OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD - Blog Posts
my itachiyama girls ocs!
xolani (🇿🇦) and yeju (🇰🇷) are some of the top players for itachiyama’s girls team (they both go on to become japanese citizens and are selected to play for the national team)
theyre very good family friends and xolani moved in with yejus family to attend itachiyama in tokyo and theyre practically like sisters
fun fact yeju has an older brother in south korea’s national volleyball team (they do not get along at all)
Ok here's the vision
uh racing au??
the crowd singing disenchanted via talkingvegas
|| Radio ||
Requested plot points? ☑️
Circa: early February 1944
Immediate previous fic: Favorite Escape
Summary: when your hodge podge radio won’t work, who should ya call? Probably the flight engineer
Warnings: usual universe warnings apply, 18+ but nothing very alarming really happens in this one, references to others are made, some potential slut shaming in the beginning if ya squint? perhaps some queer baiting but it’s the Buckies rolling around on the flooor, they’re one massive queer bait lbr, it’s not me. Also. My shit Crystal Radio making descriptions- don’t come for me I haven’t made one and I spent five hours falling down a rabbit hole as to how the guys made them in the camps and at the end of the day I said: screw it! And went with one of the Brit’s scenarios 🍻
Edited only by my tired little eyes, full warning and have mercy 💋
Also, just a note I feel compelled to make- this fic centers around women in the army, in a war, which they’re spending under dire conditions in a POW camp. Yes there is love here, there is also hierarchy and discipline and the enforcement of that does not make one character or another necessarily callous or less loving. They are their ranks first and foremost as all signed up for.
“They’re forging papers, you know.” Maureen broached the topic to Egan one day, late February and when her cheeks were still bruised from Ida’s book.
Bucky paused his tracing of a map, sooty finger trailing along a river with the same incomprehensible name as its twin running parallel, he didn’t know anything about papers or anyone making them and she knew that. “Who?”
“Good ones. Identification, passports.” She enumerated.
“Who?”
“The Poles. The ones with the-“
“-the liquor.” he finished for her, remembrance and condemnation heavy in his wry tone. “The ones you stayed out all night with.”
“Stayed long enough for them to get drunk enough to show me.”she replied, without heat, which was surprising.
“Some grand plan of yours, huh?” He bit back a laugh, it was a fine way to cover her ass for being insubordinate. It was a way he’d likely try if he was in her place.
“No.” she swore instead. “Just luck, I happened to see them. They got careless. Maybe an answer to all Jack’s prayers.”
“Yeah. Anything to give that rosary a break.”
“Yeah.”
“You asked them?”
“What for?”
Bucky regarded her with thinning patience but something kept him from snapping, the feeling of a riddle still to be solved. “For some papers.” he clarified, measured and intent, she knew how much easier that would make their plans for Ida.
Maureen shook her head, glancing down at her twisting hands, “I didn’t want to-“ her mouth twisted too, “-I wanted to ask a superior first.”
Bucky considered that for a moment, slightly touched at her newfound wisdom, “Why not ask Buck?”
She shook her head again, auburn hair curling under her chin just so, even here in the stalag she had some traces of the old charm. “He’s got too much to worry about for me to be bringing in hypotheticals.” she was so upset by something she would not even meet John’s eye and he felt a slice of remorse for how he hadn’t even noticed the ground down change in her since she got here, his drinking buddy and the soft fleshed rival of merry old English days was a gruff and battered and sullen woman; being a red blooded American male, he regretted that dismal change. “And I'm worried about what to bargain with. What can I promise? We haven’t got much and I don’t have— there’s not much anyway, but what we’ve got I didn’t wanna promise. Not without-“ she still hadn’t met his eye, he tracked hers; a furious roving of pale blue back and forth across the floorboards and it made Bucky itch.
“Who signs these papers?” Bucky asked, thinking the logistics through, knowing she’d perk up if he brought them up.
“Haven’t a clue. Maybe they haven’t figured that part out yet. I don’t know. I just know they’ve got papers.”
“Good ones.”
“Yeah.”
“We haven’t got much.” he agreed, clicking his teeth in thought, “What’d you give them for the liquor?”
“They just invited me.”
“Didn’t have to lend a hand or nothin’?” he balked and Maureen threw him a glare that seemed more hurt than rage, and chastened by a voice inside that sounded much like his mama’s, he amended with sheepish humor, “Hell, feel like lending a hand myself these days, if it’d get me a whisky.”
Her gnarled fist curled white in her lap, she managed hoarsely, “They just wanted to talk about home. To someone who hadn’t heard about it a million times before.”
“They got cigarettes?” he asked.
“As most common payment for their booze -they’ve got enough to insulate their shack three deep.”
“Cigarettes won’t cut it then.”
“I’ve been thinking.”-
“Yeah?”
“The radio. I’m the only one who doesn’t think it’s worth the risk but, I know, it doesn’t matter, it’s happening. Gale’s going to keep trying. And if it works-“ she rubbed at her eyes, tired and unsure, “-that’s quite the bargaining chip.”
Bucky nodded slowly, eyes narrowing as his smile grew a touch broader, “News of the outside world.” he was half in agreement, “Buck asked for a week. Been four days.”
“He’s stumped.” Maureen retorted instantly. “And he’ll stay that way and he’ll go nuts and you’ll go die going over the fence and then he’ll have no reason left not to die too.”
Bucky whistled, low and chiding, “You’re full of rainbows today, Candy.”
“You know who he oughta ask.” she shook off the barb. “But he won’t. And I don’t want him risking it for this thing anymore than anyone else, but you all want it so bad, and they’ll shoot us for it if it works or not. I’m not asking her. But you would. Might as well get shot for it working, right? Isn't that what you said yesterday? You know who he should ask.”
