#‘people are gonna think you’re a BOY >:(‘

[hanniebaeee]

Something Like Love

Han Jisung x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing, suggestive MDNI

Genre: friends/friends with benefits to lovers, fluff

Summary: You've been in love with Minho for so long, but he's already in a relationship - a really toxic one. And your best friend Jisung, who is also like your best friend with benefits, is your only source of comfort. And it looks like there's more cooking here than just benefits.

Your favorite fuzzy blanket did absolutely nothing to cushion the blow of watching Hana shove her tongue down Minho's throat in her Instagram story. You’ve watched it three times now (you didn’t even know why but you liked torturing yourself). 

Why does he stay with her? She was bossy and such a narcissist! Jisung noticed the pout on your face and sighed, plopping down beside you.

“Put that away,” He said softly, wrestling the phone off your hand and tossing it aside. 

You looked at him and saw him giving you that look. The one that made you wonder why you even want Minho in the first place.

You huffed, throwing your head back dramatically.

“She was literally eating Minho’s face like it was her last meal. And he looked so miserable, Ji. Miserable!”

Jisung raised an eyebrow as he popped open the wine bottle.

“Maybe he likes being miserable. Some people are into that. Like you and this whole ‘pining after your taken best friend’ thing.” Jisung teased, and you glared at him. 

But he just grinned, handing you a glass of wine. 

“Don’t.” you bit out. 

“Don’t what? Tell you the truth? That you’re wasting your time on Minho when you could be -”

“Jisung.”

“Fine, fine.” He threw his hands up in mock surrender, but there was that glint in his eye. That Jisung glint. The one that promised things you didn’t want to think about right now.

Because Jisung? Jisung was safe. He was your comfort zone. The guy who knows exactly when to show up, exactly what to say (or not say), and exactly how to make you forget about Minho.

Like right now.

He set his wine down, leaned back, and patted his lap. “Come here.”

You hesitated, because you know where this is going. It wasn't like this was your first rodeo. But tonight, with Minho’s stupidly gorgeous, miserable face burned into your brain, you didn’t have the energy to resist.

You climbed into Jisung’s lap, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

“Let it go, babe” Jisung said softly. “You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. But you can make out with your incredibly sexy boy here to forget about him.”  

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“Ridiculously good in bed,” he shot back, leaning in closer.  

“Why am I even friends with you?”  

“Because I’m the only one who puts up with your Minho obsession and gives you orgasms on the regular.”  

You slapped his arm, but he caught your hand, tugging you closer with a smug grin.

“Come on,” he murmured, voice dipping. “Let me take care of you.”  

And that’s how it always is with Jisung. No questions. No strings. Just heat and comfort and the kind of laughter that made your tummy ache.

—-

Later, when you were lying in bed, thoroughly spent, he ran his fingers through your hair.

“You know, I’d treat you way better than Minho ever could.” Jisung teased. 

“Please. You’d annoy the crap out of me within a week.” you snorted. 

“True,” he admitted with a grin, kissing the top of your head. “But at least I wouldn’t make you cry.”

And damn it, if that didn’t make your stupid heart skip a beat.

You weren’t entirely sure why you agreed to this. Maybe it was the way Minho had looked at you, all big, sad eyes and that faint pout you couldn’t resist.  

Jisung smirked like the devil himself as he whispered, “We’re gonna regret this so hard, aren’t we?”  

Of course you did. 

The Christmas market was magical, with the twinkling lights, the scent of cinnamon and mulled wine, and obviously, the company of your friends - but Hana managed to suck the joy out of it faster than the Grinch with a vacuum cleaner.  

The mulled wine was too hot. The fudge was too sweet. The carols were too loud.

You gritted your teeth, gripping Jisung's arm so tight. Why the hell were you all letting her lead the way?! 

Hana stopped in front of a stall selling silk scarves and picked up a bright pink one. 

“Oh this would look good on me,” She announced, and Minho winced before gently saying, “It’s not really your color,” 

“Stop thinking about strangling her with that scarf, love.” Jisung whispered in your ear. 

You snorted, clapping a hand over your mouth as Hana shot you a glare. “Something funny?”  

“Nope,” Jisung said smoothly, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Just enjoying the festive spirit.”  

“Can you not be so clingy?” Hana snapped at Jisung after she saw him move a strand of hair off your face. “It’s so… obvious.”

“Hana please-” Minho tried. He did.  

“Obvious?” you repeated, voice colder than the December air.

Hana raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a condescending smirk.

“I mean, really. Do you need him to hold your hand all the time?” 

It took everything in you not to lunge at her, and only Jisung’s firm grip on your wrist stopped you from doing something you’d regret.  

“Relax,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing. “She’s not worth it.”  

“I need to use the bathroom,” you hissed, yanking Jisung on your way, brushing past Minho.

“Why does he need to go with you?” Hana called after you, but you didn’t even glance back.

You stormed through the market, weaving past stalls until you found a quiet corner near a stand selling candied nuts. The scent was almost enough to calm you down. Almost. 

“I swear to god, Sungie, I’m gonna -”  

Before you could finish, Jisung spun you around and cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“Breathe,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “She’s not worth the jail time.”  

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, but your anger was already starting to melt under his touch.

“I just - ugh, she’s so -”  

“I know baby, I know,” Jisung said with a little chuckle.  

You huffed out a laugh despite yourself. 

“You’ve gotta let it go, babe. And honestly…” He grinned, his lips brushing yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re way cuter when you’re happy.”

“You’re so smooth,” you murmured, but your hands were already fisting in his jacket, pulling him closer.  

“And yet, here we are,” he teased, before finally kissing you.  

It definitely wasn’t the first time, of course, but it always felt new with Jisung. 

When you finally pulled back, your anger had dissolved into something softer, something sweeter.  

“You good now?” he asked, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.  

“Better,” you admitted, resting your head against his chest.  

“Good.” He kissed the top of your head, his arms wrapping around you like he could shield you from the world. “Now, let’s get back out there before Hana convinces Minho to buy her that ugly scarf.”  

“Do we have to?” You groaned.

“Hey, you dragged me here,” he pointed out with a grin.  

“You’re supposed to be on my side!”  

“I am,” he said, tilting your chin up to kiss you again. “Always.”    

The Christmas market outing hadn’t been great, but dinner was starting to look even worse. You all sat at a cozy little restaurant, candlelight flickering over the table while festive decorations twinkled. It should’ve been perfect. 

But then there was Hana.  

Minho had been eyeing the beef stew on the menu with excitement.

“I want to try this,” he said, but Hana barely looked up from her phone.

“That’s too heavy. Order the grilled salmon instead. It’s better for you.” she said, her bossy tone dimming the mood instantly.

Minho’s expression faltered as he said, “I kind of wanted the -”

“Salmon,” Hana interrupted, snapping her menu shut with finality. “Trust me. It's better.”  

You gripped your menu so hard you were surprised it didn’t rip in two. You wanted to stab her with the fork. No wait, you wanted to slap some sense into Minho.

But before you could actually do anything, you felt Jisung's hand on your thigh, his long fingers squeezing gently. 

“Salmon it is,” Minho muttered, deflating like a popped balloon. 

When the waiter came to your table, you watched Minho order two of those damn salmon.

 “I’ll have the beef stew, please.” you heard yourself say.

Jisung immediately chimed in, “And I’ll take the gnocchi.”

You snapped your head toward him, because you've been wanting that gnocchi. He winked at you and said, “It’s called teamwork, babe.”  

Your heart did a weird flip. Damn him and his perfectly calculated sweetness. Your eyes moved towards Minho, who was now clicking some pictures of Hana, and then to Jisung's hand on your thigh.

You placed a hand on top of his and squeezed tight.

—--

The food arrived a short while later, and Hana’s sharp eyes immediately darted to the beef stew in front of you. 

Without a word, you pushed your plate toward Minho.

“Here. Trade with me.” you said. 

Minho blinked, startled.

“What? No, I can’t -”  

“Minho,” you said softly, “it's ok, I want you to have it.”

He hesitated, glancing between you and Hana, whose mouth had tightened into a thin line.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his cheeks pink. 

“Positive.” You smiled, even as your heart twisted.  

Minho hesitated for another moment before switching plates with you.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, his voice full of something you couldn’t quite place.

Before you could start on the salmon, Jisung slid his gnocchi in front of you and took the salmon for himself.

“Sungie, you didn't have to-” You stared at him, half smitten and half exasperated.

“It's for the greater good, you can thank me later,” he said cheerfully, digging in.

Hana’s glare could’ve frozen molten lava, though.

“Do you two always make everything about yourselves?”

Jisung leaned back in his chair, giving her a shit-eating grin.

“Mostly yeah.” he said, and you didn’t miss the way Hana’s eyes narrowed.

As you all fell silent, focusing on your food, you couldn't help but feel a weird pull in your heart. And it had nothing to do with Minho. And everything to do with this messy haired boy sitting beside you.

The cold air bit at your face as you and Jisung stepped out of the restaurant, the distant glow of holiday lights softening the edges of the night.

Now, you were walking side by side through the bustling city streets, holding hands. Snowflakes fluttered down, catching in his messy hair, and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye.  

You stopped walking, your breath clouding in the cold air. “Why are you so good to me, Sungie?”  

He stopped too, surprised at the abrupt halt and the unexpected question.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, making him look absolutely adorable. 

“Because I’m a mess,” you said, half-laughing, half-starting to cry. “Because I keep dragging you into this whole thing with Minho and I feel like I'm so damn selfish…you don't deserve this, Sungie-”  

“I'm doing this for me, not for you or anyone else. Can you try to accept that? I like being with you, ok?” he interrupted, his tone light but his eyes giving him away.  

Your stomach dropped. 

“Relax,” he added quickly, the corner of his mouth quirking up into that familiar smirk. “I’m just saying… I care about you. That’s it. No strings, no expectations. We agreed on that.”  

It was so Jisung - offering everything without asking for a damn thing in return. And it made you want to cry and kiss him all at once.  

So, you did the latter.

You stepped closer, gripping at his jacket tightly to pull him down to meet your lips. His breath hitched as you kissed him, soft at first, then deeper as he kissed you back.

His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as the world around you faded into nothing but the warmth between you two. 

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting against his, he let out a breathless laugh.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“For being too good for your own good.” You smiled, your hands cupping his cheeks.

“Oh? Are you planning to ‘thank’ me properly?”  he asked, raising an eyebrow, his grin turning wicked.

You bit your lip, your cheeks flushing as you whispered, “Take me home then.”  

---

The second you stepped into his apartment, your back hit the door as Jisung kissed you like a man possessed. His hands were busy pulling your jacket off you, followed by your sweater and everything else. 

You sighed as you felt his lips and hands everywhere - as if he couldn’t get enough of you. 

“Been waiting for this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough. “You have no idea.”  

“Then show me,” you shot back, tugging him toward the bedroom.

He chuckled, both of you stumbling into his bedroom, and onto his bed. Clothes were shed, and he was settled in between your legs as he hovered over you.

As your eyes met, you saw something you didn't before - the softness of his gaze, a longing. And it made your heart flutter. Neither of you acknowledge it, and the rest of the night was a blur of soft whispers and sweet love making.

Jisung wasn’t just good - he was great, knowing exactly what you liked. And he did give, over and over again, until you were left breathless and completely exhausted.  

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.  

“For what?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your temple.  

“For being you.”  

Christmas Eve at Jisung’s place was always so chaotic. You both celebrate together when you couldn't travel back home for the holidays. 

Currently his living room was a mess with half-wrapped presents scattered across the floor, the scent of gingerbread in the air, and Jisung humming Christmas songs off-key. 

This year, though, Christmas came with an unexpected guest.  

Minho stood awkwardly in the doorway, a small bag in his hand and a defeated smile on his face. He looked exhausted. 

Hana was officially out of the picture. The breakup had been messy and so damn difficult, but Minho had finally done it. 

Jisung wasted no time pulling him into a tight hug. And you did too, because he needed all the hugs and love you could give because the poor man has been through a lot.

Minho slowly relaxed, even cracked a few jokes.

But it wasn’t until later, when the three of you were cleaning up in the kitchen, that he finally let the mask slip.

“You were right about her,” Minho said quietly, leaning against the counter as he dried a glass.

You glanced up from where you were wiping down the counter, surprised by the softness in his tone. 

“Minho -”  you began, but your eyes fell on Jisung, who quickly left the kitchen, leaving you alone with Minho. You didn't know why, but it absolutely shattered your heart to see him slip away like that. 

“No, let me finish.” He set the glass down and turned to you. “I shouldn’t have dragged it out. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I was scared to let go... I liked her so much, I kept thinking she would change…but deep down, I knew.”  

You stayed silent, giving him space to continue.  

“And I knew about you,” he admitted, his voice even softer now. “That you… liked me. I just didn’t know how to deal with it. I never thought of you like that and I'm so sorry, Y/N. I should've said something.”

You exhaled slowly, leaning back against the counter.

“Love is weird, Minho,” You said quietly. “It's messy and complicated, and you don't have to feel bad about anything. Because you're ok, I'm ok… we're good.”

Minho’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, his hand brushing yours on the counter. 

“You and Jisung? I think it's great. He is such a nice guy, and it's so obvious that he loves you so much.” Minho said, giving you a grin. 

You smiled gently, your cheeks heating up.

“I think so too,” You whispered. “I’m glad you’re here, Lino…I’ll finish this up, you can go to bed. Get some rest, yeah?”

Minho nodded, pulling you into a quick hug before leaving the kitchen.

