a thing people do sometimes, a thing humans do.

~~~

also tagging @ineffabildaddy, @kimberellaroo, and @raining-stars-somewhere-else whose comments on the original post were invaluable in helping me organize my thoughts and feelings about this topic. They also provided great insight that, in my opinion, is worth going and reading for yourself, even if it didn't factor into my final analysis/judgement.

If I missed anything or you have additional thoughts, please please share!!! <3

#this was a monster of a post to write #in no small part because I was relying more on my own historical knowledge than usual so I had to double check myself constantly #but I had a lot of fun and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did #good omens #good omens 2 #neil gaiman #good omens analysis #good omens meta #the resurrectionists #good omens season 2 #good omens minisode #nerd shit #ineffable husbands #aziraphale good omens

[welcometogrouchland]

I understand that literature nerd Jason Todd is kind of overblown in fanon compared to it's actual presence in canon (a few issues during his pre (and post?)crisis Robin tenure that highlight it) BUT consider that I think it's hilarious if the unhinged gun toting criminal has strong opinions on poetry

#ramblings of a lunatic #dc comics #Jason Todd #batfamily #it's just a fun quirk! it's a fun lil detail and I simply cannot slight ppl for enjoying and incorporating it into works #like obviously jason isn't the only one. I'm a big believer in the batfam having over lapping interests they refuse to bond over #i know dick canonically used the robin hood stories (which are pretty flowery in their language far as i can tell) as inspo for Robin #and i know babs was a librarian and even tho her area of nerddom is characterized as more computery she probably knows quite a lot- #-about literature as well #duke is a hobbyist writer i believe? i saw a fan mention that- which if so is great and I hope he's also a nerd #(i mean he is canonically. i remember him being a puzzle nerd in his introduction. but i mean specifically a lit nerd) #damian called Shakespeare boring but also took acting classes so i think he's more of a theatre kid. #Tim's a dropout and i don't think he's ever shown distinct interest in english lit and i can't remember for Steph? #I'm ngl my brain hyperfocused on musician Steph i forget some of her other interests I'm sorry (minus softball and gymnastics!) #and then Cass had her whole (non linear but it's whatevs) arc about literacy and learning to read #went from struggling to read in batgirl 00 to memorizing Shakespeare in 'tec and is now an avid read in batgirls! #she's shown reading edgar allen poe but we don't know if it's his short stories or his poems #point to all of the above being: i know Jason's not the only lit nerd in the batfam #but also i do need him to be writing poetry in his spare time and reading and reviewing it #jason at the next dead robins society meeting: evening folks today I'll be assigning all of us poems based on laika the space dog #damian and steph who have been kidnapped and brought to jasons warehouse to hangout: LET US GO BITCH #speaking of^ random poem i think jason would like: space dog by alan shapiro #wake up one morning in an unfamiliar more mature body with a profound sense of abandonment. the last four lines. mmm tasty

[lizzieisright]

if you wrote that backstory idk dude maybe i’d kiss you

alpha abby >>

Honestly I wrote it and for some reason it gives me Pride and Prejudice vibes idk idk

alpha!Abby x omega!reader, just two paragraphs of smut (MDNI), alpha!Abby is sweet eventually, mention of heats/ruts, written on a knee without editing, backstory for these idiots.

-/-/-/-/-/-

When Abby meets you she is baffled. It sounds incredibly arrogant but the fact that her alpha presence doesn't do shit to you offends her. Abby is not used to an omega who doesn't try to impress her and she knows she is being the worst fuckboy stereotype but it genuinely throws her for a loop. You just look at her like Abby is not, well, fucking Abby. Like her scent doesn't make you want to arch your back and present yourself for her. 

And listen, Abby is self-aware enough that she knows not all omegas will like her. It's just. It never happened before. And Abby also is not an idiot who will try to win you over or something - yeah, her ego was bruised but that was just how life is. 

The problem with this starts later, when you're paired for patrol. Abby is so used to being bossy and barking at everyone because omegas will listen and alphas won't dare to challenge her; she doesn't really care if she is being polite to you. 

But you care, judging by your raised eyebrows and angry looks when Abby gives you orders like you're her little soldier. 

And then Abby accidentally makes you absolutely fucking hate her, because she grabs you. She tugs you like a ragdoll to get you out of what she thought as a dangerous way, and she ends up with a knife at her throat. 

You look at her angrily and press your knife harder until she gets the hint, and Abby lets you go. 

"Do that again Anderson and I'll kill you. Don't fucking touch me like that." You growl and Abby, instead of being a normal person, frowns and gets aggressive.

"You were going to fall, idiot, I was saving you." Abby huffs and gets closer, daring you to challenge her. 

"I don't need you to save me." You growl in her face, not backing down, and Abby's eyes flash red, because omegas don't speak to her like that.

