#And they care about one another and believe in the other

[all-the-bats-in-the-world]

Since someone tagged it with Logan, here it's. And I'm sorry.

Kindness Tastes Like Blood

Part 1. Where The Lost Things Meet

The darkness is getting hold of him. It's not something new, it started to reach him when he was little, when dad decided he was a play thing. That disgusting mother fucker. He's very dead now, but Wade still sees it in the back of his mind, fighting back, cutting him into pieces and giving it to some starving street dog. The dogs have always been good to him. They never liked dad, the animals know what is kind.

‘You’ll lose’ the darkness says to him, sounding like a voice he should have forgotten. And he is starting to believe it. His world is in danger, everything he cares about will die soon. He thought he could fix it. It seemed very simple, if Logan was dead, he just had to find another one to put in the place. Who would think the Wolverine was the anchor being of Wade's whole world? This is a weak script idea, sure, but also makes sense for Wade, he couldn't imagine anyone else to be this important to him. He remembers it, reading the comics he found in the trash under his bed, hiding it from dad, it was this story of this animalistic man that people tried to control and kill, a man that kept coming back and destroying everything on his way, it was this story that made him company, that made him believe someday he would be free. So, yes, he doesn't need to say he loves the Wolverine, does he? He loves him a great deal.

But the thing is, it's not reciprocated. He knows. He jumps through realities trying to find help, but he doesn't even get the chance to say that he needs him, that he's breaking, that he's desperate, they just punch him, kill him, and this is starting to pile up. ‘Nobody loves you’ the darkness decree. He knows it's not totally true, he knows people love him, Althea, Peter, Vanessa, she said it. He believes her. However, he believes love feels different, that love is not just someone who holds your hand in the bad days or puts up with you. He knows he should be glad, why is he not glad? Was what she offered not enough?

Yes. It wasn't. He knows it should be. Another punch. He's bleeding again. They used to be perfect for each other, but this was before he became a walking wound. Not, he was always like this, except now he can't just pretend anymore, he can't just joke it away. He tried, he really fucking tried. She said to him to show that he cared for something bigger than him. But everything is bigger than him, he's small. Insignificant. You see, this wasn't how love was supposed to be. Well, Wade believes love is understanding. He may be wrong.

‘Nobody will ever understand you, you are unlovable.’ He's covered in blood now, still feeling the sensation of six claws in his chest, piercing through his cursed heart. And he loses it, he throws the TemPad away in his despair, regretting it the same second, he runs and jumps to take it before it touches the floor, but ends up kicking it with his foot, then he stumbles, falling on his own face. Fuck. He cries, like the pathetic being he is.

That's when the electronic — whatever tecnologic shit it is — starts to oscillate on the floor, and bips bips bips. Did he break it? For fuckers sake! He takes it back. Doesn't look like there was any damage, he taps it, but he can't understand the coordinates on the screen. Is it another planet? Doesn't fuck look like Earth.

Suddenly a portal opens up and Wade stares at it. Something is wrong. This portal, it's not golden, it's dark, like a black hole. He feels like when he was a kid. There's a taste in his mouth, and a smell in his nose. He's dragged back to the past. He shivers, suddenly he's in the cold night, one of his feet chained. It hurts so much, but it’s better if he was outside. That was something he never told anyone. He loved the night, he loved when he got this punishment, he pretended to hate it, so that bastard would use it against him. It was a way he found to escape the molestation. It didn't work all the time, but when it worked he felt glad. Glad is a rare and strange feeling. He shivers in gladness and steps into it.

At first all he can see is profound darkness. He's not even sure his eyes are open at all. Has he gone blind? Then there's breathing, he thinks for a moment it's his own respiration, but it's not, he's not making this deep and painful noise. It's a very dark and heavy breathing that gets close with every step. Then he sees it, a subtle light, its red. Seems weird? He sees the eyes before he sees the being. It’s hard to tell its colors in the distance and in the low light. But they are bright and piercing. And unmoving, like it's not really looking at him. He moves close, and something registers, cutting through him. It's green, he realizes, like a pale forest, like a calm lake, its pupils grow, swallowing him in, in an inescapable stare. He's breathing so hard it creates little clouds in the dense air.

Wade would recognize those eyes anywhere. It's so shocking, he stops, his feet refusing to move before the vision. It's a Wolverine. Well, it seems like the TemPad was not broken, but he guesses he was not supposed to find this one, probably no one was supposed to find him. What paralyzes Wade is not just the eyes, but his appearance. The man is contained, pulled down on his knees, defeated, malnourished, the bones standing out under his skin, hes basically just bones and hair, frankly it's absurd he's still alive, well, regeneration is a fucked up thing sometimes. There is a mask on his face, metallic, it looks very much like a muzzle, and there are bright red lines, hundreds of them, connected to the collar on his neck. He's using the yellow accurate comic costume, but it's all dirty and worn out.

It's clear they left him here to die. But what a terrible way to leave this world, painfully slowly, getting weak and disappearing a little bit every day.

“What the hell happened to you?” He doesn't know this Logan, the others he knew, like just their appearances were a tell. And he still kind of feels bad for not helping the uncanny x-men Logan, but that felt like none of his business. This one though, he speaks to something deep in him. He needs to know what happened to him. There is no reaction to his question, he doubts the man will be able to talk soon, he is too debilitated to even breathe properly.

He opens the TemPad, does a little reprogrammation, why not, it's a canon divergent fic, so he can do whatever. Soon the TemPad works very much like a Pokédex, he even turns it in his direction and gets: Wade Willson, also known as Deadpool in Earth XXX, 48 years old, sagittarius, species human…

Does the TVA control Wikipedia too? Or does the author just think it was funny? Whatever. He turns the advice to Logan. His eyes are still burning on him, it's almost unbearable. The scan starts to work, then it stops showing a glowing “restricted access”, so Wade has to do some hacker job, it's nothing, soon the information pops on the screen.

Art by Essi Välimäki

[silversurfersx]

media duties | f1grid pt.2

part 1

f1 grid x driver!reader [smau] - part 2

summary: the reader does anything to escape her media duties

faceclaim: Jamie chadwick and random peopke I found on ointerest

warnings: swearing, theoretical violence

liked by georgerussel63, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and others

yourusername: got a visitor in the paddock today😊 he had the cooler car 😔

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user: is alex ok?

user: what happened in slide 3???

alex_albon: why did you post this?

yourusername: bc auggie is adorable alex_albon: obviously, but that's not what I meant yourusername: oh you mean me hitting you with my car... yeah, that's meant as a threat for everyone alex_albon: what for? yourusername: leading Netflix to my secret hideout alex_albon: you were hiding in the Haas hospitality with Auggie and the Haas kids yourusername: yeah I couldn't understand a word those two said

user: ah yes...

user: is it weird that I'm jealous of auggie's car?

user: no, cause same

___

Auggie cruised in his Spiderman toy car in front of you through the paddock. In high pitched squeaks he imitated motor noises.

Chuckling at the small boy, you followed along grabbing your phone from your pocket when you felt a ping. Looking down you saw Alex's message about Netflix wanting to film a segment once again.

'I can't, I gotta take care of auggie, sorry'

You texted back, looking for another excuse, as you knew that taking care of Auggie wasn't the best excuse, as there were enough people at Williams who could look after your nephew for an hour. They did when you raced as well.

Your eyes moved over the paddock, stopping on Nico Hulkenberg kneeling alongside his daughter, who was Auggie's age.

"Auggie, what do you think about making a new friend?"

The blonde boy turned back, quickly hitting the brakes of his toy car. "A new friend?"

"Yeah, you see that girl over there?" You nodded at the small girl, whose name you never really learned. "She looks nice, doesn't she?"

"Yes! Do you think she wants to be my friend?" The boy asked eyes wide in question. You shrugged. "Maybe we could go and ask."

"Yes!"

___

___

"Y/N what are your plans for next year?" The media person asked rising to their feat in the crowd of reporters during the press conference.

Slowly you lifted the microphone up to your lips. "I don't know."

"You were seen in the Haas hospitality earlier today. Was it contract related or did you hide from someone again?" They asked which was followed by chuckles from everyone in the room.

Smiling you answered. "I was hiding."

Again chuckles erupted.

"Did you get caught?" Max interrupted from next to you on the couch. Laughing you nodded. "Yeah, Alex told on me."

"Ah, you shouldn't have told him." Max reprimanded you.

"Yeah, I know." You nodded. "But I hit him with my car, so now we're even." You argumented, ignoring the wide eyes from the media. Yuki grinned from beside Max, who couldn't hide his own amusement.

"That seems alright then." Max replied.

"If i may interrupt and go back to my initial question." The reporter interrupted. "Y/N, what are your plans for next year, do you have a new contract in sight?"

"Not really." You shrugged. It was a lie, but it wasn't any of their business, yet and you didn't even know if t would work out.

___

liked by sebastianvettel, francolapinto, williamsracing and others

yourusername: a great honour to be able to join seb and his crew!❤

It was an absolute honour meeting you, seb and all the people who worked this project. I am proud to have been part of this!!!🇧🇷🤩🥰

SennaForver 🇧🇷🇧🇷

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user: absolutely beautiful what you did

user: we love seb!

user: senna forever!!!

sebastianvettel: it was an honour to have you join us as well❤ [liked by yoursusername]

alex_albon: so this is where you went?

___

___

It was only logical that a day would come, where you were actually late for media duties, though no one believed you. Your constant lying about your whereabouts during media duties finally got to you.

"Where did you hide out this time?" Alex greeted you when you ran on stage for the fan event. "I didn't, I swear, I fell asleep and forgot to set an alarm."

Alex looked at you suspiciously, not quite believing you. "Was it Max?"

"No, I swear, I slept in." You tried to reassure. Looking out at the crowd you tried to convince them. "Sorry guys, but I swear I did sleep."

Laughs filled the crowd at you attempts of convincing.

"Was that a 'we believe you'- laugh?" You asked receiving once again a similar laugh. Leaning back to look at the Alpine boys who were with you. "Are they laughing at me or with me?"

"I think at you." Pierre teased and Esteban joined. "I would too."

"At least I know I'm funny." You replied, grinning.

Alex leaned towards you, putting the microphone away from his mouth. "Did you actually sleep in?"

"Yes, I swear." You replied.

___

___

liked by landonorris, alexalbon, maxverstappen1 and others

yourusername: I swear guys i played too much sims and fell asleep... also I got a special helmet ⛑️

view comments

user: she's out here fighting for her life, haha

user: happens to the best of us

user: damn, she's fighting harder than when she's escaping Netflix

landonorris: did u feed me?

yourusername: i let you drown in the pool, lol landonorris: what 🙂 yourusername: oscar was really sad oscarpiastri: nah landonorris: 🥲 yourusername: that's rough

alexalbon: but did you?

yourusername: 🤡

user: sick helmet ⛑️

user: are we all just gonna ignore lando?

yourusername: ignoring him is always the safest option 👍

___

Drive to Survive interview:

"Hello, my name is Y/N Y/LN and I am racing for Williams Racing." You closed the clap with a tight smile, the bright lights surrounding you blinded you.

"Okay, great, it's good to finally catch you." The reporter announced making you unwillingly smile. "Yeah, you guys are very adamant, just wouldn't give up."

"We promise to keep it short for you." The woman laughed.

"Grand."

"Where did you hide this time?" The question continued.

"At Aston."

"Is it nice there?" The woman said as the interview continued.

"It's very green."

"Oh, I bet. How are you finding this season as it is slowly ending? What are your plans for next season, there are only a handful of seats left?" The interviewer pressed as you shifted in your seat knowing what she was out for. Carlos took your Williams seat for next year, so the question arises, 'what should you do?'.

Obviously you were in talks with a few people, looking over the open seats and even at spots in other categories like wec.

"It's been crazy, but I know what I'm doing."

"So you got a plan?" The woman asked curiously. "Is it for vcarb? They've been looking at you, I've heard."

You shrugged pursing your lips . "RedBull sugar free? Who knows."

"You're really not giving us anything, aren't you?" She interviewer chuckled and you smiled cockily.

"Nope." You looked over the camera personal, as the interviewer searched her notes. "Are we finished? Do you just cut to some dramatic scenes of me now?"

The lady shook her head chuckling. "Not quite, sorry."

Internally sighing in disappointment you nodded.

"Alright."

___

[CAPTION] thank you Charles (my secret santa) for the invisability cloak, now I can hide even better☺️🧙‍♀️

charles_leclerc: you are welcome ☺️🥰 yourusername: 😘

[loveemagicpeace]

🧚🏼‍♀️Astro Notes🧸

Sagittarius love holidays and are very enthusiastic about them. They like things related to fun, etc. They can also be very traditional when they believe in something. More or less their traditions come from their beliefs, but they are very open to new things.

When Leo Sun people do something they will always be like "look what I did", they want you to notice their work and effort. They are always very proud of what they do and present their work with pride. The proudest people will always be them.

Sagittarius mars - living for the moments- They will make the most of every moment and can quickly forget about their worries and just surrender to the moment. Mars in leo living for the fun, romance, pleasure, playfulness. Mars in aries living for danger, excitement. They can quickly forget the needs of others and focus on their own needs.

It is very important what aspects you have with the planet. For ex.: mars in sagittarius with trine saturn makes you very serious when it comes to intimacy, sex, and the affection of another person. Usually, for you, intimacy represents responsibility and seriousness. Even tho I do think that mars in sagittarius people are not unstable or too free. They can be very fiery and devoted to another person. Very quick to respond and driven when they really want someone. If the person match their energy , they will be very into this person. Because they're looking for someone they can connect with. They usually want the same level of energy.

Mars in Taurus is secretly possessive. Many times they appear more stable than they actually are. When it comes to their needs they are very stubborn and will also stubbornly pursue something if they really want it. Once someone fulfills their needs they become very attached to that person and find it difficult to let go of the fact that that person is no longer there. They like stable sexual partners. They have a hard time getting used to a different energy and another person's body when they are used to one (they don't like to change).

I am not a fan of venus in cancer but i think someone who has venus in cancer & mars in taurus can be very nurturing and caring person. They can give you a lot of love and are very attentive. They give love unconditionally.

Cancer moon -They are very caring and emotional. They give a lot, especially when people mean a lot to them. They will always care about the person and their needs. Their love runs very deep. A very sacrificial moon. A very intuitive moon, if a cancer moon tells you something - you should always listen, because they are always right.

People with a placements of Pisces and libra are often hopeless romantics. Many times they fall in love with the wrong people and too quickly. They often idealize people and the love they have for them. They believe in love at first sight and it often happens to them. But the love they need is the opposite of that. The love they should have found is the love they didn't look for, but it came in a completely different form than they imagined. True love will be when they build love with a person, which will come over time and through a difficult period. A love in which they will be realistic.

Capricorn in your chart shows where you are realistic, strong and go through the most challenges.

Your moon is your safe place and also the emotions you crave the most. When someone embody your moon sign for you, this is like a person emitting energy that you need. Thats why you can be much more attached to such people. You can get emotionally attached to someone who gives off your moon energy more quickly than someone who gives off your Venus energy for example.

Fire & earth mars are more connected to their physical body. There are also more into a physical touch. So when it comes to passion and intimacy and this type of stuff. They want a real touch. Both of them are also very active oriented signs. Fire mars in generals are very into actions and doing things. And also the earth mars but they are a little bit more slow when it comes to actions, because they are more focused into long term things.

When it comes to intimacy fire & earth are best together cuz both of them are focused on body. Air & water are more mental.

The sign of Gemini rules the shoulders, arms, hands, and lungs. Natives of this sign are noted for their graceful arms and beautifully shaped hands.

Aries rules the head and face. You can often spot an Aries person by his or her fine facial bone structure and a shining, healthy head of hair.

The sign of Taurus rules the throat and neck, which includes the vocal cords, palate, and tonsils. Generally, Taureans have long, expressive necks, and women of this sign have lovely skin around the throat and collarbone area.

Cancer women often have beautiful bosoms, with soft creamy skin and a curving decolletage. Men of this sign have well-shaped chests and flat stomachs.

The sign of Leo rules the spine, the back, and the heart. The heart is associated with warm emotions, the back with courage.

The sign of Virgo rules the nervous system and the intestines. The intestines assimilate food into the body. By the same token, Virgoans assimilate knowledge and turn it into practical use. They have delicate and finely tuned nervous systems, which makes them intuitive and discriminating.

The sign of Libra rules the kidneys, lumbar region (which includes the lower spine and back), and the buttocks. Libra women tend to have graceful lower spines and curvaceous buttocks, and Libra men have well-shaped, muscular backs

The sign of Scorpio rules the sexual organs. Symbolically, this part of the anatomy represents lifegiving force, and Scorpio people are renowned for their fund of energy and imagination. They have a reputation for being highly sexed, passionate, and possessive, the kind who do nothing halfway.

The sign of Sagittarius rules the hips, the thighs, and the liver. In human anatomy the hips and thighs represent locomotion and volition, and it should not be surprising that most Sagittarians are active people who love freedom, fresh air, sunshine, and the great outdoors.

The sign of Capricorn rules the bones, joints, knees, and teeth. Capricorns are known for their beautiful bone structure and stately carriage. Capricorn women often have a striking angular beauty, especially in their facial bones, which makes them very photogenic. Both men and women have strong constitutions, vigorous and enduring, capable of withstanding stress and illness.

The sign of Aquarius rules the circulatory system and the shins, calves, and ankles. The lower leg represents active locomotion, and Aquarius people are characterized as progressive and forward-thinking.

The sign of Pisces rules the feet and toes and the mucous membranes. Pisceans are noted for their graceful, well-shaped feet, and many become excellent dancers .

-Rebekah🌌🧜🏼‍♀️🪐

[flower-boi16]

Octavia’s reaction is 100% justified, actually

So I already made an entire reblog about this but I feel as if this topic is deserving of being its own post because the fandom’s reaction to Octavia has hit a new low. I’m just gonna paste what I said from this reblog here.

So think of this; young girl living in a home with a close relationship to her father. The father is always there to comfort the young girl and even sang a song when she was little as a lullaby to help her sleep due to having nightmares of her father not being there for her, telling her that no matter what, he’ll never leave and she will always be okay.

