#But like- instead of stomping all over that and criticizing it

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

#uhhh idk how to explain this idea right#but like....i think stories should be allowed to have mistakes. for a treat#it's like in tv shows when they had to save the budget for the final so there's reused costumes for los stake episodes#can't think of a single story thats perfect. wouldn't change anything. literally can't make a story with no flaws#sometimes the easy way around the flaw is just 'you gotta ignore that. that's not the point of the story.'#i feel like some stuff if you try and stop to explain it...it will change the focus of the story. suddenly it's a new story#like inception. entering and creating dreams is just a thing. the story just uses it. stop to explain how or why and that's something else#there wouldn't be space for the og story itd be a story about the creation of this thing#and like. listen. there are definitely some big plot holes. some poorly written stories. not saying bad stories are just misunderstood#but idk. i think you gotta stop wanting it to be flawless. that's never gonna happen#idk it's midnight hm#text#august rambles#also i tried to move a tag and it didn't work. so if the order of things doesn't make sense that's why#critical analysis hater spotted eek!#no but actually. i do like picking apart problems in stories and figuring out why it feels wrong or how to fix it#but it's almost like you gotta pick your battles. you only get to fix a few#or like. if the story is fine except for this one thing. we just don't look at that#the holes are giving it room to breathe#i gotta stop talking yikes

YOU ARE SO RIGHT AND DONT YOU DARE LEAVE THIS IN THE TAGS ITS AMAZING

Also I think there’s a huge difference between ‘This plot hole is here because the author was a poor writer’ and ‘This plot hole is here because (just like you said) our energy isn’t supposed to be focused on that’.

One of these means that the author needs to improve in this area of their craft, and the other means that if you’re getting nitpicky over a minute detail that doesn’t matter all that much you are missing the point of what they WERE trying to say and that’s on you.

ok idea. what if we gave stories a free pass for one or two plot holes. "this story thread had a big hole in it" ok good to know, that must not be the main point of the story since it's got plot holes. they must have put their attention on what they thought was the important part. time to look closer at the other parts

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Accidentally Falling For a Fae Prince - Malleus Draconia x reader

When you get dragged into a novel which ends with the heroine in a polycule with the most annoying men in literature, you decide that you're gonna skip town. ...Only to trip over the fae prince, Malleus Draconia.

Series Masterlist

Work’s been a disaster from the moment you stepped in. Your boss, who makes dollar bills while you’re lucky to scrape together a few dimes, is in one of those moods. So, instead of pretending to be productive, you do what any rational person would do: you pull up a random webnovel website and let the ridiculousness wash over you.

And oh boy, is it ridiculous.

You start reading "The Villainess's Revenge: My Heart is Colder Than Lukewarm Tea!" and, within the first chapter, you realize it’s like watching cement dry—but with less plot development. The villainess is cartoonishly evil, stomping around in ballgowns with a sneer so exaggerated it’s a wonder her face hasn’t permanently locked in place. Her tragic backstory? She once got served lukewarm tea. And, oh no, she stepped in mud at a ball. The horror. Riveting stuff, truly.

Meanwhile, the heroine? She’s clearly phoning it in. Every scene she’s in, her eyes are dead inside like she’s as exhausted as you are by the sheer nonsense of the plot. If this girl could quit her own story, she would’ve done it yesterday. You can't help but mentally send her your condolences.

Then, there’s the male leads. If you can even call them that.

First, the Crown Prince, whose idea of a crisis is a fashion faux pas. This guy once canceled a whole wedding because his socks didn’t match. His spirals into existential crises every time a thread is out of place would be entertaining if it weren’t so tragic. The way he’s written, you swear he could kill a man with a critical stare over improper cufflinks.

Next up, the Duke. Brooding, romantic, and absolutely incapable of writing good poetry. Every time he spots the heroine, he launches into the worst rhymes you’ve ever heard. It’s so bad that you’re embarrassed for both of them. He follows her everywhere, reading his masterpieces at the most inappropriate times—like during a funeral. Who does that?

And finally, the Hero Knight. Ah, the knight. The epitome of overzealous stupidity. He turned grocery shopping into a three-day quest for the “Golden Lettuce of Destiny,” and vowed to defend the heroine’s honor from…nobody. You’d swear he’s larping 24/7. It’s exhausting just reading about him.

As if that weren’t bad enough, the heroine ends up in a polycule with all of them because the author was so sick of comments asking, “Who will she date?” that they just threw their hands up and went, “Fine, she dates everyone!” The heroine looks exhausted, and you feel for her. You feel for yourself, too, because reading this is actively lowering your IQ.

You sit there, flabbergasted, staring at the screen. This is what you’ve chosen to waste your time on? What’s worse, your boss will probably come around the corner any minute to scold you—oh wait, nope, the corner of the ceiling just gave out and bonk—there goes a chunk of plaster, right on your head.

You cannot believe this is how you get taken out.

You wake up and, somehow, it’s worse. You’re in a four-poster bed, covered in satin sheets, and your first thought is goddammit—you’ve been isekai’d. And not just into any world. That world. The webnovel.

You drag yourself out of bed, feeling a sudden wave of dread. You were the heroine in this mess. The heroine. Goddammit, why does everything bad only happen to you? For a moment, you're relieved you’re not the villainess. But then you remember: you’re stuck in a polycule with three absolute clowns.

Nope. Not happening. You will not end up with any of these pushy idiots. Goal one? Avoid the polycule at all costs.

Suddenly, the door flies open with a bang, and in burst all three male leads, dramatically weeping and crying out how you’ve been in a coma for so long. Their over-the-top emotions would be heartwarming if they weren’t so ridiculous.

“You’ve returned to us, my dearest flower of the kingdom!” the Crown Prince sobs, still perfectly dressed despite the tears streaming down his face. He sniffs and dabs his eyes with a handkerchief embroidered with his own face. Of course.

The Duke starts reciting the worst love poem you've ever heard, right there, in the middle of your room, as if you didn’t just wake up from a coma.

“I wandered, lost, like a daisy in a field of… uh… misery, because you, my sun, were hidden in the sky of my heart…” The rest is a blur because your brain has officially short-circuited.

And the Hero Knight? He’s already on his knees, swearing to protect you from whatever invisible threat he’s made up this time. “Fear not, fair lady! I shall defend thee against all who oppose your grace!”

You manage to kick all of them out of your room with a lot of effort and a lot of heavy glares. The moment you’re alone, you find a suicide note on the dresser, written by the actual heroine. Apparently, she drank poison just to get away from these weirdos.

What an icon.

But not you. You’re not dying again for these guys. No way.

You’re moving through the bustling market in full disguise, keeping an eye out for any knights or familiar faces. Your plan is simple: escape the polycule before any of those nutjobs track you down. With every step, you remind yourself that freedom is just one boat ride away—preferably to a distant land that has no idea who the Hero Knight, the Duke, or the crown prince are.

But as you round a corner, your thoughts scatter when you bump—quite literally—into something solid. You stagger back, blinking up at a tall figure dressed in all black. At first, panic flashes through you—please don’t be one of them—but when your eyes meet his, it’s not the Crown Prince, the Duke, or the Hero Knight.

It’s someone new. And he seems… perfectly pleasant. His strikingly elegant features, crowned by horns, should make him imposing, but his eyes soften as he looks at you. There’s an almost serene curiosity in them.

"Ah, forgive me," he says smoothly, his deep voice lilting with a formality that surprises you. "I didn’t see you there."

"No, no, it’s my fault," you reply, awkwardly waving your hands, trying to figure out why he’s so different from everyone else in this place. He’s polite. Polite. Already, you feel better about this encounter than you have about every conversation with the three other disasters that have been stalking you.

He steps aside, but instead of walking away, he looks around the marketplace with a faint, thoughtful frown. “I seem to have… lost my way,” he admits, glancing back at you. “This place is unfamiliar to me.”

Something in his tone, in the way his eyes briefly widen as he takes in the simplest market stalls—like he’s genuinely fascinated—makes you soften toward him. Ugh, bleeding heart strikes again. Before you know it, you find yourself asking, “Do you need help? I can… show you around.”

He turns his gaze back to you, and his lips quirk into the smallest, softest smile. “That would be most appreciated.”

As you walk together, he marvels at the simplest things—the fresh bread from a stall, the colorful fabrics, the scent of flowers sold at a cart. He’s curious about everything, eyes lingering on each sight like it’s the first time he’s ever seen such mundane wonders. His fascination is oddly endearing. It’s clear he’s not used to mingling in places like this, and his awe at the most normal things is… well, cute.

"Have you ever seen so many people in one place?" you ask, trying to fill the silence, though you’re surprised to find that you’re not uncomfortable around him.

He chuckles lightly. “Not in such a casual setting, no. It’s quite… charming. Everything feels so alive.”

You almost snort at the idea that this guy finds a basic market so thrilling, but you keep it in check. At least he’s not another drama king like the Crown Prince or a bad poet like the Duke.

It’s been a surprisingly pleasant afternoon until your luck inevitably runs out. You spot the familiar, impeccably dressed figure of the Crown Prince moving through the crowd with his knights. He’s scanning the area, and panic rises in your throat.

“Crap,” you mutter under your breath. Instinctively, you grab the man’s sleeve, tugging him down the nearest alley. “We need to go. Now.”

He blinks, looking puzzled but not resisting. “Is something wrong?”

Yes! you think, your mind flashing to the emotional wreck that is the prince. "No time to explain. Just trust me."

But you’re too late. The Crown Prince, in all his resplendent, overly perfect glory, catches sight of you just as you’re about to disappear into the shadows.

“Well, well,” the prince calls out with an overly bright smile. “If it isn’t my darling—oh!” His eyes widen as he finally notices the tall figure standing next to you. “Prince Malleus Draconia of Briar Valley!”

You blue screen.

Your grip loosens on Malleus’s sleeve as your brain sputters. Prince. Fae Prince. You’d just been casually chatting with the Prince of Briar Valley like he was some random lost guy? Did you seriously just… You internally spiral as the realization sinks in. Of course, he's a prince! The horns! The aura!

Malleus, for his part, remains calm and collected, inclining his head toward the Crown Prince. “Ah, it seems I’ve been found,” he says smoothly, completely unaware of the crisis currently happening inside your head.

The Crown Prince gives Malleus a florid bow, then immediately turns his attention back to you. “My dear, you shouldn’t be wandering the streets alone. Allow me to escort you to the palace.” His hand reaches out toward you, his smile practiced and princely, but your gut clenches with discomfort. No, nope, no thanks.

You step back instinctively, your unease written all over your face. Before you can even figure out how to politely decline without causing a scene, Malleus moves.

Malleus, who up until now was watching the exchange with mild curiosity, steps forward. His eyes narrow slightly as he looks the Crown Prince up and down. The prince stumbles over his words and backs away under the weight of Malleus’ stare.

The Crown Prince’s smile falters. He hesitates, glancing between you and Malleus, clearly unsure how to proceed. “I—um—of course, Prince Malleus, I didn’t mean to overstep,” he stammers, eyes darting nervously between the two of you.

You stand there, stunned, watching as Malleus’ mere presence makes the most annoyingly confident man in the kingdom back off. Is this real life?

The prince clears his throat awkwardly, then shoots you one last uneasy smile before making a swift retreat with his knights, leaving you standing there with Malleus.

You let out a long, relieved breath and glance up at him, feeling a little less like you’re about to lose your mind. “Thanks… for that.”

Malleus’ lips quirk into a tiny, knowing smile. “It was my pleasure.” He tilts his head, eyes still twinkling with that same curiosity from earlier. “Although, I must admit, I’m rather curious why you were so eager to avoid him.”

You laugh nervously, running a hand through your hair. “Let’s just say… he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

You don't know how you’ve ended up in this mess. One minute, you’re lost in the market, trying to figure out how to escape this ridiculous polycule situation, and the next, you’ve been dragged into a carriage on your way to the palace—with the Crown Prince, your overly dramatic Knight, and the Fae Prince himself.

Malleus, the Fae Prince, had politely asked if you would accompany him to the palace, and in a panic, you said yes. Because, really, how could you admit to both him and the Crown Prince that you’d actually been planning to skip town? So now, here you are, sitting through the most awkward carriage ride of your life.

Your knight, perched beside you, clears his throat dramatically. “Fear not, my lady,” he says in a voice filled with too much gravitas for the situation. “I shall protect you from all perils! Should the wind itself dare to brush against your delicate frame, I shall strike it down with my blade! No harm shall come to you so long as I draw breath!”

You facepalm internally. Please. Stop talking.

The Crown Prince, sitting across from you, adjusts his cufflinks for the tenth time. “I must say,” he purrs, fishing for compliments, “this outfit is particularly resplendent today, don’t you think? The shade of royal blue brings out the depth in my eyes. It was hand-tailored, of course. What do you think, my dear?”

You blink at him, trying to process whether he’s serious. He is. He’s absolutely serious.

Malleus watches the exchange in silent confusion, his eyes flicking between the three of you as if trying to figure out if this is normal human behavior. After all, you’ve got one guy swearing to kill the breeze, another obsessed with his reflection, and you, trying to melt into the upholstery.

“Is this… how humans typically behave?” Malleus asks, his voice soft and genuinely curious.

You shake your head vigorously. “No. This is how clowns behave.” Malleus raises an eyebrow but seems satisfied with your answer, settling back into his seat.

When the carriage finally—finally—arrives at the palace, you’re barely holding onto your sanity. But things are about to get worse.

As you’re ushered into the meeting hall, a trio approaches you. It’s Lilia, Silver, and… Sebek.

Sebek, who looks one step away from a full-blown aneurysm.

"Lord Malleus!" Sebek practically screeches, running toward Malleus like the world was ending. “How could you wander off on your own?! Do you know how much chaos you caused?! I almost fainted from sheer terror!”

Malleus doesn’t even flinch. “I had a guide.” He gestures toward you.

Sebek’s eyes land on you, and you quickly glance around for an escape route. “YOU?! YOU DARED TOUCH—”

Before Sebek can finish, you spot the Duke—one of your many suitors and part of the delegation—striding toward you with his usual brooding expression. You instinctively grab onto Malleus’ sleeve for some comfort (or maybe protection from what’s about to come next).

The Duke’s eyes light up as he sees you, and then… he begins to recite. “Oh, my dearest, like the moon that doth gleam upon a cheese plate—no, wait—upon a field of… toes? Your hair, like the petals of wilted roses in the rain... um… and your eyes… they are like two potatoes, cooked to perfection…”

Even Sebek is speechless. You think you see a vein pop on his forehead, but for once, he’s too stunned to yell.

Lilia, standing beside Sebek, chuckles, amused. “Well, I have to say, that’s… quite something.”

Malleus tilts his head, blinking at the Duke’s strange poetry. “Are potatoes considered a form of flattery in human culture?”

“No,” you mutter. “No, they’re not.”

Just when you think things can’t possibly get more absurd, the meeting begins. Because you’re technically the daughter of a Duke, you’re forced to sit through the whole ordeal. They start discussing the logistics of showing the fae delegation around the city.

“We need someone trustworthy to act as a guide,” one of the officials says, glancing toward the Crown Prince.

Malleus, who had been quietly observing the room, suddenly speaks up. “I believe I’ve already found the perfect guide.”

You freeze. No. No, no, no.

“The young lady who helped me in the market,” Malleus continues, looking directly at you.

The room falls silent. You, of all people, are the last person who wants to be anywhere near the fae delegation or, worse, your insane suitors. But before you can even open your mouth to refuse, the Crown Prince starts.