Your heart raced as you thought about what Minho said. You've been trying to decide how to bring it up with Jisung for a while now. But you were so afraid, because you know you wouldn't survive the heartbreak if you ever lost Jisung. 

He was everything to you. He made you feel wonderful - like the most special girl in the world. And it felt great. 

So you walked into the living room with wobbly legs, where Jisung was sitting by the Christmas tree, fiddling with a Rubik’s cube. The fairy lights reflected off his skin, making him look impossibly soft and adorable. 

When he saw you, his lips curved into that familiar, heart-melting smile.

“Hey,” he said, setting the cube down. “Everything ok?”

“Sort of.” You grinned, crossing the room to him. Without a word, you slipped into his lap, your arms draping around his neck.  

Jisung’s eyes widened slightly, his hands instinctively settling on your hips. 

“Uh… not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing?” he asked, his eyes darting towards the guest room where Minho was. 

You leaned in, your lips brushing his in a soft kiss. 

Your eyes meet as you said, “I love you, Sungie.”  

His mouth fell open, and for a second, he just stared at you, completely shocked.

“You… what?”  

“I love you,” you repeated, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I have for a while now. I just didn’t realize it until - well, until recently.” 

The disbelief melted from his face, replaced by a slow, utterly pleased smile.

“Say it again,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

You laughed, pressing your lips to his forehead, before saying, “I love you.”

“Good,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “Because I’ve been waiting to hear that for a really long time.”  

And then he kissed you - soft at first, but quickly deepening as his hands slid up your back. You put your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, humming softly as his tongue caressed yours.

“I love you, baby,” He whispered against your lips. “God, I love you!”

You giggle, pressing kisses to his cheeks. 

“So,” he said, “How exactly do you want to ‘celebrate’?”  

You grinned, pulling him down into another kiss. “I have a few ideas.”  

This was your Christmas. And it was perfect.

Tags:

@moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix

[changeling-droneco]

This is a bit of a controversial take, but I think a big problem is writers seem to be given a lot less but also expected to do a lot more. A bit of a double standards. Like fanfiction needs to be held to some higher standards to be worth existing. Like obviously there’s bullying and double standards and discourse for every version of fancreating but it feels like fanfic gets a lot shit for just, existing. It’s the butt of the joke, it’s complained about, people get really picky and really fighty over it.

People constantly complain about fanfics not being finished, or talking about how they refuse to read fanfic unless it’s completed. People complain if it’s over tagged, people complain if it’s under tagged, fanfic is constantly stolen for ai startups or apps trying to otherwise monetize it. Hell, If any kind of money crosses any hands even if it’s buying directly from the author people get up in arms about it being the death of fandom and yelling at people for being a part of it, even when every single fandom Etsy seller gets a pass for like, selling undertale stickers. I promise you me writing a thousand words of mcyter fanfic for like 15 bucks and my copy of a somewhat dark mlp fanfic I bought from the creator did not and could not do that. People constantly talk about “why don’t you just write original fiction if you’re going to make such a detailed fantasy au?” People get super picky about fanfic and get so weird about unfinished fanfic or refuse to engage with it at all. I see a lot more hate or ire or mean spirited jokes pointed at authors more then I see appreciation or care. I know every form of fan creation gets this, but it just feels like crap at how much people seem to take potshots at writers or treat them as inherently more deserving of scrutiny or as inherently more dangerous to fandom because anne rice might rise from her grave and idk delete wattpad. How fic sites get more negative attention about being evil and problematic then any more art based sites.

It’s hard to put into words ironically, but it feels like at times a good portion of fandom just, kinda hates fanfic writers? I know it’s like a small slice, but damn if they don’t get vocal at times. Though even beyond that it feels like fanfic is often seen as like, lower class of art, like it’s just inherently less serious and worthwhile then other forms of art? Fanfic being good or poignant is seen more often then not as a surprise, and then even sometimes derided for being wasted on “mere fanfiction” or mocking some like classical book or story as “just fanfiction” as a way to devalue it, as if fanfiction is unworthy of being respected as an art form and therefor anything resembling it (insert discussion about how fanfic is often seen as a more feminine thing and associated with writers often being female and how that plays into it being seen as more frivolous here)

Plus people really have no sense of boundaries with it at times. I can’t count the amount of times some YouTuber has just casually read their fanfiction for a video and derided it as weird and cringy and accidentally send a wave of people to bully the writer for being cringy. (The only time I’ve ever really seen this done well is Danny Motta because dammit if you’re gonna do it at least cosplay the anime boy you’re being shipped with, and even then he probably should have still been more solid or clear about getting permission)

I don’t have a solution either but just, stop treating authors like they are somehow more cringy or sad or lesser or dangerous then artists? Give us at least a bit of respect and acknowledgement of us being equals in creativity and innovation to other creators. Don’t be a dick about a fic set in first person or that’s formatted unusually. Especially stop bullying people over fanfic you think is bad or weird, we’ve had enough literal kids who wrote creepypasta-esque fanfic of like, dream, get bullied off the internet or worse. Someone writing grimdark fanfiction is not lesser then someone drawing a fluff comic, and vice versa.

feedback and fic in fandom (3 f's of our own)

This conversation about feedback on fic says everything I’ve been wanting to say better than I could say it. But I’ll go ahead and try anyway.

Over the last five years or so there have been some great discussions around the rise of commodification of fanworks and decline of fandom community. This commodification looks a bit like enshittification of the internet: a cool site exists; its popularity makes someone realize they can get money from it; it has more and more ads; the site adds features to drive engagement, including The Algorithm; the things that made the site cool start to fall away. The site exists now as a vehicle purely to get clicks, and the people on it are on it solely to get clicks—to make money, to be successful, for some kind of social cachet.

AO3 doesn’t have advertisements. It’s not making money. But what is happening to fandom is proof of concept that enshittification changes the way we as humans engage. A cool website in 2004 was often a community space where you could meet people, have conversations, find cool things, and make cool things. A cool website in 2024 is either a content farm that will continually feed you enough content to hold your attention, or a social media site where your participation will come with stats to show you whether you are holding the attention of others.

AO3 wasn’t built to be a community space. It doesn’t have great functions for meeting people and having conversations. The idea was that, because fandom community spaces already existed, AO3 would serve the part of that community where you can find the cool things and store the cool things you made. It was meant to be a library in a city, not the whole city itself.

But it was also never meant to be a website in 2024, a content farm constantly generating content solely for your clicks and eyeballs and ad revenue, or a social media site where the content creators themselves vie for your clicks and eyeballs.

The most common talking point when people discuss the enshittification of fandom is the folks out there who are treating AO3 as that first kind of enshittified website: the content farm. This discussion is about how people treat fanfic as a product for consumption.

The post that kicked off the discussion on @sitp-recs’s blog was about someone who wasn’t getting very many kudos or comments on their fic, and was feeling pretty demoralized about it, then joined a discord server and found an entire channel dedicated to people loving their fic. But those on that server had never come to share that love with the author, which the author found really discouraging.

There are more and more stories like this. Someone on tiktok pulls a quote from a fic on AO3 and makes a 10-second video with them staring at a wall, the quote pasted at the bottom, music playing over it. It has 100,000 hearts, and 100 comments with people gushing over the fic, which has 80 kudos on AO3. Overall, people notice more and more hits on their fics, but fewer and fewer comments or even kudos. Fewer and fewer people seem to feel the need to interact with the author, instead treating the fic like a product to be used and discarded—which the enshittified internet (a stunning feature of late-stage capitalism!) encourages. The fandom community is dying, these stories conclude.

I agree. 100%. Both of the stories above have happened to me—viral tiktoks about my fic, secret discord channels to follow and discuss my fic—and let me tell you, it fucking sucks.

But from these observations about fandom enshittification, the discussion continues in a very odd direction. The solution to the death of fandom community is our favorite enshittification buzzword: engagement. We should engage the authors. They’re producing these products for free. We consume them at no cost. We must demonstrate our gratitude by paying them back.

It’s as though the capitalist consumption that the enshittified web encourages is so ingrained within us that we must think in terms of payment, in terms of exchange, transaction. Or as though, by forgoing payment, authors are some kind of martyrs defying capitalism, and the only way to honor their great sacrifice is comments and kudos.

Indeed, the discourse around this sometimes does veer away from capitalist rhetoric into something that smells almost religious in desperation. Authors are gods who bestow us mere mortals with the fruits of their labor benevolently, through love; the least we can do is worship them. Meanwhile the authors adopt the groveling sentiment of starving artists: I produce great art; I only humbly ask that you feed me in return.

These kinds of entreaties make my skin crawl for a number of reasons. I’m not a god. I’m not writing because I love you. I don’t expect your worship or even your praise.

I think the thing that disturbs me the most about it is that it suggests that authors (or, if the OP is feeling generous fan work creators) are the most important people in fandom. I’ve even seen posts stating that without creators, fandom wouldn’t exist—as though readers aren’t just as important. As though conversations where people discuss characterizations and plot points and randomly spin out interpretations and ideas and thoughts related to canon are meaningless. I’ve even seen people scramble to include folks having these discussions as “creators,” as though realizing that these people are necessary and integral to fandom communities but unable to drop the idea that the producers are the ones who are important. As though that person who just lurks can never count.

Is this what community is? When you join the queer community, are you expected to produce a product of your queerness? If not, must you actively participate and give back to the queer community in order to be considered a part of it? Or is it enough that you are queer, that you exist as a queer person and want to be around others who are queer, you want to be a part of something? What is community, anyway?

The problem with people raising the authors above everyone else in the community and demanding that tribute be paid is that they are decrying the “content farm” style of 2024 website out of one side of their mouth, but out of the other side are instead demanding that AO3 become a 2024-style social media website. Authors are influencers. “Engagement” and clicks are the things that really matter. They are in fact suggesting that the way to solve the commodification of fanfic is by “paying authors back” with stats.

Before anyone comes at me with the idea that comments aren’t just “stats,” I will clarify what I mean. There are literally hundreds of posts on tumblr alone claiming that any comment “helps” the author. Someone replies that they are shy to comment. Someone else replies that incoherent keyboard smashes, a single emoji, or the comment “kudos” are all that is required to satisfy the author, all that is required as tribute—all that is required as payment to keep this economy healthy.

I’m not condemning the comments that are keyboard smashes or emojis or a single kind word. I receive them. They make me happy. If anyone wants to leave such a comment on my fics, I’m really grateful for it. But this is not community-building. This is a transaction. In @yiiiiiiiikes25’s excellent response in the post linked at the beginning, they point out that “you have a cool hat” is something that is “perfectly nice” to hear from someone—and it is! We all want to be told we have a cool hat! But as they go on to say, what builds community is interactions that are deep and specific, interactions that are rich in quality, not in quantity. A kudos or a comment that says only ❤️are lovely things to receive, but they don’t build community.

My reaction, when I see people begging for kudos and comments as the only means by which to keep fandom community alive, is very close to @eleadore's. I want to say, “No. Readers do not need to comment or kudos. Believe not these hucksters who claim to know the appropriate method of fandom participation. Participate as you feel able, or not at all; nothing is required of you.”

I’ve been told before (several times) that I’m not qualified to participate in such discussions because I am an established author who has some fics with very high stats. It doesn’t matter that I have also been a new writer with almost no one reading my fics. It doesn’t matter that I still write in new fandoms where no one in that fandom knows me. It doesn’t matter that I, like any human being, still care about receiving recognition and attention and praise.

And maybe that’s correct. I personally don’t think that billionaires have a place in deciding the direction of the economy, and--if we're really going to consider fandom an economy--in fandom terms, if I’m not a billionaire, or even a millionaire, I’m definitely in the infamous “one percent.” So, just as no one wants to hear Elon Musk say “money isn’t everything,” maybe it’s not my place to say “kudos isn’t required, actually.”

That said, I’m not the only one who has a problem with the stats-based discourse around fandom community. However, the main counter-response to this discussion I see goes something like this: you shouldn’t be writing fic for validation. If you’re writing for attention, you’re doing it for the wrong reason. Authors should write fic because they love it without any expectation of return.

This is, in my opinion, missing the point of what is meant by fandom community.

I wrote fanfic before I knew that fanfic, as a concept, existed. I read books; I wanted them to be different; I wrote little stories for myself with new endings, with self-inserts, with cross-overs, with alternate universes. I did it for myself in the 90s. It never occurred to me that anyone else would do this, much less that people would share.

As @faiell points out—creating and sharing are two different things. I created fics for myself, but I decided to share them in the early 2000s because other people might like them, too. And of course, I wanted to hear whether other people liked them. How could I not? I might decorate my home just for me and not for anyone else’s preferences, but when people come over and say my house is nice, how can I not enjoy that? And if a lot of people think my house is nice, which encourages me to post pictures of it online, isn’t it understandable I might do so with the hope that more people will say my house is nice? And, honestly, if no one is appreciating my pictures, I probably won’t continue to go through the trouble of taking them and posting them. I’ll just enjoy my house that I decorated without sharing, the end.

When I found out there were whole fannish communities where people discussed canon and tossed ideas around about it, made theories and prompts and insights into the characters, fics they had written and recs for other fics and analyses of fics and art based on fics and fics based on art—I wanted to be a part of that, too. Now, sometimes, I write fic not out of an internal need to do so but out of a desire to participate in that community.

The idea that we write fic only for the love of it, then post it only because we possess it, is a process entirely centered on the self. It’s fandom in a vacuum. The idea that we share this thing, that we feel pleasure if someone likes it but feel nothing at all if no one says anything about it, that it’s completely okay to be ignored and unseen—that’s not what a community is either. That’s some weird sort of self-aggrandizement through self-effacement—because yes, there is often a weird kind of virtue-signaling in this kind of discourse.