Bucky’s keen eyes showed the moment it dawned on him, his eyebrows shot up and his mouth sagged and he ran a weathered hand over his face, “Awww shit, Candy.” came garbled behind his palm. “Ah shit.” he said again with conviction as he shoved the hand into his pocket, wretched acknowledgment of her point clear on his face.
“I didn’t want to suggest it, told Ida it’s a fucking dangerous thing and I’ll never forgive if— but you all—“
Bucky grounded aloud, “Nah, nah she’s -Lu would solve it.” he muttered, shushing her. “Demarco really pummeled you the other day, huh?” he added, and that got her to meet his eye, she looked spooked and a little incensed, “Saw him fuckin’ you up behind B compound but sheesh, s’like he hollowed you out worse than a jacolantern; yer shifty as hell.”
“He-“ Maureen still felt like blanching at the memory of Benny’s terribly correct opinions, his disappointed eyes and his fist full of her flight jacket asking her what in the living fuck was wrong with her besides a concussion, a sick childhood and an ever nauseating jealousy of Buck Cleven’s paternal time and effort, “-he had some admonitions. After…after the other night.”
Bucky hummed, shitty smirk taking up residence on his face, “How ‘bout that.”
“I’m gonna be better.” she muttered and Bucky felt for her, could almost taste the echo of his identical and hollow determination to climb the mountain of bad habits when weak from spuds and pneumonia. He told himself the same every morning and fell into bed condoning his failure every night, like a ritual.
“You’re gonna get us those papers.” he corrected, shoving off the wall to come near her, give her the full Major treatment and maybe a friendly hand, “And you can promise your drinkin’ buddies news from the radio.”
Maureen nodded in understanding, no joy or animation left in her green eyes. She used to enjoy a bit of subterfuge, now she only felt hollow misery at the thought that she'd dragged Lu into this, too. This risk she hated so much and yet no one cared. Lu would be glad to be dragged in, it’s true, she was itching at the chance to be useful and to make Gale proud, it’s how the girl was wired. It’s how most girls were wired, Maureen supposed, desperate to make Gale Cleven approve. Lu’s enthusiasm wouldn’t make the sight of her being made to kneel in the mud and have a bullet put in her head any easier, wouldn’t make Maureen feel any less responsible for it when her lifeless body thudded to the earth.
All that lovely goodness stamped out.
Over a radio.
Bucky’s hand felt too hard and too big on her shoulder. He had gone before the vision cleared, mud and wire and the freezing main square at Ravensbruck fading back to the musty bunk room. Maureen shook herself and stood up to make herself somehow appealing, reamniante some semblance of the cheerful rashness that had led her to the Polish combine in the first place: she found it hard to inspire. She’d like to count that a victory but she knew better, she wasn’t reformed she was just tired.
A washed face and a fake smile and the promise of news from outside would have to be enough to bank all their risks on, it would have to be.
“Crank,” she greeted the man in the hall, flashing him clean, water brushed teeth and her gentlest, freshly soot lined eyes, “I’ve been tasked by Major Egan with an errand, spare a minute to babysit me?”
__________________________________
Bucky finds Buck Cleven in his own bunkroom, Demarco outside on watch and that’s all Bucky needs to know to guess the radio is out and Buck’s working like a fiend yet again to make it work. Sure enough, he’s hunched over the table with it, mittened hands shaking from cold and exhaustion and a sheen of sweat on his forehead despite the paltry sweater he wears.
Bucky walks in and Gale gives him a soft, acknowledging glance before continuing to his work. Bucky takes up his usual place behind Buck’s left shoulder to watch and Buck, being used to it, goes on.
“My little Kriegie Marconi, huh?” Bucky allows the nagging impulse he has felt for weeks while standing in this position to finally exert itself, and his forefinger lifts and swirls in the curling gold strands of hair at the nape of Gale’s neck, his friend almost bolts away but then seems to choose a prey’s tactic and just stills, goes very still and Bucky scritches the scalp beneath his grab in assurance he don’t meant anything by it. He doesn’t think he does, at least.
Gale, wary and with a voice close to mechanized it’s so stilted, inquires with ever-present politeness, “You alright Bucky?”
It’s better than that whole ‘major’ business; getting called Major as if that meant shit anymore. “Yeah, ‘course I am.” Bucky rakes his fingers through the hairs there at the nape of that dainty neck, scritches the scalp with all four of his main ones, and uncovers a white long scar sliding round once he lifts the hairs there. “Why wouldn’t I be? Gonna be a father soon.”
Buck does jerk then, away from his touch and wheeling his chair around to glare at Bucky; it’s an impressively executed little pirouette and John misses the feel of his warm neck and oil soft hair. “Jesus John.” he reprimands.
“We’re gonna get outta here Buck.” John swears, he’s so sure of it because he cannot in all his thinking and predicting ever imagine a scenario where they don’t, and he chooses to think it’s not delusion but a good omen. “Ida’s gonna have that baby and when it’s safe we’ll all meet up.”
Gale is looking at him like he’s his own father again, Bucky knows that look, it always makes him equal parts ashamed and desperate, “Jus’ like that.” Gale mocks in a husky gust.
It’s devastating, and it’s intended to be, and Bucky could bear that with better humor if he could still touch Gale and his hair. “Just like that.”
Gale hums and it’s a mean sorta vocalization that makes Bucky’s heart thud and his skin prickle hot, it’s the kinda noise you kiss off a person, he thinks, but it’s Buck and so he doesn’t know what to do with it. “It’s gonna get you killed.” Buck is saying instead and Bucky lets him, “I know you all think she’s cracked up and maybe she has but it wouldn’t hurt to listen to Kendeigh sometimes when she’s tellin’ ya shit that a five year old could accurately guess, -goddamn it.”