“My dear,” he says, leaning forward with a princely grin, “while I understand you’ve already formed an acquaintance with Prince Malleus, perhaps it would be better for someone more… experienced to take on this role.” He flashes his most charming smile, which, after everything today, only makes you cringe.

But Malleus just stares at him, completely unbothered. “No. I want her as my guide.”

Silver shifts slightly, glancing at you with an expression you can’t quite place, while Lilia’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “How interesting,” Lilia murmurs, clearly entertained by the situation.

Sebek, however, explodes. “IF LORD MALLEUS WANTS HER AS HIS GUIDE, THEN SO BE IT!” He turns toward the Crown Prince, practically vibrating with anger. “YOU WILL NOT QUESTION HIS DECISION!”

The Crown Prince, for once, looks genuinely taken aback. “I—I meant no offense! Of course, whatever Lord Malleus desires…”

You sink into your chair, feeling like your last chance at a peaceful life just flew out the window. Malleus turns to you with an expectant, polite smile. “I look forward to our time together.”

You groan inwardly. How is this my life?

You had to admit, Malleus was really nice. When you compared him to the absolute circus of clowns you had to deal with, he was practically a gift sent from above. So, you made a decision—if you were going to be his guide, you were going to be the best guide ever. And once they wrapped up this whole diplomatic visit, you'd beg him to take you with him to Briar Valley, where hopefully, your ridiculous suitors would be very far away.

Apparently, being a guide also meant dragging him along to everything you did, including navigating high society. This was where things got tricky. The original heroine had endured these events like a pro, but you? You were just a lowly office worker who'd read bad webnovels to avoid work. Now you were living in one.

First stop: a tea party.

As you sit down with Malleus beside you—who’s awkwardly perched in a chair much too small for him—you scan the room. Of course, all three of your ridiculous suitors are here. The Crown Prince, obsessing over the intricate lace of his cravat. The Hero Knight, sharpening his sword for no reason in the middle of a garden party. And the Duke, scribbling poetry on a napkin with all the grace of a sleep-deprived teenager finishing their homework five minutes before class.

But this wasn’t just about them. This was also your first time meeting the so-called villainess.

The villainess arrived like a whirlwind of petticoats and extravagant headpieces, smiling in that "I'm about to ruin your whole existence" kind of way. You smiled back, trying not to look dead inside when she launched into a diatribe about ruffles.

"And you see," she said, flickering her wrist with an air of superiority, "it was positively scandalous! The seamstress gave me a gown with only forty ruffles. Can you imagine? What am I, a commoner?"

You tried to smile politely. Truly. But Malleus, seated beside you, was staring at her with this fascinated look, as if watching a rare bird display its feathers. You could tell he was having a hard time grasping what the point of her story was. So were you.

But then, of course, the conversation turned personal.

“And the Duke,” the villainess said with a sly smirk, “such a poetic soul. He deserves better than to pine over someone who clearly has no appreciation for his art. Don’t you think?”

You blinked. Was this woman for real? You glanced at the Duke, who had suddenly gone from scribbling to gazing at you with that awful puppy-dog look. The one that meant another horrible poem was probably brewing.

You couldn’t help it. The words came out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Please take him.”

The villainess's eyes widened. “What?”

Malleus looked at you in amusement, while the Duke gasped dramatically, as if you’d just run him through with a sword.

You clasped your hands together and leaned forward earnestly. “Please, please take him. I don’t want him. At all. He’s all yours. You can have him—along with his potato-themed poems.”

The Duke visibly wilted. “But—! My lady! You—you wound me!”

“No, Duke, you wound me—with your terrible metaphors,” you deadpan. “And I’m begging you. Take him. Please. For the love of everything holy, I’m begging you.”

The villainess, probably for the first time in her life, looked completely flustered. “Are you… serious?”

“Absolutely,” you said, nodding. “I will sign papers. I’ll throw a party. I’ll—whatever it takes. Just… he’s yours.”

Malleus and Lilia were practically shaking with barely-contained laughter at this point, while the Duke had dropped to one knee, a napkin-clutched in his hand like some sad bouquet. “My poems… they were written with you in mind. Each line! Each stanza! Crafted from the depths of my heart!”

“Exactly,” you said, unblinking. “That’s why I need you to take him. Before he writes more.”

The villainess stared at you, completely dumbfounded. Then, after a pause, she broke into a smile. “Well, I’ve never had a man gifted to me before. I suppose I can make an exception.”

You felt like you could cry with relief. “Thank you.”

And just like that, your beef with the villainess was squashed. You traded your tragic suitor for peace of mind, and the villainess, now on the receiving end of the Duke’s “affections,” seemed pleased with her new prize.

Malleus leaned in, his voice low but filled with amusement. “I must say, you handled that quite well.”

You sighed, finally able to relax. “I handled that with desperation.”

And just like that, you’d rid yourself of two your problems. Now… to figure out how to survive the other two without losing your sanity.

You barely had time to process your victory over one villainess before a second one spawned out of nowhere like this was some kind of twisted video game. The Isekai Overlords clearly weren’t done with you yet. And this one? Oh, she was worse. The Crown Prince’s younger sister—spoiled princess extraordinaire—who genuinely believed her father was the reason the sun rose in the morning.

But, to your surprise, she didn’t even care about you. Like, at all. She acted like you didn’t even exist. Honestly? You were grateful. At least you could blend into the background this time and—oh no. Oh no.

She was making a beeline straight for Malleus.

You watched, horrified, as the princess latched onto him, throwing herself at him like he was a rare limited-edition collectible and not, you know, the Prince of Briar Valley and one of the most powerful beings in the world. Malleus shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure how to handle the situation, while Sebek was being barely restrained by Lilia and Silver. Lilia, of course, had that mischievous glint in his eye, like he was enjoying the whole ordeal.

You, on the other hand, were not enjoying it. You could practically see your retirement plans shriveling up in front of you—this had diplomatic nightmare written all over it. If Malleus so much as sneezed, you were pretty sure this princess would declare war on Briar Valley.

So, you did the only thing you could think of: you stepped in.

“Um, excuse me, Your Highness,” you said, stepping between the princess and Malleus. “Could you maybe… not cling to him like he’s a handbag?”

She turned to you with a look of utter disdain, like you were a fly she was too annoyed to swat away. “And who are you, exactly?”

Before you could answer, she pointed an accusatory finger at you. “I challenge you to a duel! For his hand!”

You blinked. “Bro, what?”

The princess huffed. “For the hand of Prince Malleus, of course! You think I didn’t see you fawning over him?”

“Fawning? I’m literally just his guide!” You gestured to Malleus, who, for some reason, looked almost giddy. “I’m not dating him, we’re not engaged, and if you push it, we’re maybe friends.”

Malleus practically beamed at the word “friends.” Was he… happy about this? About being defended like some damsel in distress? You were defending the most powerful fae in existence, and here he was, looking like you just made his entire year.

Sebek and Silver immediately stepped forward, but before they could say anything, Malleus raised a hand. “No. I would like to see how my guide—and friend—defends my honor.”

Your brain short-circuited. What?!

The princess smirked, clearly thinking she had you cornered. “Prepare yourself for the duel then! My personal knight will face you.”

You glanced at the knight, a towering figure who looked like he’d been training for war since birth, and then back at the sword that had been thrust into your hands. This was not how you imagined your day going. You hadn’t even touched a sword before. Meanwhile, your opponent was stretching like this was a warm-up exercise.

Still, you had no choice. With a deep breath and the knowledge that you were about to make a complete fool of yourself, you stepped forward, sword held awkwardly in front of you.

The duel began.

The knight lunged at you with a practiced, fluid motion. You, on the other hand, tripped over a rock, accidentally ducking his strike, and in your flailing attempt to stay upright, the hilt of your sword smacked him right in the face.

There was a collective gasp from the audience.

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath.

The knight staggered, his face scrunched in confusion. He tried again, this time swinging from the side. You managed to parry—purely out of luck—and in the process, tripped forward, sending your sword clattering out of your hands and somehow knocking the knight’s legs out from under him. He fell to the ground with a thud.

Dead silence followed.

You stood there, frozen, your sword lying a few feet away. The knight was on his back, staring up at the sky, clearly bewildered by what had just happened. You hadn't even swung properly!

Lilia burst out laughing. “My, my! That was quite the duel! You’ll have to take responsibility now.”

“Responsibility?” you echoed, flustered beyond belief. “For what? I just—he tripped! I tripped! That wasn’t even—”

“Exactly,” Lilia teased. “You won the duel. Now you must take responsibility for defending Prince Malleus’ honor so valiantly.”

Malleus, looking thoroughly impressed, gave you a small, pleased smile. “Indeed. You have my gratitude.”

The princess, meanwhile, was gaping at you like she couldn’t believe what just happened. “This… this is an outrage!”

You sighed, feeling utterly exhausted. “Look, I didn’t even want to duel in the first place. Can’t we just—call it a day? I’ve had enough of knights and duels and—” You gestured vaguely to Malleus. “I’m not even dating him.”

Malleus’ smile widened. “But we are friends.”

Lilia chuckled. “Ah, young love is so complicated.”

You shot him a glare. This was not what you signed up for. But hey, at least you won the duel—somehow.

You were lounging in your mansion’s parlor, the day blissfully uneventful for once. The warm sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a cozy glow over the room. Malleus was mid-conversation—no, scratch that—mid-rant about gargoyles. To your surprise, you were actually kind of into it.

“And that’s the primary difference between gargoyles and grotesques,” Malleus continued passionately. “You see, gargoyles are not merely decorative but also functional, designed to channel water away from the structure, whereas grotesques, while similar in appearance, serve no such purpose. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

You nodded, intrigued, and cut in with a genuine question. “Wait, so is the functionality the only difference? Like, are they made from the same material?”

Malleus blinked, slightly taken aback that you were not only listening but actively participating. “Yes, precisely. They are often carved from the same stone, but it’s their purpose that sets them apart. For example, in the southern—” He paused, seeming to catch himself, suddenly looking sheepish. “Ah, forgive me. I fear I’ve been talking too much.”

Sebek nearly jumped out of his seat, eyes wide with horror. “Lord Malleus! Everything you say is perfect! Don’t apologize for sharing your magnificent knowledge!”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “No, really, I enjoy it,” you said, waving off Malleus’ concerns. “I mean, how often do you get to talk about something so niche with someone who knows this much about it? I actually have a question—do any of the gargoyles in the Briar Valley have, like, historical significance? Like ones that are still functioning after all this time?”

Malleus lit up, and he launched right back into it, going on about ancient gargoyles in the Briar Valley that had withstood the test of time. He even started comparing the craftsmanship of various eras, and to your own surprise, you threw in a few comments about architecture and water systems, things you barely remembered from some random articles you’d read ages ago.

Halfway through a comparison of Gothic versus Renaissance gargoyle styles, a soft knock interrupted. Your maid entered, bowing slightly. “My lady, pardon the interruption, but we need your guidance with something in the kitchens.”

You sighed but smiled, pushing yourself off the couch. “I’ll be right back. Don’t let them bully you into leaving the gargoyle talk,” you teased as you walked out, completely unaware of the effect your comment had left behind.

As soon as the door closed, Malleus stood there, momentarily speechless. His pale cheeks took on the faintest hint of color, and his eyes were wide, as if someone had just smacked him with a metaphorical brick of emotions. The prince of Briar Valley, the most powerful creature in existence, was blushing like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

Lilia, ever the mischievous one, was already grinning from ear to ear, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, well, well… isn’t this interesting?” he purred, barely suppressing a chuckle.

Silver raised an amused brow, casting a side glance at Malleus. “It’s not every day we see him blush.”

Sebek, on the other hand, was utterly baffled but still overjoyed at seeing his lord smiling so widely. “Of course Lord Malleus is happy!” Sebek exclaimed proudly, though there was a trace of confusion in his voice. “He’s been honored with your presence and your rapt attention, as is only right! I just—” Sebek glanced around, as if trying to understand the subtle undercurrent in the room, “—I don’t understand why he’s so… red?”

Lilia patted Sebek on the back, barely holding in his laughter. “Oh, Sebek, my boy. This is what happens when someone gets the attention they’ve long desired.”

Malleus cleared his throat, trying—and failing—to compose himself. “I’m merely… pleased,” he said, though his blush betrayed him. “It’s rare to find someone who listens so attentively.”

Lilia chuckled softly. “Yes, and who knows the difference between gargoyles and grotesques, I imagine. Quite the match for you, wouldn’t you say?”

Malleus, flustered beyond belief, gave Lilia a sidelong look but said nothing, clearly more preoccupied with the strange warmth blooming in his chest.

By the time you returned, unaware of the scene you’d left behind, Malleus was still trying to gather himself. Lilia shot you a knowing smile, and Silver just gave you a look like you have no idea what’s happening, do you? Sebek, as always, continued to beam with unshakable loyalty to his blushing lord.

But hey, at least Malleus was happy—really happy.

It all started innocently enough—you were having dinner with Malleus, Sebek, Lilia, and Silver. Sebek was, as usual, going on one of his rants about how absolutely divine Malleus was, Lilia was being cryptic and vaguely mischievous, and Silver was dozing off between courses.

You, being the delightful disaster that you were, cracked a joke between bites. “Honestly, if Sebek praises Malleus any more, we might as well commission a statue of him—complete with an audio loop of Sebek’s praises.”

Malleus laughed. Actually laughed. It was such a rare sound, deep and rich, and when you heard it, your heart stuttered in your chest like someone had just jabbed you with a lightning bolt.

Oh no.

You knew, from that very moment, you were in deep, deep shit.

From that point on, everything Malleus did made it impossible for you to act normal around him. His laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he found something amusing, the warmth in his voice when he spoke to you—how had you not noticed before? And now, every time Lilia even looked at you, it was with this knowing, mischievous grin, like the universe had finally granted him the entertainment he’d been waiting for all these centuries.

“This,” Lilia said one day, leaning in conspiratorially with a grin that could light up a room, “this is what I’ve lived so long for.”

And to make matters worse, it wasn’t just your mind tormenting you. Oh no. It was like the entire world was in on the joke. You could practically see sparkles in the air every time Malleus so much as glanced your way. Sparkles, for crying out loud. Your heart was in critical danger.

Your solution? Avoid him.

But it wasn’t that simple. You tried hiding behind furniture, ducking into bushes, and even feigning an incredibly inconvenient bout of food poisoning just to avoid being near him. One time, you spotted Malleus coming down the hall and, in a blind panic, dove behind a potted plant. The plant was tiny. You were not. Somehow, you thought it would work.

It didn’t. Malleus casually walked over, spotted you crouching awkwardly behind the plant, and said, “Is there something wrong with that shrubbery? Should I summon someone to tend to it?”

Another time, you attempted to “sneak” out of the palace by pretending you were a passing merchant. You wore a very large hat and wrapped yourself in an oversized cloak. Malleus found you immediately.

“Aren’t you feeling a bit warm in that?” he asked, blinking at your ridiculous ensemble.

He had fae hearing. He could always find you.

Even guiding him around town became a disaster. How were you supposed to be a competent host when all you could think about was how unfairly hot he was? Every word he said carried this charming, ancient elegance, and here you were, a flustered mess with zero composure.

Lilia? Still having the time of his life. He was practically choking on his laughter at this point. Silver, somehow, slept through most of your crises, and Sebek was just thrilled Malleus was spending so much time with him (though he was clearly confused about why you were acting so weird).