You stare back at Abby even though it's hard, standing up to an angry alpha with such suffocating presence is very fucking hard, but you're also very pissed off, so you stand your ground even though it physically hurts to defy an alpha, but you don't care about pain right now.

The stare down ends because there's a crack in the woods and you both get alert, looking around. You grab your knife tighter and Abby instinctively moves to shield you, but nothing comes out to attack you. 

So you finish your patrol in total silence. 

That's how you become easily the only omega in the stadium who doesn't like Abby Anderson. The fact that Abby is also extremely attractive and her scent is intoxicating only fuels your spite. The fact that her dick is so good there's fucking competitions to spend her rut with her only makes it worse. 

To be fair Abby looks miserable in pre-rut so you find some sympathy for her. But not after you hear another omega bragging about how good Abby is in bed. Then you're back to despising her. 

Abby's presence is something you have to train yourself to get used to, refusing to get under her influence, but it gets so much easier once you can let her stare you down across the room and be absolutely calm about it. Abby stares at you a lot, especially if she thinks you fucked up, but you stare back and don’t let her win this. It’s not even aggressive or challenging by this point and it feels like some kind of ritual between you two.

Abby, on the other hand, learns to be more nice to you. She is polite to you and she doesn't touch you again. Sometimes you can even have a normal conversation. You hate it, because Abby is not a total asshole of an alpha and you don’t have an excuse to be mean to her, even though you really want to - it’s the only barrier you have to keep yourself from falling for her. But Abby is genuinely trying and not because she wants to knot you, but because she can't stand having you in distress around her. 

For some reason Abby cares for you and your well-being, she wants you to be comfortable in her company, and yeah, this is weird and Abby’s never felt like that, but when she sees how your shoulders relax when she gets closer to cover you during patrol Abby feels like she won this life. 

Then your heat comes. It comes so fucking unexpected you have trouble breathing, panting and chocking on air as you desperately try to make your way to a safe space, because you know all too well what can happen when there's an omega in heat walking around. 

But it's so fucking hard to walk and you feel your slick coming down your thighs and everything fucking hurts because you need an alpha, so you clutch your knife and barely make it to some fucking corner to catch your breath. 

That is how Abby finds you. She caught your scent and all her senses went into overdrive because you're in heat and you're in distress and all Abby hears in her head is HelpHelpHelpMakeitgoawayHelp and she is making her way to you, her eyes are red because she can't fucking control it now, you're hurting and she needs it to go away and make it better-

You're sitting on the floor, panting, and you hold your knife right in front of your face with trembling hands because this is not happening. Abby smells like heaven and this is not happening. 

"Fuck." Abby sighs and she reacts way too hard to your scent, because your distress just got worse. "I won't hurt you, let me help." Abby pleads and you use your legs to get away from her, pushing yourself back into a corner but there's only a wall. 

"Stay the fuck away from me." You growl and clutch your knife harder. "Get the fuck away, Abby."

You're terrified and Abby can't handle it. She's never seen an omega in such a state, and her brain immediately shifts into protective mode. 

"I'm not going to touch you." But fuck she wants to. "You need to get to your room. I'll help you."

"No-no-no-no. Leave me alone." But you feel your arms grow weaker and the pain getting worse. 

"I'll make it better, okay?" Abby's eyes are red and you can hear it. You can hear it in her voice, what she is going to do and you start crying.

"Abby, no please, no. Don't do this." You plead her, but Abby gets closer to you anyway. 

"Relax." Abby says in her alpha voice and you immediately go pliant against your will. Your brain is fuzzy and you feel so much better, the thoughts are only filled with alphaalphaalpha and how good Abby smells and how good her hands feel on your waist and knees and you cling to her like she's a life line. "I'm not going to do anything. I'll carry you to your room and that's it, okay?"

"Alpha." You plead and bury your nose in her scent glands and Abby has to stop and take a breath and it only makes it worse because the air is filled with your smell. 

But then Abby is hit with your terrified teary eyes from a minute ago and she doesn't want to be someone you're so afraid of. So she carries you to your room and hopes your own place will ground you. 

Your place makes it worse for her though, because your scent is everywhere and you're still clinging to her and calling her alpha and she doesn't know what to fucking do.

So Abby does what humans do to cats: she carries to the bathroom and puts your head under the stream of cold water, which actually works and you spit curses at her.

"What the fuck!" You scream and Abby lets you go. You're sitting on your bathroom floor, wet and cold and angry, but your head feels clearer. You look up at Abby, whose eyes are red and she is so tense you see veins on her arms. You tense too: you have no idea what to expect. "Abby-"

"I won't hurt you." Abby growls and you search for your knife again. "I just. I can't leave you." 