I say this as someone who has virtue-signaled in that way: “some people write for stats, but I write for myself.” It’s bullshit. Sure, I write for myself, but why post it on the internet? Honestly, said virtue has a whiff of the capitalist machine, which would like you to produce for the sake of production, work for the sake of work. The noblest among us expect no recompense for that which they give!

The reason that I’m bringing this back around to capitalism is that capitalism actively works to dismantle community. The reason that folks are out here pleading for “engagement” in order to “pay back” authors for the products they give us “for free” is because people no longer even have the language to discuss how to participate in meaningful community. And frankly, how to build back fandom community, in the face of enshittification, is getting harder and harder to see.

But I do think that if we value fanfic and the fanfic community, it’s really, really not constructive to judge whether someone’s reasons for writing fanfic are valid. It’s also weird to me that it would be considered wrong that someone’s reason for sharing fanfic is because they would like to receive some recognition for it, when in fact that seems to be the most natural reason in the world for sharing something so private and vulnerable with the world.

Let’s go back to that idea of how hurtful it is to find out your fanfic is trending on tiktok without anyone from tiktok saying anything to you about your fic, or how it can be painful to find out there’s a secret discord channel dedicated to your fic. The people who respond to that with, “Ah, but you shouldn’t be writing to get attention!” are missing the point. The fic did get attention. It got lots. Attention obviously wasn't why the writer was writing--they were writing to participate, and they didn't get to. At all.

However, if your conclusion is that the author was upset because these particular stats were not accruing under this author’s profile, thereby preventing them from achieving the vaunted status of BNF and influencer—I don’t know, maybe you’re right. But I don’t think that’s why I, personally, have been hurt by these things, and I doubt it’s what hurt the people in these posts either. They’re hurt because they want to participate, and they have been systematically excluded by the very people they thought were part of the community they thought they could participate in.

Sure, if those folks from tiktok and the discord server all came and showered the author with kudos and comments that said “kudos,” the author might have felt satisfied enough with the quantity of this recognition that they would continue writing. But in the end, this still does nothing to address the problem of fandom community, in which the deep, meaningful recognition, interactions, and relationships in fandom are getting harder and harder to have and to build, as a result of how people now expect to engage in online spaces.

So, how to address the problem of fandom community? You probably read this long, long post hoping that I had an answer, and for that I must apologize. I don’t have solutions. My intent was to be descriptive, rather than prescriptive. I wished to outline the problems that I’m seeing in what was hopefully a slightly new or at least thought-provoking way, rather than offer solutions.

But, now that I’m talking about being prescriptive, maybe I can offer one suggestion, which is—maybe the solution to this isn’t about prescribing behavior. I do understand the irony in writing a prescription saying we shouldn’t prescribe people, but I’m going to write it anyway:

Maybe we shouldn’t be telling anyone the appropriate reasons for writing fanfic or for sharing it. Maybe we shouldn’t be telling readers they need to kudos or need to comment. If we’re going to go pointing fingers, we should be pointing at the institutions of capitalism that have made the internet what it is today—but I don’t think that’s going to solve the problem either.

But I do think that describing this problem, understanding what it actually is, not blaming readers for it and not blaming authors for it—I do think that helps. The discussion I linked at the beginning of this post is what I think of as the fandom I miss, the fandom that's now harder and harder to access, the fandom that is dying. That fandom was a social space where people had opinions and disagreed and went back and forth and gazed at their navels and then talked about Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

In the words of @yiiiiiiiikes25, it was a fuckin’ discussion about hats. And we’re hungry for it.

[lizziesangel]

RAFE CAMERON ⟢ the notebook kinda girl

x CITY GIRL!FEM!reader ⟢ MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: you meet a certain someone while you’re on vacation in obx

WORD COUNT: + 2k

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: flirty!rafe, heavily inspired by the notebook! part 1?

the hum of the plane’s engine faded into the background as you stared out the window, watching the coastline of the outer banks come into view. it was a stark contrast to the constant buzz of new york city—the quiet beaches, the endless ocean, the promise of something different.

your mom had always talked about this place, especially about the summers she spent here with kiana’s mom. when they invited you to spend part of your summer vacation with her, you couldn’t say no. you needed this escape.

a familiar voice jolted you from your thoughts as you walked out of the small airport terminal. “y/n!”

“kie!” you called back, grinning as you saw her running toward you.

she pulled you into a tight hug, her energy as infectious as you remembered. “oh my gosh, it’s been forever! how long has it been?”

“since your family came to new york for the holidays. i think i was, like, eight?”

“that’s way too long,” she said, linking her arm with yours as she led you toward her jeep. “cmon. we have so much to catch up on, and there’s a party tonight. you’re coming.”

“a party?” you asked, raising a brow as you slid into the passenger seat.

“yeah, it’s kind of a tradition around here,” she said, starting the engine. “you’ll meet the crew. they’re gonna love you.”

the drive towards outer banks was like stepping into a postcard—beaches stretching out endlessly, small shops and surf shacks dotting the landscape. by the time you reached her house, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

kie handed you a hoodie and tugged you toward the door. “come on, we’re late!”

the party was in full swing by the time you arrived. a group of people was gathered around the flames, their laughter mixing with the sound of crashing waves. kie led you straight into the heart of it.

“guys, this is y/n!” she announced.

a blonde girl with sun-kissed skin and a warm smile stepped forward first. “i’m sarah. kie’s told me so much about you. it’s so cool you’re here.”

“nice to meet you,” you said, returning her smile.

“i’m cleo,” said another girl with a sharp grin and a caribbean accent, offering you a fist bump. “stick with me. these guys are a handful.”

the boys approached next, each of them exuding their own brand of chaos.

“jj maybank,” said the one with wild blonde hair, giving you a wink. “resident heartbreaker and boat expert.”

“you forgot professional troublemaker,” cleo added dryly, earning a laugh from the group.

“i’m john b,” another boy said, extending a hand. his easygoing demeanor made you feel instantly at ease.

“and that’s pope,” kie added, nodding to the guy beside him, who gave you a friendly nod.

“hi,” you said, feeling a little overwhelmed but already charmed by their camaraderie.

“so, new york, huh?” jj said, flopping onto the sand beside you. “big city girl in little ol’ obx. how’re you holding up?”

“i think i’ll survive,” you teased, feeling yourself relax as the group bantered around you.

the night stretched on, filled with laughter, music, and the kind of easy conversations that made you feel like you’d known these people forever.

for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged. and as you stared into the flames of the bonfire, you had a feeling this summer was going to change everything.

the bonfire crackled, sending embers spiraling into the night sky. you were chatting with sarah and cleo about new york, when you felt it again—that strange, almost tangible feeling of being watched.

you glanced up, and there he was.

he was leaning against a nearby post, his sharp blue eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His smirk deepened when your eyes met, and before you could look away, he started walking toward you.

“hey,” he said smoothly, stopping in front of you and completely ignoring sarah and cleo. “you must be new around here. i’d remember if i’d seen you before.”

you hesitated, unsure how to respond to his boldness. “yeah, i’m visiting for the summer.”

“visiting,” he repeated, as if tasting the word. “well, you picked the right time. summer in the obx? can’t beat it. i’m rafe, by the way.”

“y/n,” you replied, your voice steady despite the way his gaze made your stomach flutter.

“y/n,” he said, testing the sound of it. “pretty name. pretty girl.”

before you could react to the blatant flirtation, jj appeared out of nowhere, stepping between you and rafe.

“she’s with us, man,” jj said firmly, his posture protective.

rafe didn’t even glance at him, his attention never leaving you. “so, y/n, where you from?”

“new york city,” you said, glancing nervously at JJ, whose jaw was tightening by the second.

“new york city,” he repeated, as if it was the most interesting thing he’d ever heard. “city girl in the obx. bet this is a change of pace for you.”

“yeah, it’s different,” you admitted, feeling both flattered and slightly overwhelmed by his unwavering focus.

rafe chuckled softly, the sound low and smooth. “different can be good, city girl. so, how about it? go out with me sometime?”

“she’s not interested,” jj snapped, stepping closer, but rafe still didn’t acknowledge him.

“c’mon, sweet girl,” rafe continued, his smirk playful. “i’ll show you the real outer banks. not the touristy stuff.”

“rafe, give it a rest,” kiara said sharply as she joined the group, pulling you by the arm. “let’s go.”

but rafe stayed rooted, his eyes still locked on you. “think about it, city girl” he called as kie tugged you away.

once you were far enough, kie let out an annoyed sigh. “ugh, typical rafe. don’t let him get to you.”

“what just happened?” you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

“i think he kinda likes you,” sarah said, her tone amused as she walked up beside you.

you turned to her, eyebrows raised. “what? no, he’s just messing with me.”

“i don’t think so,” Sarah replied with a shrug. “i’ve never seen my brother act like that before. that wasn’t his usual intense, brooding vibe. he seemed… i don’t know—”

her brother?

“don’t put ideas in her head,” cleo said, cutting in with a pointed look at sarah. “rafe cameron is trouble, and we’ve got enough of that in our lives.”

you nodded slowly, but you couldn’t stop replaying the encounter in your mind. rafe’s charm might have been trouble, but it was also undeniably magnetic—and something told you this wouldn’t be the last time he’d try to get your attention.

the morning sun poured through the window of the carrera’s guest room, golden rays warming your face as you stirred awake. the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance was a soothing backdrop, a far cry from the honking horns and city noise you were used to back in new york.

you stretched, slipping out of bed and padding down the hallway. the smell of coffee greeted you, and when you reached the kitchen, kie was leaning against the counter, scrolling through her phone.

“morning,” she said, looking up and flashing you a smile. “how’d you sleep?”

“like a rock,” you replied, pouring yourself a cup of coffee. “it’s so quiet here. i could get used to it.”

kie smirked. “that’s the obx charm. so, what’s the plan for today? we could hit the beach, check out some local shops, or—”

“i was actually thinking of going for a walk,” you said, taking a sip of coffee. “just to explore a little on my own.”

“yeah?” kiara asked, raising a brow. “you sure you don’t want me to tag along?”

“i’ll be fine,” you reassured her. “i just want to wander, get a feel for the place. i won’t go far.”

kiara shrugged, setting her phone down. “alright. just don’t get lost. or run into any kooks.”

you laughed, brushing off her comment as you slipped out the door.

the streets were peaceful, with quaint houses nestled among swaying palm trees. the salty air and gentle breeze made the walk refreshing, and you found yourself meandering without any real destination.

you were admiring a row of colorful cottages when a voice interrupted your thoughts.

“fancy seeing you out here, city girl.”

you turned, and there he was—rafe cameron.

he was leaning against his car, a sleek black car that looked as polished as he did. dressed in a fitted t-shirt and some jeans, his smirk was as familiar as the memory of the night before.

“rafe,” you said, your tone cautious. “didn’t expect to see you.”

“this is my island,” he replied smoothly, his smirk widening. “i’m everywhere.”

you rolled your eyes, taking a step to the side to keep walking, but he pushed off his car and fell into step beside you.

“you always this charming?” you asked, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

“only with you,” he said easily, flashing you a grin that made your stomach flip despite your better judgment. “so, what’s a city girl like you doing wandering around all alone?”

“i wanted to explore,” you said, keeping your tone neutral.

“oh, well, lucky for you, you’ve got the best tour guide now.”

“do i?”

“you do,” he insisted, pointing ahead. “see that shop over there? best place for shaved ice on the island. and that dock?” he gestured toward the water. “sunsets there will ruin you for life. no other view will compare.”

you already knew another view that wouldn’t compare when you’re back in new york.

“is that so?” you asked, half-amused despite yourself.

“it is,” he said, his tone softening slightly as he looked at you. “obx has a way of doing that to people—making them never want to leave.”

the sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you forgot about everything the girls had said about him being trouble.

“well, thanks for the tips, island boy” you said, trying to keep things light.

rafe stopped walking, turning to face you fully. “you know, i wasn’t kidding last night. about taking you out.”

you blinked, thrown by his directness. “you’re persistent, aren’t you?”

“when i see something i like, yeah,” he said, his voice low, his gaze unwavering.

before you could figure out how to respond, a loud horn blared from a passing truck, breaking the moment.

you stepped back instinctively, and rafe chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “alright, i’ll back off. for today.” he started to walk away but glanced over his shoulder. “don��t wander too far, city girl.”

you watched him go, your heart pounding in your chest. whatever you thought you knew about rafe cameron, it was clear he wasn’t going to be easy to ignore.

when you got back to kiara’s house, she was sitting on the porch, sipping a smoothie. she raised a brow when she saw you.

“everything went good?” she asked casually.

you hesitated, then nodded. “yeah. just… ran into someone.”

kie frowned. “who?”

you sighed. “that rafe guy.”

she groaned, setting her smoothie down. “of course you did. he’s like a heat-seeking missile when it comes to girls who don’t need his drama.”

“drama?” you echoed, tilting your head.

“trust me, n/n,” kie said calmly. “rafe cameron is a storm you don’t want to get caught in.”

but as you sat down beside her, your thoughts drifted back to his smirk, his confidence, and the way he’d looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

a storm, maybe. but one that was dangerously hard to ignore.