Finally, you had enough. One night, under the cover of the moon, you snuck into the garden with the determination of someone completely done with their own suffering. You found a flower—granted, you didn’t know what it was, but it looked nice—and you marched up to Malleus, who was out enjoying the evening air, blissfully unaware of the emotional train wreck headed his way.

“I need to say something!” you blurted, shoving the flower toward him.

Malleus took the flower carefully, glancing down at it. His expression shifted from curious to… mildly concerned? “This flower,” he said slowly, “is traditionally used in Briar Valley to signify deep betrayal…”

You blinked. Oh god.

“No, wait! I didn’t mean—!” you stammered, but before you could backtrack, your brain decided it had had enough. You blurted out the truth, no holds barred: “I like you, okay?! I’ve been a mess for weeks because of how ridiculously perfect you are, and I’m tired of avoiding you and hiding behind plants! So there!”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Malleus stared at you, his eyes wide with shock, and then, much to your surprise (and relief), he broke into the widest smile you’d ever seen on him. It was like the moon had just gotten brighter.

“You’re confessing… to me?” he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine joy.

“Yes,” you groaned, face burning with embarrassment. “Now please reject me so I can go lie in a ditch somewhere.”

But instead of rejection, you got happy dragon noises. Malleus gently pulled you into his arms and, with a voice full of affection, declared, “You are mine, then. From this day forward, you are my beloved.”

Cue your soul leaving your body.

When you broke the news to your father the next day, the poor Duke nearly fainted at the sight of the Prince of Briar Valley standing there, flanked by Silver, Sebek, and Lilia, the former general grinning like the Cheshire cat.

The Duke was intimidated—terrified, really—and quickly agreed to let the courtship proceed. But there was a catch.

“You’ll have to tell the Crown Prince and the Hero Knight yourself,” your father said, his face pale. “I’m not getting involved in that.”

Your retirement plans had officially died.

Despite all the chaos that had entered your life since becoming Malleus's beloved, you had to admit—there were perks. One of those was what you’d come to call "fae luck." It became especially apparent during a particularly tense diplomatic meeting involving the fae, the beastmen, and your kingdom.

The room was filled with strained conversations, the kind of diplomacy that could either result in peace or war, depending on how fragile the egos in the room were. You were sitting between Malleus and the second prince, doing your best to avoid looking at the first prince, who had already been giving you way too much attention for comfort.

Then it happened.

The first prince, ever the picture of grace, rose to speak. As he took his first step forward… THUD. He tripped spectacularly, arms flailing, and landed directly in the lap of the Beastmen Queen. There was a collective gasp, and for a heartbeat, you thought maybe this could be saved—until he opened his mouth.

“Well, I guess I’ve… fallen for you!”

Silence.

The Beastmen Queen's expression froze. The fae delegation collectively facepalmed, and you could practically feel the tension suffocating the room.

And then the Beastmen were on their feet, growling and demanding the immediate removal of the first prince from the line of succession. One of their diplomats, fur bristling with indignation, roared, “This is an insult to our Queen! Remove this fool from the throne!”

Instead of apologizing, as a normal, sane person might have, the first prince, face red with embarrassment, dug himself even deeper. “It was a joke! Can’t you beastmen take a joke? Honestly, I don’t see why everyone’s so sensitive.”

The Beastmen's amger intensified, and you saw the Emperor and Empress—who had been trying desperately to maintain order—sink deeper into their seats, their expressions a mix of horror and resignation. The entire room was teetering on the brink of an international incident.

And then… you spotted it.

A little green wisp, barely visible, flitting through the air right around where the prince had been standing before his magnificent face-plant.

You glanced toward Malleus, who was sitting beside you, looking perfectly composed, save for the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Beside him, Lilia gave you a knowing wink, his mischievous grin unmistakable.

They caused this.

Within moments, the decision was made: the first prince was officially removed as heir to the throne. His younger brother, the second prince—who had always been calm, composed, and infinitely more capable—was declared the new Crown Prince.

It was glorious.

But before you could celebrate, the first prince turned toward you, his expression sour and filled with desperation. "You—" he began, as if about to drag you into his misery.

Not today, prince.

Finally given the chance to reject him properly, you rose from your seat, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh as you faced him.

“I’ve been waiting so long to say this,” you began, crossing your arms and locking eyes with him. “I reject you. Completely. Wholly. Utterly. There is not a single fiber in my being that has ever been remotely interested in you. In fact, the only thing that’s ever kept me in proximity to you was the sheer necessity of survival.”

The first prince’s mouth opened, but you weren’t done.

“Remember all those times you made those comments about my ‘station’ and how ‘lucky’ I was to be considered by you?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything back then because I was too polite, but now? No thanks. Absolutely not. I would rather spend a century in the swamps than a minute more listening to you.”

Sebek, of all people, burst into laughter. “She’s got a point!” he managed between snickers. Lilia was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes twinkling in amusement, and Silver, barely awake, gave a lazy thumbs-up in support.

Malleus, meanwhile, looked positively enchanted. His eyes sparkled as he watched you lay into the former prince, pride and affection written all over his face. When you were done, he leaned toward you, murmuring with a soft smile, “I do love seeing you stand up for yourself.”

The first prince, his face red with humiliation, stammered, “You can’t speak to me like that!”

“Oh, but I just did,” you replied with a sweet smile. “And you know what? It felt amazing.”

With that, the first prince slunk away, his tail metaphorically between his legs, while the room buzzed with whispered laughter. Even the Beastmen, who had been ready to rip the prince to shreds, seemed satisfied.

You had never felt more victorious. Malleus looked at you with such adoration, and Lilia… well, Lilia looked like he was already planning his next round of mischief.

It was a good day.

The festival was going about as smoothly as a cat in a bathtub. You were trying to act like you weren’t hopelessly entangled with the most dangerously attractive fae prince in existence, while also managing to survive the company of your absurd entourage.

Sebek was marching around, loudly reminding anyone within earshot of his unwavering devotion to Lord Malleus. His eyes would dart to you occasionally, like he was calculating whether you were worthy of being in the same airspace as his revered master. Silver, half-asleep, was keeping one lazy yet disturbingly sharp eye on you, while Lilia was in his element—practically vibrating with amusement, like he was waiting for you to trip and fall into a cauldron of chaos.

And then there was the Hero Knight. This guy had shown up uninvited, all shiny armor and noble delusions, insisting he protect you from… something? Yourself? Malleus? Winning too many festival games?

“Are you sure you’re safe?” the Hero Knight asked, sidling up far too close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve heard stories about these fae festivals. One wrong step, and you’ll be cursed to dance for a hundred years, or worse—turned into a tree.”

You squinted at him. “Right. I’ll make sure to avoid the face-painting booth. Wouldn’t want to end up as a shrub for eternity.”

Malleus, ever patient, simply raised an eyebrow, as if contemplating whether this so-called Hero Knight was worth the oxygen he was breathing. Lilia, meanwhile, was biting his lip to stop from laughing.

But then, amid your rising frustration, you spotted it: the holy grail of festival prizes. The gargoyle plushie.

It wasn’t just any gargoyle plushie. It was perfect. Chunky, with tiny wings and a slightly disgruntled expression, it radiated the exact energy you associated with Malleus—regal, intimidating, yet somehow huggable.

You pointed at it like you’d just discovered a hidden treasure. “I need that.”

Malleus, ever-attentive, followed your gaze and smiled softly. “Do you desire the gargoyle?”

“Obviously! It’s basically you in plushie form,” you said, already walking toward the game stall. “But, you know, it’s rigged. All festival games are.”

Malleus watched you with his trademark elegant amusement. “Perhaps I can—”

“No, no,” you interrupted, raising a hand. “I’m winning this fair and square. No fae magic, no dragon lord intervention. Just pure skill.”

You grabbed the darts, took a deep breath, and began your assault on the rigged game. It wasn’t easy. The darts bounced, the targets mocked you, and you could feel the Hero Knight hovering over your shoulder like a bad itch.

“Are you sure this is wise?” the Hero Knight asked again, his voice dripping with concern. “This feels like a trap. What if they’ve enchanted the darts? What if—”

You whirled on him, fed up. “Listen, Sir Gallant-with-too-much-hair-gel, it’s a dart game. Not an assassination plot. If I can survive dealing with you, I think I can handle a few rigged targets.”

Lilia absolutely lost it. He doubled over, wheezing in laughter, while Silver let out an amused snort. Even Sebek looked like he was struggling not to smirk, though he quickly composed himself.

Malleus, ever regal, simply smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I have faith in your abilities, my dear.”

Fueled by that comment—and the knowledge that the Hero Knight was slowly losing what remained of his dignity—you managed to hit the final target. The plushie was yours.

Triumphantly, you grabbed the gargoyle and turned to Malleus. “For you.”

Malleus, to your utter delight, looked genuinely touched. His eyes softened, and that rare, warm smile appeared. “You won this for me?”

“Obviously,” you said, trying not to melt under his gaze. “A prince should have his own gargoyle.”

Silver, who had been observing the entire scene with increasing clarity despite his usual drowsiness, raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

Sebek, who was still processing the fact that you’d just casually given his lord a gargoyle plushie, grunted. “You… you truly care for Lord Malleus.”

Before you could say anything, the Hero Knight, still floundering, piped up. “Well, I could’ve won that gargoyle too, you know. If you wanted to—”

“Oh, please,” you cut him off, turning to the Knight. “You probably would’ve asked the stall vendor to throw in a manual on ‘How to Not Be a Total Wet Blanket at Festivals.’”

Lilia nearly collapsed. “Oh, please stop—I can’t—” he gasped, clearly having the time of his life.

You waved him off and turned back to Malleus, who was still holding the plushie with the same reverence one might reserve for an ancient relic. “Shall we continue?”

Next up was a couple’s game. You had no intention of participating—until you noticed the Hero Knight gearing up to suggest that he join in to protect you. Oh no. Not today. You grabbed Malleus’ arm and dragged him into the game, completely ignoring the Knight’s sputtering objections.

“It’s… it’s traditionally for couples…” Silver noted, giving you a look that clearly said, I see what’s happening here.

You ignored him too.

The game was simple enough: throw rings onto bottles, but for some reason, the tension was palpable. Probably because you were standing next to one of the most powerful beings in existence, and you’d dragged him into a ridiculous couples’ game in front of his overly protective retinue.

But you won. And to rub salt in the Hero Knight’s ego, you fed Malleus one of the sweets you’d won.

“Y-You!” Sebek spluttered, looking as though you’d just committed the highest treason against decorum. “Feeding Lord Malleus… this… this is too much!”

The Hero Knight, on the other hand, looked utterly baffled. “Are you… are you sure that’s safe? What if the sweets are—”

“I swear, if you don’t stop, I’m going to feed you to the fairies,” you hissed, snapping the sweet in half and popping it into Malleus’ mouth. He smiled as he ate it, clearly enjoying himself.

By the time the fireworks started, you had somehow survived the night without murdering the Hero Knight. The sky exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors, and for a brief moment, it was peaceful.

And then, without thinking, you kissed Malleus.

There was a split second of stunned silence. And then all hell broke loose.

Sebek let out a screech that could rival a banshee. “My Lord! My Lord!” His voice cracked in disbelief, but then—surprisingly—he softened. “If… If Lord Malleus must fall for a human, I am glad it is someone… as devoted as you. My lady.”

You looked at him, touched. “Thank you, Sebek.”

Silver gave a rare smile, looking both amused and resigned. “Congratulations. You’ve managed to pull this off somehow.”

Lilia, predictably, was still dying of laughter, barely able to breathe between fits of wheezing.

And the Hero Knight? He looked like someone had just told him vampires were real and lived next door. “This… I… What…?”

You turned to him with a smile that could cut steel. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. I’ve been trying to tell you for months that I wasn’t interested. I’d rather kiss a gargoyle than you—actually, no. The gargoyle’s got more charm. Better conversation skills too.”

Lilia was full-on cackling now, leaning against a festival stall for support as the Hero Knight’s dignity shriveled up into nothingness.

Malleus, looking absolutely radiant, wrapped an arm around your waist. “Shall we depart? I believe we have a kingdom to return to.”

The next day, you stood with Malleus and his merry band of chaos, bidding farewell to your parents and butler. The Duke was still recovering from the heart attack Malleus had given him when he asked for your hand in courtship.

As you waved to your family, Malleus gently took your hand, leading you toward the carriage that would take you to Briar Valley.

“Well,” you muttered as you glanced back one last time, “this story of mine took a weird turn.”

Lilia, still grinning like a fiend, chimed in. “Oh, just wait until the sequel.”

The last thing you heard as the carriage rolled away was the Hero Knight muttering in the distance, “I could’ve won that gargoyle…”

You smiled. Maybe the webnovel wasn’t such a disaster after all.

Ahh I hope y'all like this one, malleus is one of my favs and I had so much fun writing him.

The Kalim one is being edited because it's a little too somber for me and I wanna make it a little more fun and Azul one is almost fully edited too!

So, here's a poll for the one after these. (They'll all get a turn)

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

[naneun-no]

On “Insecure Jikookers”…

Alright. I might lose followers for this and that’s very okay; curate your timeline and protect your peace babes. But for YEARS, every time the phrase “insecure jikooker” has come up on my feed my eyelid has done a little twitchy twitch 🤨🤨

And I have always ignored it, because I’ve never wanted to be out here policing ppl’s language and we are literally supposed to be having fun and celebrating love, like for me that’s the whole point, but —

I’ve been seeing the phrase popping up again surrounding the release of AYS and I just gotta say it.

You guys the term seems so culty 😬🥲

Like I think I get the origin (maybe)? It probably started when some of the early jikook bloggers (if you are one I salute you, I am not worthy, trust me this is NOT a dig at anyone, jikook bloggers are by and large cool and kind af 🙇‍♀️) would get these sketchy asks that were antis or cultists in disguise just casting aspersions on jikook’s bond or being blatantly homophobic and/or in general being rude little anonymous internet gremlins. Or maybe it was people who did want to believe that jikook was real but kept nagging and begging for reassurance at every turn, which I can totally see becoming annoying as hell and prompting people to start using the term.

But it feels like it’s used now as like a catchall for anyone who expresses any doubt or asks any critical questions? Even like… reasonable ones? And I used to see a lot of “hey believe what you want to believe but this is what I believe” but now it seems like the sentiment around jikooker communities has by and large become “if you don’t believe you’re an idiotic dumb person who has never known love — you’re either a rival shipper in disguise or WORSE (dun dun dunnnnn) an Insecure Jikooker — and we don’t want people like you around.”

And idk it just feels weird for a community that has always seemed to kind of pride itself on being the “rational, fact-based” ship… like we LOVE to be smug about how jikook don’t need edits to be obvious, don’t need slo-mo zooms with red circles and arrows because their chemistry and fondness and affection is just plain to see in basic footage. We’re the levelheaded ones 😌.

But doesn’t that mean that we should always be encouraging critical thinking, and if someone comes to a different conclusion than us, so be it? Like it or not, none of us have foolproof confirmation that jikook are anything more than very close friends. That’s literally all we know. The rest is our best guess based on vibes, anecdotes, dot-connecting, subtext and body language observation, experience, perception (!!This is a big one because confirmation bias is real!!), and suspicion. That’s literally it.

Look maybe I’m just projecting 😅 but when you criticize people for expressing reasonable doubt over something that is literally not confirmed, it’s just a little too religious fundamentalist for me! (This is why I was a bad Christian, because I always raised my hand and asked questions the Sunday school teacher didn’t like.)