And Abby looks almost guilty. It clicks and you feel affection overflowing your heart despite your better judgment - now that your mind is on heat leave you can't fight your feelings. Abby is so deep in protective mode she literally can't move because in her head she is a threat too - you knew it could happen, you just didn't expect it to happen to Abby. 

"Relax, alpha." You tell her to free her from it, and Abby relaxes immediately. "Now can you leave?"

Abby knows it's the right thing to do - you aren't even friends and you're vulnerable and she is a threat whether she wants it or not, but it still hurts. 

"Were you- did you really think I'd do something to you?"

"With alphas you never know." You answer vaguely and honestly? It hurts even more. Abby doesn't want to be that kind of alpha to you. 

What Abby can't stop herself from doing is sitting outside your door like a dog and guarding you during your heat. Your words really hit her and her instinct to protect you skyrocketed. 

And you know she is there, the heavy suffocating scent filling your nostrils as you desperately cling to your pillow, but Abby smells so strongly of protection it actually eases up the anxiety you have when you're alone in heat and you can't bring yourself to go up and tell her to fuck off.

(You're also afraid you'll jump Abby the moment you see her again because Abby is the best alpha you know and right now she is sitting outside your door protecting you)

(Abby sits there for three days and the way your scent is full of safe keeps her sane, makes it all worth it)

After that you awkwardly thank Abby and she awkwardly apologises for scaring you. The ice between you melts and now when you're paired for patrol it is actually fun. It's still strange to have Abby in constant protection mode, but now you find it sweet. 

Now you find her heavy scent comforting and safe and you seek it out every time you're close. Abby is no better, her head fucking snapping in your direction every time she smells you.

So the awkward courting begins. Abby cautiously attempts to care for you, scared to end up with a knife to her throat again, but you're actually way nicer to her now, taking her jacket when she offers, letting her carry things for you, letting her re-check your guns (after asking if she can). Abby feels hopeful. 

Abby asks you out, ridiculously nervous because you can reject her without a second thought, but you actually say yes. 

You go on a date and Abby barely keeps her hands off you, but she gets close enough for your scents to mix and you're not stupid, you notice it and snuggle into her side, rendering Abby speechless. 

She feels like an idiot around you. 

On the third date Abby kisses you and your scent gets immediately happy and you refuse to feel embarrassed about it because Abby smells the same. 

It'd been a month since you started dating and you notice how aggressively territorial Abby gets, how her scent gets heavier and how often her eyes become red all of a sudden. It means Abby's rut is close. 

Abby is exhausted and you do as much as you can to provide comfort for her, desperate to make her feel better. 

"Your rut is coming." 

"Yeah."

"What's the plan?"

"You don't have to spend it with me." Abby tells you, because she is afraid she'll hurt you. Alphas in rut are rough and unrelenting and Abby is not an exception. "Hell, I don't want you to, if it means you'll get hurt. Especially since-" Since you haven't had sex yet. 

You don't know why, but that is just the pace of your relationship and you're fine with it. What you're not fine with is Abby hurting. 

"I don't think you'll ever hurt me. I'd like to be there with you, if you're okay with it."

"You won't be able to stop me."

"Don't threaten me with a good time." You smirk, but Abby's eyes turn red and you feel yourself getting wet. 

"Fuck, sweetheart." Abby buries her face in your neck and you shiver, because her teeth are close.

That's how you end up face down ass up on Abby's bed, getting fucked so hard you'll have bruises just from Abby's thrusts tomorrow, not counting her grip on your hips. The room is so heavy with her pheromones you're almost choking on it, your head is empty except for alphaalphaalpha breedmbitememarkme and Abby's low growling of "mine" at every thrust, her fangs scraping over your neck. 

And you think you can't take it anymore because Abby is relentless, she is rough, but then her grunts start to get louder and her pace gets sloppy - she is close and you spread your thighs because you know what's coming. 

Abby knots you and it's so fucking much, she is big enough as it is and her knot is even bigger but it makes you see stars and you scream her name. Abby growls into your ear and you can’t help but arch into her, submitting to her. 

Later, when Abby catches the break from being insanely horny, she assesses all the damage she did to you and it makes her sad - she doesn’t like the bruises on you. She gently kisses all of them as if she is apologising and you just bask in her touch and care, smelling so happy and satisfied Abby starts to feel better about it. 

Can you sit properly after Abby’s rut? No. Do you enjoy the sting of pain every time you sit? Yes. Does Abby follow you like a puppy to make sure you're okay? Yes.

Abby is still the same intimidating mean alpha but now you like it. Now you watch her stare down alphas who even dare to turn their noses in your direction and you get happy. Abby is possessive as fuck and she makes sure you always have her scent on you and you're no better, wearing her clothes just to make her wear it after you so Abby'd smell like you, but both of you don't rush with the mating bite until a year later when Abby is gently taking you apart during your heat and you sink your teeth into her shoulder.