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Levi: Is it lame to say I missed you? Robin: No-.. don’t you think it’s nice when people say things like that? [Levi shrugged loosely, heel scuffing against the pavement as he avoided the question] Levi: Why’d you start talking to me again? Robin: I’m over it, in the grand scheme of things… Levi: But? Robin: Not everyone’s gonna be as understanding as me, Levi. You’re gonna have to learn-… Levi: I’m sorry, okay?! [Levi huffed; smoke from a stolen, slightly disgusting cigarette billowing from his mouth-.. that hadn’t come out right] Levi: Sorry-.. I’m sorry-.. like, genuinely sorry. Robin: I know. Levi: That’s it? Robin: What’d you expect? Levi: I don’t know… Robin: It didn’t have to be a big deal. Levi: Penny just doesn’t get it, y’know? Otherwise, she wouldn’t have joked about it. [Robin highly doubted that, but Penelope was a whole ‘nother kettle of fish entirely] Robin: You shouldn’t have told her either-.. you fucked up as well. Levi: I didn’t mean to-.. but yeah, my bad. Robin: It could’ve been over and done with if you’d just said that from the start. Levi: Guess I had to learn the hard way… [Robin let out a snort, knowing full well who’d planted that seed within Levi’s mind] Levi: If you ever tell me anything again, I promise I won’t tell anyone. Robin: Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Levi: Well, I intend to keep it, so… [Robin smiled warmly; comforted by Levi’s conviction and relieved by the weight lifted from his friend’s shoulders] Robin: Good. Levi: You get it though, right? Like.. I still have to hang out with them, it’d make things awkward if I didn’t. Robin: I’m sure there’s more than one way to get a scholarship. Levi: [hums] I’ll try n’ keep them off your back anyway-.. pretty sure you did a good job of that on your own though. Robin: I shouldn’t have done that. Levi: Eh, he was asking for a smack. Robin: Kinda…

…

Robin: What..? Levi: Can I ask you something? Robin: Always. Levi: Do you like boys? Robin: [laughs] Why, have you got a confession up your sleeve too? Levi: HAH-.. NO! I only like girls, but what about you? Robin: I don’t know-.. I think I’m pan. Levi: What’s that, like bi? Robin: I guess I don’t really think of people in terms of gender, like it doesn’t matter. Levi: I knew it! Okay, I just had the best idea ever. [Robin’s brow raised-.. whatever Levi was thinking, it must’ve literally just popped into his head] Levi: So, Aster totally has a crush on you, right? Robin: Oh-.. right? Levi: If you went out with him, it’d be like a free ticket to being cool. Robin: I don’t really want to be cool, to be honest. Levi: Okay, whatever-.. but that’d pretty much guarantee them leaving you alone. Like, it’s an unwritten rule you can’t be a dick to someone’s other half, y’know? [Robin squinted, less than convinced-.. he wasn’t sure Aster would be so open to parading him around like that] Levi: C’mon, it’s genius! Robin: I wouldn’t even know how to ask him out-.. I still can’t speak to him. [Levi huffed, frustrated by Robin’s lack of enthusiasm for his master plan] Robin: I guess I could-… Levi: Leave it to me. Robin: I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Levi: Just trust me! I’ll think of something. Robin: Hmm… Levi: Please? We’d get to hang out way more often. Robin: It wouldn’t be the same. Levi: Better than nothing? [Robin couldn’t help but laugh as Levi shoved him excitedly] Robin: [snorts] Fine. Levi: YES! Okay, okay.. just make sure you get detention again on Monday. Robin: Easy-peasy.

[kurishiri]

Mystery Bag 2025 ┊ Team 2: The trash bastards and the troubled fox

Harrison, Alfons, Jude, Nica

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to narrative flow and characterization purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but please don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— the mystery bag 2025 sale is a story set sale where the guys are put into teams and participate in a relay event thing. this is one of three teams (i love al too much to pass this by aa orz)! you can read the prologue, translated by @.judesmoonbeauty, here.

— cw: mentions of drugging or spiking drinks, bribing, and groping.

——Group 2 for the preliminary contest: Harrison, Alfons, Jude, Nica.

—— Blue sky ——

Steering committee: Then, we will begin the round for group 2.

Steering committee: Who will reach the goal first and emerge the happy boy for 2025?!

Steering committee: Let us go all out! Take your places, and…start!

—— Park (day) ——

Harrison: Oh, jeez, that was fast. So, why are you guys all standing there?

Alfons: Since the spectators are no longer in sight, so I figured if it was around now or so,

A: it would be a good time to drop this act of competing to the hardest and fullest.

Harrison: What? (O_O)

H: Or wait a minute, I’m pretty sure Al’s no exception; you guys are scheming something weird, aren’t you.

Jude: Who are ya gonna blame when ya don’t have a drop o’ evidence on ya? Way to make others out as the villain.

Nica: Agreed. I wouldn’t dream of scheming anything so bad in broad daylight, you know.

Harrison: Your lies are so damn obvious. I don’t even need to use my ability to figure that out.

H: If you all get caught, would you be alright getting disqualified?

Alfons: Oh, goodness, shiver me timbers. I’ll be honest, so hold your silence, alright?

A: I’m sure you’re aware there is a spot you can take a quick water break a bit up ahead, no?

A: I maaay or may not have pulled an ever so slight trick on the drinks.

A: Said trick being a sleeping drug that can knock one out immediately.

Harrison: You’re the worst.

Jude: Well, seems like somethin’ that walkin’ offense to public morals would pull outta his arse.

Alfons: And what of you?

Jude: Jus’ gave some money on a stick to the committee and told ‘em to tamper with the info and give us the win.

J: There’s been a wave o’ people, so it wouldn’t get outed.

Harrison: You’re no better.

Nica: I’d expect nothing less from the company president, dirtying your hands. Someone as well-bred as me could never.

Harrison: And? What’s up your sleeve?

Nica: Now don’t go lumping me together with that mirror man and president.

N: All I did was use my superior intellect and surveying skills. …Say, did you know?

N: This time, beneath the course there’s a sewer. One that’ll lead you right next to the goal.

N: So I was thinking of slipping underground, bide my time… and take first place.

Jude & Alfons: What a piece o’ trash. / Very much a lowlife.

Nica: You guys are the last ones I want to be called ‘trash bastards’ from.

Harrison: Damn, it’s trash bastards left and right.

H: So? What did you hope to gain from all this?

Alfons: Why of course, it’s to use Her Majesty’s authority to do this and that and aaall things in between.

Harrison: I was a fool for ever asking.

H: What about you, Jude?

Jude: Anythin’ goes. There’s a whole load o’ things I wanna do with the Queenie’s authority.

J: Well, I’d bet that bad guy over there would ask for somethin’ ridiculous.

Nica: As if. I’m just trying to earn what I very much love — money.

N: There’s never enough money to go around.

Harrison: If that’s what you really think, then I’ll leave it at that.

Nica: …Being able to pick up on lies, huh. You’ve got a troublesome ability on you, don’t you, Harrison Gray.

Harrison: They said abilities were forbidden. I’m just reading what you’re feeling.

Nica: You’re the only one who’ll ever know if you’re using your ability or not. I’d expect nothing less of the one Cursed by the Lying Fox.

Harrison: Thanks, I guess.

Nica: ——Anyway, what are we going to do from now on?

Alfons: Whatever could you mean?

Nica: I mean, seeing as we all revealed our hands, I can’t imagine this will end nice and smooth.

N: For the record, I’m fine with taking each other down. Since I don’t hold back against bastards and all.

Jude: Ha, I like the sound o’ that. The last one standin’ wins. Simple, clear-cut, n’ easy to understand.

Alfons: Though I can’t say I enjoy such brutish things, I suppose sacrifices may be inevitable.

Harrison: Hey you guys——

Woman’s cry: Ahh!

Harrison: That voice…

Woman’s cry: Someone! There’s a groper— he groped me!

Nica: A groper, huh.

N: Yeah, I figured. There’s bound to be some stupid humans who can’t hold themselves back and take advantage of the festival.

N: I just don’t get it. Well, I’m sure with this crowd, he’ll get caught in no time.

Alfons: I’m sure a man foolish enough to grope others will be caught soon——

A: But as I recall, the direction that man is running happens to be toward the place Kate has come to cheer for us, isn’t it?

Harrison: …I’ll go. I’m worried about her.

H: You guys can do whatever.

Jude: Tch, can’t stand the thought o’ leaving ‘er alone and gettin’ yelled at.

Alfons: Ahha! Are the men who haven’t run that much before going full speed ahead now?

A: What are you going to do, Nica?

Nica: Guess I’ll go too? Standing idle around won’t do much anyway.

—— Alleyway ——

Groper: Dammit… why are you guys chasing after me! Ah——

Harrison: Okay, caught you.

Jude: Keep that trash bastard o’ a pervert restrained.

Harrison: That was my intention.

H: Ahh, you guys came too?

Nica: Ohh, so this is the groper, huh. Haha, now that’s a face that’ll probably stir up trouble with women.

Alfons: Judging by one’s outward appearance is nonsense. That said, though, he does sport a rather unfulfilled expression.

Groper: I didn’t do it! My hand just happened to touch her butt.

Groper: And besides! Aren’t you guys the one who’s got some unfulfilled desires, stirring up all this fuss all over this?

Alfons: Oh, you happened to, didn’t you.

A: On the way here, I caught onto something, you see.

A: As far as I heard, six women were bringing up how they were getting touched by you.

A: Why that is one hefty coincidence indeed, dare I say.

A: Or could it be your hands were implanted with a magnet that drew you to women’s rears?

Nica: And besides, we’ve got a handy lie detector right here.

N: So? Which is it?

Harrison: Everything you’re saying is a lie. There’s no doubt about that.

H: Well, that’s my intuition, at least.

Groper: …gh.

Groper: D-damn it all! Yeah, okay, I did it!

Nica: Okay, okay, I’ve heard just about enough of that bastard’s dirty voice.

Alfons: Now then, having confessed so honestly, what punishment shall we do?

A: Ahh, come to think of it, our abilities are off the table, aren’t they. Well then, Jude.

Jude: Show that nasty arse o’ yours. The one ya fondled with.

Groper: Guah!

Nica: Wow, that sounded brutal. His bones are probably broken.

Alfons: My heartfelt condolences. Well, what should we do with this knocked out man?

Harrison: Hand him over to the police.

H: Today we’re not Crown and Vogel, but rather just participants.

Jude: Whatever floats your boat. I couldn’t care less.

An unclear cry: Ahh!

Harrison: Another one…? (O_O)

Alfons: What is it this time?

—— Bridge ——

Kate: Ah— guys!

K: There’s a big problem, all the participants who had the drinks from the break spot ended up falling fast asleep!

Alfons: Is that so?

Kate: And then a committee member started to reveal that they’d been threatened and bribed and——

Jude: Hmm.

Kate: And on top of that, it was discovered that someone was going to use the sewer as an unjust move!

Nica: Well, I’ll be.

Kate: Just who could be behind these? It’s too much like what a trash bastard would do, and I can’t look past that!

Harrison: Go on, Kate, keep it going.

Kate: Wha——?

Fin.

team 1 team 2 team 3

ko-fi ☕️ ┊ comms 🤍

[plaidos]

I have no particular dog in this fight as I'm not a GF superfan or anything, but I would like to question a bit of your analysis.

I think you're right that the version of GF where Dipper is transmasc makes Mabel's canonical actions transphobic.

I would like to question the insinuation that those same actions would've been "normal sibling rivalry" (?!) were Dipper closeted transfem or even cismasc, as opposed to "worst sister ever" (!?) behavior. Especially if we're going with transfem Dipper, those incidents of bullying remind me much more of patterns of bullying against transfeminine people, and intersex people CAMAB (such as myself) that I've personally witnessed/experienced.

Also, to the idea that Mabel being transphobic fundamentally changes her character in some way. Like, sometimes characters we're supposed to like hold a bigoted attitude which they will unlearn over the course of the story. Sokka from Avatar and Weiss from RWBY come to mind. Mabel being one of those characters doesn't fundamentally change her storyline or arc.

you’re right, Mabel’s actions and teasings are still mean with a transphobic undercurrent — even if Dipper is a dyadic cis boy, to be honest. but she’s also a twelve year old born in 1999. i too have received the kind of bullying associated with the way Mabel acts towards Dipper about his gender, but i’ve also had similarly “jokes” from loved ones who didn’t realise how shitty they were being because they didn’t have the political framework to analyse what is fucked up about it.

but if we’re reading Dipper as transmasc, it’s like… everybody he knows is accepting enough of his identity to gender him correctly, but they’re still totally willing to say things to him that you would categorically know are bigoted even at that age. like a twelve year old cisgender girl who knows about trans people and respects their existence might not realise how needlessly callous she is being when she teases her (seemingly) cisgender brother for having “girly” interests, but that same cisgender girl would probably be able to identify that her openly transgender brother wouldn’t want to wear makeup and that it would be incredibly fucked up to make him. i’m not saying it’s “right” but Mabel needs to actively Be A Transphobe (rather than just having some twelve year old cis girl ideas about gender & masculinity) to treat Dipper the way she treats him if he is openly transmasculine, but I feel like there’s more of a plausible deniability. i feel like the Mabel we see in the show is a couple years away from being like “wow, that was spectacularly mean of me, i hope that didn’t have an effect on Dipper’s self worth”

i feel like if (in the crazy alternate universe where this is possible) there were an episode where Dipper came out as transfem after feeling hurt by Mabel’s jokes she would be really torn up about it. she’d say something like “i’m really sorry, i didn’t know you felt so strongly about gender… i thought we were just joking around but i should be paying more attention to how you feel, Dipper…. wait, maybe you don’t want to be called Dipper any more. Oh no I AM a bigot!!!” and then Soos would come in and be like “heheh. total hatecrime dude” and then we’d cut to Bill being like “i don’t care what gender you are pine tree… i’m gonna get that GIRL if it’s the last thing I do” except girl would be obviously ADR’d over in Alex Hirsch’s normal voice with his live action mouth over Bill’s animated mouth

also transfeminine Dipper has just always made more sense. the big argument was that he uses a nickname instead of his birth name which he keeps a secret. and that would make sense if Dipper had a girl’s name, but Dipper’s birth name is “Mason”. so he actually is choosing to not use a male name and instead use something gender neutral, even though he really loves matching with his twin sister & having matching names is a family tradition — so he probably has a pretty big reason to not use it, considering he still doesn’t even with all the reasons he has to.