Feel free to ignore me. I never want to come across as pushy or trying to stir up anything, it’s just a phrase that grinds my gears and I’m sort of hoping I’m not alone in that… but if I am, so be it! 🤣 would love to hear people’s thoughts because maybe I’m missing something.

(P.S. If you’re a troll who spams jikook blog inboxes this is not me defending you. You’re still annoying and you need a better hobby. Have you tried yoga? Snowboarding? Fly fishing? Filming food vlogs and/or painting? You should try cooking. You should stop being an anonymous internet troll stomping on everyone’s proverbial sandcastles and instead write a poem. K bye ✌️ )

[girlboypersonthingy]

I GOT AN ANON REQUEST FOR KEITH X READER CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS AND ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT 😩 I’m sorry, anon but here it is! ✨ Keith is so baby 🥹

Keith x reader ~ Childhood friends to lovers ❤️‍🔥

You met at the garrison when you were barely teens, when Keith’s hair was shorter and he NEVER opened his mouth in public.

It’s not that he didn’t like you when you first met, he just didn’t want to like you. He was comfortable being a loner and didn’t want to put in the effort a friendship requires

But you were just so nice to him. He lowkey loved and hated it at the same time. He wanted to ignore you like he did everyone else but you wouldn’t leave him alone and he felt too guilty to tell you to go away. You noticed he was always alone so you tried to offer him some kindness.

He kinda wanted you to leave him alone but you didn’t and eventually, he started to looked forward to seeing you everyday. Seeing you run to him with a smile on your face and an extra lunch bag in your hand for him made him feel important. He’d never admit any of that to you tho.

One day, you weren’t at school and the whole day was just off. He didn’t feel right, he felt sad and invisible as he walked past all his classmates in the hall. He felt like no one truly saw him besides Shiro, who was often too busy to really give Keith attention, and you.

The next day when he saw you, he came up to you first!!!

“Where were you yesterday?” “I had a doctors app-“ “Next time, tell me you’re gonna be gone. I was worried.” He reached out for your hand, holding it between his own cold hands. “Oh…okay. I-I’m sorry, Keith.”

Omfg he was worried about you? After one day??? How cute!

From then on, you two were inseparable, the best of friends. He went to you every time he was really sad and needed support or when he was extremely angry and needed to just rant and yell to you. He confided in you so much, he trusted you more than anyone else. He told you the ugly and embarrassing secrets he’d never told anyone else before.

That day that he punched Griffin, after going to the dean’s office he found you outside reading. You could tell he was upset as he stomped over to you, making you immediately toss your book aside and give him your full attention.

“Keith? You okay? What happ-“ He flopped down in the grass beside you, laid on his side with his head resting on your thigh and began crying. He made sure to keep it quiet and keep his face hidden from you but you could feel him shaking. Unsure of what to say, you just began playing with the hair covering the nape of his neck. He LOVED the physical affection. He didn’t talk to you at all that afternoon, he just cried in your lap for a while then hugged you tight and went home.

That moment was when you both began to catch feelings. He loved that you were so kind and accepting of him, always so comforting. You never pressured him to talk to you, your presence alone was enough to calm him down.

You loved that he trusted you and always protected and checked up on you. He would do anything for you, all you had to do was ask with your pretty smile and soft eyes and he’d comply.

As you both grew up, he came to love your praises. You always told him how smart he was and how amazing he was at piloting, he couldn’t get enough. You fed his ego so much.

He was and still is terrible at returning the compliments. He’d often offer you constructive criticism instead, which took some getting used to but made you realize that he genuinely cared for you and only wanted the best for you.

You’d often walk hand in hand around the garrison and if anyone gave you two a weird look or tried to tease y’all about being a couple, Keith would literally bark at them while keeping your hand in his grip. “Fuck off! Mind your business…” and you liked his fiery personality. He was your scary guard dog.

When Keith got kicked out of the garrison, it broke both of your hearts. He was completely lost without you or Shiro around and you couldn’t sleep well at night for over a month bc you were so worried about him. Just like that, he had disappeared.

It was a while until you finally found him in that shack in the desert. You had gotten a tip from a teacher at the garrison while they were talking about him being a recluse and how he would sneak out to that shack in the middle of the night just to be alone and enjoy the quiet.

You found it one day and sort of just barged in, catching him half dressed and sleepy in his bed. “Keith?” He sat up abruptly, fists up defensively. “(Y/N)? How…what…?” His hands dropped to his sides as he stared at you in surprise. You ran and hugged him tightly, smiling as he hesitantly hugged you back.

He looked different…his hair was longer, he looked like he had been working out a lot and the bags under his violet eyes were very prominent.

You decided the garrison just wasn’t for you and you’d rather be with Keith. It just wasn’t the same there without him so you left it all behind and began visiting him every day.

He had never been so depressed and anxious before you found him and now that you were back in his life, he slowly but surely began to smile and eat more and act like his normal moody self.

The night finally came that you helped him rescue Shiro and he told you he’d be forever in debt to you for helping him save his brother. After getting Shiro to safety and settling everyone down, he pulled you outside his little shack so you could be alone together and he hugged you so tight it almost hurt as he cried on your shoulder. This time, his tears seemed to be from happiness and relief. He finally had his support system back ❤️‍🩹

Once you found yourselves in space together, his attitude changed a bit. He was much more busy and irritated and quiet all the time. Being a young adult out in space with the tremendous pressure of defending the universe took its toll on him.

You just gave him space and tried to keep yourself busy as well. He wasn’t sure if he liked the space or not.

As you all began to get into the swing of life out in the cosmos, Keith began coming around to you more often.

“Wanna come train with me? It’s boring by myself.” You were way too excited to spend time with him. You missed him so much while he was being distant. This moment changed everything. You two were inseparable again.

The whole team noticed that you had a way of getting him to soften up and relax when he was really frustrated. Everyone knew that you two loved each other but would never admit it to the other.

Finally, loverboy Lance steps in. He had to get y’all together. Keith is so dense and only seems to open up to you. You both just need a push from Lance the matchmaker.

He goes to Keith first and Keith shuts down the whole idea. He is terrified to lose your friendship by pushing a relationship on you so he totally rejects Lance’s help. He even tries to tell Lance that he only sees you as a friend but we all know he’s a terrible liar.

When Lance approached you, you couldn’t help but confess your burning love for Keith. You love him more than anyone in the world and you were also scared of making the friendship awkward by confessing to him. But Lance is the best wingman in the world. He would never let you fail.

Lance helped you come up with the right words to say and also tried to get you to practice some pick up lines, to which you just scoffed at him.

Finally, the day had come. You were gonna tell him how you really feel, how you’ve been feeling all these years.

You approach Keith’s door, waiting a few seconds before your shaky hand knocks.

The door slides open and a small smile grows on his lips. “What’s up?” You walk past him and into his room without asking permission, finding a seat on his bed. He was confused as to why you didn’t even smile at him like you normally do. “(Y/N)…are you okay?” He came to sit beside you, watching you with worried eyes.

“Listen…I uh…I have something to tell you but you have to swear, promise me that you’ll always be my friend…” Keith’s cheeks begin to flush as he nods slowly. He’s pretty sure he knows what’s about to come out of your mouth. “I promise.”

“I…I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you since we were kids. You…you mean the entire universe to me and I just want to call you my boyfriend. I don’t want to ruin our friendship so I understand if you don’t-“

“Shut up. I love you too…more than anyone. Let’s just date already.” And now his face is burning red hot as he avoids your gaze.

You guys fell into it so quick and smooth. It was an easy transition from best friends to lovers. You shared your first kiss just a few days after making it official.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you ever since that day you told me you were worried about me when I wasn’t at school.” This makes him smile bigger than you’ve ever seen him smile before.

“Yeah? Funny…that’s when I first wanted to kiss you too.”

There’s no one else he’d rather be with. You are his person and he is yours, forever and ever and ever ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[solargeist]

The Watchers in my AU are meant to be complicated and confusing. It’s part of why Grian stays for so long, why he’s so conflicted and why it bothers him to the point of venting to Mumbo.

They can be very kind, they do love him, they compliment him on everything. He gets gifts and everything given to him.

But on the other hand, bc they love him, they can be critical, telling him why that and why this, not that not this, they have pretty high standards for Beings that have seen everything already, not easy to genuinely impress.

They give him food, as parental figures should, anything he asks, but that’s sorta the problem, he always has to ask, there’s no way around this, no independence. He can ask for ingredients to cook by himself, but they’ll watch him.

He’s given clothes to wear, always within Watcher standard, dark and loose garments, open for his wings. He’d honestly prefer brighter colours, but that’s not rly a choice.

They tell him he’s special, he was chosen, better than the rest, a champion, a hero, and while it pets his ego, he feels pressure, they went out on a limp for him and he still can’t do enough. There is so much guilt.

Being here in the end messes with his psyche a bit, he’s much shorter than everyone, he has to rely on everyone, they all treat him like a kid, petting his hair or moving him via his shoulders instead of asking. He accidentally leans into this sometimes as a subconscious coping mechanism, he cries easier than he thinks he should. Tantrums where he has to press his face into his hands, or grumble and stomp off. He always has to apologize.

Despite being treated like a child, he is a Watcher child, so he studies a lot, he trains a lot. If he throws up from training, that’s no excuse (well by Flora’s standards)

He does feel a sort of comfort or safety around Aether, She’s lenient with him, but they’re definitely still not equals. She still hides things from him She thinks is too serious, She’s still overtly positive. He thinks abt Her sometimes, in hindsight he knows it was a family dynamic, and he feels guilt abt this too.

The Watchers love him, but they are ultimately overbearing, overwhelming, and frankly quite scary if you don’t play by their rules. Grian has reason to be cautious, the silent threats that hang over his head, never directly said to him, but traitors are cast out, if you’re not worthy you don’t deserve these gifts of wings or eyes. I think he’s convinced if they ever find him they’ll rip his eyes out with talons.

He won’t admit that he likes the attention sometimes, when his efforts are acknowledged and/or praised, when his hair is brushed. He wants their approval.

However, this is the only ‘human’ contact he gets. He doesn’t have anyone else, so it’s taken with a grain of salt how genuine his feelings are abt the attention.

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

There are two related things I've noticed coming from the left that I really want people to examine deeply in themselves, because it's a major problem that I see happening over and over again. The whole I/P issue is the most currently salient example, but it is one of many.

1. There's this tendency towards retributive justice, wherein the solutions proposed fail to take into account whether the proposed punishment is at all proportional to the alleged crime, but rather is just treated as the natural consequence of that action.

2. This same principle is also extended backwards in time and used to excuse violence post hoc that they might not have chosen as an ideal punishment but have nevertheless decided was deserved because that person [allegedly] did something bad.

Both betray an underlying punitive or retributive justice mentality, where the goal is not restoration or reconciliation + accountability, but rather punishment. (There are some interesting religious and cultural aspects to this I could get into but don't want to derail this post.)

This untethering of crime to punishment in terms of (a) due process, (b) proportionality of punishment to the crime, and (c) a failure to consider restorative justice, reconciliation, and teshuva processes instead of retribution leads to monstrous and morally bankrupt results.

Put another (blunter, crasser) way: the left's longstanding hard-on for vigilante violence is a critical failure that undermines the entire movement.

You cannot base your politics on humanism, compassion, and due process out one side of your mouth and then cheer on vigilante violence, cruel and unusual punishment, and mob mentality out the other. It doesn't work like that.

Now I understand that sometimes armed resistance is necessary. People living under authoritarian and inhumane conditions may, out of necessity, turn to guerrilla warfare and unofficial armed resistance in self-defense. But even that has limits. When leftists fantasize about death by curb stomping or slitting someone's throat as a good thing, they are imagining this happening to armed fascists, Nazis, white supremacists, or possibly other categories of irredeemable people such as domestic abusers who maim or kill their partner &/or children, pedophiles, human traffickers, etc.

What they aren't imagining is the other side of that coin, which is the alt-righter who murdered Heather Heyer with his car, abortion clinic bombers, violent Q-anoners or terrorists. Each of those people also believe in the justice of their actions and their entitlement to act as arresting officer, judge, jury, and executioner.

"But those people are wrong!"

So? Why do you get to decide that for everyone? What about the people who think YOU are wrong?

There's a reason courts and due process exist. It's the same reason why "free speech" protects the speech you hate, why freedom of the press protects that rag whose opinions you hate, and why free exercise of religion protects shitty religious groups you wish to see gone. It's because we live in a society and you aren't the arbiter of justice for everyone. If you give in to that mentality, you will inevitably end up in a "might makes right" society, which never ends well, particularly for marginalized people.

If you wouldn't accept l'chatchila a certain punishment being administrated by a court of law without outcry and protest for human rights abuses, then don't cheer it on b'dievad. Either rape is unacceptable or it's not. Either torture is unjustifiable or it isn't. Either maiming is an acceptable punishment for certain crimes or it isn't. You either support the death penalty by certain methods (beheading, burned alive, strangled, hacked apart, stoning, hanging, etc.) or you don't. Collective punishment is either acceptable or it isn't. Vicarious punishment is either acceptable or it isn't.

All of those things are either human rights abuses, or they aren't. All of them fall outside even the rules that might permit self-defense or guerrilla warfare or other uprisings of the oppressed.

Due process is the same - either you believe in due process and the right to a fair and timely trial, or you don't. The moment you support one extrajudicial punitive killing, you have opened the door to the justification of murder, provided the killer has sufficient justification.

It's true that the rules of armed conflict and war are different, but that they exist at all is relevant here too. The reason they exist is to minimize suffering during an event that is guaranteed to cause great suffering. It's the same reason why the laws of self-defense are different than the laws of intentional murder.

The truth is that in order to live in a just and civilized society, there must be specific rules that govern the administration of conflict resolution and harm. These rules must be enforced consistently and equally, and the decider of fact must have reasonable access to the evidence that exists. The state or any court of law or other tribunal must render its decision in the most impartial way possible, even for the worst, most obviously guilty people. Even those that commit heinous crimes must be given those same rights. Without those safeguards, you create the opportunity for bad faith actors to label their undesirable groups or individuals as whatever category people find so despicable that they fall out of being considered human and lose their claim to human rights protections. It must therefore be impossible to forfeit your right to due process and freedom from vigilantes and mobs.

[1000plants]

You Don’t Know Pt 2

Steve Rogers x reader (GN)

Summary: Steve Rogers and his pretentious “know it all” attitude is getting on your last nerves. Neither of you know what to do about it. Maybe this nice little therapy session with our favorite therapist would help! 

Warnings- mentions diets and body image (no body description given, but comments on food are VERY briefly made.) The whole chapter is a therapy session, a brief flashback (blood, weapons, etc) 

Word count- ~4k

Authors Note- This has a little bit of backstory to it 👀👀 mostly me using my real therapy sessions as a twinge of inspo <3 I promise Steve will become more likable in the next few chapters, and we will also become a bit more bearable lmao. Still, enjoy xoxo

Chapter 2/?

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

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The door to Dr. Raynor's office swung open, hard. The oak wood door smacked the wall loudly, bouncing back towards you with a dull thud. But your anger was faster than the door you were adjacently pissed at. You stormed into the room, the doctor wasn't even phased by your intense entrance. Your flare for the dramatic was always on show right before a session. Though, usually it was a brooding look, angry huff, and stomping feet. 

Red hot agitation was rare.