You cry because you think Abby'll get mad at you (fuck you heat hormones for making you so sensitive, you get so embarrassed later), but Abby kisses you and tells you how happy you made her and how she can't wait to have you sober to give you your mark.

You carry Abby's bite on your inner thigh.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #alpha!abby #abby anderson #abby tlou #idk this is stream of consciousness #but I enjoyed writing this a lot #did I steal some dialogue from my alpha oc? yes I did

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Rebound

Part two to Underground

Pairing: Fighter!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: You lose your last tether to the normal world and Bucky has to make a decision. You’re officially part of the Underground. Does he help you, or not?

Warnings: 18+. Angst, violence, fluff and smut.

Words: 5OOO

The demanding throbbing in your feet nearly feels delightful as you drag yourself home to your cramped apartment. As the sun rises and the city turns pink and orange, your building starts to come alive. Though you can barely manage to keep your eyes open.

You can tell the Underground is starting to toughen you up. You make longer days, are a bit paler in your face, making your features sharper, and the bravado you muster as you survive every night is surely something that has started to cling to your face and posture permanently. The people that start their days at sunrise, the ones that weren’t blipped from society and still have a life to return to, they walk around you in a big circle now.

It only makes you feel smug. The society slowly casting you out – starting to fear you.

However, your confidence has a short lifespan when you walk up to the front door of your apartment. The fresh paper with red capital letters stamped on it shouldn’t come as a surprise. You have tried to hold this moment off for as long as possible, going even as far as to take small side jobs in the fighting dome to make some extra money.

You suppose it was only a matter of time before you’d have the words ‘EVICTION NOTICE’ stamped across your door.

And your adrenaline spikes again, realising the time has come that you are officially homeless. You have been well and truly cast out by society, something both you and Natasha had been trying to fight and hold off for as long as possible. This is why the spy had introduced you to the Underground, to make some sort of living. And Nat had never judged you for staying in denial a little longer, even though you knew you would have to get used to the Underground fast, because it was only a matter of time before it would be your new home.

So no sleep for now.

You rip open the door and start packing, leaving all the old furniture that was already there and ending up with one big, stuffed duffel bag and a smaller bag. And then you stand in your place that is no longer your place and truly has never really felt like your place. You look around and feel angry …and hurt. After all, you have been chewed up and spit out, like so many before you.

You stuff that feeling far, far away and vacate the building right as de evening rolls back in. Evening already – since you have tried to put off this moment for as long as possible, have extended packing for hours. Since you don’t have a clue where Natasha lives, if she even resides in the country right now, you are forced to step to the one person you do not want to go to…

As you enter the dome, the place eerily quiet since the nightlife is a long way from commencing, you mildly greet the bartenders and crewmembers readying for the night. You scrunch your face at the stench, wondering if the place ever really gets cleaned. In the darker corners you see things that you decide are none of your business and you drag yourself through centre of the Underground, the capitol of dodgy business.

Making your way to the locker room, you breathe a sigh of relief when you find it empty. Finding a locker in the far back, you stuff it full with your last belongings and pray that none of it gets stolen. Maybe you can find a place in this building to sleep in. You have definitely seen other people crash here for the night, though you debate how safe you’d be. You hardly think you’d close an eye in a place like this.

Then, all the hairs on your body stand up straight.

You slowly turn to find Bucky staring at you, one brow quirked and that being the only sign of his curiosity. “Why are you already here?”

You swallow, “Just trying to get some extra work in.”

Neither of you have talked about what happened nearly a month ago. How you rode his leg with his fingers inside of you until you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. And how that had been enough for him to come nearly untouched. Well, you say untouched, but you had felt just how heavy he was on your tongue and that’s where you wanted him coming next. Badly.

And you can’t exactly say the tension between you has shifted much. Something that made you realise just how high tensions between you already were. But you dropped it, so had he.

“You have to be careful with those side businesses,” he tells you as he turns to his own locker, one that does have a lock. “People will take advantage of a woman like you.”

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you,” you snap at him and move to find your bag of supplies for the fight. You try to calm your breathing as you find the bag, kneel down and rummage through it, checking if you need to restock any of your supplies, if only to give yourself something to do for the upcoming hours.

But your spine stiffens again and it’s a little darker around you. So you turn and immediately stand up with you see Bucky looming over you. His eyes rove over your face, peering straight through to your soul, where it quivers before him.

“If you could take care of yourself,” he drawls, “you wouldn’t be homeless right now.”

You startle, “What? How do you know?”

He smiles, but it feels more vindictive than smug. “Because word travels fast, sweetheart, and a pretty girl like you on the loose is gold in the Underground.” He pauses and then his smirk turns smug, “Especially when she’s desperate.”