[notlongtolove]

the earth was made for lovers

they say paris is the city of love. quantico, virginia? not so much. a smattering of cafés, the occasional pop-up museum if the season feels generous. it’s all routine, really, carved out of the ordinary.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: day in the life of bau!reader and bf spencer on a day off, just domestic fluff... spencer reid best bf ever agenda

word count: 2.3k

note: not even gonna lie this has almost nothing to do with the linked poem other than it being romance related i just read that line and my brain ran wild with it n e ways happy end of year everyone <3

a line: It’s where you met a boy too kind for his own good, love spilling from him at the edges.

Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain, For sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain. - emily dickinson

They say Paris is the city of love. Quantico, Virginia? Not so much. A smattering of cafés, the occasional pop-up museum if the season feels generous. It’s all routine, really, carved out of the ordinary.

Even the way you and Spencer met was decidedly unremarkable. A simple, predictable statistic—Work. No serendipitous meeting in a dusty bookshop or a fateful grab for the last box of cereal. Just proximity, shared interests, and time. Not exactly the makings of a Nicholas Sparks screenplay.

Your first date—if you could even call it that—A stakeout for the Reynolds case, which, in Spencer’s mind, seamlessly doubled as an outing, though you’d argued against it. It eventually evolved into coffee at a quiet café, a stroll through the park, and a chaste kiss on your doorstep. The weeks that followed had brought more kisses, more quiet moments, till it all became wonderfully familiar.

Now, you’re walking hand in hand, the crisp sound of leaves crunching beneath your steps.

“We should go to Venice this summer,” you say, your fingers laced with his.

“Venice?” he echoes, tilting his head.

“Mhm. The city of love,” you muse fondly. 

“That’s Paris, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, for the unimaginative and basic. Think prosecco on gondolas, Spence.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow, amused. “Did you get a pay raise I didn’t hear about?”

You turn to meet him with a deadpan stare, leaning back against the cold metal pole of the bus stop. Spencer shifts, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his chest instead. To anyone else, it’s a sweet, tender, gesture of affection. And it is, mostly. But you of all people know Spencer likes having you close just as much as he likes keeping you from resting against questionable surfaces.

“Kidding honey,” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. “Just let’s run it by Hotch before we start packing hm?”

A breeze cuts through the air, eliciting a shiver from you. Without missing a beat, Spencer shrugs off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. If this had been your third date, you might have flushed, awkwardly protesting that you didn’t need it. But after two years, you’ve come to learn that Spencer Reid’s stubbornness rivals his intelligence when it comes to taking care of you. So you accept it without a word.

You accept the scarf, too, when he wraps it around your neck, tucking the ends neatly beneath the lapels of his coat. Your willing acceptance earns you a kiss on the tip of your nose, followed by one to your lips, soft and lingering.

When the bus arrives, you board first—always. There’s one seat left but you decline it, offering it to someone else instead. You’re both content standing, his arm steady as it holds the rail, yours slipping around his waist. You lean into him ever so slightly, your head resting just below his shoulder.

“Aw, we should’ve stopped by the bakery,” you sigh, eyes looking longingly out the window as the bus takes a slow turn past it.

Spencer leans across you, his hand already pressing the stop button. “We can walk back,” he says, his tone casual, though he doesn’t miss the way your eyes brighten instantly.

The bus comes to a gentle halt eventually, and his hand finds yours as you step off together. The sidewalk is narrow, but Spencer doesn’t seem to mind. Up ahead, the intersection is quiet, and with no cars in sight, he instinctively steps onto the road, letting you take the sidewalk to yourself, his hand never leaving yours.

As you walk, your hand dips into your bag, fingers sifting through an assortment of small objects before pulling out a wired earpiece. With one hand, you do your best to unravel it, then hand one side to Spencer.

“S’not that long of a walk, honey,” Spencer says, though he takes his side of the earpiece anyway. 

“I know,” you reply, slipping the other side into your ear. “But the weather’s so nice.”

“Says the one in two coats and my scarf.” You nudge him lightly, elbow brushing his arm as you move to select a song from your shared playlist. Spencer nods approvingly when a Turnover song starts playing. “I like this one.” 

“Me too,” you murmur, letting out a contented sigh as you slip your phone back into your bag, your hands swinging gently between you. Spencer considers telling you about Turnover’s musical evolution—their shift away from emo and punk rock roots. But the thought fades when he sees you quietly humming along, smiling to himself at the sight. 

The aroma of fresh pastries wafts toward you from a block away, the bakery coming into view soon after. Your steps quicken instinctively, with Spencer keeping pace. “Inside or outside?” He asks as you approach.

Normally, you’d both opt for the cozy outdoor seating, but the earlier chill has thickened, and the sky is now overcast with a looming promise of rain. You sigh dramatically as you begin to coil the earpiece in your hand, “Don’t think we have much of a choice, honey.” Spencer meets your exaggerated pout with an equally exaggerated sad smile before pulling the door open for you.

It’s quiet inside, save for the soft clinking of cutlery from a table where two elderly women chat over tea. Spencer moves behind you, helping you shrug out of his coat and scarf before draping them neatly over the back of a chair. You make your way to the counter, eyes scanning the rows of baked goods lined up. 

“Three for $10 on cupcakes today,” the cashier offers warmly. 

“Ooh, one chocolate please,” you say, without hesitation. Spencer’s favourite. 

“And one blueberry,” Spencer says. Your favourite, of course. 

His eyes flick to you, a subtle tilt of his head, and you know exactly what he’s waiting for. Banana—a close second on your list, almost guaranteed to make the cut.

You pause, pretending to deliberate, “We’ll take a red velvet,” you declare finally, and Spencer’s lips quirk upward. His other favorite.

After a small debate over who’s paying—Spencer, of course; he’d sooner recite the entirety of The Canterbury Tales backward than let you pay while he’s around—you shuffle back to your table, cupcakes in your hand and the faintest hint of triumph in his grin.

“You know where else has really good cupcakes?” you say as you set the box down between you, already digging in. 

He arches a brow, “Enlighten me.”

“Venice.”

Spencer snorts, barely stifling a laugh. “Ah yes, Venice, La Serenissima, renowned across the globe for its cupcakes.”

“You mock me Spencer Reid, but seriously,” you say with indignation, wagging your finger at him for emphasis. “I was looking at flights last night and—”

“You were looking at flights?” he cuts in, leaning across the table. His hand brushes your cheek, his thumb gently swiping away a smudge of blueberry frosting you hadn't noticed. You shift, instinctively leaning into his touch.

“They’ve got some really good deals right now,” you press on, undeterred, as you tear your blueberry cupcake neatly in half, holding out the piece to him. 

“I mean, I guess we could,” Spencer says thoughtfully, handing you half of his chocolate cupcake in return.

“Really?” Your face lights up.

“But,” he adds, pausing for effect as he takes a bite, “we’d have to talk to Hotch first.”

You huff theatrically as you make a point of finishing the rest of your cupcake in one exaggerated bite. 

Not long after, the cupcakes are gone, their crumbs swept aside, and the first light drizzle begins to spatter against the bakery window. Spencer is quick to help you into your coat, though this time you insist you don’t need his as well. He eyes you, clearly skeptical before relents and shrugs on his own coat.

“Not that cold anymore,” you insist, but he doesn’t let you fight him when he wraps his scarf around your neck, tucking it in once more. You can’t help but smile at the gesture.

Having Spencer Reid as a boyfriend means being perpetually over-prepared for every scenario, a fact proven moments later when you pull an umbrella from your bag—the very one he had slipped in earlier that morning.

Outside, the rain is light but persistent, it’s raindrops dotting the pavement in tiny patterns. You wait under the awning as Spencer opens the umbrella, holding his arm out for you to take. Truthfully, you are cold, colder than you’d like to admit, but you know Spencer too well. Whenever you share an umbrella, he always overcompensates, always angling it just so to keep you entirely dry. By the time you get home, one side of his coat is perpetually a shade darker, soaked from the rain, while you remain dry to the touch.

You hook your arm through his, leaning into him as you walk. 

“So, you’ll talk to Hotch on Monday?” you prompt, glancing up at him with a hopeful smile.

“Me? You’re the one itching to cruise around on gondolas.”

“Yeah, but he likes you more,” you counter, “you’ve known him for ages,” drawing out the last word dramatically.

“You joined the team four months after me.”

“Please?” You know full well he’s already on the verge of giving in.

“Fine,” he sighs, relenting, though the smile on his lips betrays him. 

You press a delighted kiss to his shoulder. “Best boyfriend ever.”

The walk home is peaceful, the quiet only broken by one brief moment of excitement when you swore you saw a kitten dart under the hood of a parked car. Spencer humoured you, standing and holding the umbrella patiently over you as you crouched to peek under the vehicle, only to find nothing but shadows. 

At your building, he shakes the umbrella off before closing it, careful not to drip water on the lobby floor. You trail behind him up the stairs, your pace slowed by the stiffness of your boots. By the time you reach your door, you’re already leaning against the frame, tugging fruitlessly at the zipper on one of them.

“I can’t wait until we’re in Venice and out of this shitty weather,” you huff, fiddling with the stubborn zip.

Spencer chuckles softly, bemused. “Uh-huh,” he says, kneeling without a second thought. His fingers find the zipper, pulling it smoothly downward in one practised motion. “Up,” he prompts, tapping your ankle lightly. You shift your weight, lifting your foot so he can slide the boot off. The moment it’s free, his hands move to the other boot, tugging at the zipper while you steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder. 

“You’d think for $80, they’d have mastered the art of waterproof footwear,” he quips, straightening up and setting your boots neatly by the door. His coat follows a moment later, draped on the hook in your living room.

The opening is too good to pass up. “You know where they make the best boots?”

Spencer glances at you, already catching on, “Touché darling”. He shakes his head in amused resignation. “Tea?” he offers, moving toward the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

“Yes, please,” you reply, kicking off your socks and padding after him. You hop onto the counter, your favourite perch, and swing your legs idly as he sets the kettle on the stove.

“Venice actually has surprisingly good tea,” he says, pulling open the cabinet to grab the mugs—yours with a faint crack along the rim that you refuse to part with, (despite his repeated, that’s really dangerous, honey, warnings) and his, adorned with a fading illustration of the periodic table. 

“You’re joking,” you laugh as he sets the mugs on the counter beside you before his arms cage you in, one on either side.

“I’m serious, the first Western record of tea? Venice. Everybody knows Italy’s famous for its coffee, but tea has its place too.” 

You hum in faux contemplation as your arms loop around his neck. “How very fascinating,” you reply, punctuating your words with light kisses along his jaw. You can feel him smile against your cheek as he continues his impromptu lecture, but his words falter when your hands slide up to brush the damp curls from his forehead.

His lips find the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that send you into a fit of giggles. “Spence,” you squeal, half-protesting as he nuzzles into your skin, his stubble tickling in just the right way. In your laughter, your arm brushes the counter, sending your mug tumbling to the floor with a sharp crash.

Both of you startle at the sound, Spencer’s reflexes kicking in as he immediately pulls you closer. “Shit. I’m sorry, honey.” Spencer’s eyes dart from you to the shattered ceramic on the floor. “Are you hurt?”

“M’fine,” you assure him, shaking your head. “Are you?”

He exhales, relieved, brushing his hands gently over your legs checking as if to make sure. “I’m fine, too. Just... don’t move, okay? It’s really sharp.”

You glance down at the scattered remains of your beloved mug, shoulders sagging slightly, the disappointment evident.

Spencer’s hand finds yours again, squeezing lightly as he flashes you a soft, reassuring smile. “S’okay, baby. You know where else they make really good mugs?” And you’re in a fit of laughter again. 

Unfortunately, as it turns out, Hotch isn’t exactly thrilled about any PTO requests longer than two weeks—especially when it means losing two of his agents, and for an entire summer at that. 

So, the summer doesn’t take you far after all. There’s no lovelock bridge, no prosecco sipped by moonlit canals. But there are cramped buses with too few seats, where you’d rather stand pressed together than sit apart. There are rain-soaked evenings, huddled close under an umbrella that never quite does its job of keeping both of you dry—though you’d argue that’s more on Spencer. 

Quantico, Virginia, might not be the Eiffel Tower or a gondola gliding along a Venetian canal, but it is where Spencer first held your hand in a coffee breakroom after a scolding that left you blinking back tears, where you spent an entire evening sorting his books into new shelves after you got your own place together.

All in all, you’ve come to find that you quite like it here. It’s where you met a boy too kind for his own good, love spilling from him at the edges.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: humming by turnover pretty boy by the neighbourhood

[steveseddie]

when the clock strikes twelve

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles “midnight” & @steddiebingo 12 days of christmas mini event “carol” | rated: t | wc: 1000 | tags: different first meeting, post season 2, new year’s kiss

read on ao3

It’s five minutes to midnight when Steve steps into the bathroom at Tina’s house.