His voice rose to a strong rage by the end and Bucky takes a chair opposite him, sick of standing there like a dumb dog waiting for his scolding to be over. “So what.” Bucky challenges him, “We just wait around and Brady pops out a child and the krauts let us keep it and it’s our new mascot and we all sing zippidy doo da, huh? Huh, Buck?”
Gale’s hands fell away from his face with a slam to the table, a shocking degree of anger showing for a split second and it gave Bucky an odd degree of gratification. “I jus’ want you to find a plan with better odds.”
Bucky sniffed and leaned forward, went in for the kill and Gale was looking at him like he expected it, like it was his turn to play daddy to everyone here and Gale for once was so beaten down he wouldn’t just allow the changing of the guard, he was close to angry at its lateness. It made Bucky’s heart thud.
“I’ve been listening to Kendeigh.” Bucky refuted briefly, “And we’ve got a plan.” Gale gave him a tired look of encouragement to go on, “How long’s it been since you slept? Huh, well, we got a plan. Practically perfect, or it will be, just need the radio.”
“Ain’t giving this away.” Gale said, “Not for anythin’, even useless.”
Bucky patted the table top in easy assurance, if he could have reached Buck’s thigh, he’d have patted that instead, “No, no, don’t need to give it away, just need it to work. So,” he softened his voice and his eyes tightened, “I’m callin’ Lu in.”
Oddly, Gale does not fight it. Not aloud, at least. There’s an anguished look of hate on his face and Bucky mirrors it. It’s for this place and the fucking awful choices they have to choose from every goddamn day.
“You run this by Ida?” is all he asks.
Bucky pops his flaking lips audibly, “What, need us both gangin’ up on you to agree? She’ll sign off. Smith’s an officer. Gotta remember that sometimes, Buck.”
The way his Buck swallows hard and dry contradicts his words, “I do remember that.”
“Really?” Bucky’s mouth gives a soft smile of doubtful incredulity and Gale’s mimics it, mournful but a smirk all the same, “Feel like she should answer to ‘Gale’s Baby’ these days. Lieutenant Smith who?”
Gale scoffs, “Careful now.”
“No really, she’s an officer and she wants to be treated like one. It’ll do her good to have work. Her kinda work.”
“Could get her killed.”
“Layin’ in her bunk could do that.”
Gale grunts, its sounds like an agreement.
“So I say Lieutenant Smith gets put on radio detail. Like her goddamn job description suggests. Huh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Gale lets out a shaky agreement.
“Aaaaand,” Bucky draws it out as he rises again and saunters over to Buck who is ready for him and loose this time, “how bout I go back to bein’ the one you’re frettin’ ‘bout all the time. Got me almost jealous of the girl. How ‘bout I do. Huh?”
Gale’s scoff is fond as anything as he looks up at John with cheerful derision, “And you ‘bout to be a father? Make me an old man? Fuck no, ya looney.”
“Alright.” Bucky concedes with hands up in surrender before lurching forward and grasping Gale’s rickety chair back by its wobbly spokes and hefting it partially off the ground, beautiful and outraged prude of an occupant still seated in it, “Then I’ll play daddy and put you to bed, how ‘bout that.”
“John Egan for fucks sake-“ Gale’s fists pounded on the meat of his shoulders and his outraged protests wafted against Bucky’s neck and his jabbing knees collided with the meat of his thighs and Bucky hadn’t felt so close to him or so happy to be alive since England.
“Major sir, the hell is goin’ on?” Demarco’s tame inquiry from the safety of the doorway made them both lose their grapple and they collided together onto the floor, bunk bed barely missed by their heads and the hapless chair mixed up between their limbs.
Bucky grinned, hip sore from his fall and kidneys suffering from Buck’s trapped elbow there, “Puttin’ Goldilocks to bed.” he replied.
DeMarco processed that and the scene before him with grave sobriety before saluting lazily and turning to go, “Right on, sir.”
John did his best to rise up without further pinching Gale who was indeed trapped beside him and beneath him, chair legs wound between a lanky human leg in a puzzle that Bucky realized might take some caution to untangle without harm. Strangely, Buck wasn’t moving, he was just looking up at him like a cat would their clumsy master who has done somethin’ stupid which was a surprise to neither. It was so innocuous a look and so nostalgic, it winded Bucky with the realization he hadn’t seen it in ages, just as he hadn’t felt his boney ribs against his own and the feel of his elegant hands yanking him around in a fight. This miserable place really was stomping out the glow in the best people.
“Ya know Buck,” he ventured, clearing his throat for extra casualness, “I’ve missed you.” When Gale only kept looking up at him, perfect porcelain face with its unsettling scars and wary eyes without a lick of storm in them, John Egan grabbed his shovel and dug his own grave a little deeper, drug a finger down his cheek. “Missed all this.”
Bucky didn’t know what he meant by “this” but it felt safer and worse all at once, since he did miss Buck but he and Buck never used to hang out on floors with a chair as chaperone. Mercifully, Buck neither points that out nor moves away, acting very much like he needed to heaped on the floor with Bucky and a stray chair every bit as much as John did. Like it’s doing him good.
“And you couldn’t’ve jus’ said.” Gale murmurs with the softest eye roll of the century and Bucky feels like beaming and it must show in his face so strong and bright after a sunless winter that after a flash Gale’s cheeks flame from it and he averts his eyes.
“I dunno Buck, could I?” Egan asks one blushing cheek and Gale hasn’t got a good reply for that, so they just lay there on the floor.
“Go on now, get off me.” Gale doesn’t shove at him, he presses his hand to John’s forehead like he would a dog and John goes, obedient as one.
