#I kind of don't want to say what this was about because It's A Show That People Get Death Threats Over

[dxmedstudent]

When k started online dating several years ago after a bad patch, I was looking to reconnect with my hobbies - a difficult thing at a time when I was struggling with postgraduate qualifications and 12 hour shifts.

I was keen to start reading some Pratchett - put off repeatedly due to it being a rather mammoth task.

I remember he asked why I had thought to start reading Pratchett as that was really "something for teenagers". Or something to that effect. Tge implication that there was something... unusual in a woman of my age wanting to read his work.

I remember not really knowing what to say. I was a bit baffled, because I'd seen people of all ages talking lovingly about Pratchett's work. I'd read enough excerpts to feel that it gelled with my sense of humor. Good Omens basically got me out of the aforementioned horrible time in my life. And I'd read enough Douglas Adams to not conflate humor or silliness with bad writing.

Now, I unashamedly read manga and I don't think YA is just for kids. I don't think we should feel shame for reading fanfiction. I think we should enjoy a wide range of media.

Maybe this guy was perfectly fine, I'm sure he didnt necessarily mean it pejorativey, but I just didn't feel like hanging out with someone who I'd have to defend seemingly "childish" indulgences to. I'm not saying that's the only reason that we didn't meet again, but the tone of that conversation left me feeling that this was not my person.

I later met another guy, as you do. Right from the start, we talked at length about our favourite media, and I shared some anime recommendations. He offered to lend me his copy of the first couple of Pratchett books and went to look for them. Alas, he couldn't find them, he had a lot of books on his shelves, to be fair. But he was excited to share a series he loved with someone who was new to it and talking about the things I enjoyed and wanted to share was so easy. There was no pretention about what media is "for kids" or "for adults" or what media men are meant to consume.

Reader, I married him.

Now, you might think that marrying him was an unnecessarily convoluted way to ensure I get to have all the Pratchett books, and I'd probably agree.

But I did get a best friend to discuss all the things I like with, so I think it was a good deal overall. Looking back, given how careful he is with his possessions, I feel pretty flattered and amused that he was infatuated enough to offer out his books.

I still haven't gotten very far through the books (residency took priority), but I love that they are sitting by like old friends, waiting for me to pick up where I left off.

One of the weird things about medical training that we don't really talk about is that, in the pursuit of being a competent clinician, you miss out on so much of everything else through simply having little time. There are so many films or series or books I just never got around to enjoying. I used to feel kind of self conscious about all the things I have wanted to do but never gotten around to.

But I love sharing my life with someone who is always delighted to show me a great new thing that I haven't yet enjoyed.

It's never too late to pick up something new. And I hope this will open up Pratchett to a new audience.

Okay so this is a big deal

To me, and to a significant subset of Sir Terry's fans (including most of you who've found this by the tags), his writing is serious commentary on the human condition - politics, prejudice, self-control, revenge vs. justice, religion, idealism, faith in people vs. cynicism, and more - dressed up with fantasy settings and a hefty leavening of humor to make it fun to read. And it is WILDLY fun to read, actual laugh-out-loud or at least a snicker averaging about every page.

But there's this common idea among the "important literature" people that fun and funny books are not also worthwhile or important in the same way.

This is a Discworld book being released WITH ACADEMIC COMMENTARY and AS A PENGUIN CLASSIC. That's a HUGE amount of recognition.

[lostfracturess]

LAST DECEMBER MORNING — SATORU GOJO

pairing — satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

summary — on a frost-bitten december morning, you watch satoru gojo prepare for his fated battle with sukuna with infuriating calm, like he isn't planning to sacrifice himself for the greater good. you've spent years being his secret, clearing battlefields for him and stealing kisses between missions, but now you're faced with the most brutal truth. that sometimes the cruelest curse isn't the one that kills you — it's loving someone who belongs to the world before they belong to you.

word count — 5.4 k

warnings — heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of blood and violence, implied death, unhealthy relationship, sad ending

author's note — this has been rotting in my drafts since the final jjk chapter dropped, and i finally dragged it out into the light bc i'm procrastinating uni. fair warning, this is pure angst with zero comfort, just two people breaking each other's hearts because sometimes love isn't enough. anywayys, happy reading <3

masterlist

Winter had never felt so much like an ending.

You watched frost creep across the windows of your shared apartment, each crystalline pattern forming like cracks in glass, spreading slowly but inevitably.

Outside, the world lay hushed under winter's blanket, everything soft and serene. Birds traced lazy patterns against a sky so blue it hurt to look at, and fresh snow made everything clean and new.

It was the kind of morning that belonged in fairy tales, the kind poets write about when they want to capture peace in words. Strange, how you'd never imagined death would choose such a beautiful day.

You watched Satoru move through his routine, each gesture precise and unhurried. White hair caught the pale sunlight as he smoothed it back, his reflection in the mirror handsome as ever before he adjusted his clothes, and put on his blindfold.

You'd watched him prepare for countless missions before, but this felt different. This felt final.

The normality of it all was almost cruel — how he could stand there, getting ready like this was just another day, just another fight. Like the sun wasn't rising on what could be your last morning together.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily forward, each second falling like a stone into still water. Time felt strange, both rushing too fast and moving too slow. You wanted to grab the clock's hands, force them to stop, to give you just a few more moments in this morning that felt like borrowed time.

"You're staring," he said without turning around, a slight smile playing at his lips.

"Can you blame me?" You were curled up in the window seat, tea growing cold in your hands. "It's not every day your— whatever we are goes to fight the King of Curses."

He turned then, and even through the blindfold, you could feel the weight of his gaze. "Whatever we are?" There was amusement in his tone. "After all this time, you still don't know what we are?"

"Well, we're not exactly big on labels," you pointed out, trying to keep your voice light despite the heaviness in your chest. "Secret relationship and all that."

"Ah, but that's what makes it fun, isn't it?" He crossed the room to where you sat, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. "The sneaking around, the secret meetings—"

"Satoru." You caught his hand. "How are you so calm about this?"

He tilted his head, considering. "Would you prefer if I was panicking?"

"I'd prefer if you showed any emotion at all about the fact that you're about to fight Sukuna." You stood up, setting your tea aside. "You've been acting like this is just another day, just another fight, but it's not. You know it's not."

"I think I've shown plenty of emotion," he said, pulling you closer with a playful smile. "Just last night, if I recall—"

"Don't." You pressed a hand against his chest, keeping him at arm's length. "Don't deflect. Not today."

The smile faded from his face, replaced by something more serious. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me why you're so calm. I want you to tell me why you're not worried." Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed on. "I want you to tell me why it feels like you're saying goodbye."

He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing patterns on your wrist where he still held it. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than before. "The world needs to move forward. It needs to find someone stronger."

"What are you talking about?" You pulled back slightly. "You're the strongest there is."

"Am I?" His smile was gentle, almost sad. "Or is that just what everyone needs to believe?"

"Satoru—"

"The world has relied on me for too long," he continued. "They've made me their symbol, their savior, their stupid hero. But what happens when I'm gone? Who protects them then?"

"You're not going anywhere," you said. "You're going to win. You always win."

He cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. "Sometimes winning isn't about surviving. Sometimes it's about making sure what comes after is better than what came before."

"That's not funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny." He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. "I'm trying to tell you that whatever happens today, the world will keep turning. It will find new leaders, new protectors. Maybe even better ones."

"I don't want new protectors," you whispered. "I want you."

"Ah, but you've always had me," he said softly. "Ever since that first mission together, when you told me my head was too big to fit through doorways. Do you remember?"

You huffed. "You were showing off, making everything more complicated than it needed to be."