"made it." Was all you grumbled out, teeth aching from how firmly you were gritting them. You loudly sighed through your flared nostrils as you flopped onto the couch. Your body language was closed off, lying on your back with the heels of your palms pressing against your eyes. One leg bent up on the couch, the other hanging off and touching the floor. In your ideal world, you would've vented to Bucky or maybe JARVIS, not go to her. Neither of them really criticized you much for being pissed off with Steve.

Dr. Raynor just glanced over the top of her glasses, a single brow raised in your direction. She was used to your outbursts by now. She was just casually holding her notebook and pen, it seemed that she had been aimlessly drawing spirals on it before you stormed in. You were, admittedly, a bit surprised she was even expecting you to show up.

“So you decided to come today.” Dr. Raynor sat back in her chair, a small amused smile on her face. She let her hands relax, the notebook and her pen sat gently on her lap as she tilted her head toward you.

“And only 10 minutes late,” she added, pressing her lips together to avoid a bigger smile. She was clearly trying to hold back a laugh. Why exactly? You weren't exactly sure. She always acted as if there was a little secret between the two of you when obviously there wasn't.

"Rogers," was all you sharply replied with. You tried to seem disinterested, feeling slightly self-conscious about your obvious anger. Distracting yourself by looking out the window was always a good idea… even if there wasn't anything interesting outside.

Mh, Well…. Maybe the little joke was that you only ever complained about him… it wasn't even a funny joke.

You had spent a lot of time in therapy talking about your, oddly consistent, feud with Steve. The two of you just couldn't seem to get along. You swore up and down Steve was just a hardass who couldn't stand you. He’d make small jabs about your form on missions, every little mistake or slip-up, and even comment on your workout routines and diets. Which, considering Tony ate junk food every other meal, and you mainly stuck to the clean SHIELD Agent diet… the comments felt a lot more personal rather than constructive.

"He's still a dickwad," You added, removing your hands from your eyes and staring at the ceiling.

Hey, at least being ten minutes late meant you only had to be here for 50 minutes instead of a full hour. Not like you would've stayed full-time, anyway. You always had a plan in place to get out early. Whether that is a fake emergency call from Fury, a text from Bruce, or even an alert from JARVIS saying something was wrong at the tower.

You. Never. Stayed.

Dr. Raynor huffed a short laugh, picking up her notebook and pen from where they sat on her lap. She flipped to a new page, clean from her previous scribbling.

“You say that every week.” She responded with a small, amused smile. The sound of her pen softly writing against the paper was cue enough that she was noting your entrance and word usage. Admittedly, it was funny to think that she was writing dickwad in her professional therapy notes.

“I think you need to come up with new names for Steve. Dickwad is getting stale.” She hummed as if your conversation was normal. To give the doctor some credit, she was damn good at making you feel like you weren't an Avenger. Sometimes it was annoying, you'd feel like a child getting scolded… but most of the time you just felt a little more… normal. 

"He's.... uhhh," you sigh, wracking your brain for another insult. One that would be devastating, brutal, downright evil to call Steve… 

"old."

Dr. Raynor looked up from her notebook, a tickled smile on her face. “Very creative.” She replied, deadpan. She set down her pen, crossing her legs. “I’m assuming he was the one who caused a disruption in your usual routine this morning?”

Dr. Raynor has been keeping a close eye on your day-to-day functions over the past few months. Waking up at the relative same time every day. Breakfast, quick shower, brush teeth, workout, real shower, lunch, side work, dinner, hang out with some of the team, bed. That was the bare bones of your day, give or take a few things, you lived a fairly simple life. Save for, of course, the days you had missions, more intense workout sessions, or even a day off from being a hero. The only time a disruption became a problem was when that disruption was 6’2”, blonde-haired, and blue-eyed…

"He just can't be, just so... what's the word," you sigh, your anger more of just frustration and slight tiredness from the sparring session. You ran your tongue over your teeth, stopping yourself from gritting them more and giving yourself a bigger headache. Your hands had been laced over your stomach, but they were now picking at the other's nails.

"He just has to be so self-righteous all the time. He can't let anyone else... be better." you clarify, finding the right words. He hadn't let you bask in your moment of beating him at sparring, and that was picking in the back of your mind.

Dr. Raynor nodded in understanding, making a quick note in her notebook. “Is it fair to say that’s because of his leadership position?” She asked.

“Steve is very…. Particular about his role on the Avengers and taking charge. Does that make you feel like you’re being pushed aside?”

"I guess." you dryly admit. You hated when Dr. Raynor hit the nail on the head. Because of Steve, you were still being treated like a SHIELD agent that was war fodder… not like the impressive new Avenger you actually were.

"He still calls me "rookie" and "newbie" all the time, and I've been an Avenger for months and I've worked with SHIELD for years!" you grumbled. You crossed your arms over your chest, shutting your eyes and debating if the couch you were lying on was comfortable or not. 

Dr. Raynor continued to watch you with interest, still silently taking notes. Her pen on paper was a nice little change from the monotonous sound of the air conditioning in the room, “Sounds like Steve is still treating you like an inferior.” She mused. “How does that make you feel?”

The doctor knew that Steve’s stubbornness and tendency to boss you around wasn’t necessarily his fault-- soldier brain, she called it. She did wonder if there was something else to the tension between the two of you, though. She had mentioned it briefly, once, but you had just loudly laughed then left the room with a loud declaration that you needed a drink. It has been a Tuesday… 9 am. You were drunk by 10 that day.

"How do you think it makes me feel?" you sarcastically ask, opening your eyes to look at Dr. Raynor with an unimpressed glance. It was more of a glare, in all honesty. The woman was talking like it was a mystery how being treated like dirt might make a person feel.

You sigh and sit up on the couch, elbows on your knees as you move to plant your feet on the ground. You thought it was a nice way to keep yourself grounded, Dr. Raynor said it was a weak attempt to look intimidating. You rubbed your eyes and glanced out the window with a small exhale from your nose. The sky was slightly gray, it was early spring but there were still a decent amount of rain showers throughout the day.

The doctor clicked her pen as you looked out the window, a habit Dr. Raynor would point out what you did when you were trying to avoid the topic at hand.

“I think it makes you feel like a child.” Dr. Raynor responded bluntly. “Like he’s talking down to you, and treating you like you’re below him.”

You give her a small nod, lips tugged down in a small yeah, that's about right, expression.

“Have you ever told Steve how you feel?” Raynor questions. Her voice was mostly expressionless, though remained soft with a slight firmness laced in it.

You snort, shaking your head slightly. Your teeth play with your lower lip as you continue to look out at the New York skyline. It was an ugly view, but it beat the intense stare of a shrink.

"I tried once, but... I dunno, it didn't work." you shrug, acquiescing on your lack of engagement.

In all honesty, it was a half-assed attempt. You had brought it up mid-mission while you and Steve were getting shot at. But, in all fairness, you technically did try!

-------

The sound of the bullets hitting the soft dirt was oddly not scary. It was a lot more scary when the small grenade blew up the rotting tree just a few meters away. The blast threw you off balance just enough to send you rolling to your left. Landing on your already injured arm. 

Your eyes squeezed shut as pain rippled through your body, a bullet had already grazed your right arm, and now your left was definitely bruised along with the cut on your forearm that was now bleeding. The mud that had smattered on your face caused the scrapes and cuts to burn.

Then, out of nowhere, a loud voice snarls in your ear, “You've got to be more careful, rookie!” Steve said, roughly grabbing your forearm and pulling you from the ground.

The HYDRA base you had been sent to was a lot more guarded than Tony had thought It’d be. What was assumed to be 10 soldiers ended up being over 100. And they were a lot more than you had been prepared to deal with

“I-- Hey!” You yelp, face flushed red as the supersoldier manhandles you easily. You could take care of yourself, you didn’t need Captain Asshat to be covering you. 

And- Hey, wait? Natasha was your partner for this mission… Why was Steve here?!

“I can handle myself, Steve,” You huffed into the comms, immediately getting yourself back on your feet as you continued your rush back to the Quinjet. Sam had retrieved the data from the base you had needed, and since your little team of four was vastly outnumbered, y’all decided to just get back to the base ASAP. 

You forced your legs to carry you through the soft grass as you ran in pace with Steve. A small accomplishment you felt incredibly proud of.

“Sure you can,” Steve chuckles dryly, not even sparing you a look as you weaved through the wild plants, “That's why you almost got blown to pieces, yeah?”

“I tripped for a moment,” You counter, neither of you slowing down as the Quinjet came to view. Both of you rushing to just get into the damn thing.

“That moment could've cost you your life,” Steve reminds you, face stern as his feet pound at the metal of the ramp. He grumbles and yanks his helmet off, his face was dirty and sweat-clad from the mission.

Your retort of being an Avenger, just the same as him, was cut short by his finger being jabbed into your face and a stern glare. His light blue eyes never seemed more dangerous than when they stared icy daggers at you.

“You need to watch yourself. This isn't some SHIELD playground anymore. This is the real shit.”

-------

Dr. Raynor once again noted your distractions when talking about Steve.

The woman leaned back in her chair, a contemplative look on her face. “Why haven’t you tried again?”

“It’s important for you to be able to speak your mind, and let others know how you feel and see things.” The woman explained. “It’s how people fix issues and move forward.”

"Every time I bring it up, bring anything up to him... he compares me to Bucky or Natasha or Bruce. I can't just, ugh, be myself." you found the words slipping out faster than you could bottle them up.

"I need to be more stealthy like Natasha, more intuitive like Wanda... more open during therapy like Bucky," you said the last part mostly under your breath.

Your gaze fell to the floor, leg bouncing slightly. You bit the tip of your tongue, regretting letting the last part slip out.

Dr. Raynor was silently filling her notebook the whole time, letting you say whatever came to mind. You were starting to understand why Bucky saw the notebook as a more passive-aggressive statement rather than something helpful. You also partially wondered what she was writing.

She was probably drawing, you thought. Little houses, cats… disproportionate flowers...

“And you think Bucky is more open?” She questioned, a knowing smile on her face. You were snapped away from your thoughts of doodles by how quickly she picked up on your mumbled statement.

"According to Steve, he is." you shrug, nodding along to further give weight to your statement. You tilted your head towards the doctor, meeting her gaze for a moment and holding it.

Bucky had been going to therapy longer than you, so it made sense if he was further along than you were in terms of openness. You had seen two sides of Bucky, one side that liked cooking and helping you do art... and the other side that had horrid nightmares.

Bucky was the only other person who understood your nightmares on a truly personal level.

It was easy to see how you would feel inferior to Bucky—he’d been in therapy longer and had Steve’s favor and trust. He was also a war vet just like Steve, and the two men were close. And, being Bucky's friend always left you feeling second best when it came to who his best friend was… 

It just seemed like Steve never had the same patience with you as he did with Bucky.

Dr. Raynor hummed in thought, putting the tip of her pen to her chin. “And how do you feel about Bucky?”

"He's fine, I guess." you vaguely say, you had never really announced it, defined your relationship, "We're friends... that's probably what you'd call it."

You had plenty of friends. The other Avengers were all close with you, a few buddies from your SHIELD days, and a few civilian friends. Though, those were very few. Being involved in top government duties and now being a hero didn't let you keep around friendships with people who could get kidnapped

Dr. Raynor studied you carefully as you spoke about your friendships. It was rare for you to open up in a session—most days you were closed off and uncooperative, which meant the two of you were making notable progress -- slow progress.

But today was… different. You were being strangely open with Dr. Raynor about your thoughts. “That’s it? He’s fine?” She asked, a hint of disbelief in her voice.

“It seems like Bucky’s a good friend to you. Is there anything more to your relationship?” She continued to question. You had mentioned once how he understood your night terrors, though that was quite literally all you had said.

Normally Dr. Raynor wouldn’t dig so deep, but you were letting her get inside your head and ask questions. She couldn’t pass up the opportunity to possibly know a little more. Plus, it was clear the last thing you wanted to talk about was Steve, so Bucky was the safe second option.

You were quiet for a long time, letting Dr. Raynor feared she had pushed too hard.

You ran your tongue over your teeth, doing basically every nervous tic a person could do: bouncing your leg, rubbing your nose, looking around, etc., all to make the doctor squirm.

"He's the only one who understands the nightmares," you finally say. Dr. Raynor knew all about your nightmares. They were brutal, to say the least. Consistently as bad as the worst of Bucky's nightmares.

Dr. Raynor’s expression softened in understanding. Bucky was your anchor when it came to the nightmares—he was the only one that actually understood them. At least, on the team.

As a therapist, she knew the importance of finding comfort in others. Especially for people with PTSD. In fact, she had encouraged Bucky to also confide a little in you as well. It helped him to talk to more than just Steve about his more intense emotions.

“Do you feel like Bucky understands your nightmares more than Steve?” Raynor asked.

You just wordlessly nod. Not like you had told Steve about them. Though, thinking about it, he most definitely knew a bit more than he was letting on. The man knew the ins and outs of the whole team.

"Ive never told Stve about them,” You admit with a sigh, “But, he was so quick to get Bucky on the field and all that shit," you reluctantly say, "he's treating me like a baby. Like I can't handle myself."

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that Steve was protective over you. The whole team was very protective over Bucky and his triggers. But you weren’t Bucky, and you weren’t an ex-brainwashed assassin. You just… merely got startled by very specific noises. Unlike Bucky, there wasn't a fear of you becoming a Winter Soldier… you just kinda cried.

“Steve’s always been overprotective of anyone in his team,” Dr. Raynor explained. “He’s like a hawk—he keeps an eagle eye on you all.” She watched you to see how you reacted to that statement.

"And he needs to fuckin' back off," you huff, crossing your arms and leaning back against the couch.

You were closing yourself off again, getting frustrated and slightly overwhelmed from it all. Dr. Raynor could probably get one last solid question out of you before the session would come to an end.

Raynor jotted down a quick note before looking back up at you, choosing her words carefully before she spoke.

“I have one last question for you before our session is up.” She announced, setting down her notebook.

You were surprised that it had already been over 45 minutes. You glanced at the clock then back to the therapist. Part of you was a little peeved you hadn't even noticed the silent notification of a faux JARVIS alert.

"Yeah, fine... what is it?" you sigh out, leaning your elbows against your knees. You were itchin' to get out of here now that you realized you had possibly been gettin’ a little too friendly with the doctor.

You were already imagining what you’d make for lunch, do some laundry, maybe bake a bit… There were a few pinterest recipes that had been callin’ your name.

Raynor knew you had a… complicated relationship with Steve, that much was insanely obvious. One that often teetered the line between workplace acquaintances and…. Something more.

Dr. Raynor was a professional, but she was also observant. And there was something between you and Steve.

“Do you ever feel frustrated with Steve because you like him?”

A look of confusion and disbelief slowly appeared on your face, your eyes widening slightly. It felt like you just suddenly got slapped with a brick.

Dr. Raynor’s expression never changed as she continued to stare at you, as you processed the question, and tried to formulate a response.

“It isn’t uncommon, you know.” She spoke after a moment. “To be more…” She looked for the right word. “… frustrated with someone you like.”

It wasn’t a secret that Steve was one of the most attractive men on the team. He was tall, muscular, handsome, and not to mention the leader of the Avengers thing, the whole hero thing.

So there was no doubt in Dr. Raynor’s mind that you felt an attraction to him, at least a physical one. If the doctor would speak bluntly, she'd tell you that your frustration with the Captain was bordering on sexual, and not one-sided.