Cut to many years later, and, suddenly, things change. The father that the young girl held close to…suddenly cheats on his wife and starts obsessing over a random imp over her, even to the point of making sexual remarks about him around her even when she’s uncomfortable. Everything was turned upside down for her, the parents who previously loved each other now loathe on another, and now the father who held his daughter dear starts neglecting her in favor of this random imp.

Which leads the daughter to grow a fear that her father will leave her in favor of that imp, a perfectly understandable one given that it was established before that she has fears of abandonment. THEN when that father takes the daughter to a carnival that she hated when she was a child, he spends most of the day flirting with that imp on the trip that was SUPPOSED TO CHEER HER UP. The daughter gets fed up with this and runs off where the father follows suit. The daughter expresses her fears of abandonment to her father and asks him if he is really going to leave her in favor of that imp. The father says no, realizing his mistake and assures her that he’ll never leave her and decides to take her to a place she actually enjoys as a way to make up for that…

…and then cut to 17 episodes later where the daughter then witnesses her father THROWING HIS LIFE AWAY ON LIVE TELEVISION FOR AN IMP. He told her that he would never leave her, that he wouldn’t chose that imp over her…and he does that with no hesitation. Without even telling her. Octavia doesn’t know shit about whatever close relationship Blitz and Stolas have, to her, Blitz is just some random nobody imp that Stolas is for some reason horny over.

And this effectively cements to Octavia that, she doesn’t matter to her father. He really would choose an imp over her. Sinmass further drives this home with a heart breaking song Octavia sings that offers as a dark reprise of you will be okay, as Octavia sings about her resentment and heart break over her father betraying her trust, for LYING to her. She says she’ll never be the same now and fully accepts the fact that Stolas cares more about Blitz than her. And she then finds out that Stolas was taking anti-depressant pills, making her believe that she was just nothing but a burden, an obligation to Stolas this whole time.

If she wasn’t, why would he leave her without hesitation? It’s infuriating to me how the one time the show has good writting the fandom STILL makes insane arguments trying to defend Stolas.

Is Stolas allowed to form other relationships outside of Octavia? Yea, he is, but that’s not the issue. The issue is that Stolas was placing those new relationships above his old ones, he chose Blitz over Octavia, his daughter, his FAMILY.

”probably called her a million times” actually we saw him call once and Octavia was happy to answer until Stella wouldn’t let her, taking Octavia’s phone and mocking Stolas for trying to call her. Octavia doesn’t see the whole picture because SHE DOESNT HAVE THE WHOLE PICTURE! Stolas never communicated ANYTHING to her, not about what was going on between him and Stella, and not about his relationship with Blitz. Stolas didn’t give Octavia ANY information about what was going on and guess what? Seeing Stars and Sinmass show the exact consequences of that.

In Seeing Stars Octavia runs away to try and see the stars for herself because Stolas was focusing more on arguing with Stella than her, which leads Octavia to thinking that Stolas hates Stella more than he loves her, and she wouldn’t have started believing that IF STOLAS COMMUNICATED AND TOLD HER ABOUT THE ABUSE DURING OF THEIR MARRIAGE. Therefore she would be more understanding.

And in Sinmas, If Stolas ever explained to Octavia at any point in the show the full context of his relationship with Blitz, that would, at the very least, make Octavia understand his decision. Yet he never did. Octavia doesn’t have the full context for ANY of these situations because Stolas for SOME REASON never communicated to her.

And can people just fuck off with the whole “omg Octavia is such an immature/selfish teenager!” BECAUSE SHES NOT!! She’s not being a bratty, emotional teen for *checks notes* wanting attention from her father. Sinsmas is legitimately one of the best episodes of season 2 because it actually addresses Stolas acts as a father and calls him out for it, creating drama that doesn’t feel artificial for once and ends up being a step in the right direction for both Stolas AND Octavia as characters. But it’s sad to me that some people still miss blatantly obvious details like this.

Octavia is not a bratty teenager having a tantrum, she’s a girl that had her life turned upside down and is suffering through a divorce. I wish most of the fandom would actually see that.

[stxrslutrestored]

SILENT TREATMENT

pairing; rafe cameron x sweetie reader

summary; even after your little confrontation, rafe continues to neglect you, so when he tries to give you his affections, you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, little do you know how well that may end for you

content; body worship, oral (f receiving)

authors note; re upload! part 2 of waiting for you

last night was good, you wake up feeling relieved, happy to have finally resolved your issue with rafe. you can’t wait to spend time with him today. you roll over when you feel him stir, a smile pasted on your lips, “mornin’ rafe,” you grin, hand coming up to caress his sleepy face. he looks so pretty in the mornings. 

a little smile creeps onto his lips as well, his eyes peel open and he meets your loving gaze, “hi sweetheart.” 

you move to cuddle closer to him, but to your surprise he sits up. you sit up too, but don’t follow him as he gets out of bed and grabs his clothes. 

you tilt your head in slight confusion, but you keep smiling, “where you goin’? we only just woke up.” you’re dreading the next sentence to come out of his mouth. 

he nods absently, “yeah uh.. I just—” he points to the door over his shoulder, “got some work to do.” his voice trails off, and before you know it, he’s walking out the door. 

son of a bitch. 

you sit there for a few minutes in the company of your own silence. you can’t believe it. you’d had a whole fight last night, he’d acknowledged that he was prioritising work too much, and now, at seven in the morning, with no deadline, he’s gone back to it. without paying you a single glance at that. 

you get over it, sure, you are totally over it. you spend the day with yourself, but you can’t help but be peeved the entire time. in the evening you make yourself a meal, only yourself, one portion. rafe is nowhere to be seen, so why should you cook for him?

when he comes downstairs you are on the couch watching the tv with your meal in a tray on your lap. he walks over to the kitchen where the empty pot lies still on the stove. upon opening the lid of the pot and finding nothing his face falls, “you didn’t cook for both of us?” he asks, brows furrowed as he speaks to the back of your head. 

“I didn’t know you wanted food.” you say, “been workin’ all day, didn’t even know if you were gonna come down.” you take another mouthful of your meal.

“what am I supposed to eat?” his face contorts in slight frustration. he looks like a kicked puppy. he hadn’t had to actually think about what to get for dinner for ages, you’d always taken care of it.

“I don’t know,” you put a sickly sweet twinge in your voice, “you could get takeout… or cook. do you know how to do that?” you know it’s a bit of a mean comment but god dammit you’re hurt. he’s hurt you and you will hurt him back until he realises how shitty he’s treated you. 

it continues all week. the snarky comments and disregards of each other. rafe keeps to his work and you keep to yourself. 

you both ignore it with great passion. neither of you caring to acknowledge all the feelings, knowing that when you do, it will be a turmoil that you just don’t want to face.

of course it has to happen, and in a turn of unexpected events, it’s rafe who initiates the conversation. 

you’re just getting into your night clothes when he enters the room, speaking your name. he leans against the doorframe to talk to you. “you look nice.” he says bluntly. 

you smile, but you don’t look up at him, “thankyou.” you slip your nightdress on and then stand to walk over to bed. 

he sighs and meets you before you can sit down, “uhm.. d’you wanna.. maybe do something..” he asks, it’s awkward, he barely ever has to ask, normally it just happens. his hand rests on your hip. 

you shrug, “I don’t know.. I’m pretty tired actually.” you tell him, looking up at him, and yet it’s not an intimate eye contact like it should be right before you climb into bed with him.

“come on.” he murmurs, “let’s just.. be together y’know.” he smirks tentatively, rubbing your hip now, but you don’t return his energy. 

“no. I think I’d rather just go to sleep. you can lie with me if you want.” you make to move past him but he stops you, holding you back. 

“no.” he raises his voice slightly but quickly corrects his tone. “no— no you’re- you’re ignorin’ me.” he pulls you in front of him, his head cranes down just a little bit to keep your gaze. “I know why. okay— I get it but— I- I can’t make it up to you if you don’t let me.” 

you shake your head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about rafe,” you speak so matter of factly, “I just wanna go to sleep right now.” 

“no. no.” he pushes you back, “let— lemme make it up to you.” he speaks, frowning in upset, “I can show you I- let me show you that I’m sorry okay.” 

you furrow your eyebrows, it’s not like rafe to speak like this, he’s never sorry for anything he does, he believes every action he takes has a purpose and that nobody has a right to complain about them. rafe saying sorry is basically him admitting he’s completely and utterly pussy whipped. 

you stay sceptical though, “mhm. what are you gonna do to show me rafe? fuck me? again? for the one hundredth something time in our relationship?” you raise an eyebrow.

rafe stutters, thoughts faltering as you call out the plan he thought to be impeccable. “I’m- I’m not just gonna fuck you.. okay I- I-”

“you’re what? gonna make love to me? touch my innocence? be intimate—” the agitation in your voice starts to come through, you do just want to get into bed. 

his hands come to your shoulders, but the touch is gentle, not firm or commanding like it normally is. he hesitates for a moment and then makes a decisive noise. suddenly he’s lowering all the way to his knees, hands still firm on your shoulders.

“I- I love you okay.” he looks up to you, blinking away the tears forming in his eyes. his hands pull at your nightdress, tugging it off and discarding it to the floor. his hands run down your body. 

“love this body,” he says, “love you. love you so much.” he kisses your lower tummy, maybe in an effort to hide his now falling tears. you didn’t think your silent treatment would provoke such an emotional reaction from him.

“rafe…” you frown, hand coming to the back of his head as he looks right back up to you. you think about telling him to leave it because you feel bad, but then you realise that this despair in him could get you something good, and so you decide to be selfish. “show me.” you tell him, “show me how much you love me.”

rafe’s head lowers and he begins to move down your body. he starts to place wet open mouthed kisses on every spot that his face passes and his hands follow after. he works his way all the way down until he’s kissing just above your pussy. 

“god.” he exhales, “gonna— gonna show you okay.” his hands come up to support your hips as he brings his face down again and his open mouth comes into contact with your most sensitive spot. 

you seethe a breath, legs weakening from the contact but his grip on you is strong and he keeps you upright as he begins to move his mouth. 

he kisses and sucks with ease, tongue swirling around your clit. you have to hold back surprise at the fact he’s so good at this, you’re not sure he’s ever eaten you out before. 

he lets out little murmurs and breaths that seem to send vibrations through your entire body. you have to throw your head back in pleasure, you feel so good.

rafe comes back for a breath, pulling away with a pop. his lips and chin are glistening with your wetness, he looks up to you with wide eyes and swollen lips. 

“do you believe me.” he asks breathlessly, he looks so desperate. so desperate. you take sympathy on him, his hurt puppy look, those wide sad eyes.

you nod, “I believe you. I know you love me.” you smile down at him. he lets out a breath of relief, a smile forming on his own shiny lips. 

he keeps your gaze for a moment and then he goes back down, now with a newfound energy that just makes it so much better. with his face still buried in your pussy he makes to turn you around so that you can fall back onto the bed. you realise now, that you are in for a good night.

[letskilltimetogether]

Omg I’m so sorry for leaving you hanging ;-; I can only offer the excuse of crippling school projects, but I’m back!

Dr. Stone Spoilers for most of the story

Okay so your point about him being a good leader actually opened up a can of worms in my brain. This is def kind of off topic? But I think it’s interesting so I want to write it down for my own sanity.

For a while know I’ve been coining Senkuu as a bad leader, or at least not ideal for personal writing purposes, but your comment made me rethink it. Looking at things with a fresh start, I realized Senkuu is a good leader, but not in the way I was originally imagining. (Doing my best to keep it as canon as possible) Senkuu 1. Cares deeply about people, not just his own 2. Is very strategic and thinks of the future 3. Does not want power. These 3 aspects make him a good leader, especially in the setting of Dr. Stone.

To use an analogy, He would be a very good science club leader, which is kind of what he is. He is dedicated to the craft, and can manage a small group of people with similar goals, and rather than excluding others, he encourages and fights for them to join his club of nerds.

However!

For the first part of Dr. Stone, that works fine. It’s just the Kingdom of Science and the Empire of Might. It’s like 140 people, who although need some coaxing, can work together. But once America hits and they have Zenos people how have very different ideas, and all sorts of other civilizations across the globe… people are going to have conflicting ideas. There’s always going to be Tsukasas, misguided people, and Hyogas and Homuras, people who don’t mean well and try to shape the world in their making. This is where I believe Senkuu is no longer the best choice, as I don’t think he could handle managing and keeping peace between all of these people, in addition to perusing and steam heading science projects. Obviously there’s people to help him do these things, but it’s a lot.

Many people instead make Ryusui the main leader, which is not a bad decision. He’s used to leadership and thrives in positions of power, and cares about the people around him, even if they don’t like him(most of this comes from his confidence/arrogance, but still). He is great at planning and managing people, and is decent at working with people who have different views than him. However he doesn’t really understand the differences between what people say/think they want, and what they need, and he could make bad decisions based on that misconception. In addition, Ryusui is pretty disconnected from the people around him as he had a very different upbringing, and can’t always relate to people. This makes him a caring leader, but unable to properly act this way.

Both he and Senkuu are decent leaders on their own, but still not great. In conclusion, I say the best solution is to have the 5 generals, so some other council, in charge. They balance each other’s faults, this sharing of power relieves the pressure of leading the entirety of humanity from 1 person’s shoulders.

Main tangent over lol.

I def agree about Senkuu trying to save everybody, including Tsukasa, with all of the stuff happening at the beginning of Treasure Island Arc being a lot to juggle. This means to me that his decision to give Hyoga and Homura to the “authorities”/legal system is weak evidence for him being lawful.

I feel like we’re running this thread dry, so I pose another question: How do you feel about the ending of the manga, and how would you change it? I have some strong thoughts about those last few arcs lol.

*offers microphone in one hand and a bag of chips in the other*

Also happy holidays!!

Your honor they're homosexuals

[velvetvexations]

"Women do traditionally feminine stuff because they are afraid of the men in their lives." Hilarious, because for me growing up all of the worst misogyny I faced was at the hands of other women, usually family and friends, and whenever I caved into the pressure to do feminine things I didn't want to it was specifically because I was seeking the approval of other women. None of the men in my life have ever forced femininity on me the way the cis women have. The people who made fun of me for dressing "badly" and not shaving and spread rumors I was secretly a boy were all girls. I kept trying to get into makeup, not because I wanted boys to think I was cute(all the guys who've shown interest in me have actually liked me just fine the way I am), but because I wanted the women around me to see me as one of them and I never felt like I was.

Even when women aren't pressuring me to do girly things I still feel the pressure because I'm the only woman I know who doesn't and it makes me feel like a freak. I don't care what the men around me think, a guy getting weird about my not shaving or wearing makeup would be instantly disqualified from my dating pool without a second thought, being raised a feminist very quickly inoculated me against giving a shit what men think, but the women? My whole life I have been trying so hard to be one of them and it's still hard work to ignore the annoying internalized patriarchal cisheteronormative bullshit in my head making me think I need to be more like them and less like me. And I genuinely don't know if there will ever come a day when I can hang out in a group of women and not feel like an imposter just waiting to be discovered and killed.

And I know that my experiences aren't universal any more than the person who originally said that's are, but like. It's just wild to me that trans people especially will chalk all of the pressure to conform to gender roles up to shitty men and completely ignore how heavily the patriarchy incentivizes women to not only violently police each other's femininity but also destroy ourselves seeking the approval of the very women who are violently policing our femininity.

EXACTLY.

I love cis women who our allies with all my heart and soul, but we need to stop being desperate for their approval. The cis women who DO care about us would be the first to admit they as a category need to do a lot better, so why do we pussyfoot around them being just as horrible to us as cis men can be?

With trans women it feels like we're just trying to link arms under the exact same oppressive patriarchy because it feels like that's what being a woman is, haha yeah, men hate us, I mean they hate us in different ways and you hate us too but what matters above all else is that we're the exact same thing right? Oh, sorry, like seventy percent of you don't believe that and are violently disgusted by the thought of coming anywhere near me? But I also fear men!

And trans men...

"Women are soooo scared of me, yeah you better cover your drink around trans men too, I mean not that I would do anything personally, but I could, because I'm a man, and that means I could oppress and hurt you, theoretically!"

Listen, bro, most cis women aren't scared of you, they're laughing at you, and frankly so am I, not because it's impossible for a trans man to be a person who's intimidating, but because you're so needy for validation that you've developed a patriarchy fetish you can't turn off.

None of this is to say we should ignore the crimes of cis men or that cis women aren't also another marginalized class, and again, I love cis women who're trans allies, they're amazing, wonderful people and I would never want to leave them behind or seem ungrateful.

[thesummerstorms]

You know that conversation you can have with Emmrich where he asks what your plans are for your body when you die?

I think Arsinoë accidentally horrified him. Not by clinging to non-Nevarran ideals about cremation, but by telling him she never thought anyone would care that much one way or the other.

She would be dead, so she wouldn't care. And honestly, a majority of compradi die as Fledglings without graduating; she thinks their bodies were probably burned (since you have to do something with bodies) but they certainly don't have funerals, so it certainly wasn't worth worrying about then.

Emmrich interjects, trying to wrangle his own shock long enough to point out that she's not a Fledgling now, so surely...?

Well if she dies now, Arsinoë all but shrugs, it would depend on the circumstances, wouldn't it? She isn't someone important like a Talon or the scion of an established Crow family. She certainly isn't Caterina Dellamorte, who warrants something verging on a State Funeral.

If she died, there is still a non-zero chance it would be at another Crow's hands, in which case it's anyone's guess what happens after.

If she dies honorably fulfilling a contract, then Viago might feel obligated to do something if he isn't pissed off at her failure and she's isn't still in Exile. He's her mentor, so probably he would manage at least a small pyre. Maybe even a flower or two for the flames if he's letting himself feel sentimental. Teia would probably be there because Viago was.

But just as often, when a contract goes wrong, there's no time to go back for the body. The mark get ahold of it, or whoever's left on the contract has to focus on survival rather than the dignity of a corpse that can't feel any of it.

But really, none of that would matter to Arsinoë, would it? She'd be off wherever dead souls end up going, or maybe in oblivion, who knows. She doesn't have any family to be horrified by her corpse unless you count Viago, who is Fifth Talon, has bigger things to worry about, and will get over it.

But anyway, why do you ask, Emmrich?

Emmrich is too aghast to answer clearly at that point because every single point of Arsinoë's answer goes so deeply against everything that is ingrained in him as part of the Mourn Watch, from the belief that a corpse just doesn't matter to her sincere belief that no one would care enough about her for any particular mourning rights.