"I was trying to impress you."

"You're always trying to impress me."

"But it's working, right?"

You pressed closer to him, breathing in his familiar scent. "You know it is, you idiot."

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. For a moment, you both stood there in silence, listening to each other's heartbeats. The familiar rhythm brought back memories of how this all began, of the first time you'd been close enough to hear his heart race.

For loving Satoru Gojo had always been the most beautiful and dangerous thing in your world.

It started in blood, as most things in your world did. A mission gone wrong, cursed spirits thick in the air, the metallic taste of death sharp on your tongue. You’d seen him fight before—who hadn’t?

But that night was different. That night, you saw him bleed.

A special-grade curse caught you both off guard. One moment, he fought three curses at once like some untouchable god, and the next, he was crashing through three buildings, blood gushing from his mouth.

Something in your chest cracked at the sight — not from the impact of being thrown back yourself, but from seeing him, the strongest sorcerer alive, look so terrifyingly human.

You remembered how his blindfold had been torn, those devastating blue eyes meeting yours across the wreckage. Blood trickled down his chin, his usually perfect hair matted with debris, and yet he smiled. That damn smile that made your heart stutter even as cursed spirits attacked you from all sides.

“Trying to steal my spotlight?” he’d joked, wiping blood from his lips as he stood. “I’m the only one allowed to look cool here.”

You wanted to strangle him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to scream at him for making jokes when he could have died. You did none of those things. Instead, you cleared the area, giving him the perfect opening he needed to obliterate the special grade.

Later, after the dust had settled and the reports had been filed, he cornered you in the darkened hallway of Jujutsu High.

“You’re angry,” he said, not a question but a statement.

“I’m not angry.” You were furious. “I’m just wondering how someone who’s supposed to be the strongest can be so fucking reckless.”

He stepped closer, backing you against the wall. “Worried about me?”

“You wish.” But your voice shook, betraying you. Because you had been worried. Terrified, actually. The image of him lying in that wreckage, blood staining his white hair red, had burned itself into your mind.

“Liar,” he whispered, and then his lips were on yours.

Everything they said about Satoru Gojo was true — he was overwhelming, all-consuming, impossible to resist. Kissing him felt like being struck by lightning, like being unmade and remade in the space between heartbeats. You broke apart, both breathing hard, and reality came crashing back.

“Fuck,” you summarized eloquently.

He laughed, the sound low and rich. “That could be arranged.”

“Satoru.” You pressed a hand against his chest, feeling his heart race under your palm. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re you. Because I’m me. Because there are a thousand reasons why this is a terrible idea.”

“I’m only hearing excuses.” He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Not actual reasons.”

And that was how it started — with blood and curses and kisses in dark hallways. With terrible ideas that felt too good to resist.

Keeping it secret was both easier and harder than you expected. Easier because everyone already knew how Satoru was — flirtatious, tactile, always pushing boundaries. No one questioned when he draped himself over your desk during meetings or appeared uninvited in your office and stayed for hours.

Harder because every moment felt like a lie of omission. Harder because you had to watch him walk into danger again and again, had to maintain professional distance when all you wanted was to grab him and never let go.

You stole moments where you could find them. Quick kisses in empty classrooms, heated encounters between missions, quiet nights in your apartment when the world thought he was somewhere else entirely.

It ate at you sometimes. Not because you wanted to announce it to the world, but because each moment felt borrowed, stolen from a future you might never have.

Every time he left for a mission, every time he faced another curse, you wondered if this would be it. If this would be the time your last memory of him would be a secret smile across a meeting room, a cryptic message that no one else understood. But then he’d come back, always with that insufferable smile, usually with some ridiculous story about how amazing he’d been.

He’d find ways to touch you in public that looked casual — a hand at the small of your back during briefings, fingers brushing as he passed you documents, his body angled toward yours in crowded rooms like a sunflower seeking light.

And the worst part? The absolute worst part was how good he was at pretending. How easily he maintained his public persona — the untouchable, unbeatable Satoru Gojo, who flirted with everyone and meant it with no one.

Sometimes you’d catch him looking at you in meetings with the same expression he gave everyone else, and for a moment, you’d wonder if you’d imagined everything between you.

But then night would fall, and he’d show up at your door with takeout and that soft smile he saved just for you. He’d kiss you like he was trying to apologize for every moment he had to pretend you were nothing special, like he was trying to prove that this, the two of you, was the only real thing in his world.

You never talked about the future. How could you? In your line of work, tomorrow was never guaranteed. Each mission could be your last, each kiss could be your goodbye. The closest you ever came to acknowledging it was in the desperate way he’d hold you after a close call, in the way you’d trace his features in the dark like you were trying to memorize them by touch.

Some nights, when sleep eluded you both, he’d tell you about the weight of being the strongest, about the exhaustion of being everyone’s last hope.

He’d whisper his fears into your skin — not of death or defeat, but of failing those who believed in him. Those were the moments when the great Satoru Gojo disappeared, leaving just Satoru, just a man who carried the world on his shoulders and made it look easy.

You lived for those moments. The quiet ones, the real ones, the ones where he wasn’t the strongest sorcerer alive but just yours. Just as you were his.

You carved out your own little infinity in the spaces between battles and duties. A secret world where his laugh wasn’t for show, where your touch wasn’t professional, where you could just be the two of you without the weight of expectations and reputations.

But infinity, as it turned out, had limits. Even his.

Looking at him now, preparing to face Sukuna with that same causality he brought to everything, you wondered if this was how your story was always meant to end. If all those stolen moments were just preparing you for this — one last morning, one last smile, one last chance to pretend tomorrow might come.

The world needed someone stronger, he said. But you needed him. And maybe that was the cruelest curse of all — loving someone the world needed more than you did.

"Promise me something," you said then.

"Hmm?"

"Promise me you won't just give up. Promise me you'll fight to come back."

He pulled back slightly, reaching up to remove his blindfold. His striking blue eyes met yours, intense and clear.

"I promise," he said, "that everything I do today will be for a better tomorrow."

"That's not what I asked."

"It's the only promise I can make."

"Stop." Your voice turned sharp, anger finally breaking through. "Stop talking about tomorrow. Stop talking about the future and the next generation and whatever noble sacrifice you think you need to make. I don't care about any of that."

"Don't you?"

"No, I don't." You grabbed his jacket, fingers twisting in the fabric. "I don't care if the world needs someone stronger. I don't care if the next generation needs to step up. I care about you, you impossible man. I want you here, alive, with me. Is that so wrong? Am I not allowed to be selfish when it comes to you?"

"Huh." He caught your hands in his, but didn't pull them away from his jacket. "And here I thought you understood me better than anyone."

"Don't." You tried to pull away, but he held firm. "Don't you dare try to make this about understanding. I understand perfectly. But you're wrong. You don't have to do this."

His smile faltered slightly. "It's not that simple."

"It is that simple!" Your voice cracked. "You're choosing to make it complicated. You're choosing to walk away, to... to what? Make some grand statement about the future? Prove that the world can survive without the great Satoru Gojo?"

"Someone has to."

"But why does it have to be you?" The words burst out of you, raw and desperate. "Why do you have to be the one to show them? Why can't you just fight to win, to live, to come back to—" You cut yourself off, biting back the words that wanted to follow.

"To you?" he finished softly.

"Yes," you said, dropping your forehead against his chest. "To me. Call me selfish, call me short-sighted, I don't care. I want more mornings like this. More everything. More of you, being insufferably calm and making terrible jokes and acting like the world isn't ending when we both know it might be."

He was quiet for a moment, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. When he spoke, his voice was gentler than before.