You scoffed, oh, you were definitely on the defensive now, "Are you saying I'm horny and that's why I fight with Steve?" you practically laugh in disbelief, shaking your head no as you stand up. You weren't even going to entertain the thought. 

"You've lost your mind," you say under your breath, grabbing your bag by the door. You sling it over your shoulder, the earlier frustration of letting yourself be so vulnerable was coming back. You were so stupid, why the hell would you say any of that?!

Dr. Raynor didn’t react much to your comment, only letting a small smirk play on her lips.

The woman wasn’t necessarily trying to make the implication that you were horny for Steve. That was just the usual response she got from her patients when she brought up attraction to others. And, typically the only people who used that wording were the ones who actually felt it.

“I’m not saying anything,” She responded calmly as she got up from her chair. “I’m asking. There’s a difference.”

"Oh, you're asking," you drawl with an eye roll.

"No. No, I am not horny for Steven Grant Rogers." you firmly state, your expression stern as you look back at Dr. Raynor. With brows drawn in, and jaw tensed, your next words came out like a smooth venom.

"The man couldn't make me any less horny if he tried."

Dr. Raynor had to bite back a laugh at that statement, a sly smile appearing on her face. “I’m not sure about that.”

The woman didn’t want to come right out and state the fact that you were attracted to Steve, and probably more so than you thought. And that could be the reason for your dislike and frustration towards him.

“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”

"I'm not convincing anyone. I'm just stating the truth," you scoff, running your tongue over your lip.

"Look, do I have homework or something? Or can I just leave now and see you next week?" you quickly ask, your hand already on the door handle. You came into this session mad at Steve, and were leaving the session mad at Steve… Woo, therapy was really workin’ out for you, huh?

“You know I don’t give you ‘homework’.” Dr. Raynor responded in an unconvincing tone, watching as you opened the door. You fought back a painful eye roll, almost wanting to snip back, yeah, and I don't want to punch Steve. 

She was getting under your skin, and she knew it.

Instead, you settled for just yanking the door open, almost as violently as you had entered. You were quick to take a few steps out of the room.

As she watched you start to walk out of the office, the doctor spoke up once more, a smirk on her face. “Oh, and do say ‘hi’ to Steve for me!”

You didn't even look back at the doctor, just flipping her off over your shoulder.

You didn't like that session

Not one bit.

Though, unbeknownst to you, Dr. Raynor had accomplished what she set out to do—get under your skin and get you thinking.

In all reality, she figured you had more than just a physical reaction towards Steve. There was no way, she believed, that you and him purely fought because of fieldwork or Avenger duties. It just didn't fit the MO of either of you. Now, if only you would at least somewhat acknowledge it to your end… But you were just too stubborn and closed off to admit anything.

Raynor could ask you if the sky was blue, and you'd tell her it was any color but.

Though, and this went for just about anyone who had to work with superheroes, she liked a challenge.

[shantechni]

I can't find the post right now because I never bothered to save it like an idiot💀but I came across someone talking about one of Splinter's scenes in New Girl in Town when Leo lets the others handle a mission without him and I wanted to add my two cents.

Yeah, it seems wrong on the surface for Splinter to say Leo wasn't in a position to decide whether or not he should lead the guys, and it also seems unfair for Splinter to say he should bear the responsibility of leadership instead of shirking it off on Raph out of frustration with his brothers and their lack of appreciation or understanding. It especially may make one think Leo should be allowed to throw a tantrum because leading isn't going how he wants it to, and his brothers should see how it feels to function without him.

But that wasn't the point.

The point was that Leo allowed his brothers to walk off into a dangerous situation without guidance simply because he was tired of going back and forth with Raph and his criticisms.

Mikey and Donnie have their moments too, but in this particular episode, they're in the background as they witness another falling out between their leader and the resident hothead of the family. They didn't ask for Raph to take over, and no sooner than later do they realize Raph didn't know what and all he was signing up for when he freezes up in the middle of the fight. Donnie is the one to formulate a quick plan of action as he snaps Raph back to reality and incapacitates Snakeweed long enough for them to make a swift exit from the hideout, while Mikey remains unconscious for nearly the remainder of the episode due to Raph's poor planning.

And I seriously need to stress what exactly Splinter tells Leo: "Leadership is not about being appreciated. It is about responsibility. It doesn't matter that the burden is heavy. It matters that you carry it. Now go find your brothers."

He never said Leo was wrong for seeking appreciation; in fact, his future words and actions support the guys learning to show appreciation to Leo, and Splinter is understanding everytime Leo expresses his distress over being responsible for his brothers when they love making his job more difficult than it needs to be. But he needed Leo to understand that when it came to completing a mission effectively without unnecessarily endangering each other, appreciation holds little importance in the moment. You can't use appreciation as a deciding factor for whether or not you should let the team fall apart because your younger brother stomped his foot at you for the umpteenth time.

Splinter emphasizes that leadership isn't something to be taken lightly, and Leo needs to realize it's not something you can just pass on when you aren't in the mood to hold it.

Now, one can argue that it does matter to some extent that the burden of leadership is heavy and their argument would be valid; they're still kids after all and the burden may gain some pounds depending on the situation. That's why a leader leads a team though, so that the weight of that burden can be shared by the members and their efforts when the leader starts to buckle.

But, once again, Splinter is right. It does matter more that Leo carries that burden, or at least the most weight, because he's the leader. Not only are they at a point where Leo is permanently cemented in place as the leader, and things would undoubtedly be shaken up in an undesired manner should he thrust someone else into that position this far in, but his brothers aren't entirely cut out for leadership. Planning ahead doesn't come easy to Raph, Donnie gets tunnel vision and misses details that would be obvious otherwise, and Mikey doesn't always think his actions through before doing them (a bit of blind faith if you will). That's not to say they can't defy the odds at times, but in the grand scheme of things, they function much better as a team with a leader, and Leo functions much better as a leader with a team.

Team building exercises aside, the way Splinter speaks and phrases things gives the same vibes as a parent telling their child not to make a habit out of something they shouldn't be doing. He was evidently upset with Leo for allowing his frustrations to do the decision making for him, but he specifically wanted Leo to not make this a recurring thing because they won't just fall apart as a team by that point: they'll fall apart as brothers. Giving someone what they want because they irked you into doing it can establish a pattern of behavior that no one wants to deal with the consequences of, and irking someone into giving you what you want isn't something you should do either. It sucks, believe me I know, but Leo shouldn't just let his brothers get their way because he's fed up with them, and Raph shouldn't always get his way because he doesn't agree with Leo's way of doing things.

Doing that creates the opportunity for something bad to happen that could've easily been avoided, similar to letting a child do something you know they should be broken out of before that something becomes a problem in the future.

And Splinter doesn't seem mad when the guys come rushing back to the lair without Leo in tow, he sounds more disappointed than anything. As I mentioned earlier, he knows the others give Leo a hard time and he's aware that leadership is no easy role to be sworn into, but he was hopeful that his earlier lecturing would bring Leo to his senses and his son would prioritize responsibility over running off to only God knows where. He doesn't linger on his earlier conversation with Leo though, he spends a few seconds to scold Raph for instigating this entire mess in the first place. He makes sure Raph is aware of the pressure Leo has on his shoulders, with an underlying warning to not take leadership so lightly again, and orders him to find Leo.

Splinter's 15 second lecture leaves much to be desired and explained (that goes without saying), but the curt ending to it, "Now go find your brothers," says it all: leader or not, the bottom line is that your brothers are out there fighting an enemy without your help. Go find them and ensure their safety.

[itsallmouthwashing]

Salt and Mouthwash- Band AU

welcome to Angst World, I am the mascot, here is some angsty jimcurl from my band AU MUAH [(I am projecting :)] [(this time they're emo barbies :)] [(a.k.a Jimmy is in platforms and they're in a scream rock band the silly picture is cute)]

Here’s the full scene from one of my bullet points here. Feel free to read up if you want to understand more context! Anya is OOC, please forgive me. She has different reasons to be timid around Jimmy (you’ll find out why in a bit), and I def imagine her being more outspoken at this point in her life.

This is Part One of Two (I'll update post with part 2 when I post it) and part two is gonna be,,,,,, smut :)

Reblogs are appreciated :) Please enjoy

CW: parent death

_____P--L--E--A--S--E----E--N--J--O--Y_____

“I’m leaving, Curly.”

“Come on, Anya! He’s-”

“Turning us into punching bags! Is that what you were going to say? Cause it should have been!” Her hands fly to her face and push her hair back with a huff that rattles the room.

My hands won’t stay still at my side. The sickness turns in my chest like a witch’s brew and I’m cursed to remain on this bridge with my feet in cement. 

She sighs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be yelling. These are my feelings and they’re not for you to bear for me.”

I try to take a deep breath. “It’s alri-”

“Is what I would say if I was JIMMY!” 

Her shrill voice echoes through the garage. It’s all so empty except for the equipment we’ve been storing here. Daisuke’s drum set sits alone on the back wall, my and Jimmy’s guitars laying on the adjacent and Anya’s bass slung on her back. She’s going to fucking kill me with it if I’m not careful.

“You-”

“Say something that isn’t ‘you have to understand,’ Curly. I’m begging you! Say something in my defense for once!”

Silent is all I can be. I wouldn't be able to hear through the blood in my ears. 

The space between me and the floor is infinite. 

Gravity hits me now, draining it all from my body a gallon at a time. “I’ll talk to him,” someone says. “Please, Anya. Let me talk to him.” 

We float in silence. I don’t feel her eyes on me. I feel eyes looking at myself looking at her looking down at her feet, hearing someone trying to steady their breathing so they don’t drown. It’s me, I think.

“Fine,” she says as she brushes past me. She pauses in the doorway, her hand gripping the wood so tight it might splinter under her rage. “But if I’m made to feel lesser again, I'll walk.”

She storms out of the garage, making sure the door doesn’t slam behind her and doing the same when she flees out the front.

I hear it all happen at once. The times where Jimmy screamed at her for playing a note wrong one too many times. Or thinking her criticism is some sort of snide comment. 

The sound of his walls reaching up through the ground is deafening every time. The sound of the door slamming behind him doesn't even compare. 

Daisuke looks at me, holding back tears and failing when he looks away. Anya follows Jimmy out of the door, but I hear her stomp up the stairs while the front door shakes the house. Each time, I try to say something. Each time, I am silenced. Each time, I leave to find Jimmy. Each time, we cry. Each time, the talking never comes. 

The red-soaked concrete stares back at me, and I, it. I think I’m jealous. If only it could feel the anguish I do. If only I didn't feel the weight of the people that walk all over me.

Footprints form in the thin membrane left over from my fluids returning to me in one fell swoop. One step at a time to the front door. And I follow, one step at a time, to the front door. They lead me to a knock, steady and shy.

I pray it’s Anya. Nothing leaves me sore more than a conversation left on bad terms. I need to make her understand, I need to-

-Take a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth, slow and steady. 

And rip off the band-aid. 

“An-”

It’s hazel eyes instead of cool blue. Greasy brown hair instead of blow-dried black. Smoking a cigarette left un-ashed for too long. I wish he’d do it on the neighbor’s porch instead of mine. All he has to do is reach over. 

“Uh, what’s up Curls? You forget about our lesson?”

“Jimmy! Aha… Yes, I did. I’m really sorry.”

He sucks in a deep drag from his cigarette, breathes it out like dragonsbreath. 

“It’s fine,” he says through the smoke. “I was really looking forward to this one too-”

“Jim, I didn't say I wasn't available.”

“Oh,” he says, finally ashing his cigarette. Only half of it falls to the neighbor’s side as he notices me eyeing it, suddenly remembering my countless requests to ash it literally anywhere else. He snubs it on the concrete slab that serves as my porch.

“May I?”

He sniffles and moves past me to come inside, takes his shoes off and places them off to the side. I take one last look around my block for Anya, but her car is already gone. I think the sun’s gone down a little too.

“Let's set up in your room this time. It has the most furniture so there’s less space for the sound to escape.”

“Right, good idea,” I say from the top of the stairs. He stumbles up behind me, tripping on the carpet.

I need to pull it together. This is serious. 

“Actually, before we start. I really need to talk to you." I choke out as I sit down on my bed beside him. 

Jimmy almost goes rigid. He tries to hide his left hand as it grips my sheets. 

“Uh, okay. Shoot, Curls.”

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. “It’s about your behavior recently.”

“My God, not this shit again-”

“Jimmy, I’m being serious right now.”

“So am I! Do you know how much pain I’m in every single day?” He shoots up from the mattress, towering over me on platforms that he clearly doesn't know how to walk in. The tag is still on the left shoe. “I know what they’re thinking… How could he be this torn apart over two people he didn’t even love? Didn’t even love him? What are the tears for when it’s two sociopaths who went on to raise a sociopath of their own?” His hand claws at his chest, pulling his shirt from his neck like it could choke him if it came any closer. 

“I know what they did to me. I know what they think I should be feeling. They say they understand but they dont- No one could ever-” His hands push locks of hair out of his face like they’re the hands of hell come to drag him below. He’s trying to steady his breathing. “I know what I would be thinking,” he scoffs. “You should be relieved, overjoyed, even. You should be celebrating… Ding dong, the bitch is dead, right?” His eyes fall to the carpet again, counting the fibers like he needs to know exactly how many pieces he needs to break into. 

“So why do I miss them?” He chokes out. 

To anyone else it would be unintelligible; just sopping wet words coming through a pinhole of vulnerability. They’re cut and bruised by the time they finish their journey to me, the oxygen we breathe like salt and mouthwash, but I hear them all the same.  

“Why do I miss my mommy and daddy so bad?”

We’re shaking. His knees are about to buckle and my stomach is on an endless roller coaster into the abyss. We’re standing on the edge of a bridge and I’m begging God for a chisel.

I stand despite the gelatin that’s become the air around us. He’s heaving as he scans the floor, his eyes doing suicides between the decisions of ripping his jacket off or hiding inside of it. My hands steady on his shoulders.

“Jimmy.”

 He doesn’t look up, but he pauses his decision making for a brief moment. He’s listening. “Deep breaths. Listen to me.”

He closes his mouth to keep his breathing through the nose, but he doesn't slow down. I lean into his vision, forcing him to look at me when I stand between him and his endless options on the floor. His eyes are bloodshot- either from the pot he smokes in his car before coming over or this outburst- and he blinks twice to move along a tear stuck in his eyes. I squeeze his shoulders gently.

“…I feel it too, Jimmy. All of this,” I glance between his misty hazel eyes. He can't help but count them all, I think he mutters a number around one thousand. I need to start over. 

“It’s not wrong to feel this way, Jimmy.” 

He doesn't stop. He doesn't pause. He’s waiting to hear what I have to say. If it’s even worth stopping for. 

If he’s worth stopping for.

“You’re allowed to miss your parents, Jim.”

That does it. I think he goes through all six stages of rigor mortis at once before his muscles spasm up to me. But it all shuts down again. He’s back to staring at the carpet, but his eyes are still.

“You’re allowed to hate them at the same time. You can miss your parents while hating the people that hurt you. You can grieve the knife even after it stabs you.”

“... You’re crying.”

I’m fucking crying. My parents are fine and my best friend is shaking and I’m crying. 

“I feel it all, Jimmy,” I say in a deep, desperate moment to stay truthful. I can't sully any part of this with a lie. I won't brush it off. I won't shove it down. 

“We’ve been together through it all. Everything you see, I see. Everything you feel, I feel.” Scared. I’ve been so scared.