And the thing is Emmrich does care. It's his professional duty to care, but he's also become fond of his young friend and he cannot handle imagining that she could die on this mission or the next and potentially receive no rites at all.

Cue Emmrich starting to plan how he's going to have Rook interred in the Grand Necropolis when the time comes. It may involve some string pulling, especially if (hopefully) she dies not on this mission but in the distant future, and even more so if he precedes her and has to leave the job in one of his colleague's hands. But Maker help him, there will be a plan and her death will be respected.

When it comes to light, Neve is uncertain and a little weirded out, but also a little offended by all this. She's fallen in love with Rook, but even before that, the respect between them would have warranted a pyre and Arsinoë's name on the Wall of Light if there was no one else to arrange things. Is this why she's never asked about what happened after Varric-

Lucanis is horrified by the idea of Arsinoë as one of the spirit-possessed skeletons in the Necropolis or one of the jewel-eyed skulls in its many niches; he snaps at Emmrich about Nevarran obsession and respecting Rook as Antivan.

Emmrich refuses to budge. She expected the Crows to do nothing for her. She deserves better, deserves to be remembered, even if she isn't Nevarran.

Lucanis seems fully stunned by the idea that Rook believed this in the first place, given Viago's attachment. Given Lucanis's own growing feelings. Emmrich does soften a little bit when he sees that Lucanis truly didn't realize, but he also doesn't fully divert his plans.

Gathering a grave-dowry is normally left to a lover or family member if the deceased was themselves unable, and Emmrich is neither. But needs must, and though his friend now seems attached to Neve and Lucanis, hearts can be fickle. A plan is better. So he puts away small things here or there, eyes which of Rook's enchanted rings and amulets she seems to favor just in case.

It almost helps him live with the knowledge that Arsinoë believed she would die unmourned. Almost.

[starryjkoo]

Please only Jungkook and Jungkook himself is to blame for people (a.k.a his own fans) always twisting his words and actions. Y'all have never bothered to ask yourselves why it's always JK who has to go through this and not the other members, especially the other two maknae line members, since people are just as obsessed with them too?

It's because for years JK has constantly contradicted himself in his words and actions, especially when it comes to Jimin. One minute he's hot, the next he's cold. One minute he says something nice about Jimin and then the next he's back to being an insensitive prick. One minute he's initiating touch with Jimin, the next he looks like he's close to physically throwing up when Jimin does the same to him😅. One moment he does something for Jimin that'll convince you that he truly loves him just a bit more than the others, the next he goes above and beyond for EVERYONE else while making it seem like it's impossible for him to even do the bare minimum for JM (his trip to Hawaii for Tae vs him saying "nah" when Jimin asked him to come watch him practice the next time ???)

No one but JK is responsible for the way his fandom is right now and for how they are treating Jimin. Things like these don't just stem from nowhere. These are his FANS projecting this "he's uncomfortable with Jimin/he hates Jimin/them" narrative onto him and his actions keep the narrative alive and consistent, while naturally the ones who care about Jimin/his relationship with Jimin will be sensitive to how he acts and expect him to be better.

Of course it's obvious that JK loves Jimin a lot and the "uncomfortable" Jikook moments have never bothered me personally because I've always had a reason about why they exist/why JK is like that with Jimin and it's a positive reason. But we can't deny the existence of certain things and why those things exist in the first place.

From an objective standpoint, it makes sense why there are people who believe he doesn't like Jimin and why every time he shows that he does in fact like Jimin or even more-than-just "like" Jimin, they resort to saying he's pretending or that he's being "forced". It also makes sense why there are those who have "high/unrealistic" expectations for him.

And BOTH those sides make up his own fandom, unlike others like Jimin whose antis are the one projecting the "he's fake/pretentious, doesn't really love JK or anybody" personality onto him. It's all from and because of JK.

Anyway it's sad that humans always choose to focus on the negative. Someone could show they love another person or a thing all the time, and the few times they do something towards that person/thing that others perceive as the opposite of love, they'll latch onto it and conclude that person doesn't actually love the person/thing. And the other times they show that love won't matter to them anymore.

The same way someone can be infinitely kind, patient and self-less but the one time they snap and express anger for some reason, people will be like "yep this is their real personality, these are their true colours, they were just pretending the whole time"

I’m procrastinating and avoiding doing something rn so I’ll go ahead and give this a long and serious answer even though I’m not super keen on asks like this. I think other people have probably already addressed this topic a lot better than me, but I’d like to spend a minute defending JK since I’ve already addressed the way fandom treats JM a few times on here.

First of all, it’s always JK having to go through this because JK sits at the center of the two most popular ships in an extremely toxic shipping culture where they are constantly fighting over his validation. That’s why his words and actions face the most amount of scrutiny and why they’re weaponized more often than any of the other members (even though it still does happen with other members). I think it’s really as simple as that. tkkrs especially are constantly twisting his words and actions painting him as a villain because Jikook makes them insecure, which is the same reason why they think JM is evil incarnate.

JJKs are half tkkrs, half Y/N’s (or kpop stans who hate and have always hated BTS) and they hate JM more than anything because on top of shipping, he’s also JK’s “main competition”. Of course they want to think that JK hates JM as much as they do when most of them are constantly projecting onto him. I’ll also add that there are a lot of JM/TH overly biased shippers who take everything JK says and does extremely personally too, and then they get their feelings irrationally hurt and take it out on Jungkook. A lot of ex-jkkr PJMs are extra vicious to him because of stuff like this too.

I’m not sure why you think these people are making rational objective observations that have any validity just because they consider themselves his “fans” when most of them are extremely biased and often have some sort of agenda when claiming that he doesn’t like Jimin.

The vast majority of examples of JK being “rude” are just projection and people taking everything he does in bad faith too. I don’t know what examples you mean where JK was allegedly so “insensitive” towards Jimin tbh, because I just constantly see people exaggerating normal teasing and playing to seem like some massive evil thing. And if you’re talking about clips from 200 BCE when he was literally barely a teenager and they were all like that - I don’t think that’s fair to hold against him either.

But let’s say that JK had a moment where he was insensitive - so why isn’t he allowed to be human? Have you never had days where you’re tired, or grumpy, or don’t want to be touched, ever had a moment where you were unintentionally a bit insensitive, a joke that fell flat or came out meaner than intended? Never gotten shy, self-conscious or distracted? Ever had a disagreement with friends? Gotten a little too competitive?

And it’s not just JK who has had these moments btw, it’s all the members because they’re human and none of them are perfect, they’re allowed to experience occasional negative emotions, allowed to have bad days, or quiet days, or days they don’t want to be touched, or are a little snippy with each other. I can't even begin to imagine having to navigate that kind of environment while dealing with my own negative emotions and having everything recorded, picked apart, and weaponized like that.

I feel like you’re basically saying that JK is never allowed to have an off day, and he’s never allowed to be in a bad mood, or say no to something he doesn’t feel like doing? He also can’t tease vmin or be sassy with them the way they are with each other, or the way most of us are with our own friends & family? He can’t get a little shy with JM either? He can only be happy and positive 100% of the time or risk validating psychos who want to claim he hates his bandmates? How is it his fault that people interpret everything he says and does with the most bad faith takes imaginable because of ship and stan wars?

Also I’m going to need a better example of JK not being willing to do something for Jimin because agreeing to go to Hawaii for a fun trip and sky-diving vs not wanting to go to the HYBE building (his workplace that he was mostly avoiding at the time) to sit on the floor and watch JM practice for hours is not really comparable. I don’t even think Jimin cared nearly as much as some people act, he was teasing JK and encouraging him to get out more and smiling throughout that entire exchange, it was never that serious tbh.

What gets me about that whole situation too is that JK was more outwardly supportive of JM during FACE era than he was for any other member, but it’s still not good enough for some people for some reason. And you’re talking about JK being willing to go to Hawaii, but didn’t he travel two more times with JM after JM came to him in NY? Didn’t he agree to JM’s show idea, all this on top of having an insane schedule? Not to mention the night before Jeju, did he not cook Jimin four servings of whatever food after a long plane ride simply because JM asked him to?

There are so many examples of antis taking JM’s obvious playful behavior and twisting it to paint him as a villain, so isn’t it vastly unfair to then turn around and do the same thing to JK? If we can recognize the absurdity in painting JM as an abuser because he reacted to JK’s scuzzi teasing by cursing and gentle roughhousing, shouldn’t we be able to apply the same kind of logic to the people trying to make JK seem like a bully over his reaction to JM purposefully riling him up over ham? Were the “insensitive” remarks you’re referring to ever that serious, or was it normal teasing, friendly jabs, and playful roughhousing? Why is it okay for you to interpret all JK moments in bad faith, blame him for it, and hold it against him forever, while not holding others to the same standards? Shouldn’t we be able to recognize the absurdity in interpreting either of their actions in such obvious bad faith?

I’m just going to have to heavily disagree that there’s ever been a logical objective basis in thinking that JK dislikes Jimin, or that he’s uncomfortable with him. I’m not talking about shipping, I mean the people who think that they’re not even friends, because that’s actually an insane thing to think, and no normal fan is going to look at JKs behavior, where he has had countless examples of encouraging, complimenting, having fun with, and supporting Jimin - who he literally enlisted together with - and then think that they don’t like each other, or that they have a bad relationship, or that JK is annoyed with or dislikes JM. What normal, rational person would actually think that JK would enlist with someone who made him uncomfortable? 99% of the things people use against JK are just normal friendly teasing, and I don’t think he should be expected to act like a friendless robot in fear of a handful of weirdos twisting his words so they can be shady and nasty towards Jimin on social media.

And honestly if people don't like JK's personality or how he comes off that's their right but it's also just their personal opinion, they shouldn't project that on JM who clearly doesn't mind and seems to really enjoy their dynamic a lot. If he didn't like it, he would call it out. Instead he has zero worries about fighting with JK in the military despite Jin's cautioning that even friends of ten years end up fighting. I've seen the hot and cold thing before, and maybe I'm just mostly coming up blank because I'm not one of those jkkrs with encyclopedic knowledge, but I think any moments like that were really not so serious to hold such a grudge over, or to be interpreted so extremely and then used to justify such illogical takes.

Also you’re saying that JJKs interpreting JKs words and actions shadily means something, but you know that PJMs have done the same thing with Jimin right? Like it was PJMs who started that whole thing during Yoongi’s concert trying to imply that JM shaded JK when he said ARMYs were having more fun that night. Also I’ve seen PJMs posting that quote where JM said he was being careful about what he posts online while in the military to shade other members (and then they got mad when iirc KTHs took it personally lol). I also remember PJMs hyping up the fact that Jimin didn’t post for Seven (until he posted JKs hot100 #1). And I remember the whole debacle of that music show hug where both KTHs/PJMs were acting like it was the coldest, most impersonal hug they’ve ever seen and proof the two were no longer friends only for all that to be followed by vicnic and a lot of vmin moments. I can't remember the exact context but I think they've tried to do this with YG too. Solos projecting their negative feelings onto whoever they bias is not anything new, and it’s not something that only happens with JK. Pretty sure a lot of PJMs and some JM biased spent a good chunk of CH2 trying to push the narrative that JM was purposefully distancing himself from tkk because a lot of them simply wanted it to be true, only for the last half of the year to be the literal opposite of that. I've also seen a few PJMs push the fanservice narrative despite that literally being something he receives an insane amount of hate for.

It’s also extremely typical to see stans projecting mean girl personalities onto whoever they bias, I see people do it with groups all the time. Hell, ARMYs just did the same thing with JK’s comment about APT mentioning only Bruno implying he was shading Rose when I sincerely doubt that was his intention. That’s just how people operate in stan spaces, and it’s not the fault of the idols. Another example being aespa, those girls seem like they’re friends with half the industry and yet I constantly see their stans trying to pretend they’re shading every other group.

JJKs being what they are is probably a whole other discussion but no I do not blame JK for his solos being like that at all (just like I would never blame JM for PJMs). He also has a lot of token stans and success stans who don’t even like or respect him as a person, so no I don’t think they understand his personality or have any rational basis in interpreting his words and actions so negatively.

Anyway it's sad that humans always choose to focus on the negative. Someone could show they love another person or a thing all the time, and the few times they do something towards that person/thing that others perceive as the opposite of love, they'll latch onto it and conclude that person doesn't actually love the person/thing. And the other times they show that love won't matter to them anymore. The same way someone can be infinitely kind, patient and self-less but the one time they snap and express anger for some reason, people will be like "yep this is their real personality, these are their true colours, they were just pretending the whole time"

Anyways, I totally agree with this? Which is why your ask has me a bit confused (like is this bait to get me to yap in defense of JK 😭). Isn’t this like the perfect example of victim blaming then, because you’re saying it’s JKs fault that people are choosing to overlook all the good and nice things he does or says to focus on only their negative interpretation instead. Maybe your point is you feel that JK is genuinely being rude or insensitive, which is where I disagree, because imo 99% of the time it’s people choosing to misinterpret his actions to fit their narrative/agenda, and the 1% is normal, human emotion and all seven of them have had their moments.

Jungkook shouldn’t be held to impossible standards just because toxic fans exist, he doesn’t deserve to be dehumanized like that. I just fundamentally do not believe that he or any of the members need to cater to these types of fans, I don’t think they should have to live their lives being paranoid about what they say and do being taken out of context and twisted to that extent. Again, the only people who think that JK hates Jimin are super baised solos and shippers, not normal average fans, and JK shouldn’t have to alter his behavior to cater to those people who will most definitely find a way to twist his words and actions regardless of what he says or does, antis even do this with BTS in general, with Namjoon especially for fanwars all the time trying to twist his words. None of the members should ever be held at fault for their toxic solos or shippers.

anyways, I never found the right moment to post this video, but it's vaguely relevant here so I'll go ahead and add it. every time the discourse about the members being rude to each other pops up I think of this ProZD video about friends

edit: edited paragraph eleven for clarity 🫡

[eggfriedricedwasian]

Tim Drake probably got into fights at school, but he didn't start the fights, he'd finish them. He'd also get away scott free.

People think that they can ruin the Drake's name with their kid getting into fights and causing problems, but no. They encourage him to do these.

Janet had a firm stance in her belief to have the upper hand, so he'd never get in trouble, because she'd blackmail and/or grill into the principal so hard they had to let him go and give the other kid(s) punishment.

Jack had one solid rule, don't start a fight, finish it, and always win. He enforced it by having occasional spars with Tim whenever he could and signed Tim up for all kinds of martial arts to make sure he knew how to fight.

Janet signed him up for whatever else extracurriculars he wanted(ballet, gymnastics, theater, art, vocal coaching, instruments, figure skating, track, etc.).

So just imagine, Tim Drake, publicly known to get into and win so many fights but with no prior context is seen as a trouble maker till they see how well behaved he is. They talk badly about him though, how much of a bad kid little Tim Drake who physically looks like his father but has the face and acts exactly like Janet when he speaks and leads.

And then his parents die and he doesn't cry. They think he's an even horrible kid for not caring about his parents' death even though he's torn.

And then he becomes a Wayne and his reputation, which only Alfred and Bruce know, brings the Wayne name down.

And then he becomes CEO of Wayne Enterprises and everyone expects him to be just like Bruce. What they don't expect is Janet Drake 2.0 when it comes to getting his way and the way he acts or Jack Drake 2.0 with his outstanding leadership and ideas and proposals and what not.

When the rest of the Waynes find out about his reputation, they don't believe it till they see it for themselves.

It's probably at a gala or some sorts. A socialite is being inherently racist towards Damian and talking about how bad of a kid he is. Tim is not standing for it.

"Oh I'm sorry!" he says just a but too loudly to get the attention if everyone in the place, "Would you care to finish that vile comment about my brother? That he was a what now."

"I do, in fact. Perhaps after everyone hears this you Waynes will do better to control that little devil and his unnatural brow-"

The socialite doesn't even get to finish his sentence when Tim karate chops their neck, making them choke(literally) in their own words.

"Oh what was that? Did someone who is actively cheating on their own wife with the underage heir of another company be racist towards my underage and tri-racial brother? Sorry? Did a pedophile defiling the 15 year old daughter of the Miller's family say my 11 year old brother's skin was the sign of the devil? Hm?"

No one says a word, even as they watch Tim twist his words and spill out every secret and dirty fact about the socialite.

They don't even stop him as they watch him beat the crap out of the person with out even trying when said person tries to throw hands with Timothey Jackson Drake, publicly known for getting into fights and winning as well as being graduated from every martial arts class in Gotham ever.

Police were involved, headlines were made, the Miller heir was no longer seen in public and her younger sibling was pronounced heir, and Tim Drake, not Wayne, got off without a scratch, repercussion, or warning.

Damian has never felt an older siblings' loving protection more than he did when he saw Tim grill that socialite. He s never felt more respect for the guy before. And suddenly Dick was lower on the sibling scale.

He was lower on the sibling scale for everyone. Good by #1 sibling Dick Grayson and hello Tim Drake.

Have a problem? Someone's mean or is picking a fight? Don't worry, Tim Drake's there.

Drake is more noticeable than Wayne when it comes to Tim, and everyone finds it out the hard way.

[emjayewrites]

a bellingham christmas (hey there delilah) • jude bellingham

SYNOPSIS: Real Madrid football star Jude Bellingham has had a big crush on Delilah "Lila" Hamilton, the younger sister of Formula 1 legend Lewis Hamilton, for a while. As their budding romance unfolds, will they be able to navigate the pressures of fame and family dynamics?

PAIRINGS: Jude Bellingham x Delilah "Lila" Hamilton (face claim Rayan Xasan)

WARNINGS: cursing, f1/football b.s., overly protective siblings, light smut, adult jokes (18+/minors dni)

TAGLIST: @dreamingjude @foreverisntenough @nichmeddar @lettersofgold @judesvirtual @perfecttrashface @alika-4466 @cocobutterqwueen @leilaxaliel @ispywithmylileye @vile-harlot @bellinghaalands @certifiedlesbianbaddie @yeea-nah @empressdede @saturnville @pinkcatcus @shepgurl @ffenthusiastt @serpenttines-library @judesprincess @bbgkoo @enretrogue @liamundi

A/N: Merry Christmas you filthy animals! Also bit of a spoiler for another story!