"I can't promise to come back." He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "But know this, every moment with you has been worth fighting for. Worth living for."

You pulled back enough to look at him, really look at him. "Then fight for more moments. Fight to make more memories. Fight to come back to me, not for some greater purpose or stupid sacrifice, but because you want to."

"And if I told you that wanting isn't enough?"

"Then I'd call you a liar." Your voice turned cold. "Because you're Satoru fucking Gojo. When has anything ever been impossible for you? When have you ever let anyone tell you what you can't do?"

​​"This is different—"

"How? How is this different? Because it's Sukuna? Because it's the fate of jujutsu society? Or because you've already decided how this story ends?"

His hands tightened on you, and for a moment, just a moment, you saw something flicker behind those blue eyes — doubt, fear, longing, you couldn't tell. But then it was gone, replaced by that same calm certainty that made you want to scream.

"Because I can't protect everyone—can't protect you if I allow myself to believe in a tomorrow," he whispered.

The gentleness in his voice, the soft way he delivered words meant to cut, made you want to tear the world apart. It was so perfectly Satoru — to break your heart like he was doing you a favor, to wound you with a tenderness that felt more cruel than any violence could be.

"I never asked you to protect me," you said finally. "I asked you to stay. There's a difference."

"Is there?" His hand came up to cup your face, shaking ever so slightly, betraying the calm he fought so hard to maintain. "Because every time I look at you, all I can think about is how many people would use you to get to me. How many would hurt you just to prove they could touch something I care about."

"So your solution is to what? Die nobly? Make sure there's nothing left for them to use against you?"

"My solution is to make sure the world doesn't need me anymore." His thumb brushed across your cheek, catching a tear you hadn't realized had fallen. "To make sure you don't need me anymore."

"That's not your choice to make. You don't get to decide what I need. You don't get to martyr yourself for some greater good and pretend it's for my protection."

"Then what would you have me do?" For the first time, there was a hint of frustration in his voice. "Ignore my responsibilities? Pretend I'm not who I am?"

"I would have you fight like you want to come back!" The words ripped from your throat. "Fight like there's someone waiting for you after. Fight like you love me as much as I love you!"

The confession rang out between you, and the moment it left your lips, you realized you'd never said it before. Through all the stolen moments, all the secret touches, all the nights you'd spent memorizing each other's bodies — you'd never actually spoken those words aloud.

You'd both danced around it, implied it in every action, every look, every unfinished sentence, but neither of you had ever dared to make it real with words.

Until now. Until you were angry enough, desperate enough, terrified enough to let it slip from your heart straight past your defenses.

"Love?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"Of course I love you, you idiot." Your voice equally quiet. "Why else would I be standing here, begging the strongest sorcerer alive to be selfish just once?”

He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, maybe a sob, his fingers tightening on you. "Don't," he whispered, and for the first time that morning, his voice was shaking. "Don't make this harder than it already is. Don't say things that make me want to—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching. "That make me want impossible things."

"Impossible? Since when does Satoru Gojo believe in impossible?"

"Since I realized being with you means putting you at risk." His thumb brushed your cheek, the gesture achingly gentle. "Since I understood that staying alive isn't the same as keeping you safe."

"I hate this." You shook your head. "I hate how calmly you can stand here and talk about sacrifice like it's inevitable. Like there's no other way."

"Would you prefer if I fell apart?" His smile turned sad. "If I raged and cried and promised things I might not be able to keep?"

"Yes," you admitted, your hands coming up to cover his where they still held your face. "Because at least then I'd know you want to stay as much as I want you to."

"Oh, my love." The endearment fell from his lips like a confession. "Wanting to stay has never been the question. The question is whether I can live with myself if I do."

"And what about whether I can live with myself if you don't?" Your voice broke. "What about whether I can forgive myself for not fighting harder to make you stay?"

"This isn't your fight."

"Like hell it isn't." You pulled back. "You think I spent months learning to clear battlefields just so you could take center stage? You think I perfected my technique to complement your infinity because I had nothing better to do?" You dug your nails into your palms, throat tight with fury. "I've been fighting alongside you since before you ever kissed me in that hallway. Before you ever decided I was worth protecting. Don't you dare tell me this isn't my fight when I've spent years making sure you had the space you needed to be great."

He was quiet for a long moment, studying you. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost reverent. "And that's exactly why I need to go. The world doesn't need more people making space for me. It needs people who'll fill that space themselves."

You recoiled like he'd slapped you, hurt burning in your chest. "Is that what you think I've been doing? Making myself smaller for you? Made space for you because I was afraid to reach higher?" You stepped closer, deadly calm now. "I made space for you because that's what you do when you love someone."

His lips twitched into a smile. "So you do understand me."

"Don't pretend those are the same thing."

He was quiet for a moment. Then, instead of answering, he pulled you into a kiss that tasted like goodbye. Like all the tomorrows you'd never have, all the moments you'd never share, all the promises neither of you could keep. You kissed him back with everything you had — all your fury and fear and love condensed into this one perfect, terrible moment.

His hands tangled in your hair like he was trying to memorize the feeling, yours gripping his jacket as if you could keep him here through sheer force of will. When you finally broke apart, hearts pounding, foreheads pressed together in the space between one heartbeat and the next.

"I'll hate you," you whispered against his lips. "If you don't come back, I'll hate you for the rest of my life."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, and for once, his smile held an edge of something raw, something that looked almost like pain. "No, you won't."

"I will." Your fingers tightened in his jacket. "I'll hate you for making me fall in love with someone who was always planning to leave. I'll hate you for every morning I wake up alone, for every mission briefing where someone else stands in your place, for every year I have to leave flowers on your grave."

"You'll move on. You'll find someone—"

"Fuck you," you cut him off, the words sharp enough to draw blood. "Don't you dare tell me how I'll feel. Don't you dare stand here and plan out my future without you in it."

"I'm just trying to—"

"To what? Prepare me? Make it easier? There's nothing easy about loving you, Satoru Gojo. There never has been. But I chose it anyway. Every day, knowing this moment would come."

"What do you want me to do? Do you want me to say goodbye? Make it messy and painful and real?"

"I want you to stop pretending this is just another mission and show me something that tells me this is killing you like it's killing me."

The silence stretched between you like a chasm. For just a moment, beneath his careful composure, you caught a glimpse of the man behind the name — vulnerable, conflicted, maybe even afraid. But he buried it quickly, like he buried everything that might make him waver from his chosen path.

You'd always known this about him, hadn't you? Known it from that first bloody mission, from every fight where he'd put himself between the world and destruction.

Satoru Gojo was a man built for sacrifice, shaped by duty and power into something that could never truly belong to just one person. You'd fallen in love with him anyway, foolishly hoping that maybe love could be enough to make him choose differently.

But watching him now, seeing the gentle finality in every movement, you understood with crushing clarity that this was always how it would end. No amount of pleading or anger or love could change what he'd already decided.

He'd made his choice long before this morning, probably before he'd ever kissed you in that darkened hallway.

"Keep the tea warm for me," he said finally, stepping back. The words were casual, almost playful — exactly the kind of thing he'd say on any other morning. But that's what made it cruel. Even now, he was trying to soften the blow, pretending this was just another goodbye, just another mission.

You didn't say anything as he walked to the door. Didn't wish him luck or tell him to be safe. The time for those platitudes had passed.

Instead, you watched him pause in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame. For a moment, you thought he might turn around, might drop the act and let you see something real. One last true moment before the end.

He didn't fully turn, but his voice carried back to you, soft and achingly sincere. "I love you. More than anything." A pause. "That's why I have to go."