If he’d known that coming to her New Year’s Eve party would mean welcoming the new year alone in the same bathroom where his girlfriend called their relationship bullshit, Steve would’ve stayed home.

“If it isn’t the King of Hawkins,” a voice says, startling Steve and making him turn around, his heart hammering in his chest. But it’s not a demodog or fucking Billy Hargrove, just Eddie Munson sitting on the sink with his legs swinging back and forth.

“Munson.”

“Welcome to my office, Your Highness,” Eddie says with a dorky salute.

Steve glances around them. “Your office?”

“This is where I do business, you see,” he says, flipping the lid of his metal lunchbox. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Steve hangs a hand from his neck. “No, uh, I’m hiding from someone.”

Eddie perks up with interest. “Who?”

“Carol Perkins.”

“Your buddy Tommy’s girl?”

Steve’s nose wrinkles. “He’s not my buddy anymore and she’s not his girl either. And for some reason Carol thinks the best way to get back at him for being a dick is to kiss me at midnight.”

“And you don’t want that?” Steve shakes his head. “Thought you and Wheeler were done– or are you not over her yet? Don’t worry, big boy. There’s still time for that New Year’s resolution.”

“Shut up,” Steve says, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “It’s not about Nancy, I just don’t want to kiss the first girl who throws herself at me, you know?”

“I do not, Your Majesty,” Eddie says with an amused snort. “I’ve never participated in such activities.”

Steve tilts his head in question. “Kissing someone on New Year’s?”

Eddie looks away, nervously playing with a rip on his jeans. “Or you know, ever.”

He can’t see the way Steve’s eyebrows shoot up but he probably hears the surprise in his voice when he asks, “You’ve never kissed anyone?”

Eddie purses his lips. They’re nice lips, Steve observes. It’s a shame no one has kissed them. “No, Harrington. Go ahead and laugh it up,” he says, his voice clipped.

“I’m not laughing! I’m just–” Confused that someone as hot as you hasn’t kissed anyone. Steve clears his throat, his blush getting worse with that thought even if Eddie can’t read his mind. “I mean. Why haven’t you?”

Eddie scoffs. “People aren’t exactly lining up to kiss the town’s freak,” he says. Then hesitates before he adds, “Specifically guys.”

So the rumors about Munson are true. “Oh.”

The confession makes Steve blush, despite Eddie being the one who admitted something. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s afraid he’ll open his mouth and something stupid will come out. Something like– ‘I’m here! I’m a guy!’

So he stays silent, which makes Eddie wary.

“That’s it? You’re not gonna run? Call me names? Punch me?”

Steve can see that his shoulders are tense, his knuckles white where they’re gripping the sink tightly. It’s like he’s getting ready to run in case Steve reacts badly.

But running away or punching Eddie couldn’t be further away from what Steve wants to do right now.

“No, I–”

“Ten seconds to midnight!” Someone yells downstairs.

“I– I want to do something else,” Steve admits, his voice wavering slightly. He hesitantly steps closer to Eddie, who narrows his eyes.

“What?”

“Five seconds!” The same voice yells and the crowd joins the countdown.

“Four!”

Steve stands directly between Eddie’s legs.

“Three!”

He puts his hands on Eddie’s waist.

“Two!”

Steve raises his eyebrows in a silent question– is this okay?

“One!”

Eddie gives a tiny nod.

And then Steve swoops in, pressing his lips against Eddie’s as the crowd downstairs cheers and Eddie’s watch starts beeping.

Somewhere in the distance, fireworks go off but Steve could swear he can feel them inside him when Eddie kisses back, looping his arms around his neck.

Steve tilts his head, determined to give Eddie a good first kiss. He licks softly at his bottom lip, making him gasp. Then he kisses him a little harder, softly touching Eddie’s tongue with his, feeling the way he shudders.

He knows this is probably longer than the usual New Year’s kiss but Steve doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to stop. And apparently neither does Eddie, who pulls Steve closer and drags his teeth across his bottom lip.

It’s only when they need to breathe that they break apart.

Eddie’s eyes stay closed longer and only flutter open when Steve cups his neck and strokes an idle thumb against his jaw.

He decides that dazed and kiss-drunk are a good look on him.

“Happy New Year,” he says with a lopsided grin.

Eddie snorts amusedly. “Yeah, Happy New Year.”

The noise downstairs starts to die down. People are probably going back to drinking and dancing, maybe even leaving. He could easily slip out without running into Carol, but he doesn’t want to, not unless–

“Hey, uh, do you wanna get out of here?” Steve blurts out.

Eddie blinks. “Me?”

He can’t help but roll his eyes. “No, the other guy I just made out with in the bathroom.”

“And here I thought I was special,” Eddie says with pouty lips– fuck, Steve wants to kiss them again.

So he does. Just a quick press of lips.

When he pulls back, he places another small kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth.

“Say yes,” he says before doing the same on the other side. “And I’ll show you special.”

Steve hears the way Eddie’s breath hitches and feels a smirk teasing at his lips.

Only for it to be wiped away by Eddie grabbing him by his neck and pulling him in for more than a press of lips.

Damn, he’s a fast learner.

“Yes,” Eddie says once he pulls back, giving him a shit-eating grin.

Steve sends a silent ‘thank you’ to Carol Perkins before reaching for Eddie’s hand to drag him out of there.

[glamourscat]

you’re now my new friend so im gonna complain about some fans🤭🤭🤭

THE OTHER THING I WANT TO TALK ABOUT IS tim isn’t weak????? its canon damian says “drake is stronger than i like to admit” or something like that but the idea is that tim is canonically strong i mean cmon he’s a bat??? i saw something that another writer wrote and i really don’t want to disrespect but she(?) wrote something like tim couldn’t do the ‘jacked and kind’ trend. HE CAN HE HAVE TO IF HE COULD NOT HOW CAN HE BE A BAT HE HAVE TO BE STRONG

and he’s really smart like i don’t even now how to say it but its conan bruce think tim can even be smarter than him and damian says tim is the smartest!!!

i mean i get it tim isn’t the most popular robin but he’s really great but tiktok and tumblr makes him look like an idiot who’s just soft??? HE IS NOT his story is really interesting if you just read instead of making him look like some weak thing.

and bcz of the misinformation people just don’t like tim😭😭😭😭

and i don’t even want to talk about coffee addiction LIKE PLS STOP THIS MADNESS

ps:i probably made grammer mistakes sorry🙏🏼 AND i would like to send some asks when im more awake😭😭😭 it’s 3am rn

Don’t worry about it ahaha. Me and grammatical errors are like this 🤝🏻. Also, if you’re comfortable with it, let’s be moots 😭. I honestly need more people to yap with about Tim.

and yes ofc! Feel free to send more asks about Tim whenever u wish :)

Now, onto what you said. YES, YES, AND YES AGAIN. Thank you! I’m going to be honest here, I think Tim’s mischaracterization as “weak” boils down to the fact that many people see him as a twink……. The amount of art, both drawn and written, where he is depicted as this frail little thing that can’t think for himself and is weak and shy is too big. I mean, are we looking at the same character?

When I see people butchering Tim’s character, it’s clear to me that they haven’t read the comics. I’m not saying you need to read ALL of them—that’s just absurd considering the number of runs there are. Just the main ones could be beneficial. You know, having a general idea about the character.

He was trained by Bruce (and we know Bruce’s training is anything but easy), Nightwing and lastly, Lady Shiva herself. He has mastered many unarmed styles of fighting, including Leopard Kung Fu, Savate, Judo, Capoeira, Karate, Dragon Kung Fu, and Bojutsu.

He might not be a tank like Jason (side note: let’s remember Jason is the way he is thanks to the Lazarus Pit, because he was malnourished growing up, which stunted his growth). Just because Tim isn’t ripped and has a leaner build doesn’t mean he is weak. Nor does it mean he is stupid. His IQ is 142, and he is cited as the most analytical of Batman’s proteges, with detective skills on par with Batman himself. Like you said, BRUCE HIMSELF says he believes Tim is smarter than him in some ways.

And on the coffee addiction—that’s so funny to me because, if I’m not wrong, he drank coffee ONE time in canon, someone made it his personality, and everyone ran with it 😭.

I just can’t. Honestly, Tim is a skater boy. A punk at heart, who listens to bands like Oasis and Green Day. He is absolutely obsessive at times, loud and opinionated. He is a child prodigy and grew up rather isolated. Then his mother died. He and his father got into deep arguments because of his job as Robin. He stopped, then started again. His father died, and he found his father’s dead body while wearing his Robin uniform. He escaped Bruce for about a month, forging a fake adoption certificate from a FAKE uncle he made up because he didn’t want to be taken in by Bruce.

He feels like he is a burden and still keeps that sentiment, which was incremented when Damian joined the family and took his spot as Robin, leaving Tim feeling hopeless. He became Red Robin, lost his best friend (or something more) and went absolutely insane trying to clone him. He can’t handle loss for shit. The same thing happened in his Red Robin run where he ignored both Nightwing and Steph, who tried to stop him from following his unhinged plan of finding Bruce, who was presumed dead but Tim thought was alive. To save his loved ones, he willingly jumped from a building while injured, almost dying.

This, in my eyes, is anything but weak.

He is my unhinged bisexual gremlin. Love him so much

[customboytoyz]

Re: that post about making forcemasc “not lame” has made start to wonder why I’m so into it (beyond just the obvious transmasc wanting to sexualize the transition)

I think it’s because when I was younger I had SO much self hate and anxiety about my appearance, feeling like I was fat and ugly, a perilous sin for a girl. I just felt so worthless as an ugly girl.

Now, though, the idea of finding some “girl” (or just myself pre transition) and removing anything pretty about her appearance…ohhhhhh

Aw, people like your pretty hair? We have to shave it off. People like your boobs? We’ll hide them under a binder until we can cut them off. Aw, you’re insecure about having body hair and acne? About being too fat or too muscular? About smelling bad or being sweaty? Too bad, the testosterone is going to make all that so much worse. You’re never going to be a pretty girl. You’re a boy, now, so stop whimpering and accept that you have no control anymore.

I FEEL THIS SOOO MUCH. i was a pretty good looking girl by the end of high school but it was a performance u feel

i like the tfs too.... gonna make it all better. oops what happened to your breasts? ah well, gone now baby

[croworro]

Making out with Charlie in the kitchen of a friends house at a costume party with music in the background….

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader drabble: Costume Party

OH MY GOODDDD. No because the way I was just thinking about this because I saw the photo of Charlie as beast boy again!!!

I only briefly proofread this before posting so oops

Warning: making out at parties, alcohol, suggestive content

Ted had been asking you to go to this party for weeks

“You need to get out more!” He said dramatically during one of your FaceTimes

You guffawed at him, but eventually gave in once he virtually pinky promised to keep you company all night and drive you to the party

He had the biggest shit eating grin when you finally agreed

“Don’t make me regret this!” You scolded him and he held his hands up in surrender

You honestly didn’t put much thought into your costume, you had a raven costume from a Halloween in previous years that had been a hit hanging in your closet

It was the perfect mix of hot, recognizable and low effort

You paired it with dark makeup and some knee high black books, and damn diva you ate

True to his word, Ted picked you up and drove you both to the party

When you finally made it to the party it was overwhelming

The house was huge

Every inch of it was covered in Halloween decorations that honestly all together probably costed more than your rent

The house just screamed YouTuber money

As soon as you entered the house Ted disappeared, “I’ll find you later!! Byeeee!! Have fun!! Mingle!” He yelled over his shoulder as he disappeared into the crowd of people

You spent about half an hour dodging over enthusiastic partygoers, sipping on some sort of alcoholic seltzer, and attempting to make small talk over the music

You managed to make a bit of small talk with others but it was impossible to hear with the bass of the music that shook the entire house

You were starting to wonder why you let Ted drag you to this

Sure you recognized most of the people here but you weren’t particularly close to any of them

You found refuge in the empty kitchen, the only spot in the house that the bass didn’t seem to reach

You sipped on your drink and leaned against the counter

The idea of just calling an uber was becoming more and more appealing by the minute

As soon as you pulled out your phone, the kitchen door swung open

In walked Charlie, calling over his shoulder to someone in the other room as he entered the kitchen

His eyes immediately landed on you and his expression shifted to pure delight

He was dressed as beast boy, his green face paint was slightly smudged and his hair was extra messy from the green hairspray

He strode across the kitchen and stood right in front of you

“Oh my god hey! What are you doing here?” He said with a large grin, his voice a familiar mix of teasing and surprise

He didnt even notice your costume at first and was just solely zoned in on you

Because damn you looked hot

Then he realized

“OH MY GOD! You’re raven!”

He took a step back to really take in your costume

“You had to know I was gonna be beast boy!” He exclaimed and accusingly pointed a finger your way

“ totally, I hacked into your brain and planned this months ago” you replied dryly

He just laughed, the sound just so warm and effortless

“I mean I don’t blame you, I would wanna match with me too” he teased while leaning against the counter next to you

The two of you easily slip back into your familiar banter

Ted had introduced you two a while back and you had hit it off right away

Charlie was handsome, funny, and charming but at the time you had been introduced he had been in a relationship

Now that he was single, you dynamic changed

And it was especially different tonight

Might have been the costumes, maybe it was the energy of the party, or maybe it was just him

So many accidental subtle touches

Brief moments where your hands touch that makes your stomach flip

“You really pull off the whole raven vibe” he complimented during a lull of silence in the conversation

his tone was playful but his gaze lingered a moment too long causing your face to flush

A couple of people wander into the kitchen and compliment you on how great you guys look together

before you can protest Charlie pulls you closer to him by your waist and thanks them

Someone snaps a cute photo of the two of you in your pose

Once the others in the kitchen leave the atmosphere in the kitchen shifts

Charlie’s hand is still rested on your waist

He leans in a little closer to you, his voice soft

“You know, I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight. But I’m glad you came.”