Bergen greeted them with a flurry of snow, the city's harbor twinkling with Christmas lights. Lila, bundled up in one of Jude's oversized hoodies under her coat, pressed her face against the car window like an excited child.

"It's so pretty," she breathed, watching the snow-covered houses pass as their driver continued down the road.

Jude smiled, watching her reaction. For someone who grew up with the glitz of Formula 1 and fashion weeks, Lila still had this endearing way of finding wonder in simple things.

The Bellingham's rented house sat overlooking the fjord, a modern three-story structure with floor-to-ceiling windows that captured the stunning winter landscape. Traditional Norwegian Christmas decorations adorned every surface and strings of white lights twinkled everywhere.

Inside was cheerful chaos. The massive Fraser fir dominated the living room, while Jobe and Mark engaged in their annual tree-placement debate.

"It needs to be centered in front of the window," Mark insisted, one hand on the trunk.

"Dad, no one's going to see it from the fjord," Jobe argued. "If we put it in the corner, there's more room for presents."

"Your son's thinking about his gift pile already," Mark called to Denise, who was orchestrating Christmas preparations from the open-plan kitchen.

"Both of you stop fussing and just put it where I marked the spot," Denise directed, not looking up from her baking. The scent of her famous rum cake already filled the air, mixing with pine needles and cinnamon.

At the sound of the front door opening, Denise's face lit up. She abandoned her baking, rushing to greet them with flour-dusted hands.

"My babies!" she exclaimed, pulling Lila into a warm hug, not caring about the flour transferring to Lila's coat. "How was your flight? Are you hungry? You look tired - Jude, did you let her sleep on the plane?"

Before either could answer, she was already moving on. "Jude, take her bags up - and yes, I put you in separate rooms so don't even try it." Her eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement. "Oh, and guess who's here? Justine! Can you believe it? Jobe finally worked up the courage to invite her."

She said this last part in what she probably thought was a whisper, but it carried clearly across the room. Jobe's protests of "Mum!" only made her beam wider.

"Now come in properly, you're letting all the warm air out. I've got hot chocolate ready, and there are fresh cookies cooling - unless your father's found them already."

Mark's guilty expression suggested he had indeed found the cookies, but Denise was too happy having all her children (and their significant others) under one roof to mind.

Lila's eyes widened. "Justine's here? Like, here here?"

"Upstairs getting changed," Denise nodded, clearly thrilled. "I've already started calling her daughter."

"Jesus, Mum!" Jobe groaned from across the room.

Just then, Justine appeared on the stairs, looking slightly nervous but happy. Lila hadn't seen her since that Liverpool match months ago, but the way Jobe's face lit up at the sight of her said everything.

"Li!" Justine smiled, coming over for a hug. "Thank god you're here. I need another sane person in this house."

"Oi!" Jude protested while Lila laughed.

"Don't worry," Lila stage-whispered to Justine. "The Bellingham boys are a lot, but you get used to it."

"I heard that," Jobe called out, but he was grinning as he made his way to Justine's side.

As they decorated the tree, Lila couldn't help but notice how Justine hesitated before placing each ornament, glancing at Denise as if seeking approval. It reminded her of her own early days with the Bellinghams, that desire to fit perfectly into their world.

"The star goes wherever you want, love," Denise assured Justine, seeming to sense her uncertainty. "We're not formal about these things."

Jobe appeared behind Justine, wrapping his arms around her waist in a move so reminiscent of his brother that Lila had to hide her smile. The Bellingham boys and their physical affection - always touching, always close.

"Here," Jobe murmured, lifting Justine slightly so she could reach a higher branch. "Perfect spot."

"You two are sickeningly cute," Lila told Jobe and Justine. "Almost as bad as your brother."

"Please," Jobe scoffed, but his hand stayed at Justine's waist. "We're way cuter."

"Don't start that competition," Mark warned, hanging lights. "I already know my sons can't keep their hands to themselves."

"Dad!" both brothers protested while Justine blushed and Lila laughed.

As the evening continued, Lila watched Justine gradually relax, especially when Jobe kept finding excuses to stay close - adjusting her Santa hat, bringing her hot chocolate, stealing quick kisses when he thought no one was looking.

"They remind me of us," Jude whispered in Lila's ear, pulling her onto his lap in the big armchair.

"Mm, young love," Lila teased, earning a playful pinch.

"Young love? You're like a few months older than them," he murmured against her neck.

"Still."

"Oh, Lila Bila. What am I gonna do with you?"

"Love me obviously," she said, turning her head to plant a kiss on his lips.

______________________________________________

Dinner was a lively affair, the table laden with both traditional English Christmas dishes and Norwegian specialties Denise had insisted on trying. Everyone wore paper crowns from the crackers, even Mark who usually protested such things.

Under the table, Lila texted Zuri:

Lila: "OMG. Jobe brought Justine to Bergen!! Like full-on family Christmas!!" Zuri: "NO WAY. Baby Bellingham's growing up 😭" Lila: "Girl, you should see them. So cute it hurts" Zuri: "Denise must be over the moon" Lila: "Already calling her daughter 😂 Poor girl looks terrified"

Watching Justine navigate the family dynamics was like looking in a mirror from months ago. The way she carefully laughed at Mark's dad jokes, how she kept glancing at Jobe for reassurance, the slight nervousness when Denise asked about her studies.

After dinner, they gathered for movies, everyone in pajamas. Jude pulled Lila close on the couch, his chin resting on her head. Jobe and Justine settled on the floor, surrounded by pillows, his hand absently playing with her hair.

The Polar Express played first. During The Grinch, Lila found herself watching the others more than the screen. Denise kept "sneaking" cookies to everyone, while Mark dozed in his armchair, occasionally waking up to quote his favorite parts.

When bedtime came ("Separate rooms, I mean it!"), Lila retreated to change into her silk pajamas. She sent her Christmas messages:

To Lewis: "Merry Christmas big bro! You deserve this break after your farewell tour. So proud of you heading to Ferrari! Give Amara a big hug from me (though I'm sure you're with her anyway 😉)" To her parents, Nicolas, and her sisters & Mama Carmen: "Miss you! See you for New Year's! ❤️"

The knock on her door surprised her - instead of Jude trying to sneak in more kisses, she found Justine.

"Hey," Justine whispered. "Can we talk?"

Lila ushered her in, patting the bed beside her. "What's up?"

Their conversation flowed easily, both girls cross-legged on Lila's bed. Justine confessed her worries about balancing university with Jobe's football schedule, about the media attention, about living up to the Bellingham name.

"I just... how do you do it?" Justine asked. "Dating a Bellingham boy while having your own life? I'm worried about next term at uni, and Jobe's schedule with Sunderland…"

Lila understood completely. "Honestly? Communication is everything. Jude and I make it work because we talk about everything. The good, the bad, the times we miss each other so much it hurts."

"And the fans? The comments?"

"Keep your Instagram private," Lila advised firmly. "Fuck the naysayers. Focus on you and Jobe. The rest is just noise. And remember - you're not dating the footballer, you're dating the boy who still collects Star Wars Legos and can't cook toast without burning it."

Justine laughed softly. "He's so good to me. Like, ridiculously good. Sometimes I worry it's too good to be true."

"Those Bellingham boys," Lila smiled. "They don't do anything halfway. Trust me, I get it. But that's who they are - all in, heart on sleeve, love without hesitation."

After Justine left, Lila snuggled into bed, feeling content. Her phone lit up with messages - Lewis sending a photo of him and Amara in front of their Christmas tree and Zuri updating her about the Megève adventures. And before she knew it, she drifted off to sleep.

In the middle of the night, Lila woke to the sound of wind whistling outside her window. Snow swirled in the darkness, creating shadows that danced across her ceiling. The storm had picked up, making the old house creak and settle.

Then she heard it - the distinct sound of floorboards in the hallway, followed by a particular pattern of knocks she'd know anywhere.

Three quick taps, pause, one more.

Lila tiptoed to the door, careful to avoid the squeaky spots she'd noticed earlier. Opening it revealed Jude wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a soft t-shirt.

"Can't sleep," he whispered, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "Just want to cuddle."

She stepped aside to let him in, both of them trying not to laugh as the floor creaked despite their best efforts. The storm outside provided perfect cover for their midnight rendezvous, the wind masking their whispered conversation as they settled into bed, Jude's arms wrapping around her waist.

"Your mum's going to kill us," Lila murmured, but she was already melting into his warmth.

"Worth it," he replied, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Jude’s body beside her chased away the chill from the storm outside. Lila had almost drifted back to sleep when his hands started to roam, fingertips brushing lightly along her waist over the silk fabric of her pajama top. She froze, her breath catching as he leaned in closer, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.

"Jude," she whispered, her voice a mix of warning and affection. "Your parents are sleeping in the same house."

"They’re on the floor below," he murmured, lips now at her neck, pressing soft, deliberate kisses against her skin. "They’re older, they can’t hear."

"That doesn’t make it—" Her words were cut off by the way his teeth lightly scraped against the sensitive spot just beneath her jawline. She shivered, her resolve slipping.

"You can be quiet, right, Li?" he teased, his voice low and raspy. She wanted to argue, to tell him no, but then his hands slid under her top, his palms warm and sure as they caressed her breasts.

"Jude," she tried again, but it came out as more of a breathy plea than the admonishment she intended.

"Hmm?" He kissed his way back up to her lips, capturing them in a kiss so soft yet so utterly consuming that she lost herself in it. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, then tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

He took his time undressing her, the silk of her pajamas slipping away under his gentle yet determined hands. She gasped as the cool air kissed her exposed skin, only to be replaced by the heat of his touch and the soft press of his lips around her nipples. She tried to remind herself of the risk, the fact that his family was downstairs, but every coherent thought melted under his attention.

Jude leaned back briefly, his gaze sweeping over her, full of adoration. "You’re perfect," he murmured, making her cheeks flush even in the dim light of the storm-filtered room. She reached for him, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, and he obliged, pulling it off in one smooth motion. The rest of his clothes followed until he was settled between her legs, his body fitting against hers as if they were made for each other.

He paused, reaching for the bedside drawer, and he couldn’t help the amused smile that tugged at his lips. "Prepared, are we?"

"Always," she replied with a grin, watching as he tore open the condom and slipped it on.

"Hoping I’d sneak in?"

"Who says I was?" she shot back, her voice light but teasing.

He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers, his smile softening into something infinitely tender. "Liar," he whispered before kissing her deeply, leaving no room for argument.

When he entered her, it was slow and deliberate, his movements filled with care as though he wanted to savor every second. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer as their bodies moved together in a rhythm that felt like home. Each kiss, each touch, spoke volumes of the love between them, a quiet exchange of promises neither had to say aloud.

He whispered her name against her skin, his voice rough with emotion, and she responded in kind, her fingers tracing patterns across his back. The world outside faded away, leaving only the storm, their shared breaths, and the warmth of their connection.

When they finally came undone together, Lila couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped her lips. Jude pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing still uneven as he smiled.

"Merry Christmas, Li," he whispered, his voice soft and filled with affection.

She smiled back. "Merry Christmas, Jude."

Denise’s favorite Christmas playlist was a thing of legend, and this year was no different. The opening notes of “Last Christmas” by WHAM! blasted through the house, the volume high enough to shake the walls.

Lila stirred, the sound pulling her from the warm cocoon of sleep. She blinked groggily, realizing the weight of Jude’s arm was still draped over her waist. The storm had subsided overnight, leaving behind a blanket of snow and a house filled with holiday cheer—and impending chaos.

"Jude," she whispered urgently, shaking his shoulder. "Jude, wake up! Your mum’s going to catch us!"

"Mmm," Jude groaned, burying his face into her neck. "It’s Christmas, Li. Relax."

"She’s knocking on doors," Lila hissed, her voice rising as she heard Denise’s cheerful voice in the hallway.

"Merry Christmas! Get up, get your presents!" Denise called, her knock sharp and rhythmic as she moved from room to room.

Jude finally opened his eyes, his groggy gaze meeting Lila’s worried one. "Okay, okay," he muttered, sitting up and stretching lazily. "We’ve got time."

"We do not have time!" Lila said, already scrambling to find her silk pajama top. She tugged it over her head just as Jude slid out of bed with a frustratingly calm demeanor.

He pulled on his flannel pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt, taking his time smoothing out the fabric. "See? Easy."

"Your mum is going to kill me," Lila said, tying her pajama pants as Jude opened the door a crack and peeked out.

"The coast is clear," he whispered with a grin, holding out his hand for her. She hesitated before slipping her hand into his, and together they tiptoed down the hall like a pair of guilty teenagers.

Downstairs, the living room was already buzzing with Christmas energy. Mark stood by the tree, fully dressed as Santa, complete with a fake beard and a red velvet suit. Denise, ever the festive one, was wearing reindeer antlers, a white cashmere sweater dress, and fluffy red slippers.

Justine appeared at the top of the stairs, looking a little overwhelmed but still smiling. "Good morning, Mr. Mark," she greeted, trying to stifle a laugh.

Mark, however, was fully committed to his role. "Who’s this Mark person? You don’t recognize Santa?" he boomed in a deep, theatrical voice.

Jobe groaned as he flopped onto the couch. "Why are you here, Santa? Don’t you have to be back at the North Pole?"

Mark clutched his chest in mock offense. "I’m very close to the North Pole, actually. Plus, I had to see my woman." He turned to Denise, pulling her onto his lap.

Denise giggled like a schoolgirl, clearly enjoying the attention. "Have I been a good girl this year, Santa?" she asked coyly.

"Okay, that’s enough!" Jude declared, his cheeks turning red as he began rummaging under the tree. "Let’s get to the presents before this gets any weirder."

As Mark and Denise continued their playful banter, the girls exchanged a knowing look. Justine mouthed, "This family is crazy!" and Lila couldn’t help but laugh.

Jude started handing out presents, his efficiency rivaling that of an actual elf. Justine unwrapped a small box from Jobe, her eyes widening as she revealed a delicate pair of diamond stud earrings. "Oh my gosh, Jobe," she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. "They’re beautiful."

Jobe grinned sheepishly. "Merry Christmas."

Lila’s heart raced as Jude handed her a small, velvet box. She opened it slowly, her breath catching when she saw the ring inside. It sparkled like an engagement ring, its delicate band and subtle diamond catching the light.

"Something for right now," Jude murmured, his voice soft as he took her hand. "Before the real thing."

Denise let out a gasp, her hand flying to her chest. "Oh, Jude! That’s so sweet!" She wiped at her eyes, clearly overcome with emotion.

Lila slipped the ring onto her finger, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and happiness. "It’s perfect," she said, leaning in to kiss Jude on the cheek.

After the presents were opened and the wrapping paper cleared, they gathered around the table for breakfast. Plates piled high with scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and freshly baked cinnamon rolls filled the air with the smell of comfort and celebration.

Mark, still wearing his Santa hat, insisted on leading a toast. "To family, to love, and to making this Christmas unforgettable."

The morning unfolded with laughter, teasing, and stories shared around the table. Despite the chaos and close calls, Lila couldn’t help but feel grateful. It wasn’t just the presents or the festivities—it was the warmth of being surrounded by people who loved each other unabashedly.

After breakfast, they bundled up for sledding. Lila disappeared under layers - thermal underwear, ski pants, and an oversized black Moncler puffer that made her look even tinier than usual. As she waddled towards the door, Jude couldn't contain his grin.

"You look like the cutest little penguin I've ever seen," he teased, earning himself a playful swat.

"Not all of us are built like trees," she retorted, but her eyes sparkled with amusement behind her designer ski goggles.

The hill behind the house was perfect for sledding. Jobe immediately claimed the fastest sled, prompting Jude to scoff.

"Please, you need all the help you can get," Jude taunted. "What's your technique gonna be? Naruto running down the hill?"

"Better than looking like a giraffe on ice," Jobe shot back. "You’re gonna lose, old man."

"Old man?" Jude's eyebrows shot up. "Alright then, prove it. First one to that tree wins."

"What tree? The one you can reach standing still?"

Their first few runs were close, each brother claiming victory while the girls kept actual score. Jude's longer legs gave him an advantage on the trudge back up, but Jobe's lighter frame meant faster runs down.

"That's three-two, my favor," Jobe gloated after another run.

"In what universe?" Jude demanded. "You're counting that wonky run where you nearly took out that bush?"

"A win's a win, bruv."

"Watch this then," Jude positioned his sled. "This is how a Real Madrid star does it."

His run was perfect until Jobe "accidentally" sent a spray of snow into his face at the bottom.

"Oh, you're done for," Jude growled playfully, tackling his brother into a snowbank.

They wrestled in the snow like kids, their expensive coats doing nothing to protect them from the wet cold. Justine and Lila stood to the side, sharing knowing looks.

From the porch, where Denise and Mark sat by the outdoor fire pit nursing hot toddies, came the warning they all knew was coming:

"Jude Victor and Jobe Samuel!" Denise's voice carried clear across the snow. "If you don't cut that foolishness out right now..."

The brothers separated instantly, recognizing that tone all too well. Their mother didn't need to finish the threat - they were already brushing snow off their coats, looking appropriately chastened.

"Every time," Mark chuckled, wrapping an arm around his wife.

"Works every time," Denise corrected with a satisfied smile.

Lila caught Justine's eye and they both burst out laughing. The mighty Bellingham boys, brought to heel by their mother's voice. Some things never changed.

"One more run?" Jobe suggested innocently.

"Clean one this time," Jude agreed. "No cheating."

"Me? Cheat? I would never-"

"Jobe."

"Fine, fine. May the best man win."

"Don't worry," Jude smirked. "I will."​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

As they watched their boyfriends take on another run down the hill, Lila realized how perfectly Justine fit into their chaos, just like she had. The Bellinghams had a way of making family out of love, of turning girlfriends into daughters, of making space in their hearts for more. Christmas with them was exactly that - chaotic, warm, and absolutely perfect.

lilahamilton and 6 others

liked by iamzuriawanto, sen_inthecity, amara_nadine, lewishamilton and 1.3m others

lilahamilton: best christmas ever 🎅🏾 🎄

view all 4.6K comments….

judebellingham: love you li 😘

⤷lilahamilton: love you more 🫶🏾

iamzuriawanto: lilhamilton & judebellingham you guys are sooo cute!!

⤷jadevanderwall: iamzuriawanto I know right!!