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You'd never expected them, had made peace with the silence between heartbeats where those words should have lived.

You'd imagined them differently, in all the quiet moments you'd shared — whispered against your skin in the dark, laughed into your mouth between kisses, murmured sleepily on lazy mornings. Not like this. Never like this.

How cruel, that he would finally say them now, when they felt more like a funeral rite than a confession. A parting gift from a man walking towards his own chosen end, making what should have been beautiful feel like another wound. The words you'd never dared hope for now hurt more than a lifetime of silence ever could.

Your throat burned with all the things you wanted to scream at him — about how love should mean staying, about how he was breaking your heart while trying to save it, about how dare he make those words sound like goodbye when they should have been a beginning.

"I hate you," you whispered.

He made a sound that might have been a laugh or might have been something more broken. "No, you don't." The certainty in his voice felt like another wound. "You love me. You said so yourself."

"I'll hate you." Your voice hardened with each word. "I'll hate you so much it'll make you wish you'd stayed."

His hand tightened on the doorframe, knuckles white with tension. For a heartbeat, you thought you'd finally cracked his composure. That he might turn around and choose you over duty, love over destiny.

He didn't.

The door closed behind him with a soft click that sounded like an ending.

"But I'll wait for you anyway," you whispered to the empty room, hating yourself for the truth in those words.

The truth was, you'd always known it would end like this, known that loving Satoru Gojo meant loving someone who belonged to the world before he belonged to you.

But you'd been naive enough to hope. Foolish enough to think that maybe, just maybe, love could be enough to make him choose differently. That your selfish desire to keep him alive and whole could outweigh his selfless need to reshape the world.

The morning light cut across the empty room, highlighting the space where he'd stood moments before, and you wondered about the cruelty of it all.

Was it wrong to want to keep him here? To ask the strongest sorcerer alive to choose personal happiness over humanity's future? How many would suffer because you'd asked him to be selfish just this once?

But then again, how many had already been saved by him? How many times had he bled and broken and pieced himself back together for a world that only saw him as a shield, never as a man? Didn't he deserve the chance to live for himself, just once?

If love died today, buried six feet under noble intentions and greater goods, then maybe hate was all you had left. And wasn't there something pure in that? In hating him with the same intensity you'd loved him? In letting that hate fill the spaces he left behind, burning away the softness until all that remained was sharp edges and bitter truths?

The world needed Satoru Gojo the symbol, the untouchable god of jujutsu. But you'd needed Satoru, just Satoru, the man who brought you tea exactly how you liked it and kissed you like you were his everything. The man who was walking away, leaving you with nothing but memories and the taste of hate on your tongue.

Was it selfish to think your love was worth more than the world's need? Was it cruel to measure the weight of one heart against humanity's future?

Love and duty were never meant to be weighed against each other like this, weren't meant to be choices that tore a person in two. And perhaps that was the real tragedy — not that he was walking away, but that you'd let yourself believe he wouldn't.

You'd known how this story would end from that very first kiss. Had tasted it in every goodbye before a mission, felt it every time you waited anxiously for his return, seen it lurking behind every smile that never quite reached his eyes.

Loving Satoru Gojo meant loving someone who was always meant to be sacrificed. You'd just been naive enough to think sacrifice could look different, that it didn't have to end with you here, choking on love turned to ash in your mouth.

Your fingers traced your lips where those three words still lingered like a curse. The tea was getting cold on the windowsill. You should pour it out, make a fresh cup. Should start preparing for a world where Satoru Gojo was just a memory, a legend, a story of sacrifice and strength. Should learn how to breathe around the thorns growing in your chest where love used to live.

Instead, you stayed frozen, caught in the space between what was and what could have been. Because maybe he was wrong. Maybe the world didn't need someone stronger. Maybe it just needed him to come back. You certainly did.

But it was too late for maybes now. He was already gone, walking toward a destiny he'd chosen long before he'd chosen you. And you were left here, caught between hating him for leaving and loving him for exactly who he was — a man who would always choose the greater good, even when it shattered both your hearts.

But perhaps the cruelest irony was that in trying to protect humanity, he'd forgotten he was human too. That in becoming everyone's shield, he'd forgotten shields could break. That hearts could break. That yours was breaking.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, indifferent to your pain, indifferent to the way your world had just walked out the door with a smile and a promise he might not be able to keep.

You'd wait anyway. Even knowing how the story was meant to end, you'd wait. Because that's what love was — not just the beautiful parts, but the ugly parts too. The waiting. The hoping. The hating.

The choosing to love someone even when they choose something else. Even when that love turns to poison in your veins.

Even when they choose the world over you.

The tea had long gone cold when you finally moved, muscles stiff from standing still for so long. You'd sworn you wouldn't watch. Had promised yourself you wouldn't be there to see him die for his greater tomorrow.

But your hands were already reaching for your jacket.

Because that was the thing about loving Satoru Gojo — even when it turned to hate, even when it felt like acid in your throat, you couldn't look away. You'd watch him fight Sukuna. Watch him smile that infuriating smile as he chose the world one last time.

After all, you'd already promised to hate him if he didn't come back.

The least you could do was be there to keep that promise.

author's note — thank you for reading this little piece of heartbreak. i was very unsure if it will ever see the light of day but i finished it now bc i was in the mood for pain. if you enjoyed, i would greatly appreciate a reblog or comment. hope your heart isn't too broken <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here!

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @saurondriell @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna

@cocomanga @nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @shervinss @chiyokoemilia

@janbannan @bloopsstuff

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[oldsoul007]

taste

nicholas chavez x ex!reader

a/n: no disrespect to either of them or relationship all of this is just fiction!

Nicholas and y/n had a special connection when they dated. Their time together was filled with laughter, shared secrets, and memorable moments. However, as life moved on, they drifted apart, and Nicholas eventually found himself in a new relationship with a girl named Victoria.

Victoria is wonderful—kind, smart, and everything Nicholas could ask for in a girlfriend. Yet, despite his happiness with her, y/n is always in the back of his mind. He often finds himself reminiscing about the times he spent with y/n, the unique bond they shared, and the way she understood him like no one else.

Even though Nicholas tries to focus on his present with Victoria, there are moments when a song, a place, or a random memory brings y/n back to the forefront of his thoughts. He wonders how she's doing, if she thinks about him too, and whether their paths will cross again. This lingering presence of y/n in his mind makes him question if he ever truly moved on, or if a part of him will always belong to her.

Nicholas and Victoria were out for a casual stroll one Saturday afternoon when they unexpectedly ran into y/n. The encounter took Nicholas by surprise, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Y/n looked as beautiful and confident as ever, and seeing her brought a rush of memories flooding back.

"Hey, y/n. It's been a while. How have you been?" Nicholas asked, trying to keep his composure.

"I've been good. Just busy with work and everything. How about you?" Y/n replied with a warm smile.

"I've been alright. This is Victoria, by the way. Victoria, this is y/n," Nicholas introduced them, his voice slightly shaky.

"Nice to meet you, y/n!" Victoria said cheerfully.

"Nice to meet you too, Victoria. So, what have you been up to, Nicholas?" Y/n asked, her eyes lingering on him.

"Oh, you know, just the usual. Work's been keeping me busy. It's really good to see you, though," Nicholas responded, feeling a mix of emotions.

"Yeah, it's good to see you too. You look well," y/n said, her smile softening.

"Thanks. You too," Nicholas managed to say, his mind racing.

Victoria, sensing the tension, chimed in, "We should catch up sometime, all of us. It would be fun."

"Sure, that sounds nice," y/n agreed. "Well, I should get going. It was great running into you both."