“I’m not desperate!” You squawk in outrage and he takes a step closer, close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face.

He clenches his jaw, eyes hardening. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“How?”

“That is none of your concern.”

Bucky lets out a humourless laugh, tilting his head up and running his tongue over his teeth in annoyance before he lowers his gaze back to yours. “You see, it seems like I’ve signed a stupid fuckin’ contract where that is my concern. So please tell me you have a plan and I don’t have to intervene.”

“Intervene?” you sneer and roll your eyes. “Please, it’s not like you can offer me anything out of this place. You’re not here by choice.”

He quirks his brow, seemingly intrigued by that assumption. “Is that what you think? What if I was here by choice, huh? What if I chose this life?”

You fall silent at that, and decide to keep it like that. An argument with him won’t be worth it. Besides, what are you going to tell him? You have nothing and no one. You are officially at your wit’s end and for you, that is saying a lot. The silence stretches… and stretches…

“Give me something to do,” you tell him quietly –deflated– when he doesn’t break the silence either. You don’t see Bucky’s face soften when he watches the defeat in your face before you stare down at the ground.

Bucky’s skin prickles like there is electricity in the air. Because he’s angry. He’s pissed and furious and so fucking angry. That the world can spit out a woman like you, like it has let down so many good people after the Blip.

And the anger doesn’t seize. It only gets worse, like magma bubbling under his skin and boiling his bones. That night, he beats up opponent after opponent in what seems like a record time. People get killed in these fights all the time, they fight to the death all the time. After all, there are too many people and you know what you signed up for when you enter this place. Yet, it’s a line Bucky has never crossed, never will cross. Not anymore.

It’s difficult, to stay of this side of that line tonight. He wants to kill. He feels the soldier crawling under his skin, flipping knives in anticipation, begging Bucky to unleash him. And he thinks he has hardly been this angry before. Bucky yanks on that leash and fights, each punch and kick doing nothing to quench his thirst for justice.

Win after win, Bucky ruins everyone who dares to take it up against him. But he doesn’t hear the crowd – the screams for more blood and sensation, the cheers that he is the most dangerous man in the Underground. He only hears the rushing of his blood in his ears as he thinks about the woman the world has abandoned – as he thinks about you.

…

“Grab your bags. You’re coming with me.”

You gape at your two bags sitting on the leather bench and peer back at all of the lockers, each of them seeming like they have been ripped open with brute force, some of them dented in a manner that looks like a metal hand gripped its edges. You briefly glance at his metal hand and then up to his face.

Unflinching. His command and his face.

So you grab your bags and follow after him silently. Through countless of alleys and wild crowds that seem to think the night of violence has only just begun, even though the sky is turning lilac with dawn. You sometimes hobble to catch up with the soldier, your arms quaking under the weight of your duffel bag. But you keep marching onward, the last dregs of your energy fuelled by what is to come.

The stairs of the industrial building are almost too much, but you try not to stumble since Bucky is walking behind you and that would severely hurt your pride. The fatigue is making every step feel like torture, like you’re climbing a sandy hill and you have to move carefully to keep from slipping into the dark depths. When you do stumble slightly, the weight of your duffel tipping you backwards, you feel the faintest nudge of a warm hand at your lower back, just enough to tip you back and let you continue your trek up the stairs.

Bucky overtakes you at last and opens a door with around twenty locks attached to it, all of them unlocked. He walks in like it’s habitual and you trudge after him, your energy spiking enough to take in the sight. Bucky walks over to the floor to ceiling windows and rolls down the beige canvas curtains. Just as the sun peaks over the horizon of the city and orange light pours into what you can only assume is Bucky’s home.

It's big. Simple and imposing, but cosy nonetheless. There are plants, a fact that has you fighting to keep from smiling. And brown leather furniture, a beautiful and clean kitchen… You turn your gaze back to the man of the house, who is now standing beside a massive bed with cream sheets and fluffy pillows. Your eyes become bleary at the sight, sleep fighting its way to the surface and threatening to drag you to the floor.

Bucky panics slightly at the look on your face and strides over, grasping your bag from your trembling arms. He has to hold back from cursing at the thought that you must not have slept for over forty-eight hours and how dreadful the past day must have been for you.

He guides you to his bed and lets you collapse into the sheets as he pulls off your boots. Bucky knows you would have put up more of a fight if you weren’t so exhausted, but he won’t use it against you. Just like you didn’t use his weakness against him when you were massaging him.

That massage.

He cannot cast the thought from his brain. Never mind what followed the massage. The woman that was on his knees for him, that came around his fingers and was moaning for him so beautifully – she seems like such a far cry from the woman before him. How you can be so careful and feisty, yet such a dream when it comes to his most sinful fantasies. What you did to him in that locker room that day has been playing in his head on repeat. And he wants to slap himself for wanting to crawl beneath the sheets now, drag those clothes off your body, spread your thighs and bury his face between them–

He quickly stands from the bed and clears his throat, casting you one more look before he’s off to the kitchen area and refill his energy in other ways.