———————————————————————-
They found Lu with Murph and Benny and Brady, measuring out what seemed to be lot lines between Love Shack #9 and the next combine, boot scuffed perimeters already visible in the light snow and drawn in a decently tidy rectangle. There were guards loitering nearby, nosey as always with their cigarettes and their antsy dogs anytime someone did something out there besides piss or pace or stare at the fence.
“What’s all this?” Bucky inquired cheerfully, coming up to them with Gale, bundled and shivering behind him.
Benny looked up from tilling a furrow with his boot, right where Lu’s mittened finger pointed out. “It’s for the garden. S’posed to be spring before long.”
“A Chicago man oughta know better, Benny.” Egan snarked.
“Need us?”
Bucky sniffed, a casual set to his body that belied his quest, “Just the little one.”
Smith promptly looked startled, then eager. “All well Majors?”
“Need your advice on the color of my cufflinks with this suit.” Bucky extended his arm and beckoned her, “C’mon back in for a minute. One of you too, need a watch to go with the cufflinks.”
———————————————————————
With Benny on guard, Brady and Kendeigh having excavated the radio’s shell from the floorboard and table leg in which it resided, the Buckies stood over Smith’s small frame as she sat at the table and inspected the simplistic device with keen eyed appreciation for the construct.
“It’s really marvelous.” she assured Cleven, running her fingers over the carefully coiled wire and precarious pin.
Gale didn’t even crack a smile. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked instead.
She shook her head, a frown gathering. “Never made one-“ she cautioned.
“-but you get the idea.”
“Yes sir, I do.”
“So what’s wrong.”
Lu ran her fingers over the wire, again and again, the dusty metal not insulated, just bare copper, likely stripped from somewhere. It reminded her of early days as a cadet when they threw chicken wire mixed with hydraulic lines at herself and her fellow rookie engineers and told them to sort it, testing to see if they knew which was which. It had been so rudimentary she had wanted to laugh until she realized others were being flunked.
This was so basic she was stumped.
“Take your time, Lu.” Bucky spoke up after a burdened pause during which she could almost feel Major Cleven breathing down her neck.
“Candy, can I try with the headphone?” she asked at last, frustrated and out of her element, just a few months out of a plane and she had already lost her touch.
Maureen passed it over and Lu pressed it to her ear, not to discern what was quite obviously radio silence, but to imagine the whole process in reverse, track it down the cord all the way to the base, each possible breakdown of the conduction.
She fingered the ramshackle diode with burgeoning suspicion. “What’s your crystal?”
“That’s just…lead.” Cleven muttered.
“From?”
“Ground pencils.” Bucky supplied cheerfully.
Smith bit her lip, “We need sulfur added. Lead won’t conduct on its own.” She figured Cleven knew that, the grim and unmoving set of his mouth suggested so.
“Just- sulfur?” Maureen asked.
“If I had sulfur we could add it to the lead dust, ignite it and-“ Smith grinned at Kendeigh, knowing that she alone may have shared her enjoyment of a small conflagration from time to time, “burn it down and you’ve got something close enough to Galena. Just need a pinch of it should work.”
Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets and surveyed the mostly morose room. All except for the two girls grinning at each other over the hypothetical of a little chemistry experiment in a highly flammable wooden combine.
“We’ve got sandy soil.” Buck’s contemplative drawl spoke up, “Dunno if we could extract enough pure sulfur.”
Maureen stared back at Egan instead, “Other sectors have gotten portions of kits, chemistry kits, radio kits, they’ve been smuggled in with all sorts of stuff. Inside of a violin, oat bags. Nothing to fully build something. They might have sulfur. I could make inquiries and- well, Jack could pick it up next time the band goes over C compound to entertain the poor Aussie bastards.”
“How do you kno- nevermind, actually. Nevermind.” Bucky broke off, “Alright. Sure, why not. Ya sure that’s it?” he asked Lu once more.
She gave a helpless little shrug. “Gotta be. Or the wire’s dirty. Where’d it come from anyway?”
Gale gave Bucky a long suffering look as Bucky seemed to swell a couple inches and bounce back on his heels at the mention of his scrounging prowess. “The lamp.” he nodded above them all.
Jack Brady scoffed, short, clipped, betrayed, “That why it cuts out all the time? Strobed us so bad last night -thought the room was possessed.”
“Sacrifices Jack, sacrifices.”
———————————————————
Benny had hauled in enough water buckets to elicit some negative attention from the guards, and when the inspection came the inmates of the Love Shack insisted the drenched floors and table of the Majors’ barracks were due to sanitation post regurgitation. At night, with only one stolen torch light from Combine 15 to illuminate the endeavor, a basin of water beneath a smaller bowl in which lay their precious and recently procured ingredients, a science experiment began. The Majors and Ida gathered round, all looking as ghastly and spectral in the light of the flashlight as Brady’s fake ghost. It held the thrill of a bonfire night except for the stakes, which all in the room did their best not to dwell on.
“Zippo, Candy.” Lu gave the word and Maureen, with only the protection of Ida’s bent aviators to keep from a scorched cornea, flicked on her lighter and set the mixed powders ablaze.
It flamed up high and smelly, making Benny gag and mutter something about Meatball’s gas to a tittering Brady, and then died down to a yellow smoking ember.
“We should let it sit.” Lu surmised with a squeeze to Maureen’s only somewhat singed hand, her big dark eyes surveying the burnt bowl and their smoking experiment with glittery excitement at the possibility of success, “Let it cool, settle, maybe strain it. Can you get me a net? Oh Candy come now, get me a strainer?” she begged with a laugh as Maureen rolled her eyes at the idea of yet another trip to the Stalag Market for the most random items imaginable. If they hoped to not be suspicious, they’d need better lies or more money.