"Yeah, take care, y/n," Nicholas said, watching her walk away.

As y/n disappeared into the crowd, Nicholas couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. He realized that his feelings for her were still very much alive, leaving him deep in thought about what to do next.

Victoria and Nicholas had been having a wonderful evening at home when the topic of y/n came up. It started innocently enough, with Nicholas mentioning their recent encounter.

"You know, it was really nice seeing y/n the other day," Nicholas said, trying to keep his tone casual.

Victoria's expression changed slightly. "Yeah, it was. But, Nicholas, I've noticed you talk about her a lot lately."

Nicholas looked puzzled. "What do you mean? She's just an old friend."

"Is she really just an old friend?" Victoria asked, her voice growing more tense. "Because it feels like there's more to it."

Nicholas sighed. "Victoria, you're overthinking this. Y/n and I have history, but that's all in the past. You're the one I'm with now."

Victoria shook her head. "I don't know, Nicholas. It just feels like there's something unresolved between you two. And it bothers me."

Nicholas's frustration began to show. "What do you want me to do, Victoria? I can't erase my past. Y/n is a part of it, but she doesn't have to be a threat to us."

"I just need to know that you're fully committed to us," Victoria said, her eyes pleading.

"I am committed to us," Nicholas said firmly. "But I can't change the fact that y/n was a big part of my life. You have to trust me."

Victoria looked away, tears welling up in her eyes. "It's hard to trust when I see how you look at her."

Nicholas softened, stepping closer to her. "Victoria, I love you. I'll do whatever it takes to make you feel secure. But you have to believe me when I say that Lauren is just a friend now."

Victoria nodded slowly, wiping her tears. "Okay, Nicholas. I believe you. But let's not talk about y/n anymore. Let's focus on us."

"Agreed," Nicholas said, pulling her into a hug. "Let's focus on us."

As they held each other, Nicholas hoped that this would be the end of the tension between them. He knew he had to prove his commitment to Victoria and make sure she felt secure in their relationship.

Nicholas and Victoria were at the local bar when they unexpectedly bumped into y/n again. It was a moment of surprise for all three, but Victoria's reaction was different. As she watched Nicholas and y/n exchange warm smiles and familiar glances, something clicked in her mind. She realized that the connection between Nicholas and y/n was deeper than she had ever imagined. It was in that instant that Victoria understood the true nature of their bond, and a mix of emotions washed over her, leaving her both intrigued and contemplative about what this meant for their future.

Nicholas and Victoria were sitting in their living room when the tension that had been building up finally reached a boiling point. The topic of y/n had come up once again, and it was clear that Victoria was not happy about it.

"Nicholas, I can't believe you're still hung up on her," Victoria said, frustration evident in her voice. "Every time we run into y/n, you act like she's the only person in the room."

Nicholas sighed, rubbing his temples. "Victoria, it's not like that. Y/n and I have a history, yes, but it doesn't mean I'm still in love with her. We're just friends now."

"Friends? Really?" Victoria shot back. "Because it sure doesn't seem that way. You get this look in your eyes whenever she's around, like you're remembering something more than just a friendship."

"That's not fair," Nicholas replied, his voice rising. "I can't control how I feel. But I'm with you now, and that's what matters."

"But is it really?" Victoria asked, her eyes filling with tears. "Because it feels like I'm always competing with her ghost. I need to know that you're fully here with me, not just physically but emotionally too."

Nicholas took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Victoria, I care about you a lot. I don't want you to feel like you're second to anyone. I'm sorry if I've made you feel that way."

Victoria looked at him, her expression softening slightly. "I just need to know that I can trust you, Nicholas. That you're not going to run back to her the moment things get tough between us."

"I promise you, Victoria," Nicholas said, taking her hand. "I'm committed to us. I'll do whatever it takes to prove that to you."

As they sat there, holding each other's hands, they both realized that this was a turning point in their relationship. They had to work through these issues if they wanted to move forward together.

Nicholas had been feeling increasingly guilty about his relationship with Victoria. He knew deep down that he couldn't continue pretending everything was fine. One evening, he finally mustered the courage to talk to her.

"Victoria, we need to talk," Nicholas began, his voice heavy with emotion. "I can't keep doing this. It's not fair to you or to me. I still have feelings for y/n, and it's not right to lead you on."

Victoria looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of hurt and understanding. "I knew this was coming, Nicholas. I just hoped things would change."

"I'm so sorry," Nicholas said, his heart breaking at the sight of her tears. "You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart, and I can't do that right now."

After the difficult conversation, Nicholas felt a weight lift off his shoulders, but he was also filled with a sense of loss. He decided to reach out to y/n, needing someone to talk to.

"Y/n, I ended things with Victoria," he confessed over the phone. "I couldn't keep pretending. But now, I feel so lost."

Y/n’s voice was gentle but firm. "Nicholas, I still love you, but we can't be together. Not right now. You need to figure things out for yourself first."

Nicholas sighed, feeling the sting of her words. "I understand, y/n. I just needed to hear your voice."

They both knew that this was a time for healing and self-discovery. Even though they couldn't be together, their connection remained a source of comfort and strength for Nicholas.

[austenpoppy]

That's really not how I read it. First, Dick is one of the characters - in general and in the Batfamily - who spends the most time obsessing over the morality of his actions, over the no-killing rule, over the way he can control his emotions so that he doesn't use uneccessary violence, and continuously lectures people on that. Obviously this started with Kory in New Teen Titans, and this was one of the main reasons he was so reluctant to date her early on. And we have numerous examples of Dick having the same conversation with other people : Helena, Tad Ryerstad, Tarantula, Babs herself, without counting the villains (there are several examples of Dick teaming-up with a villain and repeating to them they have to do things his way or the team-up's over, like Dick did with Deathstroke in Titans 1999).

I do not understand how you can look at a guy like that and think he'd kill for the greater good/he's not as convinced about the no-killing rule as Bruce is/it's just a matter of control for him. It's actually the plot of an arc of Justice League Task Force, where Dick replaces Batman on a mission with Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, Wally and Gipsy (yes I know), when they were tasked with the destruction of a terrible weapon used by rebels in a dictatorship. At one point Dick is told by the UN liaison he should be the one taking out the dictator, and while the dictator run toward the weapon Dick tries to aim at him but can't bring himself to kill him. It is revealed Dick was chosen for this specifically because the liaison knew he was the one member of the team who wouldn't kill, and he knew the dictator would take himself out with the weapon.

Dick is Mr "That's not the way we do things" and "This isn't the way".

Did he want to hurt the Joker badly ? Yes. He went to see the Joker to get revenge, but there's not enough evidence to suggest he went there with the intention of killing him. Your evidence is that 1) Dick expressed, grieving and full of rage, that he wanted to kill the Joker, 2) he punched Dinah when she tried to prevent him from confronting the Joker, 3) he meant serious business when he went there and wasn't quipping.

For the first point, I don't understand why people look at grief and rage-fuelled moments when Dick said he wanted someone dead and take it as face value, as if this truly represented what Dick wanted - Dick. Dick's had those kinds of moments all the time. As early as New Teen Titans, he told Kommand'r that he wanted to rip her from limb to limb after it appeared she'd killed Kory, for example. He threatened multiple people to hurt them badly or even kill them if they'd done something to Tim. He dreamed of killing Blockbuster after what he did. Many other characters have done the same thing.

And you can't look at this one picture of Dick dragging his hand down his face saying he knows killing the Joker isn't the way and not tell me he hasn't calmed down slightly after the rage-fuelled moment he just had and isn't agreeing with Babs that killing the Joker isn't the way to deal with him.