“Every moment, I am a part of you. I can't help but see the things that make you coil up inside. I can’t help but feel it all.” It’s so deep and aching, the pain. Everything is kept in a tiny bottle labeled ‘Fuck This’ and I’m swallowing it over and over again. “You have no idea how it feels to see your best friend suffer every day and not come to you for help.”

Thick and heavy tears wipe the dirt from my face. I don’t want to look away because he’s staring at me like I’m bringing him salvation in the middle of a hurricane. 

“Let me help you, Jimmy.” I hold him a little tighter. “Please…” I don’t mean to, but I bring him closer. 

His head finds its place in my shoulder, his hands to my back, and my hands to his head. He presses me into his face in an attempt to muffle his screeching sobs and I press him into me.

“It’ll be alright, Jim,” I mumble into his hair. “I’m here for you.”

His hair is greasier than I thought as I comb my hand through it. Maybe a hot shower will help him feel better after a cry.

“But, hey-” He sniffles as he looks up at me. He’s listening. Really listening. “Come to me before you lash out on our friends, okay? I know you’re hurting, but we all want to help you. Anya and Dai dont deserve the way you’ve treated them these past few months.” I wipe his tears with my thumbs.

“Curly, you know- with the whole-”

“Jimmy, no one understands you more than me. But I also know other people better than you.”

He turns his face in my shoulder, hiding only half as he mumbles into my shirt, “That’s mean, Curls.” 

“My point is- You need to apologize to your friends.”

He’s silent for a moment. A while. He stares into my shirt and holds my shoulder with both hands like the floor is about to fall out from under him.

“I guess… I have been a little bit of a dick,” he mumbles after a while.

I chuckle and rub his back. “A lotta bit, yeah.”

“Hey!”

“Hurt people hurt people, James. Us of all people know this.”

He nods and digs his fingers into my shoulders, now overwhelmed with hearing his government come from me of all people. I let him cry until he stops shaking and hold him up as his legs finally give out from under him. 

Remnants of his sobs ripple through him as I scoop him up from the floor and lay him down on my bed. 

“Let’s worry about the lesson another time, okay?”

He lets out a sort of hum that I think could be acknowledgment, but there’s an equal chance he’s fallen asleep and started his god-awful snoring. My body leans forward, resting on my elbows as I press a kiss to his hair. I pull away and pray it’s the latter, closing the door to take a hot shower before he wakes up. 

[bleue-flora]

as much as I like the dsmp story and its message about how there’s a deep down, I can’t help but think about the Bojack horsemen quote about how there’s no deep down and you are the actions you do regardless of someone’s intent or backstory

[context]

I believe you are referring to this quote “That’s the thing. I don’t think I believe in deep down. I kind of think all you are is just the things that you do.” (Which btw yall its real annoying when I have to find whatever the hell you are talking about, no shade just as an aside…<3)

The thing is, both things can be true. Life is about choices, and your every action and inaction has a consequence, (which I think I’ve talked about before but I don’t feel like finding it at the moment). In other words, everything you do impacts the world around you and has lasting effects. You may not know it and are likely very unaware of the consequences (positive and negative). This is because like my post said we are all inherently selfish because we live and see the world from only one view - our own. So yes, you are the actions/“things you do” and choices you make, regardless of the intentions.

At the end of the day, whether you meant to or not, whether you had good intentions or not, if you hurt someone the facts remain the same - you hurt someone. They have a fundemental right to feel hurt and that is always valid, emotions and feelings are always valid, whether it’s logical or makes sense or not. The reason deep down doesn’t change the outcome or the hurt you caused. However, that is about the past action. If you want to learn and grow and form meaningful relationships, avoid conflict… etc. That’s where the deep down comes in. Then it’s important to look at the reasons, not as excuses or justifications but as explanations - a bridge to understanding and shattering our stereotypes, assumptions and judgement.

(Okay, my foot still hurts from you stepping on it, but yeah if it was just an accident then the relationship doesn’t have to just all end over something stupid like it would if I assumed it was intentional.) Yes the impact you make on the world is the sum of what you do and that impact is true regardless if there is a deeper reason behind it. But also, if you only focus on what people do and go no deeper, then you are missing the bigger picture and your relationships will not last long and you are going to live a very lonely and conflictfilled life.

That is why it is important. Not because in the finale of the dsmp Dream’s reveal changes any of his actions, but because it changes our perspective of him and that changes how we act next. Whether we show compassion and empathy or understanding or forgiveness of someone’s actions or run the hell away. (Whether a conflict breaks out over you stomping on my foot so I step on yours back.)

As an engineer, a nerdy metaphor I could use is that it’s kinda like if situations were an equation then the effect and action is the answer (the one side of the =), but sometimes we need to used the other side of the = to solve for x, so we can solve the next equations.

The deep down matters because it should change your action. It matters because in recent years after excusing my behavior because of something or the other, I realized ya know other people might also have a valid reason too. So while my automatic assumption of why they are late to class is that they are lazy, or rude, or don’t care, maybe maybe they actually woke up nauseous and were throwing up which prevented them from being on time, maybe they fainted coming out of the shower, maybe their car wouldn’t start, maybe they had a doctor’s appointment beforehand, maybe there was a car accident making them late, maybe there was a train blocking the road…etc. there are so many reasons, but our mind just jumps to the worst, and we expect grace from others when we are late but wouldn’t give others the same benefit of the doubt. If we had, if instead of judgment and criticism, we checked on them after class to see if they are okay then maybe we learn of their struggle, and maybe they need our help, or maybe we relate and become friends, maybe you share your notes with them, maybe you give them a hug. The deeper meaning changes what you do and like the quote says, what you do is the impact on the world…

[gallafics]

𝙶𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚌'𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠

Title: Quatervois Author: @dodgerbear84 (Ao3)

Rating: Explicit Series: N/A

Chapters: 8/8 Word Count: 51.5k

Archive Warnings: No Warnings Used

Favorite Character: Two lovely side characters; a bartender named Cam & Mickey’s friend Kenny. And of course our boys.

Least Favorite Character: I didn’t have any characters in particular that I disliked, but Gracie’s mom?? iykyk

Ao3 Summary: “Quatervois (Qua-ter-vwa): A crossroads; a critical decision or turning point in one’s life.

Closeted soldier Mickey meets farmer Ian in a bar when on leave from his base in the Deep South and discovers that making the leap toward happiness isn't as tough when you have someone on your side.”

Review: This fic actually blew me away. The writing style is extremely cinematic and had me convinced I actually just watched a movie instead of reading a book. I could vividly picture Ian’s farm, their facial expressions, the bar, the creek—everything. I felt like I was there watching it in person.

Mickey and Ian’s build up in this fic is beautiful. Their flirtation is both cute and sexy while also having hints of pining and being slight idiots. Mickey falling for Ian in this fic is a favorite of mine because it’s so obvious how much they want one another but have things that are keeping them apart.

This fic really has it all. There’s spice, there’s banter, theres fluff, there’s lust and longing and perfect comedic timing! It’s all around a beautiful fic that has made its way to my personal downloads because I will be re-reading it!

Spoilers Below↓

Favorite Moment: So, I’m a sucker for the moments in a story that just rip your heart out and absolutely stomp on it in front of you, so, I would say my favorite part is when Mickey is leaving the state, getting ready to deploy and he and Ian are saying good-bye…

“Don’t think about what you’re leaving behind. Think about the bright future ahead of you. Promise me you won’t dwell on us saying goodbye.” Mickey’s heart clenched tightly in his chest. “I promise.”

Equally favorite moment is their first meeting, it’s so tense and Ian’s so nice and Mickey is gay panicking and ends up being an asshole

“I wasn’t asking to be your friend. I was just being friendly. Big difference. Sorry to have offended” Mickey watched as Ian headed back to his corner and felt irrational anger bubble up inside him. “What? You’re not gonna thank me for my service?” Ian laughed loudly and hollowly, turning to face Mickey and lifting the hem of his black shirt up to his chin. Mickey gaped at the display of rock hard abs and firm pectoral muscles. It lasted a moment before he spotted the livid red skin of severe but well healed burns covering the left side of Ian’s body from waist to armpit. “You gonna thank me for mine? Didn’t think so. Drink your beer, soldier, I won’t bother you again.”

Honorable mentions, their first kiss, Mickey visiting the creek, the conversation about Ian’s bed (iykyk), still obsessing over their reunion, the waterfall scene (!!) and so so many other good moments in this one!!

Favorite quote(s):

“Anything happens to Ian and you’ll have this whole bar looking for you.”

“You totally fed it.” “The fuck you on about?” “The stray cat. You fed it. You make out like you’re this tough badass but you have a caring side”

“I just… I ain’t ever… this is all… wow fuck. Kiss one guy and you use your grip on life.”

“There’s a sight I could never get tired of seeing.” Ian leered. “Me sweating my tits off while I try to stay fit enough to be a soldier even though I drink beer like water and smoke more than a funeral home chimney?”

“Nobody has ever touched me there.” Ian mumbled against Mickey’s mouth. “You’re beautiful.” Mickey had never said those words to anyone before.

“Then you came along. You, with your fucking attitude problem and killer smile.”

There were honestly so many moments in this fic that made me insanely happy and have stuck in my brain. It’s such a beautiful story. If you haven’t read it 10000/10 recommend, if you have read it? Go read it again!!!

Final thoughts: The plot was plotting. The spice was spicy. The romance was romancing. The chemistry was off the charts. I cried. I laughed. And everyone in the gym probably thought the lady on the treadmill was crazy cause I couldn’t stop grinning at my phone! Amazingly, beautiful, cinematic masterpiece!!

Thank you so much, DodgerBear, for blessing us with this fic!!

— Harley, Gallafics Reviews

[fictarian]

Hobie w/ an equally as punk reader? <3 🤘🎸

𝐇𝐢𝐦 <𝟑 . ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝐏𝐭. 𝟔

ღ Of course! I apologize if there are issues with this fic, because i’m not very familiar with the style despite trying to learn about it 😭 Fun facts and criticism is VERY MUCH appreciated in the comments, so don’t be afraid to comment

ღ Gang we’re like 21 followers away from 100… i’m shivering in boots ‼️‼️ Tysm for following me omg

ღ Here’s a couple headcannons for if Hobie was with a punk partner (relationship goals, shout out to all my punk lovers I aspire to be like you)

ღ Paring: Hobie Brown and a GN! Punk reader 🙏

ღ Previous part can be found here !

• Whenever the two of you go out together, you always make an effort to go to your local record store. It has become a tradition between you and Hobie to buy two records (preferably of a song that the other hasn’t listened to or knows about) each and gift them to the other at the end of the trip. This helps broaden your guys’ music taste, introduce each other to a new possible favorite band, and just be a bonding experience all together

“The Skids?” You question while looking down at the album in your hands, intrigued by the vibrant colors on the cover. Hobie only nods his head, looking down at the records you had gotten for him. “Mhm, one of my favorites. You’ll like it luv, I promise.”

• No matter what either of you say, you and Hobie are both history nerds. Especially about punk history. So there’s no doubt that whenever you both are on call or are just relaxing in your room in silence, one of you are bound to start a conversation with a history fact. And for the next couple of hours, you’ll both be ranting and exchanging facts to each other

• Since you guys have practically the same style, you often find yourself taking some of Hobie’s jackets, pins, jewelry, etc. Hobie doesn’t mind, in fact, it gets his heart racing whenever he sees you in something that belonged to him at one point (let’s be fr, he isn’t gonna get shit back). So don’t be surprised when you catch him leaning against the doorway to your room, watching you try on one of his leather jackets or ripped jeans with a small smirk and a blush coating his face 🤭

“Y’know, it’s rude to stare” “I just can’t ‘elp it luv, not when something so pretty is right ‘front of me” Hobie cooed, causing you to blush from the tone of his voice. “Whatever…”

• You’re Hobie’s #1 hype person during the concerts he participates in (he doesn’t like consistency, so obviously he switches it up a lot and plays with different bands). This makes him go absolutely WILD. Just seeing you go full on crazy and vibe to the song he’s playing makes him 🥺. Hobie makes it a requirement for you to go to every one of his gigs, which obviously, you don’t mind at all

• You always get a front row view during his concerts, no questions asked. While you’re jamming away to the song his band is performing, Hobie is staring directly at you (somehow managing to not mess up his playing). And when you notice this and finally meet his gaze, the bastard doesn’t even look the least bit shamed or embarrassed. He even sends you a wink, making you the embarrassed one instead

• Hobie dedicates songs to you. Hell, bro will full on WRITE songs for you. He just loves you so much, and wants to show you that in a form that you both bond over constantly every single day. And when Hobie does dedicate a song to you, he makes it very clear to the audience. This makes you want to stomp on him with your platform boots, but it also makes you want to pull him in by the collar of his shirt and kiss him all over his face

“This one is for my arsekicker, _____. Didn’t tell em I was gonna do this before ‘and, since they would ‘ave done just that.” Hobie announced, meeting your sharp glare with a wink and his usual smug smirk. You shook your head, feeling your face burn as the band started to play.

tag list ! @zalayni @luvstarrstruck @jrrantss @pixqlsin @kairiscorner @k4tsu3 @asmobeuses

[docochocart]

DOCORONPA R

CHAPTER FOUR

[ trial ]

Drummer quickly rose from the all-too-familiar bottom bunk. Eyes darting in panic and legs shaking, she stumbled into the center of the, now empty, cabin.

She stood there for a moment, letting her heart race and her lungs pant in fear, before finally coming to. There was a trial on the horizon and she needed to act like it. Quickly gathering herself, Drummer stormed out of the barren cabin to find the others.

Hastily making barging her way into the craft hall, she found Sailor and Welder. The two had clearly already shared a drink, despite the harrowing situation. Drummer refrained on screaming at them, instead asking about the whereabouts of her cabin mates.

The two brushed off the question, with Sailor stating that they'd come straight here after waking up. Drummer swallowed her frustration, attempting to guide the two outside with her to investigate. They declined.

Before Drummer could reach critical rage, Rebel and Ice Skater made their grand entrance to the craft hall. The brooding pair stood in the doorway, glaring down the room.

Sailor spoke first, sloppily cursing at Rebel for putting them into this situation. Ice Skater shot back calling the giant a "alcoholic nepotistic failure."

Sailor didn't take this disrespect lightly, of course, rising from his seat to approach the two. Before he made it far, Welder finally piped up:

"Guyyyys... Like... The bodyy... We need to focus on the body right now... So like just stop."

While their words weren't particularly moving, they did manage to lessen the tension enough to get the investigation back on track. Drummer took the opportunity to question Ice Skater:

"Did you see-"

Before she could finish her question, Ice Skater hissed that "She won't wake up."

She stared daggers through Drummer, clearly bothered by how close she'd gotten to her former ally. Drummer once again bit her tongue, motioning for the group to set out in search of their two suspects. Finally, they listened.

...

They found the girls out on the dock. Both sat on the edge, cradled in each other's arms. It would have been a beautiful picture if not for the situation at hand.

The group approached at a creep, all falling quiet the moment they spotted the pair. Their wailing could be made out before they even reached the sand. The two were in anguish.

Welder hesitantly called out to the girls from the foot of the pier, yeilding no response. After a few more moments, Rebel stomped over to retrieve the suspects.

Personal Trainer immediately batted his hand away, hissing toward the group to give them space. Before anybody could respond, a sickeningly sweet voice chimed in:

"Oh look! Everybody's here... Well, almost everybody."

The expression Rebel wore at the sight of the stuffed sheep could melt paint off of a wall, but Monomaton gleefully continued:

"Guess we're ready for trial then!"