⤷lilahamilton: iamzuriawanto I think you and aurelientchm are cuter 😊

judilaforever: merry christmas 🎄

jobebellingham: 🎄 🎅🏾🍪

[godzillabreath]

unfortunately I do have more to say about wwdits.

I think one of the most egregious things about the development of the show over the seasons is the tonal shift. I was watching it from the beginning to convince myself I wasn’t crazy for feeling the first three seasons were better, and I felt vindicated.

It was always a dark comedy, but it wasn’t always a zany dark comedy. It had been grounded in real, everyday life. The vampires prey on a LARP group, the vampires ride a late night bus to go to a city council meeting, Nandor tries for citizenship, etc. I think once they started introducing a slew of supernatural creatures like a monster-of-the-week a la carte, the show became increasingly less focused and outlandish. There are episode I don’t like even in seasons 2 and 3 that are emblematic of this shift. The siren, the gargoyles, the troll—they just feel out of place in a story that is supposed to focus on out-of-time vampires and how they engage with the modern world. They aren’t really adding anything to the characters or the plot when they appear either. They just make a flashy CGI appearance and give some quippy line, which ultimately eats up time where our main cast that we actually care about could otherwise be on screen, doing things. And then there was a point in time where this show just did not allow itself any more sentimental moments between characters. These moments, for me, made for refreshing moments between comedic situations. It balanced the humanity in all of the main cast. But the show opted out of those moments, and it just became a back-to-back comedic situation with less and less interesting character moments to look forward to. Anyway, I just find it kind of sad that the writers completely detonated all of the characters’ inner emotional lives by the series finale. I liked to see Nadja bored in her marriage and pursuing this lustful encounter with Gregor through reincarnated generations. I liked to see Colin challenged by another energy vampire undermining his territory. I liked to see Guillermo struggling with his fractured relationship with his family, his discomfort in his own sexual identity, and his need to cling on to this group of vampires that disrespect him if only to find family and personal liberation in their company. I liked Nandor being so disconnected from modernity that he became listless and depressed and lonely and clung on to the idea that he might make himself human again. I liked the romance that the writers were building literally textually and in all of their marketing material from season 3: that Guillermo (at least) had these unrequited and very frustrating feelings for Nandor and how that affected their relationship with each other. I liked the idea of Laszlo forming these personal connections with both Sean and Colin, even if I found their conclusive arcs to be lackluster, strange, or unpalatable (baby Colin to weird co-parent Colin was a bizarre arc.) I liked the idea of Nadja wanting power and community because of the impoverished, desolate conditions she grew up under (especially the class dynamic of marrying Laszlo and how that could be at times a schism in their relationship), even if the writers did not care to expand upon this. The potential just drives me crazy. I can’t believe they opted out of tying up any of these emotional hooks. I think it might drive me crazy forever.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

More Than Meets The Eye

Pairing: Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.7k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Natasha stays over for a few days and kicks up drama for you and Bucky. She makes you realize that there is more than meets the eye when it comes to Bucky Barnes.

One in a Million Series

Square Filled: day-in-the-life (2024) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Natasha is usually very pristine and professional. She is widely known across the state as one of the best realtors the business has ever seen. She has clients who go for multi-million dollar homes, and she scores nearly every single sale she gets. If she acts out in public, it can largely affect her business, so she tends to keep to herself.

Not when she has alcohol in her system.

Like tonight. She’s in a fling with a musician who she only needs whenever she’s stressed, but it works for both of them. There aren’t any strings attached and they can still get their work done without the stress of a relationship. Natasha turns into a whole other person when she’s drunk. The slut in her comes out and she becomes even more bold. She’s normally shy and reserved.

Not tonight.

Whenever the musician is in town, he tends to stay at her place since he’s only in town for a few days. She texted you twenty minutes ago from a club downtown where the musician is playing. Clubs are not your thing but you’re there when she needs you. After checking in at the door, you push your way inside where there is a sea of people on the dancefloor.

You’re standing on a ledge that overlooks the club. You can either go upstairs where there are more private areas for people just enjoying the music with some drinks while the party is downstairs. From where you are, you can see Natasha and the musician on the other side of the bar.

“Natasha!” You yell even though you know she won’t hear you. You push your way through the sea of people, trying to ignore the hot sweaty bodies bumping into you. “Natasha!”

She turns when she hears her name. “Thank God, you’re here.”

“What’s going on?”

“I caught him with another woman in my bed! My bed!”

“You were gone. I have needs. What do you want me to do?” the musician groans.

“That’s my apartment, asshole! I want your shit out now!”

“I leave in three days. You get it back then.”

You can’t believe how he’s acting but you really don’t want to do this here and now. You grab her arm and pull her toward you. “Come on, he’s not worth it.”

“He’s at my apartment. I don’t want to go back there,” she groans.

“You can stay with me. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

She’d be more upset if she didn’t just have nearly eight shots earlier. Thankfully, she listens to you and leaves the club with you. Your car is in a gas station parking lot since there wasn’t any parking near or at the club.

“He’s not worth it, Nat.”

“I know, but still. It’s like I’ve got no game lately. All I want is a nice man who will take care of me.”

“Well, you got me.”

She wraps an arm around your shoulder. “I do have you. You’re my best friend.”

“I love drunk you,” you giggle. Ten minutes pass and you’re at your place. In the elevator ride up, you think about what the guys might be doing. “So, listen, the guys are home and I don’t need you to be all sexual and grabby like I know you get.”

“Got it,” she nods.

“I’m serious, Nat. Best behavior.”

“I hear you. Best behavior,” she grins.

“Wait here.” You open the door and walk inside. Bucky is playing video games, Steve is trying to read a book, and Sam is blowing straw wrappers at Steve. Some of them hit him and others fly on his book or lap. “Hey, guys. I have Natasha with me, and it looks like she’s going to stay with us for a few days.” Steve perks up at Natasha’s name. “Just letting you know, she is very drunk and she’s very bold and loose with her body. I am so sorry for whatever she might try on you guys.”

You open the front door and Natasha walks in with a sly smirk on her face.

“Natasha. Wow, you look amazing,” Steve says, forgoing his book altogether.

“Thanks, baby,” she grins.

“Okay, you can sleep on the couch tonight, and we’ll figure something out tomorrow. Let me get you some blankets and a pillow.”

You leave her with the guys and walk into your room. Seconds later, you hear the stereo turn on and loud music is blasted. You sigh knowing this was a possibility but hoped it wasn’t going to happen. When you walk into the living room, you see Natasha, Steve, and Sam dancing along to the music. Bucky is still on the couch, clearly not wanting any part of this.

“Natasha, you should really get some sleep.”

“Dance first! Bucky, come on!”

“I’m okay, really. I’m going to go to bed.”

She shimmies her way over to Bucky who stands up. She pulls him into her body, and he tries to politely get her off him.

“Natasha, come on. He doesn’t want to dance.” She lets him go and he slips by her easily. He looks at you as he passes but doesn’t say anything else. It looks like she won’t be sleeping anytime soon, so you put the blankets and pillows on the couch. “Okay, I’m going to bed. Keep it down in here, please.”

Ten minutes after you leave, Natasha starts to grow tired. Steve jumps at the chance to take her to bed even though he’s not going to do anything with her. He’s a gentleman and that won’t change even if she is intoxicated. He really likes her and if he wants to be with her, he’s going to have to show him he’s not just some fling she’s used to.

“Come on, let me show you to my bed.”

Steve wraps a strong arm around her waist and guides her to his bedroom. She flops onto the bed face first and is out like a light. Steve looks around and grabs a small blanket before draping it over her body. He joins Sam back in the living room and plops down on the couch with a grin.

“Why are you grinning?”

“She’s in my bed. I overheard some conversations she and Y/N have had. All she’s ever had are flings, so I’m going to show her that I can be the gentleman she needs.”

“Yeah, because that’s a way to get a girl into bed,” Sam laughs.

“Just you wait, Sam. It’ll happen.”

In the morning, you wake to Bucky nursing his second cup of coffee. Steve is sleeping on the couch which means Natasha must be in his bedroom.

“Good morning, Bucky.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Is that all you’re having for breakfast?” Bucky shrugs and you shake your head. “Not acceptable. You’re a growing man. You need proper food. I’ll make you some.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Nonsense. I want to. Do you like eggs? Pancakes? Waffles?”

“No, Y/N, I’m fine.”

“Eggs and bacon it is,” you smile. “You can have some with me. Plus, I’m sure Natasha and the guys will be hungry when they wake up.”

“I’m fine, Y/N. Stop being so nice to me. You don’t have to…”

“What?” you ask when he stops talking.

“You don’t have to take care of me.”

“Well, someone has to, right? Everyone deserves someone to take care of them every once in a while,” you smile and turn back to the food.

Bucky stares at you in thought. He nods and takes a sip of his coffee. At the smell of food, Sam and Steve wake up. The only person who is sleeping is Natasha, and you can only assume she is going to want a strong cup of coffee, so you start to brew a pot for her. Much like you assumed, she walks out of Steve’s room when she smells the coffee.

“Is that coffee?”

“Brewed a new pot for you. Extra hot. Extra strong.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“Natasha. I hope you slept well,” Steve smiles.

“Thank you for letting me use your bed. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s no problem. Our couch isn’t the best, and I didn’t want your back all messed up.”

Sam looks at Steve who smiles knowingly. Natasha pours herself a cup of coffee while you plate the food. You slide one over to Bucky and smile at him.

“Eat. I can hear your stomach growling from over here.”

Bucky doesn’t say a word but accepts the food from you. After a nice breakfast, Natasha hops in the shower to wash of the stink from last night, and Steve strips his bed to wash the sheets. Natasha might smell good, better than most, but she reeked of alcohol last night, and he doesn’t want his bed smelling like that.

You get dressed in a green and white dress that goes down to your knees, and you walk into the bathroom where the lotion is. You pause when you see Sam standing by the sink with a toothbrush in his mouth… without toothpaste. Steve is standing by the towel rack looking at the large amount of products he keeps there. His hair is always silky smooth and his skin always looks amazing. He has some of the best products that you like to steal from time to time.

“What are you guys doing?”

“I’m brushing my teeth,” Sam says in defense.

“I’m just… doing things,” Steve mutters.

Bucky walks into the bathroom and pauses when he notices everyone else. “Is this a normal hangout spot now?”

“Nat, you’ve been in there for ages. Come on,” you say and squirt some lotion onto your hands.

“Sorry, I just can’t seem to find any towels that are bigger.” She slides the curtain back after she secures a towel around her body. All three men are big guys but their waists are slim, so they don’t need big towels, and all of yours are in the washer. “Oh.”

Sam stops brushing his teeth and stares at her while Steve blushes hard. He wants to look but every time he does, his face goes red so he clears his throat and turns away.

“Okay, come on. I have something you can wear.”

Bucky’s brain takes a few minutes to process what’s happening, so he freezes up when she tries to go past him. He barely gives her an inch to move, and you shake your head in disappointment.

“I am very disappointed in all of you.” You look at Bucky. “Especially you. I thought you were better than this.”

“I am sometimes.”

You walk into your room where Natasha is going through your closet for something to wear. You close the door to give her privacy, and she turns holding a shirt you got out of whim. Your style isn’t very flashy but she convinced you to get this shirt that exposes a bit more cleavage.

“No, I haven’t worn it yet. Yes, you can.”

“Thanks,” she grins.

She grabs a pair of jeans that she left over one time and puts those on along with the shirt.

“So, are we going to talk about last night?”

“I blacked most of it out. What happened?”

“You almost gave Bucky a lap dance, and it was cute to watch Steve gush all over you. That boy likes you.”

“Ooh, are we talking about boys?”

“Yeah, like your ex-boyfriend musician. Are you going to kick him out of your apartment?”

“He’s going to be gone in a few days. Can I just stay here until he’s gone?”

“Nat, that’s your place.”

“I know, but you don’t know this guy. He’s a PR nightmare. It’s best if I let him stay there until he’s gone.” You shrug. “Let’s talk about Bucky now.”

“Bucky? What about him?”

“Come on. You say Steve likes me? Bucky likes you.”

“No, he doesn’t. We’re just friends.”

“You can’t be just friends with these guys. Do you really think none of them have ever thought about sleeping with you?”

“Stop, it Nat,” you sigh.

Someone knocks on your door and Bucky opens it.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m going to the store. Do you need anything?”

“Yes,” Nat answers for you. “You should go with him, Y/N, to get that thing you really need.”

“I don’t need a thing.”

“Yes, you do. You need that thing you were telling me about.”

“I wonder what that is,” Bucky mumbles.

“She’ll be right out,” Nat smiles. She closes the door on him and turns to you with a smile. “This is perfect.”

You look at her and your eyes widen. “No, you’re not doing this. You’re not going to come in here and ruin what I have with them. I’m finally happy after Jack, and I really like these guys. I think they’re starting to like me, too.”

“Do you remember telling me about your perfect man? Bucky is everything on your list. Physically strong. Check. Nice smile. Double check. Tall. Triple check. Blue eyes, kind, caring, knows what he wants, and older. Check, check, and check.” She walks closer to you. “Plus, did you see his feet? A guy’s feet always point to what they want, and his were pointing right at you.”

“How would you like him to stand?” You stand and point both feet outward like a duck. “Like this?”

“Come on, go. He’s waiting for you.”

“Hey, are you ready?” Bucky calls out.

“Be there in a sec, bro!”

“Did you just call me bro?”

You pause. “Yeah. I’m coming.” You open the door. “Talk to Steve. I think he can be good for you.”

“Only if you talk to Bucky.”

“Bye,” you roll your eyes.

The ride to the store wasn’t as awkward as you thought it was going to be, but being in the store with all these people, all you could think about were Nat’s words.

“So, how long is she staying?” Bucky asks.

He has a very short list of items to get, and he goes through the different aisles and puts them in the cart.

“Only for a few days. Her douchey ex-boyfriend is staying in her apartment. It’s a long story.”

Everywhere you look there are different kinds of couples. Older, younger, same sex… Everywhere you look, you’re paying attention to their feet. One older couple has both their feet pointed at each other while another couple has theirs pointed away from each other. That couple looks like they don’t enjoy each other’s company as much. Is she right? Bucky says something but you’re too much in your own head to hear what he has to say.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Stop taking care of everyone.”

You look down and notice his feet are pointing right at you. “Oh, my God.”

“What?”

“What?” You look up at him. “Nothing. What?”

“What?” You move slowly around Bucky but he follows you by moving his entire body and not just his head. “What are you doing?” You keep moving around Bucky to get his feet away from you but he keeps turning so that they’re always pointed at you. “I know she’s your best friend, but I didn't mean to insult you. I’m just saying you don’t have to take care of her.”

“I know.”

You do a complete one-eighty around him, yet he still follows you with his feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. I’m just trying to see…”

“Look, I’m sorry if I insulted you, but what are you doing right now?”

“I’m just… walking like a friend.”

“Okay, we have one more item on our list and then we can go. We just need toilet paper.”

��I don’t use it,” you say slowly.

“You don’t use toilet paper?”

You chuckle nervously and shake your head. “I mean… That’s not what I meant.” There is some right next to you so you grab the first one you see and put it in the cart. “Okay, we can go now.”

“You’re so weird,” he mutters and walks to the cashier.

Fuck, Natasha. She said something and now she’s in your head like a goddamn parasite. You two leave the store and start the journey back home. Bucky stops at the light and turns to you with confusion on his face.

“Okay, what is going on with you, Y/N?”

“Why do you have to do that? Why do you have to say my name like that?” You imitate him. “Y/N. And why do you have to wear old man clothes all the time?”

“I’m not wearing old man clothes. You don’t like the way I dress?”

“No… I just…” You fan your face. “I just need some air.”

All the windows are open but Bucky doesn’t comment on it. Just then, a woman walks up to the window carrying a bunch of red roses and is trying to sell them at stoplights like this one. You respect her trying to make extra money, but you can’t deal with this right now. All you can think about is Bucky and the fact that you saw his giant penis and the way his feet kept pointing at you.

“Roses for the lady?” the woman grins.

“You want some roses? I’ll buy you some.”

“No, I’m okay.”

Still, Bucky takes out some cash and hands it over to the woman who then gives the roses to him.

“Here, take some roses.”

“No, I don’t want them.”

“They were two dollars. Just take the roses.” You have to get out of here. You unbuckle and open the car door before fleeing. “Y/N, what are you doing? It was a joke. Get back in the car!” you take off running down the street. “Y/N!”

You don’t care if you’re going the wrong way. You just needed out of that goddamn car. It takes you an extra twenty minutes to get home when it could have taken you five in the car, but you needed the walk. You trudge inside your apartment to see Natasha sitting on the couch with a realtor magazine in her hands. She likes to keep up with what’s popular around the city.

“I walked all the way home,” you pant. “I got out of the war and walked all the way home.”

“What happened?”

“You happened, Nat. You got in my head! His feet were pointed at me the whole time.” She nods and stands up. “Is it the way I’m dressed? Is it my posture?”

“Look, I’ll talk to him for you.”

“No, please don’t. Just let me handle this, okay?”

The door opens and Bucky walks in with the groceries. “Okay, what the hell happened, Y/N? I’ve been driving around for the last thirty minutes looking for you. We were in the middle of traffic and you just got out and ran away.”

“I was hot,” you mumble.

“You were so hot that you had to jump out of my car and run?” You lean to the right and fix your posture. “Why are you standing like that?”

“This is how I always stand?”

“I’ve never seen you stand like that.” He shakes his head. “Look, I was worried about you, okay? You can’t just… Don’t do that again, okay?”

Bucky walks away and Natasha grins at you.

“Are you even listening to him? He’s trying to tell you that he likes you.”

“No, he’s just saying he cares about me as a friend.”

“Let’s go ask him.” She takes two steps and you jump on her back to stop her. She turns into the fighter that she is and starts to wrestle you, and you two go crumbling to the ground. “I am trying to help you, Y/N!”

“I don’t need your help, Nat. I like being friends with him. Yes, he has a giant penis that I saw. Yes, he saw me naked. Yes, he might be my dream guy, but none of that matters. He’s my friend and all that will go away if I bring this up. What if you’re wrong? What if he doesn’t like me?”

“A big part of my job is reading people. How do you think I managed to score as much as I have? I’ve managed to talk down narcissists and misogynists to buy more than the selling price. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. You never make the first move.”