Why is that important ? That shows Dick's still somewhat in control - he isn't in a muderous haze.

So why would Dinah try to prevent him from confronting the Joker ? And why would Dick punch her ?

Dinah wanted to prevent him from going because why wouldn't she ? She knew Dick was grieving and full of righteous rage and was going there to harm the Joker (again not necessarily kill him). Of course she would try to reason with him, to stop him. A vigilante going to see a person who's killed their loved ones and hurt them while being full of rage can only mean bad things.

And Dick did want to hurt the Joker, so of course he wasn't going to let someone stop him. Yet he still took the time to apologize to Dinah - does that sound like someone going to commit first-degree murder ? Or are we implying Dick's a boy-scout even when he's on a killing spree ?

Then he went into the church. Of course he was serious. Dick stops quipping whenever the stakes become higher in general, and he's downright chilly/intense when he's that angry. Even his speak bubbles reflected that when he sent Blockbuster's armies in the hospital.

But even then, for some reason people forget this guy was there :

The guy's entire power is to bring out the hate and loathing in everyone around him - so a form of mind manipulation if not mind control - he used that power to cause murders, and you're telling me this didn't have any influence over the situation ? Having him there was intentional, on the writer's and maybe the Joker's part.

But to me, this kind of panel is evidence enough Dick didn't come to the church with the intention of killing the Joker :

Dick didn't really want to kill the Joker, and that's embodied by the fact that the Joker said he didn't "want it enough" while dodging a punch from Dick and landing one of his own.

If Dick'd really come here to kill the Joker, he wouldn't have wasted time landing a few kicks and a few punches that couldn't truly kill him but sent the Joker flying. He wouldn't have wasted time asking the Joker "All the deaths ! All the pain ! When is enough enough, Joker ?". He wouldn't have let the Joker land his own punches. He certainly wouldn't have stopped right in the middle of the killing spree.

If Dick had wanted the Joker's death when he came into the church, he would've landed a killing blow right away and it would've been over in seconds.

The Joker knew that if he wanted Dick to lose control, he'd have to goad him further (by stopping while the Joker was on his knees, Dick was maybe already calming down slightly !), so that's why he brought up Jason. That's when Dick lost control and started pummelling the Joker. It was quick, relentless, and that's when the Joker's heart stopped.

Tim's apparent death caused Dick to want to hurt the Joker terribly and that's why he came to the church. The mention of Jason is the moment Dick lost control and actually started pummelling the Joker to death, though again there was Mr "My power literally incites others to riot and murder others" rejoicing in the corner.

One last thing : Dick never said he'd murdered the Joker or called himself a murderer - he made a reference to the rage he'd felt when he killed the Joker during the Vesper Fairchild affair, but he never said he'd gone in the church planning on killing the Joker. In many ways, I think that's why Blockbuster's death hit him even harder : even though he was on the verge of a panic attack when he stepped aside and was emotionally exhausted, this to him must have felt more of a conscious decision and thus a murder than was the case for Joker. And this time Dick did call it murder, and declared himself complicit in the murder of Blockbuster.

Otherwise, it wouldn't make sense that Dick was only self-flagellating a little when he thought the Joker was dead (before he was revived) but went into a full-blown panic attack after Blockbuster died, saying he'd failed Bruce and was poisonous.

There's an escalation in the level of reaction that doesn't make sense if Dick "killing" Joker was a premeditated murder and not an accident (partially caused by mind manipulation).

It's only because the narrative treats it as a big deal that it is one - that, and Dick getting depressed and full of self-loathing after. Meanwhile, Tim killed Lady Shiva while he was on Amarilla (in a smilar rage-fuelled moment), revived her, and later said she owed him her life (the little rascal lmao), and nobody bats an eye.

I've heard that Nightwing killed the joker in one of the comics? Possibly caused by Jason Todd's death? Can you shed light onto this?

Sure thing! SO, the infamous moment you are talking about is in Joker: Last Laugh #6. Dick does indeed kill the Joker, his heart stops. You’ve probably seen this moment on posts as an example of Dick’s legendary temper (rightly so, there is definitely a lot of rage involved here) but I think because of the emphasis on Dick’s emotionality, people really downplay how premeditated it all was. Dick hears that Tim is dead because of Joker’s schemes, and he decides to kill the Joker. Full stop. 

Barbara tries to talk him out of it and Canary tries to stop him, but Nightwing knocks Canary out and goes off on his own. Barbara and Batman know that Nightwing is going to kill the Joker, and both try to stop him. Seeing him walk to where the Joker is, a man on a mission, zero quips/flips, really hammered it home that he was genuinely planning on taking Joker out for good. 

So yeah, this wasn’t just beating Joker up and going a little too far in his anger, this was premeditated, first-degree murder. It is probably the only time Nightwing has ever gone after someone with the intent to kill. And it is very personal too...Nightwing didn’t have a gun or anything to take Joker out quickly from a distance. Beating Joker to death with his bare hands was drawn out. It was up close and vicious. 

Now, this is my opinion on things, so take it as you will, but this is one of the reasons why I feel like Dick’s guilt about this incident was less about him killing the Joker and more about the way he did it. See, this was not taking Joker out solely for the greater good--if it was, Nightwing certainly wouldn’t have killed him in the way he did. He went after the Joker in a rage to get revenge, and that scared him. Add that to the fact that he felt he’d let Batman down by killing and “let the Joker win” and presto. Full blown guilt complex. But that’s definitely debatable. Anyway, about his motivations. 

Explicitly, he killed the Joker because he thought that Joker had killed Tim. I’d say that Tim’s death was the final straw for Dick. He was tired of seeing the Joker hurt those he loved. When Barbara is shot by the Joker, Dick refers to waiting by her hospital bed as “the darkest days of my life since my parents death.” And when Jason dies Dick explicitly says he wants the Joker dead: 

Nightwing (1996) #62

So, it’s not like Dick’s desire for Joker’s death is coming out of nowhere. He’d held himself back, but Tim dies and he’s had enough. I think that Dick killed the Joker for all the family members that had been hurt, but Jason does have a special significance. In particular, there’s this moment after Dick beats the Joker to the point where he is incapacitated where Dick pauses. For a second, he isn’t sure if he is going to follow through with it. And then the Joker mentions Jason and Dick finishes it. 

From that point on, there is no hesitation about what he is doing. Tim has to physically pull Dick away from the Joker’s corpse to get him to stop. We have a lovely few moments where the Joker is dead:

Before Batman comes in and revives Joker (and gives him mouth to mouth...yuck). Nightwing walks away in guilt, and Batman lets him go saying that “he has to face what he’s done.” Nightwing holes himself up in his apartment, staring at pictures of Barbara before her accident, and of Jason. 

And that is the whole sad story. 

[balkanradfem]

I don't get to talk about feminism in real life, because it's not an accepted topic here, it's an 'evil harpy movement' still, despite it getting women the right to vote, own property, own a bank account, be able to be paid for work. The consenus is that normal women don't need to be feminists, we already have the right to vote so what more could we possibly want. I do get to talk with young women about it! When I have some teenagers or young adult women in my life, I am telling them all about it, showing them all the violence statistics, instructing them on all possible methods of abortion, and they are genuinely stunned to gain this information they've never had access to before.