“How about cheesecloth?” Kendeigh tried not to grin indulgently- and failed- in the face of Lu and having recently been allowed to set something on fire
Lu kissed her cheek. “Cheesecloth would be perfect.”
In the end, cheesecloth did indeed prove perfect, and amongst the burnt dust of the combined minerals was a gritty little pinch full of the needed crystals. Or so Lu said, Gale agreed but the crease between his brows hadn’t lifted for two days; Bucky’s fingers had begun to twitch in antsy need to manually smooth them out. He imagined Maureen felt the same but she hadn’t said, uncharacteristically forbearant now she had some job to keep her sane. Even if it was playing fetch for Lu.
—————————————————————
“Well, this is it.” Gale muttered when the watch had been set once more, Murph and Hambone on the steps, Crank inside, Brady at the door, Benny at the window. Even Major Clark had joined them in the barracks for this final try and Lu’s cheeks were maroon from the attention even as her deft hands steadily pressed her concoction beneath its intended rod.
“Pass me the pliers, sir?” She asked and for a moment, the teacher became the apprentice and Gale fetched her the stalag forged tool, rudimentary like everything here yet the gripped and pulled and lifted same as the pliers back home. “You could check your look in this wire’s reflection.” She complimented Gale’s buffing of the copper wire.
He shrugged in turn. “Didn't wanna leave anythin’ to chance. That it?” he asked as her hands stalled and she surveyed her work.
Lu nodded solemnly. “Yes sir.”
Gale picked up the headphone from in front of him on the table like it was a gun he was about to bring to his head. “Here.” He extended it to her instead, “S’right, it was your job, you should be the first. Cmon.”
Despite her voiceless protest he pressed the headphones into her hands and Lu, never knowing how to disobey an officer, folded immediately.
For a good ten seconds everyone in the room held their breath as Smith pressed the headphone to her ear and gently wiggled the clothespin along the wire, searching and tuning, her face holding that old peaceful concentration they hadn’t seen since the last mission. She was at home with her mind tuned to another dimension. The pilots in the room knew that look, that was the look of someone at home with something that terrified them all the same, the gut swooping feeling of clearing the take off and sledding along the tops of the clouds. Wrong and strange and utterly incomparable to others, it was the closest to home one’s mind could be. Lu belonged somewhere on those electric currents and searching them out was like finding oneself again.
Then at last, Lu’s eyes sharpened out of their dreamy haze of concentration and she said, gentle as always, “It’s the BBC sir.”
💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.
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HGSGJKGSGJNDGSKGF!?!?!?!?!?!?
Just a random headcanon that will not leave my brain:
The contrarian keeps a bunch of ridiculous accessories on him at all times and will randomly put one on mid conversation
Like, you'll be talking with him and you'll look away for less than a second and when you look back he's got one of these stuck on the end of his beak
And if you try to point it out he acts really confused and pretends not to know what you're talking about
"what do you mean? I've always had a mustache!"
Idk, just an idea
OH MY GOD OH MU GOD OH ,UH GOD OH MY DGOD OH MYD GODD MOM I MADE IT TAHNK YOU OH MY GOD OH ,Y GOD
A blast to the past 😏
Fanart for the amazing @that-cool-guy! Your comic is srsly so funny, so I made you this ❤️
I know that Rhonda was also scared when they got sucked into that giant worm time traveling thingy. But I thought it would be 10x funnier if she was having the time of her life while JD screams like a baby LMAO
But yee, that's all. Hope you like it :3
here we go girls
making a third life/wings of fire crossover AU (and writing a fic I’ll be posting here)
The main gist is that Grainshifter was a Nightwing born with animus magic under a full moon, giving him mind reading as well (for those who don’t know, animus magic has no limits. You can do ANYTHING) and the Nightwings, bastards that they are, take complete advantage of him and use him to make themselves essentially gods among the dragon species, taking the role of Watchers in this story. Generations and generations pass to the point where Nightwings are more legend than reality, as they prefer to stay hidden and feed on the strong emotions of the dragons below. After many years of being a Watcher, Grainshifter requests some time living as a normal dragon so he can experience what it’s like to live.. not in god status. His request is accepted, and he is sent down to attend Jade Mountain academy disguised as a Skywing dragonet. Here he meets all of the third life cast (excluding Martyn who comes in later) and after graduating, he returns to godhood.
Around this time, the Watchers have discovered that fear can be harvested using these cool death games! Wowee! Things are going swimmingly for awhile until the Watchers decide it would be a fantastic birthday gift idea for their special little boy to create a death game featuring all his old friends from his time at the academy :)
Grainshifter is not pleased jbJDJJXJXK
He instead uses what little influence he has (his magic was restricted at a young age before he had the autonomy to understand what was going on) to place himself in the death game in an act of somewhat childish defiance. Here he learns just how horrifying the things the Watchers are doing as he lives out the fear that they feed on. Also there’s this weird Seawing that Grainshifter doesn’t know who seems EXTRA miserable to be here, that’s odd.
This was just a little info dump on the main story, feel free to ask more lore questions or clarifications, I’m just getting started on this and I’m excited to continue!
Seungmin in the building!!