“I have before, Natasha. I’ve been burned too many times to let it happen again. I like living here and that might go away because ‘you can read people’. I know you want to take care of me like I take care of you, but I have to handle this. Me, not you.”

“Fine,” she huffs out. “Thank you for letting me stay, but it’s best if I kick Troy out of my place. You got your boy drama and I have mine. Plus, I have a showing later in Beverly Hills I can’t miss.”

“You’re always welcome here.”

She leaves the apartment and Steve comes out of his room.

“Is she gone?”

“Yeah, she is.”

Steve sighs and flops onto the couch. “I don’t know how to do this. She’s not like any woman I have ever met. I thought we had a moment while you were gone, but it’s like it never happened with her.”

“Natasha has been hurt so many times. She had flings because in the last relationship she was in, he… I shouldn’t tell you this, but I will say this. She’s going to make you work for it.”

“That’s what makes it worth it,” he smiles.

“Good luck. She could use a guy like you.”

You’re exhausted by the end of the night, so you do your nighttime routine before going to bed. The first thing you do is brush your teeth. The door opens and Bucky walks in just as you start. You lightly blush just as Bucky grabs his toothbrush. You stand there in silence for a few minutes before you spit out the toothpaste in your mouth.

“Hey, I’m sorry for how I acted before.” Bucky looks at you. “Nat said something that freaked me out, but I’m good now. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“It’s okay,” he says with a mouthful of toothpaste.

He turns to the sink again and continues brushing, and you notice his feet move away from you and back to the sink. To hide your smile, you continue brushing your teeth, and your heart flutters.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[theunsinkableship1]

DENIAL IS NOT A RIVER IN LUKOLALAND

⚠️DISCLAIMER: This is Lukolaland only. Skip if you don't believe.

Denial is a river in LUKOLALAND?

This has to be a joke, right? Some responses that I have received on my latest posts on TT and Tumblr leave me perplexed. Let me make something clear: I’m not here to convince anyone of anything. You have the right to believe whatever you want, that’s your prerogative. However, this is a Lukola space. It’s a space that exists to celebrate their connection, to nurture it from afar, because it shines brightly and is uniquely beautiful.

I don’t know them personally. I can only judge from what I’ve seen and heard, and I fully acknowledge that my perception is biased. My interpretations come from the way I read into their actions, their words, and their patterns. What I share here isn’t fact, it’s speculation based on observation. The only thing I know for sure is that I don’t know what’s really going on.

First and foremost, they are colleagues and FRIENDS. They’ve said that multiple times, and I believe them. For those who doubt their friendship, I don’t know what to tell you. That’s the foundation here. If you don’t even believe in their bond as friends, this probably isn’t the space for you.

But here’s where it gets complicated: they’re not just platonic friends. You may have missed it, but the signs are there, publicly available. You just need to pay attention. I’m not talking about outlandish theories; I’m talking about what’s right there if you’re willing to see it.

I believe they’re in love with each other. As for their current situation? I’m not certain. But the level of plausible deniability in their story doesn’t make sense to me. Maybe it does to you, but for someone who thinks in layers, patterns, double entendres, and undertones, someone who loves words and has studied communication and PR, this whole narrative is anything but straightforward.

Leaving this much space for misinterpretation is a choice. If they wanted to shut this down entirely, they could’ve done so with clarity and finality. It’s not that they can’t make themselves understood without being misconstrued, they absolutely can. But they haven’t.

It’s wise to keep a level of doubt, it maintains objectivity and prevents overreach. However, when coincidences stack up and patterns emerge, it becomes increasingly unlikely that they’re all mere misunderstandings or products of plausible deniability.

The more coincidences there are, the less likely they are to be unrelated.

On their own, one or two could easily be explained away, “just friends,” “PR,” or “fans reading too much into it.”

When similar themes arise repeatedly over months or years (e.g., their timing, shared themes, subtle nods to one another), the likelihood of them being mere coincidence diminishes.

The concept of plausible deniability hinges on actions that could be explained in multiple ways. However, the more layers of ambiguity and deniability built into their interactions, the more intentional it feels.

The subtleties of their public dynamic suggest a shared awareness of fan interpretations. They know how their actions are perceived. To repeatedly engage in behaviors that could be "misunderstood" suggests either: a) Intentional messaging within safe boundaries. b) A significant lack of care, which doesn’t align with how thoughtful and calculated they seem to be.

Take Nicola’s recent Times interview as an example. She could have ended all speculation right there,

“A lot of people really want me to marry Luke,” she says with a laugh. “We have this gorgeous friendship. We have such a love for one another and this experience that I’ll never have with someone else again. Isn’t it gorgeous that a man and woman can have that sort of relationship with one another?”

but she didn’t. Why? There must be a reason. And no, it’s not just PR. PR campaigns don’t operate on layers of plausible deniability that stretch across years, interweave with personal moments, and rely on such specific timing.

Isn’t it strange that for two people who have been so close, their social interactions have significantly decreased compared to before? Over the past two years, especially after the world tour, they appeared to have solidified a deep friendship. If the intent is to disengage fans from the idea that they might be secretly in love, wouldn’t it be wiser to interact more naturally and perhaps even acknowledge each other’s perceived partners?

From a strategic perspective, a like, a follow, or a simple interaction on social media could have gone a long way in dismantling the Lukola narrative. Such actions would feel natural for close friends, especially ones under public scrutiny. Their reluctance to adopt this approach only adds to the curiosity. Why not lean into a strategy that would be less detrimental and more effective at quelling speculation?

Perhaps they are more active on private social media accounts, but publicly, the absence of these gestures stands out. If the goal truly is to clarify their relationship and put fan theories to rest, this perceived distance feels counterproductive. The choice to refrain from such actions, at least for now, is, at the very least, curious. Could it be that there’s a reason they haven’t done so yet?

Both Luke and Nicola have had ample opportunities to firmly address and deny the Lukola narrative. While they’ve made passing comments about being friends, these have lacked the clarity and directness that would fully quash the speculation. Why leave the door ajar if they truly wanted to shut it?

Their reduced interactions seem to have coincided with the conclusion of the promotional period for Bridgerton. During promotions, they were actively engaging with each other and the fandom, fostering the image of a close bond. The sudden change afterward could indicate a deliberate decision to recalibrate public perceptions of their relationship.

The decrease in public interactions after the “papgate” could be their way of managing fallout from the incident, yet it raises questions: Why would two close friends need to distance themselves so noticeably? It suggests a calculated retreat to reduce speculation. However, this strategy seems counterproductive, as the abruptness of the change has drawn more attention. A gradual shift, paired with natural acknowledgments of their respective supposed personal lives, might have been more effective.

It’s possible they’re still VERY close privately but have chosen to limit their public interactions to avoid misinterpretation, or for privacy reasons. If so, this deliberate choice to create distance publicly could point to a deeper connection they’re trying to shield.

This brings us back to patterns. If you observe their public interactions, their timing, their word choices, the double meanings, they’re not random. These coincidences pile up to the point where it’s hard to believe they’re all meaningless. Their bond transcends the boundaries of PR, platonic friendship, or even ordinary relationships.

If you reason in layers, you’ll see it too. The amount of room they leave for interpretation is extraordinary. It’s not just about what they say, it’s about what they don’t say. It’s about the undertones, the pauses, the way they navigate questions, and even the things they choose to share (or not share) on social media. All of this seems to be deliberate. The picture is larger and more intricate than it seems on the surface.

For example: Am I truly supposed to believe that Nicola, who has a higher degree in English and a major grasp of language, would post a Scrabble board with so many elements that could be interpreted through a Lukola lens purely by coincidence? Yes, she’s an avid player of word games, but let’s examine the board itself. It reflects competent but not advanced gameplay, logical and adhering to Scrabble rules, yes, but lacking the level of complexity, strategy, and nuanced word choice you’d expect from someone of her linguistic caliber or from a player displaying their skill.

For me, this was never just about showing off her love of Scrabble. It felt intentional, like an intended message rather than a casual post. If the goal was simply to share her hobbies or an aesthetic moment, she could’ve easily posted a picture of herself playing Scrabble, perhaps with a pint of Guinness in hand. Or she could’ve showcased a more advanced board to reflect her skills or creativity. Instead, she chose this specific board with these specific words, words that align so conveniently with a narrative many of us have come to associate with Lukola.

And let’s not forget her self-awareness. Why would someone who knows how deeply her posts are analyzed by fans continue to share things that are repeatedly misconstrued? If she didn’t want the association, why add layers of ambiguity, such as the now infamous “the very demure, very mindful” quote? What was the reason?

Just two days ago, she posted a photo in her best of 2024 the phrase "if you know, you know." Let’s be honest, how many Lukola edits have we seen that riff of "when you know, you know"? If this wasn’t related to that, what exactly was the point of the “random” quote?  Is it public knowledge or is it something only some know? Nicola is anything but random on social media. She’s chronically online, she’s clever, and she’s incredibly aware of the narratives circulating around her.

These patterns, Scrabble boards, cryptic quotes, wordplay, and selective ambiguity, don’t feel accidental. They feel curated. For someone so skilled with words and communication, there’s intention behind these choices. If it were just for fun, she could have chosen countless other ways to express herself that wouldn’t leave so much room for interpretation. But she didn’t. And for me, that’s speaks volumes.

I’m mainly talking about Nicola here because there’s simply more material to analyze, her posts, interviews, and public interactions offer more clues and layers to unpack. However, Luke’s activity, or rather, his noticeable lack of activity, is equally intriguing and worth examining.

Luke has always been more reserved on social media compared to Nicola, but his recent silence or carefully curated posts stand out. He’s not just absent; he’s selectively absent. There’s a difference between being inactive and deliberately staying under the radar. For someone who previously shared glimpses of his personal life and participated more openly in fandom engagement, his current approach feels intentional.

When he does post, the content often seems neutral, leaning into professional promotion or generic life updates. Yet, the timing or lack of acknowledgment of certain things, whether related to Nicola or even his supposed personal relationships, leaves room for speculation. It’s almost as if he’s consciously avoiding feeding into narratives while simultaneously not shutting them down.

For instance, why hasn’t he addressed certain rumors head-on, as he has done in the past with other relationships? Luke has historically been upfront about his. It’s a choice.

Considering that Luke has been involved in other projects and worked with other co-stars since the end of the Bridgerton world tour, the ratio of content related to Nicola remains strikingly high. Among the limited glimpses he does share, Nicola accounts for the largest percentage of reposts and interactions. What’s even more telling is that the majority of this content is Lukola-focused, centered on his dynamic with Nicola as individuals, rather than strictly Polin-related, which would be tied to their characters and professional pairing. Yes, she is his MAIN co-star within the Bridgerton universe, but this level of engagement is noteworthy.

This isn’t to say he doesn’t appreciate or acknowledge his other co-stars; it’s just that the weight of attention, however subtle, consistently gravitates toward Nicola. Whether it’s the choice of what he reposts or the absence of comparable attention toward other colleagues, the pattern emerges loud and clear.

If we analyze this through a lens of probability and statistics, the numbers paint an even more intriguing picture. Let’s say Luke has worked with five to seven notable co-stars in other projects and in Bridgerton, if he has been tagged in or had the opportunity to engage with 100 pieces of social media content since the world tour. If Nicola accounts for, say, 60% of the interactions and reposts, despite being one of many co-stars, it defies the expectation of a more even distribution.

For context, if he were equally invested in all professional relationships, the engagement with Nicola might hover closer to 15-20%, proportional to the size of his broader network. The fact that this number is so much higher, let’s conservatively estimate at least three to four times greater raises questions. Is this simply because of their shared Bridgerton fame? Perhaps. But then why focus on individual Lukola moments, bypassing more neutral or inclusive Polin or broader cast content?

From a mathematical standpoint, the odds of this being purely coincidental diminish significantly when you layer in the context:

Nicola has the highest percentage of reposts across Luke's social media activity.

The type of content intimate, personal, or Lukola-specific reflects a curated choice, not random selection.

Even in a professional context, where Polin content would be the obvious promotional focus, the Lukola-centric moments shine through.

Given the numbers and probabilities, it seems less likely that this pattern is accidental or merely reflective of professional obligations. Instead, it suggests an intentionality that aligns with the depth and uniqueness of their connection.

Promotion for Bridgerton Season 3 has come to a halt, creating a quiet period where we can observe and compare how Luke approaches the promotion of his other projects.it could highlight how unique his dynamic with Nicola truly is.

The nature of the content he shares for other projects will be equally telling

By comparing these promotional efforts both in terms of frequency and tone to the patterns established during the Bridgerton promotional cycle, we could gain insight into whether his approach to Nicola was truly unique or simply part of his broader professional routine.

When coincidences pile up, their probability of being just coincidences shrinks dramatically. A single instance might be random, but repeated instances with similar themes, timing, and emotional undertones suggest a deeper meaning. While maintaining doubt is reasonable, the sheer volume of these moments suggests that there’s more at play than mere misunderstanding. It’s not about overreaching, it’s about acknowledging that where there’s consistent smoke, there’s likely some fire. What type of fire is there currently? I’m not sure. Are you? Probably an Eternal flame.

[marypaol]

My Hurt, My Hurt

Harry James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Reader overhears Harry saying something hurtful. And words hurt.

Warnings: Crying, gossiping about others, mentions of eyes being puffy (I don’t know lol), angst, one bad word.

Note: For the lovely @pottermagiczz for requesting! I really hope you like it!

It wasn’t on purpose, the accidental occurrence of being right outside of the room where the conversation was taking place.

But her feet had taken her there, looking for her lost Potions book that she had perhaps left there previously. It was then where she heard murmuring, the voice of two teenage boys discussing something over hushed tones.

As an average person would, the curiosity brewing in her chest got the best of her, and, her Potions book slowly being forgotten, leaned her ear towards the room, trying to catch even a few words they were saying.

Fortunately for her, she quickly discovered that one of those voices were Ron Weasley, and it is common knowledge to know he’s not such a good whisperer.

“So you don’t like her?”

“Shh Ron! Not so loud, will ya?”

The owner of the second voice was obviously Harry Potter himself. She figured such since she often heard Snape call him out while she was working, and she started to recognize the voice without glancing upwards; plus she, as everyone else as well, quickly figured out Snape had a disliking for Potter.

“So you do?” Ron asked urgently, breaking the girl out of her thoughts about Potions, her mind once again slowly forgetting her book that was probably on the table right in front of where they were talking.

“No I don’t. She’s crazy, Ron. Always talking about him. I tried to talk about something else, but she just started crying.”

The girl would’ve heard a undisturbed laugh, but what she heard instead was Ron muffling it with his hands, somehow making it sound more obvious of his chuckles.

Her heart squeezed with anxiety. She recalled a moment, a moment where she didn’t want to remember, but her brain brought it to the front of her mind anyway, pushing it into her thoughts despite her protests.

It started with a sweet Hufflepuff boy she encountered, resulting in blushing cheeks and brushing shoulders. Their lips have locked and their hands have intertwined. But even by a couple months he locked lips with another girl in what they thought was an abandoned corridor, her teary eyes being the next thing he saw when he heard a sniffle.

He tried to explain, tried to gain her broken heart’s pieces back together, but it was no use. So she was left broken and teary-eyed, running through the halls before bumping into Potter, his flustered face turning scarlet out of surprise and embarrassment when he saw she was crying.

He had comforted her that day, warm arms she always dreamed of being in wrapping around her shoulders. She observed from a far that when he hugged friends after Quidditch games, he often placed his face in their neck, and he was doing just that. His nose tickled her skin, his soft breathing brushing it. His lips were something she would always remember, for his mouth was touching her shoulder. She remembered shivering in the best way, but she hoped he took it as she was shaking from the endless sobs that were previously escaping her. But as soon as he wrapped his arms around her, as soon as his lips touched her skin, as soon as his heartbeat was beating in her ears, the sobs ceased.

Was he talking about her? The moment where he held her at her most vulnerable state, the moment he provided her so much comfort that she believed nothing could hurt her again. He could’ve been taking about anyone else in the school, for there was so many girls they could be discussing.

But only one girl he comforted while she was sobbing over a break up with a boy. And that was her.

So yeah, it burned, it burned when he talked about that moment like it was nothing, like the comfort he provided her was fake. Did he even care? Why would he be annoyed by her hurt? Why would he be annoyed when her heart was crushing by the second, watching as her hands fumbled with the pieces as he held her?

And something else burned, besides her chest that was trying by the second to stay together, and that was her eyes, for the tears were brimming her lids.

Her vision got blurry. And yet she stayed, her brain telling herself that he had more to say, more words to destroy her with before she finally walked away.

And she was right, painfully, for Harry wasn’t done yet.

“Why was she crying?” Ron asked. She could hear Harry’s eye roll in his voice, annoyance dripping from his words.

“It’s obvious, Ron. He isn’t with her anymore.”

“Right.” Ron muttered. “Well didn’t she have the right to be sad?”

She peaked just enough to see Harry shrug. “I mean I guess but it was so awkward- like go cry to someone else, please. Plus she ruined my robes with snot.”

It wasn’t just the words that hurt, but the tone in the boy’s voice. He sounded done, annoyed even. But why would he decide to comfort her when he was gonna later go and make of it?

She backed away from the door, eyes burning with the very tears he just ridiculed. She faintly heard Ron bid goodnight, his heavy steps going up to the boys’ dorm once Harry said the same thing.

She was sure she heard Harry’s footsteps as well, squeaky shoes from rainy Quidditch practice going up the stairs, following Ron.

She entered the Common Room then, eyes blurred as she spotted her Potions book on the table. She gripped it in her fingers, almost like she was giving it her pain before practically sprinting up the stairs to her own dorm, a sob wedged in her chest the whole way up.

As soon as she entered the room the noise was let out, the pain in her chest far worse than it was that night in his arms. She sat on her bed, hugging a pillow as if it would take her heart ache.

She thought Harry cared about people other than his friends. She thought he was nice. Maybe the popularity around Hogwarts just made him careless. She didn’t know the reason, but all she knew was that she was planning on never talking to Harry again.

It’s not like he would care anyway, right?

Her eyes were red the next morning. Which was something she hated, but she had to deal with it. She could’ve simply put her wand to her face and casted a spell to get rid of it, but she recalled an occurrence where a girl in Hufflepuff did that only to have such puffy eyes she couldn’t see for two days; even the nurse took forever to get the swelling down.