But yesterday, I was at plant lady's house, and I breached the topic of feminism, because I had just entered a feminist book club, and joined a little group of croatian radfems, so I was all up in my ideas about it. And I love the plant lady, she's a beloved figure in my life, but she is both against feminism, and a huge fan of conspiracy theories. So when I started talking about feminism, she interrupted me to tell me that she heard that women, are not in fact, responsible for feminism, but it's actually males in power that are pulling the strings. I explained that we don't even allow m*n to participate in what we do, but she was sure she's right, because, males in power thought it would be cool for women to have jobs and pay taxes, so they invented feminism, to collect more taxes and have more workers. And I knew I couldn't argue her about it because conspiracy theories exist to null every argument against them, right, no matter what I say, she'll have a more incredible explanation. So instead I changed the topic to the problems of sexual violence against women, domestic violence, normalization of pedophilia, and treatment of women like objects due to rampant pornography.

And she's like, no, that doesn't happen, most people are normal and have normal marriages and treat women normally, and these problems, are not the problems of 'feminism', these are things everyone is against – and I say no they're not, m*n don't care, they don't fight against any of it, in fact they're the perpetrators of 90% of these crimes. Then she launches into a story of an abused woman who refused to leave her husband because she loved him. I explain to her that this is incredibly common and it's called 'cycle of abuse', and we can resolve this by teaching women very early on about this cylce, that it can easily happen to them no matter what kind of husband they choose, and to recognize the signs early, before it comes to worst, and for women who are going trough it, they need all this euducation too. What is happening currently is nobody is talking about it and we pretend it doesn't exist and then victim-blame women when they get abused. Most abused women don't even recognize they're being abused because they're being isolated and told it's their own fault. Then she launched into another story about a woman who she knows was battered who escaped. Then she mentioned another situation she knew with a violent husband, and another with a drunk one. And I'm listening to her like. Hey. You said this doesn't even happen, that it's incredibly rare, but you personally know this many cases? And you know me, I've been living in violence too, remember?

And she just looks at me. Realizing for a second that it's not that rare. She didn't argue with me. She previously really thought about each and every case she knew as an outlier, something so improbable and rare that it wasn't really a social problem. She told me then, that we can't really help these people, because police only makes it worse, so what do we even do. I told her it's important that we talk about it, that we offer resources and teach women early on to recognize abuse, and to make a point of not blaming women for it, to make it clear any male could do it to them at any point, to be ready for it, to reconsider marrying, to have a separate bank account, to never let their survival and housing be completely dependant on a male.

I also indulged her to think why women can find themselves in these situations in the first place? If we're so equal, how come it's possible women don't have anywhere to go to, and need to stay in the abusers house to just survive. I said it has something to do with parents usually leaving their houses and properties to sons, and expecting daughters to move into their husbands places, and she again said 'no this doesn't happen', and I went 'well why don't these abused women just move into their own houses they inherited from their parents' and she again, had no arguments. It's not the sole reason though, women earn less too, get less promotions, get paid less for the same job, still mostly do unpaid labour, dedicate a big part of their life to raising children on their own, they don't get to accumulate funds and properties in the same ways m*n do.

Anyway, while we were having this entire conversation, her 18yo daughter was there, listening to us, and miraculously, she seemed to agree with me! When the plant lady claimed 'there's so many normal ones out there', the daughter interrupted to say 'no mom, there's no normal m*n out there, I can't find anyone normal', and I immediately supported her claim with agreement. I was so happy to be a little feminist influence on her and to validate her point! She was also wearing a shirt that said 'grl pwr' and I was like 'yes this is great' even though it's just a liberal catchphrase, it's still a sign of wanting women to have power in the world that doesn't believe a word they say.

I think the type of attitude the plant lady has is extremely common for women in our country, in fact she was very receptive to what I was saying. She knew about this many cases of domestic abuse, because she was often the safe person for these women to tell, and she has been helping the ones who escaped, me included.

Most women I know will launch in defense of males and trashing of women as soon as you mention feminism, because it's the only socially accepted thing to do. I believe we all have women in our lives who are not malicious or terribly ignorant, but affected by the mainstream beliefs that women are asking for too much, already have everything, and are at fault for everything that happens to them; this is incredibly pervasive and impossible to debate in a conversation. It's so ingrained in women to go against anything that makes m*n look bad, it's almost considered a sin and a hate crime to even think this way. Like something a bad, selfish, bitter, irrational and greedy woman would do, and nobody wants to be dubbed that. I remember thinking this way myself when I was a teen; I wanted to hold males responsible so bad, but the shame of being seen as this hateful and bitter person was getting to me, to the point where I would silent down and not speak out.

I used to get so angry at anti feminists, and would avoid indulging with the topic because it would irritate me so much, but I've gained more understanding as I go on, and can now tolerate the opposing arguments when I know they've come from propaganda and social pressure, rather than ignorance or hunger for approval. I'm more effective being able to indulge a little! Not a lot though. If I spent a lot of my time trying to argue with anti-feminists I would in fact, wither and die.

[frostedpuffs]

one of the saddest things abt having a rescue animal in which you don't know its past is just being able to tell they were abused at some point in their life. i've had my cat bella for about a year now—she appeared in my yard one day out of nowhere, with an injured leg, skin infection, and full of worms, and even though she was terrified of me at first, i earned her trust enough to take her to the vet. spent weeks earning her love and nursing her back to health. she was microchipped, and her previous "owner" lived over a two hour drive away. despite numerous attempts to get this woman to come pick up her cat she said she wanted, she never came, which is for the best. i know there is no way that cat walked that far. i know she was dumped. but legally i had to try to contact the owner. on the final phone call with her, she confessed she was not coming for the cat, and ghosted me after that.

anyway, after a few months trying and failing to find this cat a home with multiple people saying they wanted her and then changing their minds, i finally decided to take her in for good because i knew i had the capacity to care for her and this whole jumping around homes thing was not good for her. even though i was really afraid of how she and my other cats would get along

nowadays bella sits on my desk every single night, happy, healthy, well cared for and well fed, but even though I've never shown this cat anything but love and kindness, she still flinches when i move. she still becomes defensive and bites or scratches me if i move in a certain way that scares her. she still carries that fear with her. i can show this cat as much love, patience, and care as i can, but it will never take away the fact that earlier in her life, someone she trusted hurt her and abandoned her. and i will never stop feeling sick knowing that somewhere within the first 6 years of this cat's life, she was living in fear & being hurt by someone. but i have no proof other than how she behaves. but i know what causes that behavior. and i am so glad she has me now, someone who she can spend the rest of her life with, knowing nothing but love. im at least thankful that out of all the yards to randomly appear in, she chose mine

[seewetter]

While I'm not totally on board with OPs presentation of the topic (I think there's a bit of connective tissue missing as to why the hostility of men specifically in blue collar jobs has relevance to a discussion of right-wing men in general), this post says things that I've been trying to articulate for a while.

To draw a somewhat absurd comparison, I think the people OP is criticizing seem to internalize a view of conservative ideas akin to sappy Hollywood films like "My Big Fat Greek Wedding", where the intolerant people simply "come around" and warm up to the idea of a intercultural wedding (or some other new state of affairs) because there was demand for them to change their minds. Nothing wrong with stories simplifying the world like that, but the realities of changing minds are more complex than "everyone clapped".

To me, one of the most under-discussed factors holding back feminist movements is that our society hasn't yet solved creating a financially safe environment for men leaving the workforce to enter traditionally feminine-coded domains like housework. This is true for blue-collar workers who if they try to re-enter the work force suddenly have big gaps on their resume and its true for white-collar workers: a lawyer would have to go to law school again for several years to re-enter the field (ditto for a doctor, etc.). This doesn't necessarily affect how society thinks about transgressive gender expression or sexual orientation or about trans people, for example, but in an economy where businesses try to cut corners and pay as few people as possible it is a factor that means that many men will view the destruction of the patriarchy as a huge risk of their personal, individual ability to financially survive. Some feminists might tell these men to suck it up and become house-husbands, but that position comes with far less prestige, far less voice in society, far less autonomy, far less social mobility and requires ingenuity (taking on smaller jobs) in order to survive. It generates a dependency on another individual: this is why women's magazines so often revolve around what men want, what men like, what pleases men and how to make men happy while men's magazines revolve around male hobbies.