...

Monomaton led the beaten down group to an all too familiar entrance way in the brush. Rebel stayed at the front of the pack, looming over the the lamb. This intimidation tactic was obviously futile, yet he persisted.

Personal Trainer and Social Star lagged behind, quietly comforting one another. Their fate had been taken out of their hands, and they knew this would be their last time with eachother.

The despair was palpable when everybody took their place in the trial room. Marine Biologist's unconscious body was wheeled in then propped up on a chair in her assigned spot. A terribly indignant display.

They all stood paralyzed as Monomaton repeated the trial rules to them. Then, they were off.

"It was me."

Social Star stared at the floor while announcing her own guilt at the top of the trial. Her words had no time to sit in the air, as Personal Trainer immediately chimed in:

"Lying! She's lying! It was me driving."

Before anybody else could hop in, Social Star was angrily contesting this assertion. The bond that her and PT had formed quickly broke away as they each tried to take the fall for what had happened.

Rebel was the only one with the guts to override this, telling the two to "cut the shit and get on with it."

Personal Trainer didn't take this lightly, with her now attention turned to Rebel she began to scream obscenities his way. She blamed him for putting them in this situation to start, exclaiming that it should be him getting executed tonight. His response put a bad taste in the rooms mouth:

"Well, it's not. So get the fuck on with it."

PT quickly worked herself into a fury within her booth, with Social Star no longer caring to calm her down. Instead, the despaired girl made a silent eye contact with her peers that told them what they needed to know.

Personal Trainer continued her manic tirade, pointing fingers in every direction to somehow offset the blame. This desperate display was futile, of course, but she persisted. Then, suddenly, she was interrupted.

A deafening screech filled the air. All heads spun to see what had caused this commotion. Marine Biologist was awake.

The tied down girl was struggling against her binds, heaving and screaming bloody murder. Her eyes fearfully darted around the room, tears welling in her eyes. Something was very wrong.

Drummer was paralyzed in horror at the sight of her close friend in such anguish. The expression she witnessed from Marine Biologist in that moment would remain burned into her brain for eternity. Hell.

This was enough to pause Personal Trainer for a moment, and allow Ice Skater the chance to speak. She coldly turned attention back to Social Star, who couldn't look up to meet her gaze.

Guilt dripped off of the her, her anguish was so palpable that there were no doubts in Ice Skater's mind that she was responsible.

Personal Trainer desperately contested, spouting wild theories and accusations that made no sense. All the while Social Star silently nodded as her tears continued:

"Please... Just finish it."

The room was still polluted with the competing screams of both Personal Trainer and Marine Biologist. All until Sailor finally took the reigns:

"ENOUGH!"

His booming roar was able to create enough of a pause for Ice Skater to suggest they begin the vote. MonoMaton seemed tickled by this:

"Voting? This early? You must be confident!"

Ice Skater batted his comment away, insisting that they vote now before the trial becomes even more muddied.

Personal Trainer gripped her podium, wailing for them to give her more time to prove her guilt to them. The damage was already done. It was too late.

FOURTH KILLER

ULTIMATE SOCIAL MEDIA STAR

In less than a minute, votes were being tallied. The final result counting 7 votes for Social Star and 1 for Rebel.

Social Star finally began to speak again after voting had finished. The saddest smile adorned her beautiful, teary face. She spoke softly, somehow managing being heard while other screamed:

"Please... Please just let me be the last one."

The humming sound of the shotgun being lowered down above Social Star only added to Personal Trainers desperate wailing. She pleaded with the lamb to spare them just this once.

As death began to close in around her, Social Star attempted to comfort her friend:

"It's ok. You'll be ok. You need to be. Please... See to it that everyone is from now on."

As the shotgun above her clicked into place, Social Star grinned from ear to ear while her watering eyes caught the courtroom lights. She'd never looked so beautiful.

Personal Trainer launched herself over her podium in a desperate bid to save her best friend, only to have her wrist caught by an unaffected Rebel.

She returned his lack of empathy with a punch to the face that free'd her from his grip, only it was too late now.

She turned back to get a final look at the woman she'd held so close. Painfully aware that this was the last shot she'd get.

Social Star looked at her with peace, clearly accepting of what was about to happen:

"Goodbye-"

Before she could finish, the blast rang out.

It was done.

Nobody could look up to see the damage. They couldn't bear it. Excruciating pain was palpable in the room.

The trial closed out with Personal Trainer's wailing, the same way it had started.

Drummer stared at the floor. Yet again completely numb to what was happening around her.

Finally, a trickle of blood entering her peripheral dragged her back to the present. She looked up, eyes immediately falling on her dearest peer.

Marine Biologist's screams had stopped. She was staring blankly at the fresh corpse. She didn't move a muscle, her breathing slowed to a crawl. Something was very wrong.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[mollywog]

Your Christmas market story combines the two things I love: Everlark & rooting for a fictional small business!!

I look forward to it! Have a very merry Christmas! 🎄❤️

Hahaha

Soooo I’ve scrapped that version of the concept, but let me tell you about the original idea:

(One sided) Enemies to Lovers

Set at a multiple evening Christmas market where Katniss decides that Pralines et C and Mellark’s are rivals since the bakery has a Praline pound cake on their menu and she and Madge sell Pralines and other nuts and candies.

The first day, Peeta ‘saves’ Katniss from Cato and his unwanted advances by posing as her boyfriend.

When Cato walks away, Peeta says something to the effect of the ‘we’re madly in love, you can kiss me anytime you want’ comment and Katniss responds back with, ‘we’re not lovers, you and your pound cakes are the competition.’

Between the first and second night Katniss does some social media recon trying to find reasons to hate the insufferably smug baker… unfortunately there’s nothing to criticize: his cakes are incredible and he donates bread and time at the local soup kitchen which she begrudgingly admires - he’s even more insufferable (okay girl)

The next evening the praline pound cakes are notably missing from his kiosk as they’re setting up. Katniss stomps over to demand an answers - ‘they sold like crazy yesterday, what’s your game?!’ ‘Would you believe we ran out of Pecans?’. She doesn’t believe it… even less so when Peeta points out that he’s now selling bread pudding, cinnamon rolls, and vanilla pound cake (which just by chance all pair perfectly with praline sauce…)

Katniss dashed back to Madge to convene and Madge runs to get a crockpot where they can warm praline sauce and sell for $2 a ladle over your pastries or ice cream.

Peeta recommends Pralines in his IG stories and then he and Madge coordinate some other social media collabs

The night’s a huge success for both.

The next morning, Caesar Flickerman highlights Mellark’s and Pralines jointly as one of the years’ ‘can’t miss’ booths.

The final night is too busy for Katniss to speak to Peeta until the very end as they’re packing up. Peeta says ‘we make a good team’ and Katniss agrees. He suggests that the Bakery sell some of Praline’s selections all year. Katniss asks if that will affect his praline pound cake sales. ‘I lost the recipe remember?’ ‘Thought you ran out of pecans’ ‘oh yeah, pecans are back ordered indefinitely’

More cute banter and probably a kiss.

Unfortunately all my dialogue inspiration was more playful than contemptuous, so I’m going to write a fluff without plot piece instead 🤷‍♀️

[someoneintheshadow456]

I said before, now that Cait Corrain’s true self has come out, I can finally elaborate on what happened with her. To put a long story short, I was one of her very first victims - long before she became an original fiction author and back when she was known as Enterprisingly on AO3 - the author of Play to Win.

I know that #reviewbombgate was back in December, but at the time, I did not know about it because I’m not involved in BookTok. However, I WAS involved with the Reylo fandom, albeit indirectly.

The final chapters of Play to Win went on a tangent that seemed bizarre to me at the time. In fact, it seemed so strange that I brushed it off almost completely. It was only when I found Play to Win’s Wayback Machine page after recalling memories of the Reylo fandom last year when I read the chapter properly (instead of skipping ahead to get to the Reylo scenes). And a proper reading made me realize what was so unnerving about it:

Anyone who has engaged with my blog (especially from 2015-2019, when I used to post a lot more content about my personal life) can see the strangely... specific way this character was described. In order to go into this level of depth, one has to have been following me intently and keeping tabs of all the personal things I posted.

And then, she goes from eerily specific descriptions, to straight up maliciously lying about me:

Keep in mind, this screed takes up an ENTIRE chapter in itself. Said character, Ejya Fjord, is a background NPC who is mentioned a total of 121 times in a 161,000 word story. In fact, her name is mentioned so little that you could be forgiven for not remembering her at all:

You'd think, if someone would do something like this, I had to have done something terrible to her, or even just gave her a negative review. But I never did.

As you can see here, I have only engaged positively with her. Since Play to Win was also taken down and you can’t see old comments on Wayback Machine. Unfortunately after this, I can only give my word without receipts.

Play to Win was published first in 2018. I reviewed her story in March of 2018, possibly even earlier. In my review, I praised the writing, worldbuilding, and dialogues, but gave a small constructive criticism in that the politics could be better integrated into the story without feeling disjointed.

In the very early chapters, Ejya was clearly intended to be 100% Swedish - as one can tell from the name. However, at some point in the later half of the story, she retroactively became mixed race and a rival for Ben's affections, while Ben seems to be having none of it. It's clear these choices were made to portray me as some kind of horny fangirl for Kylo Ren who will stomp on other girls for his sake:

When I read the last chapter first, I was horrified. But now I'm just... bemused that someone would ever see me as some kind of calculating vixen who dresses like a Euphoria high school student and only likes masculine hobbies to pick up dudes. When in reality it took me until 2020 to be able to type the word "sex" without having heart attack and have never so much as posted a selfie on here.

It's also funny that Ejya is petite and flat chested while my actual body type is the exact opposite... which she would know since she stalked my blog so thoroughly. Almost as though she's implying something about her own insecurities...

Initially, I was under the impression that Corrain targeted me because of my association with @ainomica - due to her ruffling the Reylo fandom’s feathers (and ending up on Corrain’s hit list) over her opinions on John Boyega. However, that controversy happened in 2020. When Corrain wrote this libel about me, @ainomica wasn’t even on her radar, not to mention it was a year before we had ever even met. This libel was done to target me, and me exclusively.

In essence - Corrain weaved libel about me into her story because my existence pissed her off. We know now that Corrain had a penchant for targeting sapphic authors and WOC almost exclusively. So it's safe to say she was just being a typical white saviour liberal who shows what she actually thinks of minorities when they don't toe the line.

While this does make her less unhinged in my eyes than using me to target someone else, it still means that Corrain was, and always has been capable of aggression towards anyone she’s remotely offended by. Especially if said person happens to be a minority of some kind.

[kedreeva]

#wow now i hate nancy even more like what an overly critical bitch#it's not even bad jfc#wtf was her point other than stomping down on steve and constantly saying how stupid he is#god i hate that cheating bitch who thinks she's so much better and smarter than everyone#stranger things (via @captaincoffeegirl515)

So I get you're mad, but also, this isn't cool. Hating on characters in tags of posts that you didn't make isn't cool. Hating on Nancy isn't cool, either. Fandom isn't and shouldn't be about hate. If fandom is making you angry enough to spew vitriol like this, you may need to step back and take a breather.

If you actually watch the scene this is about, she isn't calling Steve stupid. She doesn't make fun of him, she doesn't even tell him it's bad. He assumes, from her face as she reads, that she thinks it's bad, that she thinks he's bad at writing. Even if he was (which that essay argues he isn't, and I don't think he is), and even if she did (which I don't think she does), she does not say so. In fact she's only encouraging wrt to the paper itself.

Before Nancy even says anything at all, Steve says "It's crap, I know" and Nancy's immediate reaction is to say "No, it's not crap!" Steve then insists "It's not good," and Nancy's response is an affectionate smile and "It's going to be! It just needs some reorganizing." She's not even talking about editing the writing itself or the concepts! She gently asks if she can mark on his paper - respecting that he might not want her to help that directly even after he's clearly asked her to look at it, which is loads better than some commenters I've seen on AO3 these days - and he agrees.

And the thing is? She's being kind about the editing she does do! Literally the first thing she does is tell him she sees the metaphor he's using (acknowledging that she knows he understands metaphor enough to create his own from scratch) and tells him it's a great metaphor. When she does point out something that needs addressing, she doesn't tell him "you did this wrong" she tells him "I don't see how they're connected." Do you know what that is? That's straight up gentle help. That's "you have connected these, I am not saying they are not connected, I am just saying I don't see the connection." I don't do a lot of editing but I've had a lot of editing done at me, and this language is so kind. It does not invalidate the thing the writer is trying to do, it just tells them that if they want to make that point, they have to elaborate to make it clearer to people who aren't inside their head with them. That's a perfectly valid critique and she is giving it to him very softly.

He then explains the point and she turns back to the paper to start rereading when he interrupts to ask if he should start from scratch and she immediately tells him no. She asks about the deadline, he tells her it's tomorrow (for early acceptance, which means Steve is trying to get this in early but also that he's waited until the last second for that), and then he asks if she can come over and help him with it (which a) is him forgetting they already have plans and b) is asking her to give up her plans to do work with him on short notice when he probably had time before this he could have asked. I say this to make it clear that her reaction isn't out of the blue or unjustified).

Nancy, who is still torn up over her best friend being brutally murdered on her watch while she was right there after brushing Barb off, and who still feels horribly guilty about having to lie to Barb's parents about it all, says no, remember they have dinner with Barb's parents that they already bailed on last week- ie, Nancy doesn't want to brush off Barb's parents again when brushing off Barb is what got Barb killed. She even tells Steve "You don't have to go" and suggests he work on the paper instead, giving him an easy out. And he grabs the paper and crumples it and does the thing that raises my hackles saying what's the point and acting like trying won't matter and he may as well give up on it because it wasn't instantly perfect the first time.

The point of contention in this scene is NOT that Nancy is telling him he's stupid, it's NOT that she thinks his paper is crap. The point of contention is that Steve desperately wants life to move forward away from the terrible thing that happened to them, and Nancy cannot walk away from the past that left her so damaged. He wants to focus on a paper to get him into a college (I like to think it's the one she wants to go to, so they can stay together, but that's just a theory), and she wants to go wallow in a sad dinner with the grieving parents of her dead best friend. That is the argument. It has nothing to do with his paper except that the paper is a device to show he's trying to move forward and the dinner is showing that she's stuck in the past.

This also isn't Nancy thinking she's better or smarter than anyone. This is Steve being faced with having to care about schoolwork because for maybe the first time in his life the result of his written work matters to him and he's very easily frustrated by not being immediately successful, and Nancy being so wrecked by the trauma she went through that she's barely keeping her own head above water, such that she cannot help him the way he needs despite wanting to. This isn't anyone treating anyone badly out of malice or being a bad person; this is incompatibility rearing its head and getting ready to bare its teeth. This is their trauma responses butting heads. This is the first whisper of how much they don't and can't fit right now. It is the first sign that they aren't going to stay together.

I don't doubt that they love each other. It's not even a question to me. But despite the idea sold to so many people in story and song, love isn't enough. It can't be the only thing. You can love someone to the moon and back but if you don't fit, you don't fit- and trying to carve yourself into the right shape will do far more harm than good. And that's what we'll see them realize, later, and that's why they split apart. Not malice, not meanness, not even apathy. They care so much in opposite directions that they're liable to tear each other apart trying to stay together, and instead of forcing it to break them the way he did in season 1, Steve will end up letting go this time. And personally, I think that's an awesome display of character growth.