…

When you wake up, it’s dark again. It takes you a while to orient yourself, your body fighting off the heavy blanket of sleep you have been swaddled in. The bed below you is more comfortable than anything you have ever felt and the smell–

Pushing up to a seat, your body becomes alert of your surroundings just in time to hear the rattle of about twenty locks opening. In walks Bucky, slumping as he moves his bruised body across his own floors. He notices you, doesn’t pay you any mind, and then plants himself to sit at the edge of the bed you are laying in. He bends down with a quiet grunt, unlacing his boots and peeling them from his feet.

He seems exhausted. And judging by the darkness, he has called in an early night. You push off the sheets and crawl towards him. Bucky tenses almost imperceptibly, but you gently put your palms on his wide shoulders. You swear you see him shudder, before his back bends over more in relaxation.

“I lost tonight,” he tells you as you slowly circle your warm palms over his back.

He lost. That’s unlikely. Something must have happened for him to lose. He must have been distracted. Or someone new has joined the Underground. Something’s maybe different. Shit, you were supposed to take care of him yesterday. He’d fought harder than you’d ever seen him fight. He must have been broken this morning– But, no. He has fought fights without your care for God knows how long. It couldn’t have made a difference now.

“What happened?” you ask, doubtful he’ll open up to you.

His head snaps backwards and you flinch at the look in his eyes. “What do you mean ‘what happened’? You happened. Can’t fucking focus with you being all dramatic with your personal bullshit.”

You draw back. “Excuse me?! I don’t recall making my problems yours!”

“Well, they are now, aren’t they?” he snipes back and runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

And you think maybe it’s not you he’s frustrated with.

“What do you want from me?” you ask quietly. Timidly.

You barely hear him, his voice muffled by his hands as he speaks, “I want you on all fours.”

But you did hear him. Some part of you heard him, that’s for sure. The heat that left your body after your endless sleep is returning to you in a different form, pebbling your skin with anticipation. You swallow hard and barely manage to get out, “What?”

Bucky takes a deep breath and slowly turns to you.

“Lie on your stomach.” The order is soft, but so, so clear and not gentle by any means. You search his eyes frantically, but only find his immovable self. Your traitorous body lights on fire at what she finds. So you do as you’re told.

And you wait.

Two large, warm hands travel up your clothed legs. Kneading your calves, your thighs, until they knead your ass. You cannot help but push your hips back to seek the pressure. You feel his looming presence crawl over you and you hold your breath. Soft lips press to your shoulder that got exposed after your shirt slipped slightly.

His hands slip around your hips and under them. The feeling of your jeans popping open, makes your core throb with need. He pulls your jeans down, but not off. No, just far enough down for access and to keep you in place, barely enough give even allow you to squirm.

Then, you feel his weight press into your body and you could have never imagined feeling his weight would be enough to make you want to moan. That’s when you register the feeling of his hard bulge against your ass and you push up against him again. Bucky answers with a muffled growl against your shoulder, followed by a gentle bite as a warning.

“Careful,” he drawls, one hand holding him up slightly as his other spreads over your side and slips under your shirt to feel your bare skin. You shudder at the feeling and bite your lip, your fingers curling into the pillow below your head.

How is this even possible? How can you deteriorate so quickly when he has barely touched you? His breaths turn heavy against your neck and you twist your head to hear him better, your mouth so close to his now. You wonder why it is that his breathing is coming out more laboured, but the only thing you can come up with is that it’s plain old restraint that is stiffening his body, his lungs.

One of your hands reaches back and up, and you scrape the pads of your fingers over his stubble. Bucky’s grip on the sheets tightens and his hips roll down into you in response. His mouth attaches itself to your neck and he hums as he grazes his teeth over your skin, his tongue soothing the pain instantly.

“Bucky,” you whisper and he rolls his hips again. The hand under your shirt slides to your front and grabs your breast, kneading the flesh in his hand. Desperate, clingy. He groans.

Something is shifting between the two of you and you feel a rawness coming to the surface. You remind yourself Bucky is requesting this for a reason, but he might be lost in it. In you. Then, you hear him mumble against your skin. Something you’re not sure he wants you to hear, but you give a soft coo to urge him to repeat himself.

“Please,” he moans softly. “Please.”

His hand slides down and wastes no time before slipping into your underwear, his entire hand cupping your cunt as he rolls his fingers through your folds. You gasp and let out a moan, writhing your hips when you cannot choose between moving up or down.