Instead of responding, you leaned in

It was a short hesitant kiss, you pulled away quickly

But before you can say anything, Charlie responds quickly

He pulls you closer with both hands on your waist kisses you, this time deepening the kiss

You pressed yourself closer to him

His hand on your waist tightened slightly and the other ghosted up to your cheek, his thumb resting gently on your skin

The kiss is a bit clumsy but overwhelming earnest, like he can’t believe this is happening

And honestly neither of you can believe that this is actually happening

Charlie turns you so your back is to the counter

The counter digs into your back as Charlie moves forward, leaving no space between your bodies

His fingers slide from your cheek to your hair, tangling in it lightly as he tilts his head for a better angle

His breath hitches slightly when your hands find their way to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer

The kiss becomes more feverish

This is the moment you both have been waiting for

His lips move against yours as if he can’t decide whether to speed up or slow down

Eventually you both break apart for air, your foreheads resting against each other as you try to catch your breath

Your hands stay firmly placed on one another

“Wow” his voice dazed and low “that was -uh- wow”

You both laugh softly

Charlie’s eyes never leave yours, he’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the world

Just as Charlie leaned in for another kiss, the sound of the kitchen door creaking open startled both of you.

You pulled back slightly "I knew it!" Ted's voice cut through the moment

"Charlie, you look like you were just attacked at a goth makeup counter”

Ted then turns and looks at you “ and you look like you’re auditioning for shrek 5”

You instinctively reach up to touch your face, realizing your fingers came away faintly green.

Your face burns with embarrassment

Charlie just shrugs and replies “what can I say Ted we just got really into character”

Ted just cringes and says something along the lines of “gross” underneath his breath before retreating from the kitchen

As soon as Ted leaves you both melt into laughter

“Well that was mortifying” you comment as you use a napkin to try and wipe the green face paint off your cheek

“Could have been worse.” Charlie said while chuckling, gently taking the napkin from your hand and wiping your cheek himself

He finishes wiping your face (not that it helped much)

“So where did we leave off?” He says lowly as he leans in closely to your ear

You shiver as you feel his breath against your ear

“How about we go somewhere where we won’t have to worry about getting caught again?” You suggest

Safe to say charlies never bought and uber quicker

I’m actually obsessed with Charlie as beast boy was so fucking cute, I wanna makeout with his stupid green face 😭

[tremsing82]

My Thoughts on Night Court

So when I read acotar for the first time this summer (2024) my 3 best friends were the ones who peered pressured me to do so and our group chat became my reading experience chat. It was fun. But they are all pro-night court and pro-bat boys. And though I can be open and accepting of the narrative for it moves the plot forward I did start becoming more cynical and posing questions of the ethics and moral standings of the night court. My first big question to my friend group that got them all to pause and think was:

>Is it morally and ethically ok for Hewn City to fight in this war when they are trapped under a mountain and do not have access to Velaris. And Velaris expects hewn city to fight in the war to protect their peace, yet Velaris does not have an army and the citizens are not and to volunteer. Now yes some Velaris citizens did go fight for Adriata but again Rhys never sent out a request for Velaris citizens to join the war effort against Hybern. And also is it morally and ethically ok for Rhys to essentially segregate hewn city residents who will eventually visit Velaris one day considering that was the only request Keir had when Rhys asked for The DarkBringers to fight in the war. Rhys said yes to that because he had already told his Velaris city leaders they can tell the citizens they can deny Hewn City residents from entering their establishments. So these hewn city soldier are gonna go to war possibly be killed leaving behind a widow and children, or they are going to be brutally mutilated with scars or lost limbs. And then they or their widows and children are gonna arrive in Velaris and be denied access to a bake shop to buy a cookie or a toy store and denied the ability to buy a doll all while they went to war to keep this place safe and protected. <

I truly don’t think Rhys would have went to war with Hybern to protect hewn city or Illyria. He went to war specifically to protect Velaris the only city he loves. And that bothers me. And makes me dislike and not enjoy the Night Court, but essentially i really don’t like Velaris. I think it’s a spoiled city of entitled judgemental people similar to its 5/6 leaders of the Inner Circle. Mor is claimed to be the emissary between Velaris and Rhys and Hewn city but she does absolutely nothing to showcase that title and job. Except to tell her father when Rhys is going to visit. She claims to be the only dreamer ever to come out of or born in Hewn City and I HIGHLY doubt that. She tell Feyre the story about how she dreaded the day her power manifested because she knew she would be sold into a loveless marriage the way her cousins had been. So you’re telling me your cousins enjoyed their status and their betrothals but you are the only one who hated this custom. The IC is all telling me that everyone is Hewn City is dark and evil, so even a new baby is touched by evil and deserves to never see the sky outside of that mountain it was born in. How is this ethical and morally acceptable. Feyre says once to Lucien in MaF that if you stare long enough into the darkness sometimes it will stare back, and this to me should be applied to the Hewn Cory residents. If all that they have is darkness and hate and hurt to live with it’s not surprising they all embrace that darkness and hate. They are not given other options. Should we the reader question the ethics of how the Hewn city is seen and talked about and even ruled?

So why do people argue FOR this Court? Why does the majority of the fandom hate to be asked these question or see these blatant issues for this court? Why am I told it’s all a mask that they all have to don to protect the innocents and freedom of a spoiled city that is so well hidden that it remains outside of the conflict happening in Prythian. The attack on Velaris by the Attor was the first time the outside world’s conflict finally reared its ugly head to its citizens. Yes they claim they felt bad for the suffering the other courts went through for the 50yrs of Amarantha’s reign but none of them told Rhys to break the wards hiding them, when he finally returned. None said we should band together and go help the other courts rebuild since we have remained untouched for 50yrs. They didn’t pull their resources together to send aid to the most hard hit villages and cities in other courts. They continued on with their days of holding theater production and eating safely at restaurants and going to nightclubs for 50yrs.

And I am suppose to be mad at Tamlin for starting to reissue his courts only form of revenue to ensure it continued ability to function. A tax that only happens twice a year and is only 10% of whatever a person has produced. So if a person has 10hens they only have to give over 1 hen. If a person has 1 hen that produced 10eggs then they only have to give over 1 egg. 10% twice a year, that’s not a bad taxation. Hell the river nymphs didn’t have to give Tamlin fish, he never asked for fish. He just asked for 10% of whatever they produced. They could have handed him 10blades of lake grass or a cup of river water, he would have accepted it. And heard their pleas for fish to be helped brought back into their lake. He wasn’t gleeful about having to find perpetrators of not paying taxes, he just knows this is how his court functions and runs. Rhys says we do a different form of tax, which to me I assume he means modern day taxation which is sales tax, property tax, and/or income tax. Which overarching means the citizens of night court are paying more into taxes than in Spring Court.

For the Illyrian struggles with female empowerment i struggle to always completely blame Rhys on this. I think Illyria has Rhys by the balls. If Rhys enforces his laws in Illyria again wing clipping and female oppression then he loses one of his strongest armies (which the fandom and SJM also claim is possibly the strongest army in Prythian 😒😪🙄). This is an army that is under his full control and cannot deny his decree to go fight or go to battle like the Keir can do with the DarkBringers. So if he starts killing Illyrian men for wing clippings or if he starts throwing Illyrian men into the barrack cells then he essentially will lose half of 75% of his army. He is definitely in between a rock and a hard place with how to enforce the laws that protect Illyrian women. A person on Instagram had a wonderful idea to help this conundrum; Rhys law should be if any Illyrian woman has their wings clip illegally from this day forward then the males in her household will also have their wings clipped. If they are not afraid of Rhys throwing them in jail or killing them then go to their biggest fear losing their access to flight. And enforce it. See how quickly the other males stop once they see one neighbors household have the patriarch and sons all lose access to flying. And it should be done in the city streets where all can see. Now granted this could turn Rhys into looking like and feeling like a dictator of a violent regime but truthfully I sometimes already see him that way anyway with how much he torment and degrades hewn city and its residents. Now like I said in the begging of this paragraph i don’t fully hate Rhys on this. My arguments for Rhys on Illyria is that he is the first high lord to make laws and changes to a society that has been free to do what they want in their traditions for possibly 15,000 years. He has put laws into place to help empower women. Emerie inherited her father’s shop because of these news laws being in place allowing women to own and inherit property. Emerie is progressive, she knew of the new laws and she seized them and used them to help herself. Other Illyrian woman have been oppressed for so long that the thought of finally using the new laws to enforce their rights to autonomy or property ownership or joining the army is scary for them. It’s gonna take more than a male high-lord and 2 male Illyrians to help them feel safe to express their freedom. Which I think will come in with Nesta moving the Valkyries training to the Illyrian camps to help the lllyrian females. They gonna see females learning battle strategy and fighting techniques that are designed specifically for females, they are going to see females who can’t fly conquering the blood rite. That will be the driving force for the female Illyrians to enforce the new laws that Rhys put in place to help them and free them and protect them. Rhys has the laws in place he just needs the people to start using them.

And I guess I will end this essay with I don’t hate Rhys or his IC (well most of them, I hate Amren and Mor annoys me for being useless). I just wish we could explore the other lands. Why must everything be so centralized to night court/Velaris. I know they have the ancient crabby lady (Amren 🙄🙄🙄) who has answers to Prythians lost history (which first she never wants to share willingly, second doesn’t always share all the truth, and lastly her knowledge is mostly night court focus).

-Day Court has the most libraries in all of Prythian with books written that are as old as their lands. Day Court is the only court with Pegasus, a rare magical animal that are dying/going extinct. Day Court is the court of the Sun. And what are suns but stars in the night sky. Suns are liquid fire. And the dread trove items which are as old as the daglan has sun symbols all over them and makes Helion feel uncomfortable which makes him think an ancestor of his might have own it or used it.

-Autumn court has entire strong bloodlines missing because they followed Theia into Midgard. A bloodline that just reappeared into Prythian in Night Court. I would like to know their history with Queen Theia, with how they helped fight the Daglan.

-I know the Daglan (acotar), the Asteri (CC), and the Valg (ToG) are all the same parasitic beings. And we know the fae of Prythian overthrew their Daglan. And we know in ToG on how to kill a Valg (fire and healing). And well I can only assume that Autumn court with their fire and possibly Day Court with their sun fire and possible healing magic were the ones that helped liberate Prythian from the Daglan in battles.

-And well we have a character, Lucien, that people kinda write off as not important to the world plot, who has parents from these 2 courts. But the majority of the fandom write him off because well he is not from night court, he is not a bat boy, and he is not a night court/rhys worshipper. And so we have all this foreshadowing but I worry that SJM is just not gonna do anything with it because it not night court specific. Now granted she might have us leave the night court finally and learn the importance of Prythians history through Day Court and Autumn Court. We know Eris was happy to share Prythians history with Nesta who was showing curiosity but Cassian was rude and stopped him. We might find out that Eris is a history nerd like Bryce. That he is researching his bloodlines and his courts involvement in the building and creation of Prythian. We might find out from Helion that Dawn and Day were once a single court but split to give the solar courts more chances of pleading their cases at high lord meetings where the seasonal courts had more sway in votes. We truly just don’t know anything about these courts and Night Court doesn’t want to know. So as a reader who likes to travel a world in a book I want to leave this oppressive and isolated land and meet the others.

[callme-holly]

Merry Christmas! I figured I'd get my new years eve request in early lol

Can I get a Soda x Reader first kiss on new years eve?

Thank you!!

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 [𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐩 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚/𝐧: this one's pretty short and sweet <33

The house is buzzing with an energy that's barely contained, the gang all spilling out into the backyard, hoping to catch sight of the fireworks people will no doubt be setting off the second the clock strikes midnight. 

Sodapop is beaming like a child, excitement shining in his eyes as he drags you out onto the porch, his grip on your hand tight. His body is practically vibrating, his eyes alight with pure joy, and the sight is enough to make your cheeks flush as he pulls you to sit down on the steps beside him.

“You ready?” He asks, grinning ear to ear, and you can't help but grin back at him. His knee brushes yours, and you have to remind yourself that whatever it is that's going on between you isn't anything more than friends… 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He asks, grinning ear to ear, and you can't help but grin back at him. His knee brushes yours, and you have to remind yourself that whatever it is that's going on between you isn't anything more than friends...

“Ready as I'll ever be.” You turn your gaze to look out of the yard, watching as the other boys all toss a football around, tackling each other and laughing loudly. It's nice to see them happy, carefree. They all deserve it.

The sound of a can opening beside you draws you from your thoughts, and you turn to see Soda cracking open a Pepsi, his eyes fixated on the inky black void above you.

“You think you're gonna stick around with us idiots next year?” He says after a moment, and you snort in amusement, shaking your head. 

“I don't think I could get rid of you all, even if I tried.” And that's the truth; despite the chaos they bring into your life, they've become like a family to you, and you wouldn't want them any other way. “Besides,” you add, leaning into him slightly, “I don't think y'all would manage without me here.” 

Soda lets out a soft laugh, his head tipping back as he does so, the light from inside the house casting shadows across his features. You find yourself staring, entranced by the softness of his expression, the way that just a little bit of hair has fallen across his forehead. 

Carefully, you reach up, brushing it back away from his face, tucking it carefully back into place, and you realise belatedly that he's watching you with a soft expression, his deep honey-coloured eyes roaming over your face. Neither of you says anything, the silence thickening into something heavy as the seconds pass. 