But, to her fortune, they swelled down a little bit by the time it was breakfast.

She sat in her usual spot, the one no one else sits at, away from everyone else.

Yes, it as her Fourth Year at Hogwarts and her she still didn’t really have any friends. Sure, she was on good terms with Hermione and Ginny, but they didn’t speak to her often, mainly focused on Harry.

Harry.

They spoke quite a lot since the encounter in the corridor, her crying in his arms. He would stop by her dorm steps and walk her to class, walk by her in the corridors and catching up on the latest news.

But ever since last night she wanted to break that bond, for now she thought differently of the boy. She wouldn’t lie though, she did miss talking to him. She missed the smile he would give her in the mornings, and the soft giggles they would share in Potions class, making fun of how Snape’s nose looked abnormally large that morning.

But it was all over.

She thought he cared about her.

Was all those exchanged giggles and smiles for nothing? Just a cruel joke to him when to her they meant everything?

She ended up not being able to eat that morning, for the swirling in her stomach from Harry’s words kept her from doing so.

She kept her head down most of the meal, not wanting to make accidental eye contact with anyone so they could see her partly red eyes.

It wasn’t until her ears picked up on the sound of feet stepping toward her that she looked up.

Only to meet green eyes the color of freshly grown spring grass.

She almost flinched at the sudden company, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Why did he want to talk to her? He just made fun of her, now he’s gonna act like he cares?

His lips parted and closed like a fish for a couple seconds, them just staring at one another before he spoke. “Hi.”

His voice was shaky but he didn’t stutter.

She cleared her throat, embarrassed that he probably could see her red eyes. “Hello, Harry.”

She mentally cursed him for looking so good today. He didn’t look any different than the other times she’s seen him, realistically, but maybe the fact that she planned not to talk to him her mind highlighted all his good features.

His glasses framed his eyes exceptionally perfect, cheeks flushed and eyes darting too and fro every couple seconds.

Damn it Harry, why do you have to be so cute?

She cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”

He swayed on his feet, putting his weight on one leg then the other. His eyebrows shot up as if he was surprised at her question before putting himself together and replying.

“W-” his throat cleared. “Why aren’t you talking to me anymore?”

She almost was thrown back by his answer. He couldn’t be serious.

But the hopeless tone in his voice proved her otherwise, like he genuinely wanted to know. The way his eyes were so wide in confusion and wonder behind his glasses, wondering why she was avoiding him.

Obviously he didn’t know she was outside the Common Room during his complaints towards her, but why did his confusion and slight hurt look so genuine?

She cleared her throat, both to make her voice not crack and clear her running questions in her mind. “I think it’s quite obvious, Harry.”

His confusion only got deeper and more expressive, eyebrows furrowing and forehead ceasing in thought. “I’m afraid I do not follow….”

She suddenly felt a spur of anger towards the boy before her, own eyebrows scrunching in frustration. “Don’t act like you don’t know, Harry. Don’t act like what you said wouldn’t have any effect on me whatsoever.”

“What I said?” He questioned, face showing even deeper confusion. “I didn’t say anything about you, not anything negative that is.”

“Oh don’t lie,” she found herself blurting out. “I heard you saying that I was annoying and that you wanted me to drool all over someone else-”

“Woah,” he interrupted, stepping forward and grabbing her arm oh so gently. He then let a light-hearted laugh escape his lips, unknowingly to him only raising the anger inside her.

“What’s so funny?” She demanded, trying to rip her arm out of his grip but failing to do so.

“Love,” he started softly, sitting down beside the girl and finally letting go of her arm, leaning his elbow on the table in front of them. He then faced her, face showing so much genuine feelings that she had trouble staying angry with him, so much so that she felt the snarl on her lips falling into a slight frown.

He then tapped her leg to bring back her attention to him, as if her brain wasn’t already crowded with thoughts of the black-headed boy. “Did you even hear your name within the conversation?” He asked gently, a teasing glint in his eyes.

She scoffed, like the answer was obvious, but now that she thought about it she couldn’t quite place hearing her name in their discussion, for he just used pronouns. But that didn’t make the possibility of them discussing her any less.

“Well, no, but that doesn’t mean-”

He sighed, shushing her softly. “Yes it does, because I wasn’t even talking about you. I was talking about..” he then hesitated, almost like the actual person he was gossiping about was watching him over his shoulder. “I was talking about Cho.”

The girl’s eyes widened, subconsciously spotting forward on the bench of the table closer to him. “But I was crying and you comforted me,” she protested, still trying to convince herself that she was the person he was talking bad about. But Cho? What had she done to Harry to make him talk so negatively about her?

“So did Cho,” Harry started. “Sobbing about Cedric. And I know that it was a valid reason to be crying about, but it was awkward because we aren’t that close, and she ruined my freshly cleaned robes.”

The girl couldn’t help it, she let out a tiny giggle at not only the fact that Harry was complaining about his robes, but the face he made. He looked like he genuinely felt bad for talking bad about the Ravenclaw, yet deep down he really wasn’t sorry; his expression of showing it was too funny not to laugh at.

“Hey, I feel kinda bad now, okay?” Harry attempted to protest, but he still had a curved corner to his lips.

“It’s okay, Harry,” she assured. “I’m glad you weren’t talking about me, because I would definitely missed talking to you.”

Harry’s cheeks dusted pink which made her admire him more than usual, his shoulders curving into his neck to attempt to hide himself.

“I just wanted to let you know,” Harry’s voice suddenly went lower, in a quiet whisper that she had to slightly lean in to hear him. “That I don’t at all regret what I did to comfort you, and that I care about your feelings. And that I would never to anything to intentionally harm them.”

It was the girl’s turn to have flushed cheeks, for she could feel them burning her face up at that very moment. Her heart fluttered at the praise and the love that flooded his words. She felt warm all over, her chest fuzzy with emotion as she shyly looked away from him. “Thanks, Harry. That means a lot to me. And that goes for me as well, I care about your feelings too.”

Harry smiled, something she wanted to see every second of her life. His eyes crinkled beneath his glasses, happiness flooding his features and she could feel her cheeks warming, all because of the boy in front of her.

“Do you think that we can forget this misunderstanding and start over?” She asked almost shyly, like she was embarrassed for assuming their discussions were about her.

Harry eagerly nodded, making her chuckle, and they shook hands to seal their promise.

Let’s just say that those intertwined hands didn’t separate until they got to their next class, for they were afraid Snape would ridicule them at their public forms of affection.

[thedemoninme141]

Not a bad Christmas (set in the "Not a bad day" universe)

Summary: Wednesday ended up as your "Secret Santa".

Theme: FLUFF!

Parings: Wednesday Addams & Female Reader Wordcount: 5.8k. Set in the "before dating" period

Warnings: JealousWednesday!!! Cringe Fluff?

(A/n: I know the next chapter was supposed to be in "after dating" period but I felt like it would be better in "before dating" period.)

“I am SO excited!” Enid declared, her voice loud enough to draw glances from neighboring tables. She didn’t care. "You guys, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment."

"For breakfast?" Yoko asked dryly, sipping her coffee.

"No, for this!"Enid gestured dramatically, nearly knocking over her juice. "The Christmas party! You all know Principal Weems put me in charge this year, right?"

"You’ve mentioned it," Bianca said with sarcasm. "Maybe only a hundred times."

Eugene adjusted his glasses, looking genuinely intrigued. "What’s the big deal about this year's Christmas party?"

"Eugene, it’s not just a big deal. It’s the biggest deal!" Enid leaned in, her voice dropping as she whispered "I pitched an idea to Principal Weems that is going to make this the most amazing, unforgettable Christmas party ever!"

"What’s the idea?" Eugene asked,

"I’m not telling!" Enid sing-songed. "It’s a surprise! Weems might even announce it today."

“If it’s not as groundbreaking as you’re hyping it up to be, we’re going to riot.” Bianca said dryly.

“I can handle the pressure!” Enid declared, “I was born for this. And besides, Christmas is my favorite holiday. It’s sparkly and cheerful, and everyone gets to come together! It’s the one time of year people have no excuse to be grumpy.”

Wednesday’s dark gaze flicked to Enid, a sarcastic remark brewing on her tongue. However, she bit it back, opting instead for a slow sip of coffee. Grumpy? She could name a dozen reasons why grumpiness was not only justified but necessary—especially during a holiday that encouraged excessive sentimentality. She glanced sideways at you, seated just beside Enid, you looked intrigued. Great.

She didn’t need her visions to predict that whatever Enid had in store would be an exercise in torture for her, and likely for everyone else. She hoped she would be able to ignore it, maybe stay locked in her room during Christmas but then, there was you... who just glanced back at her, giving a warm smile.

Wednesday quickly looked away, back at her food... oh wait she was done eating.

Why did you smile at her like that? Why did her heart just skip a beat? Why did her stomach twist into knots at your smile?

“Wednesday!” Enid’s voice cutting through her reverie.

“What?”

“I said, aren’t you so excited for the announcement?” Enid beamed at her, completely oblivious to Wednesday’s growing annoyance.

“Thrilled,” Wednesday deadpanned, “Nothing brings me more joy than waiting for yet another banal attempt at forced merriment.”

Enid pouted. “Come on, don’t be such a Grinch. This is going to be so fun! Right?” She nudged you with her elbow, seeking validation.

You chuckled softly, nodding. “It’ll be fun, Enid. I’m sure whatever you’ve planned is going to blow everyone away.”

“See? At least someone believes in- Oh, Weems is here!"

The din of student conversation gradually quieted as Weems stepped into the center of the quad, her presence commanding attention.

"Good morning, everyone," Weems began, her voice clear and authoritative. "As you all know, the holiday season is upon us. This year, we aim to celebrate with a bit more… normalcy, after last year’s unfortunate events." Her eyes flicked briefly toward Wednesday, who met her gaze with a defiant smirk. Unfortunate? Maybe. Enjoyable? Yes.

Weems cleared her throat. "To that end, I’m pleased to announce a new tradition for our Nevermore Christmas celebration: a Secret Santa gift exchange!"

The announcement was met with a collective groan from the students.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Yoko muttered. "Ugh, I hate shopping for other people," Bianca complained

"What if we just… don’t do it?" someone called out from another table.

Weems’ smile tightened, her patience visibly waning. "Participation is mandatory. Each student will draw a name at random later today and will be expected to provide a thoughtful, appropriate gift."

"This is absurd," Wednesday declared, her tone icy. "Forcing us to partake in such a vacuous activity only reinforces the notion that conformity is more valued than individuality."

"Oh, come on, Wednesday," Enid said, her excitement undiminished. "It’ll be fun! You might get something you like."

"Doubtful," Wednesday retorted. "Unless my Secret Santa has access to poison or medieval torture devices or a collection of preserved organs or..."

Your giggle interrupted her, earning a sharp glance from Wednesday. "You know, it’s not that bad," you said, leaning slightly toward her. "Maybe you’ll get something one of those things."

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. "Hightly unlikely"

Enid, meanwhile, was practically bouncing in her seat. "I can’t wait to see who I get! This is going to be amazing!"

"Amazing for you," Bianca said dryly. "For the rest of us? Not so much."

Weems raised her hand for silence. "That will be all for now. The details of the exchange will be posted later today. I trust you all will approach this with the spirit of the season in mind." Wednesday wants to summon a sprit to haunt that excuse of a principal.

With that, Weems turned and strode away, leaving the quad to devolve once more into hushed complaints and reluctant acceptance. Enid turned to you, her eyes sparkling.

"This is going to be SO GREAT!" she said, grabbing your arm. "I already have, like, a million gift ideas. What about you? Are you excited?"

You smiled, glancing briefly at Wednesday, whose scowl had deepened even more as if that was even possible. "I think it’ll be… interesting."

"Interesting?" Enid repeated. "It’ll be fantastic! Secret Santa could be a good bonding activity.” Enid said, her chipper tone grating against Wednesday’s mood.

“I’d rather bond with a guillotine,” Wednesday muttered as the group started gathering their things for class. Enid, still beaming with unrelenting excitement about the Secret Santa announcement, latched onto Wednesday’s arm, chattering nonstop about potential gift ideas and how this year’s Christmas party would outshine any before it. Wednesday, for her part, thought about finding whoever this Santa Claus is and putting an end to him.

Entering the classroom, Wednesday took her usual seat and Enid plopped into the chair beside her. You were just a few seats ahead, settling into your spot. The seat next to you, tantalizingly empty…

Nate? Nick? or whatever his forgettable name was appeared in the doorway. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the empty seat beside you. He brightened instantly, taking a step forward as though he were about to claim it.

Then his gaze shifted to Wednesday.

Wednesday’s expression remained perfectly neutral, except for the sharp, unmistakable intensity in her dark eyes. She didn’t flinch, didn’t speak. She simply stared at him.

The boy froze mid-step, his face paling. His eyes flicked to the faint burns on his hand, still healing from the “accidental” cocoa incident at the ugly sweater party.

“Oh, hell no,” he muttered under his breath, spinning on his heel and fast-walking to a corner seat as far away from Wednesday as possible.

The scene would’ve pleased Wednesday had it not been for the way you glanced back at her, curious and faintly confused. She quickly diverted her gaze, feigning interest in the carved graffiti on her desk.

Moments later, Bianca came in. Her eyes immediately landed on the empty seat beside you. She started walking toward it, only to pause midway. Instead of sitting there, she veered toward Enid and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Enid,” Bianca said smoothly “mind switching seats with me?”

Enid’s face lit up. “Of course! You can sit here! I can sit next to Y/N!” She began gathering her things without hesitation, practically skipping to the seat beside you.

Bianca slid into Enid’s vacated spot,

“You are not wanted here,” Wednesday said icily, her tone as sharp as a blade.

Bianca rolled her eyes. “Relax, Addams. I’m not here for your sparkling personality. I just figured sitting here was safer.”

“Safer? Why would sitting beside "me" would be safer?” Wednesday’s tone turned even colder.

Bianca smirked. “Please, as if we haven’t noticed how you practically plot murders in your head for anyone who gets too close to Y/N.”

Wednesday’s spine straightened, her glare intensifying. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, spare me the denial,” Bianca said dismissively. “Enid is safe from your wrath because, well… she’s Enid. But me? Let’s just say I care too much about my life to be a victim of your jealousy.”

“I am not jealous,” Wednesday hissed, her voice low but venomous.

“Uh-huh.” Bianca gave her a knowing look before turning her attention to the front of the room, clearly enjoying herself.

Wednesday’s hands clenched into fists beneath the desk, her dark eyes flitting back to you. You were laughing softly at something Enid had said, your smile so warm it could melt snow. Wednesday felt a strange mix of frustration and longing twist in her chest. How could someone like you affect her so profoundly without even trying?

“Alright, class,” the teacher finally announced, setting down her book with a flourish, “we’re ending a little early today because it’s time to find out who your Secret Santa recipient will be!”

“Yes! Finally!” Enid exclaimed, bouncing in her seat like a hyperactive puppy.

Wednesday’s gaze shifted to the front of the room, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. A new wave of dread crept into her mind. This was it, the moment she’d been dreading since Weems’s announcement.

“Each of you will receive a small box. Inside that box is the name of the person you’ll be playing Secret Santa for." The teacher said, "Miss Sinclair, I believe you have the materials?”

“Oh! Yes, one sec!” Enid practically bolted from her chair, nearly toppling it in her haste. She sped out of the room in a blur of rainbows🌈🌈🌈, leaving everyone staring after her.

Wednesday felt like it hadn't even been 5 secs before Enid burst back into the classroom with a large, overly festive box clutched in her arms.

“Ta-da!” she declared, dropping the box onto the teacher’s desk with an audible thud.

Several students groaned at the display.

“Why is it so… glittery?” The teacher asked.

“It’s Christmas!” Enid replied, as if that explained everything. She opened the larger box to reveal an assortment of tiny boxes, each neatly wrapped and tied with red ribbons. “Pretty, right?”

Wednesday arched an eyebrow. “If you mean ‘pretty excessive,’ then yes.”

Enid ignored her, already grabbing a smaller box. “Okay, so I’ll start handing these out! Bianca, wanna help?”

Bianca sighed but stood anyway, muttering, “Might as well get this over with.”

The two of them began pulling out the tiny boxes, reading the names written on them, and distributing them around the room. Students grumbled their thanks, some reluctantly and others with mild curiosity as they turned the boxes over in their hands.

When Enid finally reached Wednesday, her excitement was still at an all-time high. “Here you go, Wends!” She thrust the small box toward her.

Though Enid had wrapped the box with black paper, Wednesday stared at the box as though it might explode. She took it with her usual reluctance, her fingers brushing against the ribbon’s texture.

With deliberate slowness, Wednesday pulled the ribbon loose, lifted the lid, and peered inside.

Hopefully, it would be someone she loathed. The possibilities were endless: a smug siren, an irritating vampire, or perhaps even that one werewolf who insisted on howling every full moon at midnight since she wolfed out. Yes, she could relish the challenge of giving them the worst, most spiteful gift imaginable.

But luck had a way of avoiding her at the worst times.

The name on the slip of paper felt like a slap in the face.

Curse you, Enid Sinclair.

Y/N L/N.

Her stomach dropped. Of all the names. Of all the cursed possibilities.

Wednesday’s chest tightened. This was a disaster.

Being your Secret Santa meant she’d have to think about you even more than she already did. She’d have to choose a gift, something meaningful, something that wouldn’t betray the tangled mess of emotions she felt whenever you were near. She couldn’t risk exposing herself, couldn’t let you know how much you affected her.

And yet, a small, treacherous part of her was… excited. The thought of giving you something, of seeing your reaction, was almost enough to outweigh her dread. Almost.

Her jaw clenched. No. She couldn’t let this ridiculous tradition get to her. She’d find the most generic, impersonal gift possible and be done with it. That was the only way to survive this.

But as she watched you lean back in your chair, your gaze flickering toward her with a curious smile, Wednesday felt her resolve waver.

This was going to be the longest Christmas of her life.

Enid practically hop-skipped down the hall as she clutched a small notebook filled with ideas for Eugene’s Secret Santa gift to her chest. She was going to be the best Secret Santa ever.  

"Maybe I can knit him a bee-themed scarf! Or get him a limited edition honey collection—do they even make those? I’ll make it happen!"