<3
A SECOND HERMITS IRL LIVE CHARITY STREAM HAS HIT THE PLATFORM
Sooo is there a Papyrus au version Mottie do like? Or are they all besties ? 👀👀👀👀
Pokemon Food by EverydayBewear on X
『 good influence 』
✧ kwon soonyoung x f!reader ✧ summary: slowly soonyoung begins to influence you into making some questionable decisions ✧ wc is approx 3.4k ✧ warnings: mdni. dom!hosh, top!hosh; sub!reader, bottom!reader. exhibitionism, perversion. dracyphilia. sex in public spaces. name calling (slut), praise (good girl). ✧ notes: this isn't a full-fledged fic as so much as a collection of bits. inspired by this ask. do not leave requests, as my requests are closed.
tag list: @coffeestay @tinkerbell460 @hyneyedfiz @wonuhour @sweet-like-caramel @immabecreepin
it starts with a too-small pastel pink skirt.
you're playing with the edges of it, turning in the mirror. it covers your front just fine, but when you turn to look at your ass you can see your striped underwear and how it clings to your ass cheeks.
you frown. you had liked the skirt a few years ago, had worn it religiously. it twirled prettily, sat high enough for you to be comfortable. but during the span of a winter you had forgotten about it, and it wasn't until you decided to go through your wardrobe before moving into your boyfriend's apartment that you had discovered it again.
soonyoung walks into the room, eyes on his phone. you turn one last time in the mirror, catching his attention. you watch, through the mirror, as he halts in his tracks. his dark eyes widen and his mouth drops a little, and soonyoung walks to you as if he had an invisible piece of rope tugging him along.
"it's too small," you explain, trying to tug the skirt down to cover your ass.
"yeah," he says, and then his hands are over yours. soonyoung pushes your hands aside and cups your ass, squeezing and kneading. he slips two of his fingers underneath your underwear, following the curve of your ass cheek to your cunt. "fuck, it's so perfect."
you're half-ashamed at how quickly you get wet. but your body responds to soonyoung's wandering hands nearly immediately, a tickling sensation traveling to your cunt and wetness leaking from it.
"fucking perfect," soonyoung hisses. and then he's pressing your face into the bed, your ass hanging over the edge. he doesn't pull your panties all the way down, just to your knees. he doesn't push aside your skirt; instead he fucks his fingers into your cunt with his other hand grabbing at the fabric of your panties and your flesh, nails scraping along your skin.
when he fucks into you -- his cock fat, stretching you farther than his fingers did -- he keeps the skirt down. he's frantic with it, his mouth a motor running a thousand miles a minute, spewing the dirtiest of things.
"fucking begging for it," he mumbles, pressing you down onto the bed while he slams his dick into you. you're whining into the blankets, voice pitching higher and higher until you're practically sobbing. but it's hard to hear your cries over the sound of his thighs slapping yours, his cock drilling into your cunt and making the wet noises of your pussy echo in your ears.
"fucking begging," he hisses, "standing in this fucking skirt. begging for my cock to ruin you, begging for my dick -- weren't you, baby? begging for me to fuck you raw."
you sobbed into the blanket, and soonyoung pulls out. he takes his cock into his hand and thrusts into it a handful of times before he's cumming over your skirt and ass. soonyoung pulls your panties up and covers your cunt once more, and at this point you're fucking sobbing, begging for relief.
"don't worry baby," he mumbles, "i'll give you want you want."
soonyoung brings his hand down on your covered cunt, striking it. you're sobbing, and he's spanking your raw pussy. after another slap he begins to rub at your poor clit through your underwear, the fabric a barrier between his hand and your clit.
when you cum you're screaming into the bed, tears and drool drenching both your face and the bed.
you think that's the end of it.
it's not the end of it.
nearly a week later soonyoung sheepishly approaches you. he's not looking at you and his ears are quickly taking on a pink hue. you wait, plopping a grape into your mouth, for him to speak. he doesn't.
"soonie?" you say, raising your brows at him. "what's up?"
he opens his mouth. shuts it. then he takes out his phone and quickly types before sliding it across the island counter and to you.
can i ask a favor
you nod. he takes back the phone, deletes, retypes. slides the phone back across the counter.
can u wear that skirt and climb the stairs from the 3rd floor to 4th and let me take pictures
you blink, furrowing your brows. you look back up at your boyfriend. his entire face is turning pink, and he's turned his shoulder to you. he refuses to look at you.
you check the time. it's evening, past the time when the apartment building buzzes with people returning from work and kids returning from school. the sun has begun to set, and it casts golden light into your apartment from where it faces the west.
the skirt hadn't been thrown away. the day after soonyoung fucked you against the edge of the bed you had finally managed to throw it into the wash as it was stained with his cum and your own juices and, even though you had the intention of donating it, you just couldn't donate it with your boyfriend's cum dried onto it.
then it had gotten mixed into the laundry again and you forgot about it.
"i don't know where it is," you say, grabbing another grape.
soonyoung turns his face from you completely. he reaches into his hoodie pocket and withdraws light pink fabric.
not just any light pink fabric, but the too-short skirt.
"didn't want you to donate it," he mumbles, twisting it in his hands.
you're horrified and embarrassed and horribly, ridiculously turned-on. "give it here," you say.
soonyoung moves to you. you grab the fabric from his hands, taking it in. it's wrinkled from where he's played with it.
"i'll need to iron it," you murmur, "for it to look nice in pictures."
soonyoung brightens, his shoulders dropping in relief. "really?"
grinning, you grab a grape. he opens his mouth obediently when you raise it to his lips, and then your fingers are skimming along his mouth as you press it in.
you want to change your panties to something more clean, but soonyoung stops you. "it'll be better if they're ones you've worn for a bit," he sheepishly says.
for a moment you're confused. but then you realize what he's insinuating and you feel heat rush to your face.
maybe, you think as you pull on the skirt, your boyfriend wasn't as innocent as you thought.
the two of you go to the stairwell. you wait for a moment, trying to listen and see if there's anyone coming up or going down. soonyoung fumbles with his phone, pulling up his camera.
"i'll go a few before you," you say. and then you begin up the set of stairs. he takes a few pictures of your bare thighs and how the fabric shows off the edges of your panties and the soft curve of your cheeks.