Finally, his lips curl into a slow smile, and then suddenly he's leaning forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

Your breath hitches at the contact, your heart pounding wildly as the kiss deepens, his hand cupping the side of your face, and you feel yourself melt against him as your fingers come up to thread through his sun-kissed hair.

You’re both entirely oblivious to the voices in the background, too wrapped up in each other, even when they start counting down the seconds to midnight. When they finally reach zero and there are cheers erupting from outside, both of you pull apart, breathing heavily as Sodapop smiles at you, his eyes dancing with something akin to fondness. 

“Happy New Year,” he whispers, and then leans down to kiss you again as colours explode across the sky. 

[littlestarbigsky]

I have a really, really sad request... my grandfather passed away a few months ago. He was the youngest of three boys. His older brother passed away a couple of years ago. Leaving behind only the middle child.

And all I keep thinking of is Soda being the last one alive after Darry and Pony die and it's making me so sad. I want to write it myself, but can't bring myself to. But it's just so heartbreaking.

first of all, i’m so sorry to hear about your grandfather anon, i hope you’re doing alright and that you have the love and support you need🫶🏻

so here’s the thing, i wasn’t sure how i wanted to approach this one, but then one of my coworkers lost her husband on christmas and the memory of grief came so easily.. not gonna lie this one did a number on me but im so glad that you trusted me with this anon❤️‍🩹

it’s not very long but i hope this is okay🩷

when they lost pony, soda didn’t truly internalize the loss until a few weeks after the funeral. darry had been a wreck, catatonic, unable to get out of bed, much less get himself out of the house for anything other than the funeral. soda held it together reasonably well, planning a small funeral for their baby brother and using the money they had stashed away to send him to college to pay their bills for a few weeks while they tried to move through the loss.

it didn’t really hit him until soda was back at work and some kid, probably close to pony’s age, from the high school came in and bought a pepsi. steve came in to the shop half an hour later to find soda on the floor in behind the counter, shaking and sobbing because god damn it his baby brother was gone. steve held him as he cried until he couldn’t breathe, holding him like a lifeline until darry could get there from work to take him home.

“it’s okay, honey, we’re gonna be okay,” darry had said, hugging soda to him in the back seat of the truck while his little brother sobbed.

soda had screamed at him, “nothing’s okay, darry! pony’s gone!”

still, they found a way to keep going. darry slept in soda’s room more often than not. they both had trouble sleeping after losing their brother, and soda needed someone to be near him and darry needed to know that soda was okay.

none of that felt like it mattered anymore, because when it was darry’s turn to go, soda couldn’t take it. he couldn’t leave the house. he couldn’t eat or drink. the grief was all consuming and snapped him clean in two.

darry probably wouldn’t have even had a funeral if it hadn’t been for two-bit and steve, who were maybe two of the worst people in the world to plan something like that, but they knew what had to be done. they had unfortunately helped out with a few too many curtis family funerals over the years that they knew who to invite, where to hold it, to keep the casket closed.

they had to drag soda there on the day, and he stayed attached to steve the entire time. he sobbed all the way through the service, and he couldn’t stop himself from falling to his damn knees when they lowered his big brother into the ground, right next to pony, right next to their parents. it was all wrong, their parents should still have been alive, not buried with two of their sons right next to them.

he wouldn’t leave his room, but he wouldn’t let himself rest. steve had to stay with soda overnight and hold him close just to make sure he slept at all. two-bit heated up the food people had brought and sat with him while he ate just to be sure that it happened. they knew they weren’t his brothers, but they did what they could.

despite how long it took him to pull himself together again, he finally managed to make it back to work. he liked being at work, being around other people, not having to sit and wallow in how deep the wounds felt. it was almost like he could pretend that they were all still there, that he would go home and see his parents and brothers, not a hauntingly empty house.

eventually steve and two-bit moved in with him, they adopted a dog, they found a new normal. it still crushed soda’s soul to have to keep living and hit milestones that his family never would, but he made his peace with it. it was his job to make them proud. and that was worth it.

he was their last hope.

[spinecouture]

pov you think you can take him (gone sexual)

"you thinkin'?" daryl grumbled, stroking your hair as he picked leaves out of it.

you hummed in response, eyes shut as the wind whistled between you two. you'd gotten yourself into trouble again, and once again, daryl was getting you out of it.

"you oughta," daryl spat, clawing a twig out of your scalp. "keep fightin' like that, you're gon' get hurt. real hurt."

you scoffed, wincing in pain at the tangles in your hair. "as if i can't win?" you replied sharply. "that douche had it comin'."

his hand fell, and he gave you a warning glance. you stuck your tongue out at him. it would’ve been cute, if you weren’t covered in dirt and bruises.

“y’can’t fight people twice yer size,” daryl said.

“i so can,” you replied. “i could take you down, i bet.”

daryl chuckled, shaking his head. “no way in hell.”

you felt challenged. and boy, you loved a challenge. you sat up, even though your legs ached and arms burned. “you don’t think so?”

“i know so,” he smirked, rustling your hair.

like a kid. like a kid. daryl was going to eat his words. you swung at him, but he ducked just in time. when your wrist came back down, daryl grabbed it tightly, spinning you around and pinning you on the ground. a grunt escaped your lips as you fought his grasp.

“fuck you,” you snarled.

“you wish,” daryl retorted.

you sneered at him, but he still had you on the ground. you tried to kick your knee up, but he adjusted in time with your movements, keeping you down with his thigh. damn.

“y’know, if someone saw this right now, they’d pin it on you,” you hissed.

“but who’s pinned right now?” daryl grumbled, leaning in slightly.

without thinking, you spat on his face. it was in the moment, anger and resentment coursing through you. no one ever took you seriously.

daryl didn’t take well to that, unfortunately, and suddenly, your teeth sunk into the dirt. he had you on your stomach, knee pressing into the small of your back.

“you little fuckin’ monster,” daryl growled, his left hand fisting in your hair to pull you up. “you tryin’ to get beat?”

chest heaving, spitting up soil, you glared him down with seemingly no fear. “right, you’re gonna beat my ass.”

“i could do a whole lot worse,” he warned, voice barely above a gravelly whisper. “if you test me.”

he dropped your hair, sending your face back into the dirt. there was a part of him that was genuinely irritated, and another that was slightly aroused. sick fucker.

“what’re you gonna do, huh?”

daryl smirked, his hand sliding down your back, gripping your hip. “i’m gon’ teach you how to win your next fight.”

[slothpoth]

Who Arcane Characters Would Like The Most If They Watched Steven Universe + How they started watching

Im going to preface this by saying it may not be 100% accurate, this is my pregame before I rewatch ALL of Steven Universe beginning to SUFuture so why not shove the current interest in?

BY THE WAY: this is them watching no matter what so if you’re like “omfg they would never!!” Now they are. What’re you gonna do? Scroll??

Jinx

Jinx was a hard Amethyst stan until the movie came out and Spinel ChokedSlammed Her Into The Floor

She started watching because she caught the tail of “So Many Birthdays” (the one where Steven ages and ages and ages) and immediately decided this was her thing now

She gets into arguments online about her favs and she is the one posting getting blocked and bragging about winning the argument

“You can just say you don’t understand characters who are complex, you don’t have to write all this for things we OBVIOUSLY KNOW.”

While Amethyst and Spinel are her favs, she will go to BAT for any character being mischaracterized

Do not let her catch you talking shit about Mx.Lapis Lazuli, she will Hurt You.

Vi

Speaking of people with will Hurt You, Vi does not play about Steven Quartz Cutiepie Demayo Universe.

Vi started after multiple instances of Jinx ranting to her inconsistently for hours about arguments she gets into online

Like Jinx bursts into the room like “Vi, These people couldn’t fucking comprehend media if there was a gun to their head, and Yknow what? I’m putting it there” and Vi is hooked

“Oh my god…..they are stupid…” “THATS WHAT IM SAYING” I kinda hc that vi is the type that likes hearing about drama no matter where it comes from it just has to be juicy

One time Jinx called Steven a normie favorite character pick and Vi then went on a 95 minute rant about how kind and sensitive he is

“Steven is a sensitive and kind boy who tries his best no matter the circumstances, even if he fails he still tries to be good. You have NO RIGHT to act like he’s some—“ “ VI OH MY GOD NEVERMIND IM SORRY, WE’VE BEEN HERE FOR AN HOUR PLEASE LET ME GO”

Vi kins Steven Universe and SU Future made her ugly sob with chest pain

Caitlyn

Caitlyn likes Pearl because the lesbian yearning over their ex to nerdy fem who can pull without trying storyline intrigued her deeply.

Originally Jinx compared her to Pearl because Jinx thinks she’s prissy and overbearing, this made Caitlyn block all official Steven universe accounts on every piece of social media.

Later Vi compared her to Pearl because Vi thinks she tries her best to help everyone even if she makes mistakes sometimes, thsi and Caitlyn unblock some Steven Universe accounts and watch alongside Vi sometimes

She doesn’t end up watching the show from the beginning, she just asks Vi questions and Vi explains how something fits into the story

“Why does Lapis despise Peridot so much? She’s like half her size if she’s an issue push her over” “Well Peridot reminds her of her trauma of being constantly used wherever she goes and never living for herself, she’d just be constantly triggered like she has been for thousands of years” “ohh… why don’t they just build a second place on the land?” “Cause the barn is cool” “ah,, makes sense.”

Any mention in the show about Pearl having a bunch of people’s numbers and Caitlyn is out of her chair cheering.

Ekko

Ekko is a fan of Bismuth and he’ll tell everyone else that it’s because the crystal gem rebellion was super interesting to him but deep inside his interest was first peaked because he finds the Bismuth puns genuinely funny like he guffaws at every one.

He started watching when Jinx showed him the clip of Steven having to poof Bismuth, and he made sure to go back through the series to really get what’s going on.

When the cluster was introduced he was appalled like this is the world’s greatest home-world hater, like he was even iffy on peridot for a whole extra season it was so bad

“At least she’s trying to redeem herself?” “I don’t care if she stops homeworld by herself I Don’t Like Her.”

The Diamond arc? Oh he is SAT for every episode and he is HEATED. He’s getting them (Jinx + family) sound complaints cause he keeps pausing to complain about whoever happens to be on screen

*blue diamond starts speaking* *insta pause* “AND HERE COMES THIS ONE.” “EKKO FOR FUCKS SAKE LET THE SHOW PLAY”

Ekko thinks the diamonds got off easy and drew a comic (that he keeps to himself and jinx) about how HE would’ve ended the show (it’s 48 pages)

Mel

Connie is so special to Mel, so special she sees herself in Connie so much that’s her daughter

Any scenes where Connie and her mom are clashing? Mel is pouring almost obsessively over the scenes just “oh my god…..oh,,,my god,,,” like if Mel had a kinlist?? Oh yeah. Absolutely.

She actually keeps pretty good track of animation projects and new series so she’s been watching since the beginning. The pitch of sentient rocks living around and with this half human half rock boy? Yeah she was definitely intrigued

And now emotionally wrecked, like she saw a clip of season 1 Steven while presently on the homeworld arc and almost fell to her knees her BABY

Auntie!Mel bonds with Jinx and Vi over it when visiting their house its like:

“Mel, if you wanted to run away from your home and ended up hurting people in the process, wouldn’t you take accountability for that?” “Well that depends on who I hurt.” “Let’s say you leave someone in a garden for like mmm random number six thousand years—“ “Spinel has full reason to be upset, I’d do worse if I were her” “RIGHT???”

“Whyre you and Jinx arguing? Aren’t you a bit old for the silent treatment?” “She keeps calling me basic for liking Steven.” “Steven? The character on a slow creep to a world terrorizing meltdown?” “RIGHT.” “Vi, not everyone you meet will have good taste like you and me, I’m so sorry”

She does think Jinx terrorizing online spaces is a little funny but is trying to be responsible and won’t tell her that outright

And by not tell her she means trying not to roll over laughing hearing Jinx read out the arguments

Sevika

If you asked Sevika why she liked Jasper, she’d say something like “I too have been forever changed by a lesbian relationship” or “smash.”

If you asked Sevika while she’s in a sad drunk mood she wouldn’t verbally answer and just mentally spiral about the perfect solider who keeps losing and losing and losing and losing and—don’t refill her cup, Sevika is going home, don’t call her damn phone, she’s busy

In this modern scenario, her and Jinx are still coworkers so when Jinx is watching video essays or character compilations on her breaks, Sevika will walk by and either stand and watch an intense part or make fun of what’s on screen

*Jasper climbs up the side of a boat to beg on her knees for Lapis to re-fuse* “ohh I’ve been there before,” “She’s begging her to reform into an eight armed monster where they constantly fought for dominance in the headspace at the bottoms of the ocean because Lapis— the blue one— didn’t want Jasper— the orange one— to kill Steven— the boy one.” “oh yeah no, me too (wtf??)”

Overtime Jinx started to refer to Jasper as Sevika’s favorite and kept giving her vague updates on her condition, that being said Sevika rewatched the entire series and future when she heard news of Jasper’s Shattering

“They shattered your goat.” “What goat??” *shows photo of Jasper’s shatter gem in Steven’s hand* “IS THAT FUCKING JASPER????”

Like she didn’t even wanna talk about what happened afterward she blocked Jinx and started watching immediately, Sevika was getting to the bottom of this (of what?? We have no clue she’s hurt rn)

Sevika will not discuss the emotional impact Steven Universe had on her. You’d have to have her at gunpoint and chemically paralyzed.