She pushed the door open to their shared dorm room, fully expecting to see Wednesday brooding on her typewriter or reading some obscure book about medieval torture methods. Instead, she froze mid-step.

"Wednesday… what the hell is this?"

Wednesday had her cursed investigation board back out, its surface covered in a chaotic mess of photos, red strings, and notes. At first glance, it looked like Wednesday was solving another gruesome murder in the woods.

Enid’s pulse quickened. "Oh no, no, no. What happened now? Did some monster claw its way out of the woods again?"

Wednesday didn’t immediately respond. She was too engrossed in pinning another photo to the board, her expression dark with concentration. Enid’s eyes scanned the board, her heart pounding as she prepared for the worst. But then her gaze landed on the pictures.

Your pictures...

Not once, not twice, but in multiple photos. Some candid shots of you laughing in the quad, others from a class project presentation, even one blurry photo of you reading in the library. There were sticky notes around them, though the handwriting was too small for Enid to make out. She blinked, her mouth falling open.

“Wednesday,” she began cautiously “what is this? What did Y/N do?”

Finally, Wednesday turned her head to look at Enid, her expression unreadable, clearly annoyed at the interruption. “Y/N did nothing.”

“Then why... why is she all over your investigation board?! Are you trying to prove she’s some kind of secret villain or something? Because I’m telling you, Wednesday, Y/N is, like, the nicest person I know.”

Without a word, Wednesday plucked a folded slip of paper from her desk and shoved it into Enid’s hands. Enid unfolded it and read the name written in sharp, neat letters.

Y/N L/N.

The realization dawned on Enid almost instantly. Her lips parted, forming an "O" of understanding. "Ohhhhh," she said, drawing the sound out like a squeaky balloon. "You’re her Secret Santa!"

"Astute observation," Wednesday deadpanned, crossing her arms.

Enid’s eyes darted back to the board, her previous panic replaced with intrigue. "So, is this—?"

"Yes," Wednesday interrupted with a sigh, "This is… research."

"Research?" Enid echoed, "Wednesday, this is borderline stalking. You don’t need an entire murder board to pick out a gift!"

Wednesday’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond. Her gaze flicked back to the board.

Enid’s eyes scanned the chaotic collage again, only to land on a picture of another student, a girl... Darcy? Enid remembers. Unlike the others, this photo had a bright red circle drawn around it.

"Uh, Wednesday?" Enid said cautiously, pointing at the circled picture. "Why is Darcy on here?"

Wednesday’s response was immediate and emotionless. "That girl is Y/N’s nemesis. I thought perhaps eliminating her would be an appropriate gift."

Enid gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Nemesis? What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Darcy spilled coffee on Y/n." Wednesday said flatly.

“Spilled Coffee??!!” Enid repeated, her voice rising in disbelief. “Darcy spilled coffee on Y/N six months ago. By accident! And she apologized, like, a hundred times.”

“Same thing,” Wednesday said, her tone indifferent.

"Alright alright. Lets take it down a bit. Have you tried thinking about something normal? Maybe a book." Enid asked shrugging.

Wednesday glared at Enid. “A book? How unimaginative. I refuse to insult her intelligence with something so pedestrian.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to help,” Enid shot back. "How about you tell me the list of what you have considered."

“A taxidermy specimen,” Wednesday offered.

“Dial it back.”

“An antique dagger that captures the souls of its victim.”

“No, that's... wait... does that actually exist?”

“A preserved tarantula.”

“Wednesday!” Enid groaned, throwing her head back. “You can’t give her something creepy! You’ll scare her off!”

Wednesday’s expression darkened, and she muttered under her breath, “It’s better than being dull.”

“Look,” Enid said, stepping closer and placing a hand on Wednesday’s shoulder. “I get it, okay? You like her. Like, really like her. And that’s scary and new to you, I get it. But you’re making this way harder than it needs to be. Just think about what would make her smile. That’s all that matters.”

Wednesday’s gaze softened, her usual sharp retort dying on her lips. She glanced at the board one more time, her mind swirling with uncertainty. “What if… I choose wrong?”

Enid smiled gently. “You won’t. You know her better than you think.”

Wednesday didn’t argue. But as she looked back at the pictures of you... and that smile. Maybe the answer really was simple.

And so, she found herself standing at the edge of the quad.  her dark eyes surveying the chaos.

She held the small box in her hand, its contents weighing far more heavily on her mind than its actual physical mass. The box was simple plain black, tied with a thin crimson ribbon.

This was idiotic. Completely, utterly idiotic.

Ridiculous, she thought, glancing down at the gift. Why should this be any different from any other calculated gesture?

But it was different. You made it different.

She inhaled deeply, the cold air filling her lungs before she began her measured descent into the quad. Her steps were deliberate, slow.

Around her, students chatted and mingled and she felt their eyes occasionally drift toward her, as they always did, but tonight, she barely noticed. Her focus was elsewhere.

You.

Wednesday spotted you almost instantly. You were seated at one of the circular tables near the center of the quad, surrounded by her circle of idiots. Each of them had their gifts piled near their chairs, wrapped in colorful paper that made Wednesday inwardly puke. There was something almost unsettling about seeing you like this.

Enid whispered something to you and you smiled but, that smile didn't quite reach your eyes. Your usual brightness was dimmed tonight, replaced with an air of... nervousness? Contemplation? Whatever it was, it made her chest tighten in a way she didn’t entirely understand.

As she neared the table, Enid was the first to notice her. The werewolf’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Wednesday! You made it!” Enid’s voice rang out, drawing the attention of the entire table.

Your eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, the noise around her faded. The nervousness in your expression softened slightly, replaced by something gentler. You offered a small, shy smile that sent an unfamiliar warmth spreading through Wednesday’s chest. She quickly averted her gaze, clearing her throat as she reached the table.

"Of course, she made it," Bianca drawled, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. "Our personal Christmas Grinch wouldn’t miss the chance to haunt us while we are trying to have some fun."

Wednesday’s gaze snapped to Bianca, her dark eyes narrowing. "If I wanted to haunt you, Bianca, I’d do it with far more creativity than attending this… overdecorated spectacle."

"Overdecorated spectacle? Some of us put effort into this, you know." Enid pouted "Well at least you came, so come on, have a seat!" Enid said brightening up again as she patted the empty seat beside her.

Reluctantly, Wednesday slid into the offered seat, her posture as stiff as ever. She placed the box on her lap, keeping it hidden from view, her fingers resting on the ribbon as if to reassure herself it was still there.

"Hot cocoa?" Eugene offered, holding out a steaming mug.

"No," Wednesday replied flatly, her eyes darting briefly to you. She doesn't need to burn anyone. For now.

You glanced up then, your gaze meeting hers for a fleeting moment before you quickly looked away, a faint blush dusting your cheeks. Wednesday’s stomach twisted at the sight, though she couldn’t pinpoint why.

You reached for your drink and for a moment, you seemed lost in thought again. Your brow furrowed ever so slightly, and your gaze drifted to the flickering lights above. Wednesday's eyes narrowed as she observed you, her mind racing to decode the emotions playing across your face.

Were you nervous? Sad? Or perhaps simply tired of the holiday cheer? Was it the Secret Santa event? Did you draw someone you weren’t fond of?

Who had you drawn? And what had you chosen for them? The thought unsettled her more than it should have. A fleeting image of you selecting a thoughtful gift for someone else sent a sharp pang of irritation through her. You, holding a gift, your face bright with anticipation as you presented it to some undeserving fool.

Perhaps that girl you’d partnered with in herbology last week or the one who lingered too long near your station, or the one who asked you on a dance in the ugly sweater party... maybe she would need to burn someone after all.

Before she could spiral further into her thoughts she felt the chatter quiet almost instantly and Wednesday didn't bother looking at the stage.

“Good evening, everyone,” Weems began, her voice carrying effortlessly over the crowd. “I’m delighted to see so many of you here tonight, embracing the spirit of the season”

Wednesday suppressed a groan, straightening in her chair but not bothering to feign interest.

Weems continued, her smile widening as she surveyed the gathering. “This year has been relatively… uneventful.” She hesitated just a fraction of a second, her gaze lingering momentarily on Wednesday before moving on. “For which I am profoundly grateful.”

That earned a few chuckles from the crowd, and Wednesday’s lips twitched in faint irritation. Uneventful? That was certainly one way to describe it. From monsters lurking in the woods and unraveling a centuries-old conspiracy to.... brooding. Yeah.. that's what Wednesday found herself doing last year... Was Bianca right about her brooding all the time?  

She should’ve hated this year, every day of it. It was, by all accounts, actually uneventful. The monotony alone should’ve driven her mad.

But it hadn’t.

And she knew exactly why.

Her gaze flicked back to you, almost involuntarily. You were still seated, your hands now wrapped around your cup as you leaned closer to Enid, nodding along to whatever trivial nonsense she was whispering in your ear. You didn’t look extraordinary, not in the conventional sense. Your sweater was unassuming. And yet, to Wednesday, you radiated something inexplicably magnetic.

It was because of you.

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around the ribbon of the box in her lap, her thoughts momentarily scattered. She should have hated this year, loathed it for its lack of intellectual stimulation and excitement. But no matter how much she tried, that hatred never came.

Because of you.

She sighed, a sound barely audible even to herself, and returned her attention to Weems, who was still mid-speech. “This year has proved what Nevermore can be,” Weems declared, her tone resolute. “A place of growth and of potential. As we stand on the brink of a new year, let us carry forward the bonds we’ve strengthened here tonight.” Weems’ gaze swept over the gathered students, lingering briefly on Wednesday, as if daring her to contradict the sentiment. Wednesday met her gaze with a neutral expression, unwilling to give the principal the satisfaction of any visible reaction.

“And so,” Weems concluded, her voice warm yet authoritative, “let us feast, celebrate, and look forward to the possibilities that lie ahead. Happy holidays, my dear students.” A polite smattering of applause followed, and Weems stepped back, gesturing toward the long tables laden with food at the edge of the quad. The students began to stir, rising from their seats and drifting toward the table.

From her seat, Wednesday found herself observing Enid tearing into her food, a sight both grotesque and vaguely amusing.

“Enid, you’re one drumstick away from wolfing out right here.” Bianca quipped from across the table.

Enid shot Bianca a pointed look, her cheeks already puffed out like a chipmunk’s from the food she was furiously chewing. Swallowing with a dramatic gulp, she said, “Hey! It’s not my fault everything tastes so good! And for your information, I was busy all day! You think this whole event planned itself?”

Wednesday barely registered the conversation, her dark eyes fixed on her untouched plate. The food, no matter how well-prepared or fragrant, was irrelevant to her. Her mind churned with far more pressing matters.

The gift.

The prospect of giving you the gift in front of everyone at the table was a particular source of dread. She was not one for public displays, especially when it came to something as vulnerable as this. What if they mocked her choice? Worse, what if you did?

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around the box, her knuckles whitening. She refused to entertain that thought any longer. No. You wouldn’t mock her. You weren’t like the others.

You were kind... loving and you weren't... at the table?

Her heart skipped a beat as she scanned the immediate area. You were nowhere in sight. The seat you had occupied moments ago was empty, your plate still half-full. Wednesday’s brow furrowed, a sliver of unease creeping in.

Where had you gone? She hadn’t seen you leave. Had she been so lost in her own head that she missed it?

And then she saw it—a small piece of paper resting just beside her plate. Her brows furrowed as she reached for it, unfolding it with deliberate care. The handwriting was unmistakable.

Meet me near the fountain.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Wednesday’s lips, unbidden but not unwelcome. Of course, it was you. Who else would have the audacity to summon her like this?

She folded the note carefully and tucked it into her pocket before rising to her feet.

Enid paused mid-bite “Where are you going? You barely touched your food!”

Wednesday didn't bother answering as she made her way through the crowd. Each step felt deliberate, measured. Her grip tightened around the small box in her hand as she approached the pathway leading to the fountain, her mind already racing.

What would she say when she saw you? Would she hand over the gift without a word, letting the gesture speak for itself? Or would she attempt something more... personal? Words weren’t her forte, especially not when it came to feelings. And yet, with you, words seemed both inadequate and entirely necessary.

And there you were.

Sitting on the bench, your back straight but your posture relaxed, you stared ahead at the frozen fountain.

For the briefest moment, Wednesday froze. Her mind, usually a whirl of calculated plans and sharp observations, was disturbingly blank. You looked so...you.

Finally, she took a breath, steady and controlled, and stepped forward.

You must have heard her approach because you turned your head just as she reached the bench.

Your eyes found hers.

That smile, the same smile. that had marked its place in... her unnecessary blood-pumping machine they called "heart". There was something different about it this time, though. It wasn’t the shy or nervous smile from earlier. It was warm, inviting, and... knowing. As if you had been waiting for her all along.

You patted the empty space beside you. “Sit.”

Wednesday hesitated for only a second before lowering herself onto the bench. She glanced at you from the corner of her eye, noting the way you rested your hands in your lap, your fingers brushing against one another absentmindedly. You were close, closer than she realized, and the proximity was enough to make her hyperaware of her every movement.

How does one start something like this? She had rehearsed no fewer than twenty scenarios in her mind, yet now, sitting here beside you, they all felt insufficient.

“Do you believe in fate, Wednesday?”

The question caught her off guard. She turned her head to look at you fully, her brow furrowing as she considered your words.

“Fate?” she repeated, her tone skeptical. “The idea that our lives are predetermined by some cosmic force?”

You nodded, your gaze unwavering.

“Fate,” she repeated, her tone contemplative. “A concept often romanticized but rarely substantiated. It implies predestination, a lack of autonomy, which I find… unsatisfactory.”

You chuckled softly, the sound light and modest, yet it sent a ripple through her. “That’s a very Wednesday answer,”.

“And what would your answer be?” she countered, her gaze steady on you.

“I think,” you began, your eyes returning to the fountain, “that fate isn’t about things being preordained. It’s about moments, little choices that lead us to places we never expected to be. Like… sitting here, tonight, with you.”

Her chest tightened, the weight of your words pressing against her usual walls of detachment. You had a way of saying things that left no room for deflection, no safe harbor for her to retreat to.

“Perhaps,” she said after a pause, her voice quieter, “fate is less about inevitability and more about… alignment. An intersection of paths.”

You tilted your head, considering her words, and then smiled. “I like that.”

The silence returned, but this time, it felt warmer, less daunting. You shifted slightly, your shoulder brushing against hers, a small, fleeting touch that sent a spark of something unfamiliar coursing through her.

“There’s something I need to give you,” she said finally, her voice steady but softer than usual.

You turned to her, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “Oh?”

She held the box out toward you, her movements precise but tinged with an underlying hesitation.

"You are my secret santa?" Your lips quirked into a teasing smile as you accepted the box. “I hope it’s not a tarantula,” you joked.

“It’s not,” she replied flatly.

You untied the ribbon carefully, your fingers deliberate as you removed the lid. Inside was a glass globe, delicate and intricately crafted. In the center stood two shadowy figures, featureless yet unmistakably human, lost in their own world, but at peace.

Your fingers hovered over the small button at the base of the globe. With a curious glance at Wednesday, you pressed it.

The soft melody of the piano that played was instantly recognizable. Your eyes widened, and you turned to her.

Your breath hitched as you glanced at her. “Wednesday, is this...?”

“The ugly sweater party night,” she finished for you, her eyes flicked back to the globe, unable to meet yours. “A memory. One I thought you should have, too.”

Your smile was radiant, and for the first time, she felt as though she had done something right, truly right.

And then you snapped your fingers.

A small, glowing purple portal materialized in the air, swirling and pulsating with quiet energy. You reached into it, your movements unhurried, and pulled out a rectangular box wrapped in deep blood-red paper. The portal vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, leaving no trace behind.

So, you could conjure portals. That explained how you’d managed to place the note near her earlier without her noticing, a feat she had, until this moment, deemed improbable. You possessed a skill that defied logic and simplicity, and though she hated to admit it, she was impressed.

You held the box out toward her, “I am your Secret Santa too, Wednesday,” you said, your voice light, a trace of mischief dancing on your lips. “Talk about fate, huh?”

Wednesday tilted her head ever so slightly, her dark eyes flicking between you and the box now resting in your lap. "I am skeptical of calling it fate. A calculated scheme seems more acceptable.”  ENID.

Slowly, she reached out and took the box, its weight heavier than she anticipated. You watched her with quiet anticipation, she tore away the paper, revealing a wooden case beneath. Her brow furrowed slightly as she opened the case, her breath catching the moment her eyes fell upon the contents.

Inside was a dagger, encased in glass, its blade gleaming even in the dim light of the fountain. But this wasn’t just any dagger.

The hilt was ornate, at its base, a ruby-red gemstone sat nestled within the design, pulsing faintly as though alive. The blade itself was thin, wickedly sharp, and etched with complicated patterns A faint inscription ran along its length in a language she recognized as Hungarian.

Her eyes widened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a genuine, real smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. She recognized this blade instantly.

“Elizabeth Báthory’s dagger,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The infamous serial killer of the 1600s, known for her brutal methods and rumored vampiric tendencies, had wielded this blade. Legends spoke of its dark history, of how it was used to drain the blood of her victims.

“How did you get this?” she asked, her voice low, almost adoring.

You shrugged lightly. “I have my ways.”

Wednesday’s gaze returned to the dagger, her fingers brushing against the glass casing as if to confirm its reality. Her mind raced with the implications of the gift, not just its historical significance, but what it meant coming from you.

You had given her something she cherished, not for its material value, but for what it represented.

You saw her. Not the façade she presented to the world, but the depths of her being, the parts most people recoiled from or misunderstood.

You didn’t shy away from the darkness that fascinated her; instead, you embraced it, honored it even, cared for it... cared for her...

The weight of that realization settled over her, mingling with an unfamiliar warmth that she didn’t know how to name.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice you leaning closer until your head rested gently on her shoulder.

She froze.

Her gaze flicked to you briefly. You were gazing down at the globe in your lap, the soft melody still playing. Her eyes returned to the dagger. She allowed herself a small, almost imperceptible sigh, her gaze fixed on the ruby gemstone embedded in the dagger’s hilt.

Not a bad Christmas. Not bad at all.

Wanted to post this in Christmas night... but finished early. Comment how you guys liked it!

Also comment what you would've given Wednesday as her secret santa.

->WORKLIST<-