"what about a video?" soonyoung questions once you get to the top.
and so you go back down. you begin to retrace your steps, soonyoung taping the way your skirt bounces against your ass, when there's the sound of the stairwell door opening.
you turn to him, eyes wide with panic.
soonyoung climbs the stairs in swift steps, crowding you against the wall. he covers your side, one hand against the wall behind you and allowing him to partly cover your backside.
it's a young woman. she takes in how close soonyoung is to you, how you refuse to look at her. and then she averts her eyes and hurries down the stairs, ponytail bouncing as she practically sprints.
you burst into your apartment moments later, spinning on soonyoung as soon as the door is shut. "we're not doing that again."
"okay," he says.
but he's a liar.
he grows bolder in the days that past the incident. you've caught him with his dick in hand, the video of you climbing the stairwell replaying in a loop multiple times. you feel like a deer caught in the headlights each and every time soonyoung catches you, and soon enough the ache between your thighs is nearly constant from his harsh fucking.
someone at work comments on it, how you seem more relaxed than usual. you can't look at them and sputter about a new tea your boyfriend got you.
but as embarrassed as you are you don't bring it up to him. not when you begin shutting doors behind you in hopes of, whenever you open them again, he'll be on the other side with his fat dick in hand, eyes trained on his phone and your skirt-covered ass filling the screen.
but he becomes bolder, and this -- his perversion -- begins to leak into your life outside of your shared apartment.
it's a small thing at first.
"i can't believe minghao just left," mingyu huffs. there's not enough room in joshua's car for all of you.
you shrug, pulling your blanket close around your torso. it's not cold, not enough for a heavy jacket, but it's chilly enough to where the autumn air bites. "he did say he wasn't going to stay the whole game."
"he was my ride," mingyu pouts.
"then you should've been paying attention to his texts," joshua snaps, tired of mingyu's complaining. "unless someone wants to pay for a lyft someone is going to have to sit on a lap."
soonyoung is ridiculously happy to have an excuse for you to sit on his lap. you throw your blanket over your legs, feet knocking against his and chan's, who sat in the middle.
the car is barely moving before soonyoung's fingers are on your thighs.
the radio doesn't cover chan and mingyu's bickering, or hansol picking chan's side, but it does cover your soft gasp as soonyoung's fingers dip further, the tips of them brushing against the inner seam of your jeans.
"just making sure you're not going anywhere," he says, nose pressing against your neck. you nod, believing him for a minute.
and then his fingers, concealed by your thick blanket, dip to your cunt. it's covered by your panties and jeans but you can feel his fingers all the same. his fingers brush against your clit, but due to the fabric between his fingers and your clit all you can feel are tingles that have you yearning to buck up into his hands.
but you don't.
instead you step on his foot, heel pressing down on his toes. soonyoung hisses, softly, and then he's full heartedly fucking his fingers into your cunt.
there's layers between his fingers between your cunt but you can feel them, can feel the drag of them against your pussy and how he aims at your clit. it's not enough to bring an orgasm, not enough to do anything other than wind you up, but it makes you so stimulated that every point of contact between you and soonyoung seems magnified.
after, once you bid joshua and the rest of your friends goodnight and are in the elevator, you whirl on soonyoung. he's smirking, softly, satisfied.
"you're ridiculous," you hiss, eyes narrowed at him.
"you didn't stop me," he says, still grinning. "what a good girl you are. letting me use you like that."
and he's right.
it's midnight and you and soonyoung are halfway to your destination. you've pulled over, in desperate need of caffeine to stay awake. soonyoung says something about candy and you nod, stumbling towards the bathroom.
there's only one toilet in it and you wait for the woman before you to exit. you do your business and when you open the door soonyoung is there. you can barely form a word before he's crowding you back into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
"soonyoung? what are you doing --"
he's pressing you against the counter. soonyoung shoves down your sweats to your ankles and helps you jump onto the counter. "gotta wake you up, baby," he says, mouth pressing harsh, quick kisses to yours.
"gotta be a good girl and be quiet," he mumbles. soonyoung shoves his hand against your panties, fingers quickly finding your clit. he works furiously, fingers building an orgasm far more expertly than anyone else ever could. soonyoung's mouth muffles any noise from yours and his words are mumbled against your mouth.
but that doesn't stop him from talking.
"what a dirty girl," he says, "letting me fuck you in this bathroom. like a fucking slut -- is that what you are, baby? you my slut?"
you whine, his mouth moving to your jaw. he sucks a mark into your skin. "soonie --"
"say it," he commands, eyes sharp like a tiger's. "be a good girl and say it, baby."
you frown, eyes begging. but then you oblige, and he's dropping to his knees. soonyoung presses his tongue against the fabric of your panties and it's only a handful of seconds later before your cumming, biting down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning.
"sorry," soonyoung says as the two of you leave the bathroom. there's an older woman waiting. "my girl started her period and needed some help."
your eyes are tinged red from tears, and perhaps it's because of how pathetic you look the woman believes him. she gives you a look of sympathy and then moves into the bathroom.
"what a good girl," soonyoung murmurs as you leave the gas station. "such a good girl for me."
"i want you to do something for me," soonyoung says.
you look over at him from the driver's seat. it's so nice out that despite having to wait for your friends to show up you've rolled down the windows and turned off the car, content to wait with the sun and breeze.
soonyoung is looking at you directly. he's confident, eyes twinkling and a smile playing on his lips.
he reaches out, laying a hand on your bare thigh. he had gotten you a pretty sundress, he had said, just for this picnic with your friends.
soonyoung's hand smooths up your thigh. his fingers slide underneath your dress. "i want you to be good and take your panties off for me."
your eyes widen, and your hand slaps down on his. "soonyoung," you hiss. "we're in public. at a park!"
he smirks, leaning over the center console. "be a good girl," he chastises you. "come on, be a good girl for soonie."
you hesitate for a second more. you check outside of the car before you hook your fingers into your panties, pulling them down your legs.