He’s rutting into you like a starved man, his fingers indulging in their exploration like he’ll find salvation between your legs. You open your mouth to ask him what he wants, but he rolls his fingers over your clit and you let out a whimper instead, making Bucky nuzzle his nose right below your ear.

“You’re all warm,” he mumbles and kisses your neck, your jaw – so close to your lips. His fingers are torture, so devious yet so innocent. As if he’s completely content playing with you like this for hours. Your belly flutters and tightens and warms at the sensations he coaxes to the surface.

It’s selfish, what he’s doing. This is all him, trying to console himself.

“Don’t,” you breathe desperately and roll your hips into his hand. “Don’t tease, Bucky.”

“ ‘M not. Just feeling you,” he whispers and you open your mouth to fight him on it, but then his warm mouth covers yours and the moan that spills from your throat is sinful. His tongue immediately invades you and you melt as he consumes you everywhere that he can. One finger slips through your wetness and into you and Bucky inhales the response you give him, groaning in response.

He grinds down, so do you, completely out of sync and with mouths moving desperately over each other. You cling to your pillow with one hand and bury your other in Bucky’s hair, pulling when he adds another finger and his weight keeps you from moving into him more. You whine against him, sensations at war within you when he keeps playing with you like a selfish cat.

“I’m so fucking wet,” you whimper and Bucky grunts in agreement, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Just stop playing–”

Bucky laughs then – laughs – a manly chuckle as he nudges his nose against yours. You want to cry for mercy and your toes curl when his fingers do, making you clench around him tightly. Your orgasm is being dangled in front of you like a carrot and you wonder if he just wants you to feel the way he feels. Frustrated, angry. Like he has no control whatsoever.

But what he does next goes so fast, it makes your head spin. Your body goes cold when his fingers leave you and when his body rises from yours, leaving you behind. But your hips get lifted and the pillow below your head gets snatched and shoved beneath your hips. You try to move, if only to accommodate his inexplicable actions, but your jeans are keeping you from moving.

You feel him crawl over you again and this time, you do moan at the pressure, bending your back to press up against him. He grinds down in response and you feel the pressure of the pillow against your womb, shooting tingles through your limbs when you realise what he’s done.

One of Bucky’s hands slides over yours and pins it to the mattress, your fingers automatically curling around the security of his. And it’s nice, the feeling of him engulfing you. It feels safe and warm and insanely intense. You turn your head, hoping to find him near. Your heart swells when he presses a kiss to your cheekbone.

“I want to fuck you,” he murmurs against you skin and you nod frantically, making him chuckle again. “I’m not against begging for it at this point.”

And apparently, you’re not entirely gone, since your lips curl into a smirk and your voice drops to a low purr when you tell him, “Please beg for me.”

How ironic, to beg someone to beg for you. Though, your brief confidence doesn’t falter. If anything, it is about to skyrocket.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs against your ear, his soft lips moving against the sensitive skin. “Let me inside you. Let me make you feel good.” He sounds so genuine, so depraved and full of longing. You have to swallow down the carnal desire that crawls up your throat. You nearly choke when you feel the tip of his bare cock nudge against your folds. “Open up for me. Let me slip right in and I’ll fuck you into the mattress, okay? My mattress.”

You nearly whine, all ready to completely cave for him. And then he finishes it with a whisper in your ear, “Please, sweetheart. Let me have you.”

Yeah. Yes. Oh, yes. You mouth the words, but no sound comes out. You might be slipping outside of your body. The way Bucky sounds – his voice so deep, yet needy. You can only nod your head and squeeze his hand, rubbing yourself up against the tip of him.

“Hm, good girl.”

He slides home with one easy thrust, pressing you down into the mattress and skating his cock over each of your swollen walls. You cannot form a sound, or a thought, or catch a fucking breath. Especially not when he rotates his hips slightly and presses down even further.

You nearly choke, quiet for a long second, before you heave in all the oxygen that you can manage, “Oh my god!”

He pulls out slightly and rolls back in, keeping you full and stuffed and only nudging your spot with the tip of him. Over, and over, and over–

“That’s the spot, huh?” he pants against your ear and ruts into you further. “Right… there.” You gasp on a whine and he presses a kiss to your temple. The pillow adds a delicious pressure and you wish to put your hand there, just to feel him move in and out of you.

It’s so perfect, so sating, so much and deep and– You didn’t know it could be like this. Didn’t know it was possible to suddenly realise how screwed you are for the future. How nothing and no one will ever be able to compare to this. To him.

Your orgasm crawls closer and it feels like nothing you have felt before. Your clit is throbbing and aching and your walls are hugging Bucky like he’s never allowed to leave. Your hips tighten and your shoulders scrunch as your orgasm clamps down on you like a snake ready to strike.

“Bucky, I’m–”

He tightens his grip on your hand and latches onto your hip. “Yeah, I know. Me, too.”

You hear the strain in his voice, the hint of disappointment and you scramble to get your brain back in order. “Come in me, Bucky. Come inside me,” you rush out through quick breaths. You can’t elaborate. You just need him to fill you.

He leans back over and slows his thrusts, his breath fanning over your flushed skin. “Yeah? You want me to make a mess of you? You want proof that I fucked you deep enough?”

You let out a grumpy whine and he laughs beautifully as he drops his forehead to the back of your head. He picks up his thrusts, slow and deep and steady. His swollen cock slides over every cushion inside of you and you shudder at how sensitive your are so close to your orgasm. But it comes quicker than you anticipated. You wanted him to go faster, but with this tempo, you feel the orgasm that is coming closer might drown you.

You open your mouth to protest, to tell him to speed up, but the wave has already reached the shore and your ears hollow out.

The tremors seem to start from within as you swell with pleasure, seizing around Bucky and threatening to curl up. You think you might be grasping for something to hold onto as Bucky remains consistent through your orgasm, fucking into you with a steady rhythm and meeting you with every contraction of your high.

It is so completely overwhelming that you barely feel it when he comes, if it isn’t for the litany of beautiful moans and whimpers from him against your neck. He bites your skin to ground himself through his own orgasm and then melts over your body, pulling your hand to his lips.

Bucky quiets his own breaths to make sure he hears yours and is happy to learn how sated and satisfied you sound with your soft pants. He crawls off of you and gently tugs you over on your back, smiling as he watches you bend to his will.

Peeling off your jeans, he keeps his eyes on you, mesmerised with the sight and the feeling of having you in his bed. A feeling he had yesterday, too. Not just lust…

Your eyes peel open and you peer down at him while he strokes his sweaty palms up and down your calves and thighs. “Is this part of my ruse as a physical therapist and personal nurse now?”

Bucky quirks a brow at your wit and you feel something unfamiliar at the relaxation on him. How he seems more expressive and gentle and less guarded.

“No, this is private.”

Bucky’s eyes rove over your body and you flush with warmth, both from his words and from his assessing stare. You feel him drip from between your legs and swallow, fighting the urge to close your thighs. But Bucky, ever the trained assassin, immediately notices and lets a smirk crawl over his face.

He leans down and presses his lips to your left knee, eyes narrowing in on your cunt. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack when you told me to come inside of you.” You freeze at his words and keep a close eye on him. “I fucking knew the sight would be good, but–”

He lets out a starved groan.

You sound wary, “Bucky.”

He spreads your knees and crawls down to kneel at the foot of the bed, tugging you towards the edge. Surely, he wouldn’t–

You throw your head back when Bucky dives head first between your legs, running a flat tongue through your folds. You’re not sure if it’s the taste or simply the idea of him licking you clean of himself, but Bucky growls and hauls you closer, nudging his nose against your clit like he’ll never find anything better than what’s between your thighs.

You cannot help but bury your fingers in his hair, the wild throbbing between your legs pushing your mixed essences out and onto his tongue where Bucky drinks it up appreciatively. His fingers dig into your flesh and it takes a while for Bucky’s ministrations to have any other purpose than to taste you. But when he sucks your clit into his mouth, you tug on his hair with warning, making him chuckle.

“You don’t fight fair,” you choke out and he grins up at you.

“Oh, sweetheart, if you knew what the prize was, you wouldn’t fight fair either,” he murmurs and moans in delight as he continues his feasting. “Now how about you give me that prize and come on my tongue, huh?”

No, Bucky didn’t lose tonight.

#I did it #and under 6k words like HOW?! #who knew i was still even capable of that? #ok not a lot of people liked underground but the ones that did liked it A LOT #this is for you guys #and oops - i made him needy #i hope you enjoy it and as always please let me know what you think??? #I need the validation THANKS #writing #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #e to l

[send-me-a-puffalope]

just watched the new ghostbusters movie with my friend and truly, awkward teenage lesbians will both end and save the world.

#guys i have a type #blonde girls who are manipulated due to/by family and end up fighting for the side of good anyways #i saw melody and her Issues™️ and got attached to a dead girl #her whole thing with phoebe was gay as fuck tho you cant convince me #they did the thing that natasha did in what if to peggy where she looked back at Phoebe longingly and then stepped into the light #truly a tragedy that she was. yknow. dead and her whole arc was moving on into the afterlife #so she couldn’t have a sapphic little relationship with mckenna grace #some of the writing was kind of weak and it felt like a lot of fan service cause a lot of the characters didn’t do anything during #the climax of the movie or i just didn’t care for their story #but it’s really fun as a movie itself and i highly enjoyed myself so honestly that’s all that matters to me #ghostbusters frozen empire #phoebe spengler #melody ghostbusters #nat’s rambles