"good girl," soonyoung coos at you. he grabs your panties and shoves them into his pocket.
you're so self conscious. you refuse to move from the picnic blanket, saying you don't feel well. soonyoung watches you with a grin, and, when no one is looking, takes your panties from his pocket and lifts it to his nose, smelling them. you're terrified. every breeze has you pressing your hands against the skirt of your dress, making sure it keeps down. you freeze whenever one of your friends gets too close, worried they'll somehow catch on.
you're scared, but your cunt is wet and throbbing with need.
once your friend date is over, soonyoung is pushing you into the backseat of the car. he fucks you quick, pushing the skirt of your dress up around your middle. each drag of his dick has you moaning, arching up into him.
"desperate little slut," he says, withdrawing from your pussy. he waits. "so worried about our friends seeing your little cunt and yet letting me fuck you in the car."
"please," you beg, and then he's fucking into you in one swift movement, drawing a loud moan that almost seemed like a scream from your lips.
the worst of it comes during a thunder storm.
jeonghan and you frowned over the weather app while seokmin and soonyoung continued to mess around, spewing nonsense about childhood cartoons and villains. it was raining badly, too badly for you to dare to try and make the drive back across the city to your apartment.
a bed is made for soonyoung on the living room carpet and you on the couch. it isn't until midnight that seokmin and jeonghan both retire to their rooms, seokmin impishly pressing a kiss to your temple before scattering.
you go about preparing for bed. you pull on one of seungcheol's shirts -- how it got there, you didn't know -- before stretching out on the couch, sinking into the sheet that covered the couch's leather and still smelled fresh.
soonyoung leans to give you a goodnight kiss. you hum, letting your eyes fall shut and meeting each press of his lips eagerly.
he pulls away for a moment, staring down at you. you don't quite have the time to question him before soonyoung is on the couch, pressing you against the seats.
soonyoung's mouth devours you. his tongue shoves into your mouth with every kiss, kissing you as messily as he knew how. your hands go to his shirt, tugging.
"gonna fuck you," he says, voice low. soonyoung pulls off of you just enough to reach for his shirt and throw it to the ground. "gonna fuck you on jeonghan's couch."
he throws your sweatpants to the floor, pressing his face to your panties. soonyoung breathes in against your underwear, inhaling the smell of your pussy and your day-old underwear. "smells so fucking good," he groans, and then he's licking a broad stripe up your cunt.
it's horrible, you know, that you muffle your moan with your hand and lift your hips up to his mouth instead of stopping him.
soonyoung sucks kisses over your clit and through your panties, arms hooking around your thighs. you can feel his biceps strain as you shift in his hold, soonyoung intent on keeping you still.
he drenches your panties with his tongue, laving against them as if there wasn't a fabric barrier between his mouth and cunt. you don't trust yourself to move your hand from your mouth, and your free hand goes to his dark hair and twists.
he slips one hand into your panties while he licks at you and after a moment of fierce rubbing against the sides of your clit you're orgasming, biting down on your wrist to stop yourself from moaning.
soonyoung moves you to the floor to fuck you. he raises your ass into the air and pushes your head into the pillow. his fingers press harsh marks into your hips as he drills his fat cock into you, forcing your walls to make way for his dick.
"good fucking girl," he hisses, dick striking against your gummy core, "fucking good slut, letting me fuck you. so fucking soaked for me, fucking -- you like this, baby? like me fucking you on our best friend's floor?"
you sob into the pillow, his dick dragging against your walls and hitting deep within you. you swear you can feel his dick in your throat, swear he's splitting you in half.
"what a slut," soonyoung says. "my little slut with a tight little cunt, fucking all wet 'n warm for me."
his nails press into your skin and he's cumming, his spunk filling your cunt. soonyoung is still cumming when the sound of a door opening fills your ears, and then he's forcing you flat against the floor and throwing the blanket over you two.
he's pressed against your back, dick buried deep within you still. you can feel his cum inside of you, can feel it on your cunt from where it had leaked during soonyoung's scramble. you can feel his balls against your ass, can feel his hot body against yours.
can feel the harsh thundering of your heart as your friend leaves the bathroom and moves to the living room, checking in on you two. he lingers for a moment, and you're so fucking aware of your breathing that you can barely hear when he moves back to his room.
soonyoung waits a few minutes. and then he's laughing softly into your ear. he slips his limp dick from your cunt only to replace it with his fingers. "not done with you," he says, pressing his smile against your clothed shoulder. "not done with you yet, baby."
it's so fucking messy down there. his cum leaks from your cunt with every thrust of his fingers, and you have to press your cries into the pillow.
in the morning you wake to soonyoung dressing you. he pulls your panties and sweatpants on, ignoring the mess that still stained your thighs. he pulls the sheets and blankets off of the couch and helps you onto it, tucking you back in with a blanket after checking to make sure there's no stains.
you hurt. hurt from laying on the floor, hurt from his rough fucking. your cunt aches and you can't help but take pleasure in every tingle of pain that shoots from it when you shift.
seokmin wakes and exits his room to soonyoung throwing the stained sheets and blankets into the washer. he's surprised, but he says something about how much of a good influence you've had on soonyoung.
he can't see the grin soonyoung throws you from over seokmin's shoulder.
genuinely the best news i had in a moment. fukurodani getting their highlight, "final" removed from the title meaning we'll likely have another future project as a proper adaptation of the timeskip. i'm in tears.