What OP is criticizing has to be viewed in that context: not only is OP correct that male peer groups make personal status and respect conditional on edgyness at best and often on outright bigotry... but if our society doesn't figure out the financial escape route for male independence then they will continue to intuitively think of genders as naturally polar opposites, some subsets of men will automatically oppose women entering the workforce (or men leaving it), maintaining fragile masculinity and emasculation will continue to be (in a certain bounded rationality sense where we don't consider broader and more radical alternatives) valid concerns.

Like: are conservative parents who let their sons bring girls home but don't let their daughters bring boys home not effectively showing concern about the future prospects of their children in a proportionate way? Men who fool around and disappoint or challenge their partners with a broader pool of sexual or romantic encounters can continue to have a nice life if their financial subsistence comes not from their current main partner but from their job. If the wife is unhappy with her married husband, he can receive a pay raise from the boss tomorrow because the boss is probably not the wife and the wife's wants and needs are totally unrelated to the employers wants and needs. If the husband is unhappy with his married wife, he can dump her...and now she has to scramble to figure out if she can receive alimony, how to receive alimony or whether she can survive with her relatives for a while. I agree that most conservatives are probably not thinking this deep into it, but their value systems allow for a kind of bounded rationality where if society operates like this, placing an unfair double standard on your children gives those children the maximum autonomy that that society grants without getting those kids into risk of serious trouble.

If we can solve this problem then presumably convincing conservatives to raise their kids different will be significantly easier -- it will be comparable to the kind of progress women made in the 1920s when wearing pants and earning money from a "man's job" often went together and enabled women to pay their own bills and do what they wanted without social punishment. And if the kids are raised different, they will have different priorities. These male spaces where men prove themselves by socially reinforcing loyalty to the hierarchies of society and glorifying the power they have over others...they will stop making as much sense to a younger generation. There will be respected and well-known men in society who are not conforming in any way to male norms. The male chauvinism will become less important to those groups which previously seemed to be fueled by it. In such a world, patriarchal attitudes will just be opinions, not a form of bounded rationality. Nothing important will hinge on these opinions, people will be far more able to give up these opinions...especially future generations.

If your vision for the deradicalization of right-wing men begins and ends with "other men telling them that that's gross and to stop it" then I'm sorry, you do not understand how masculinity works.

"Men who hold patriarchal status" and "men who are feminists" are two groups who overlap less than you want them to. I'm sorry. That's not solely because men are so happy with patriarchal status that they don't want to risk it by policing misogyny/queerphobia/racism, It's because being misogynistic, queerphobic, and racist, end expressing other forms of toxic masculinity(and often abusively so) are part of how people establish and maintain patriarchal status. The men who have the ability to stop this via nothing but peer pressure are the very people who are doing it. That's by design. And engaging in feminist intervention is, in and of itself, usually the abrupt end of that status and its associated power to persuade misogynistic men.

Like, I have worked in blue collar jobs as a notably queer person. It was pretty much a constant deluge of verbal abuse. In my experience, most blue collar work environments are exploitative, abusive, and bigoted, and very gleefully so. On the occasions I have spoken up about someone saying something that was super fucking out of line (asking me which of the girls walking by was hottest. We were installing a portable classroom at a middle school), believe it or not, they completely failed to be shamed! Because nobody else on the crew gave a fuck. *I* was the weird one. They ghosted me. A full blown company ghosted me. I suddenly didn't have a job anymore because they just straightforwardly stopped telling me where the next job site was.

Like, this doesn't mean that it's your job to do it, but this vision you have of these big groups of men where everyone is on the fence and there is precisely one shit stirrer who can be shut down by a brave feminist man who can single handedly set the example for all these other guys...you are high. You are describing an "everybody clapped" level absurd scenario. Most of these truly virulent misogynistic guys either have zero friends, because, you know, our society is atomized to fuck, or they are in a group where the feminist guy is actually the weirdo who can be shut down and ostracized much, much easier than the misogynists, because there is no such thing as a man misogynists respect who stands up for women.

You might be saying "well, we're talking about longstanding personal relationships, actually. Like, they need to have to want to spend time with you and then, as a side effect, you can mind control them out of being a threat to us."

Problem with that being:

1: Many feminist men also have no friends, see the atomized society above.

2: Feminist men already stopped hanging out with men who make rape jokes because why the fuck would we want to spend time with them.

3: That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men. What initially drew me to feminism and women was a lack of heirarchical squabbling and constant bullying, and the ability to be openly queer. A lot of men who came to feminism did so because they knew that the patriarchy was not a place they would find success or acceptance. These are not the men who are gonna be able to change right wing minds.

4. Men do not view themselves as a monolith. There is no universal brotherhood of men. The actual meaning of the term "Fragile masculinity" is that men are constantly expected to prove that they are deserving of the status of being a member of their own gender. There are large swathes of men--including most of the men who you'd look to as examples of good, feminist men who you want to undertake this project--who are considered failed men, sissies, f****ts, soyboys, ect. They are. Not. Going. To. Convince. These. Men. Of. Jack. Shit. Much less successfully *shame* them. Jesus.

I know all of this sucks. I know it would be cool to be able to just point at a group and have them be responsible for the work. But nah. It's gonna have to be a societal project, one that will probably outlast all of us. Sorry. The thing you want these men to do is, absolutely, the morally correct thing to do. But presuming that it would be effective is, and once again I am so sorry about this, just ignorance of how these social groups function.

[tossawary]

I'm reviewing episode transcripts from "Merlin" to build up my worldbuilding document (character list, mostly) and, a little ways into S2, I'm kind of feeling like the show is actually quite mean to Arthur as a character sometimes? S1 E14: "To Kill the King" is one of those episodes where I forget how badly it pissed me off until I run into it again.

Like, don't get me wrong, Arthur can be a bully, entitled, hotheaded, and reckless, but he's also at this point risked his own life to save people multiple times. Both individuals whose lives were "worth less" than his own (getting the Mortaeus flower for a poisoned Merlin, smuggling Mordred out of the city, protecting Ealdor from bandits) and also Camelot as a whole (fighting the plague-causing monster in the sewers, fighting the mam-eating griffin, drinking poison to lift the unicorn curse).

Arthur is giving me vibes of being both bored and frustrated (and probably not able to name those feelings or exactly why he has them) because he wants so badly to do good things, but he's not really sure how to go about it because (no one ever tells him anything, he almost NEVER knows what's really going on to make informed choices, and) he's also stuck under the thumb of his tyrannical father, who spends most of their scenes together berating Arthur for being too merciful, for not being dutiful enough, and/or not finding sorcerers for execution fast enough. When Arthur tries to be fair-minded and compassionate, Uther often essentially tells him that he's going to be a weak king with that attitude.

Arthur's pathways to betterment are limited, his parent and role model and boss here is an AWFUL person, but he's trying!

So, it's quite frustrating to get to this one episode where characters like Gaius (extremely biased, admittedly, clearly not an objective individual) are saying things like: "Arthur's not ready. The responsibility would be too great. Brave though he may be, he lacks experience, he lacks judgement."

Like, I don't know, Arthur may be only 21 and kind of a dipshit, but I personally think he'd still do a better job than the guy who tried to kill a kid (Mordred) just for existing a few episodes ago? Maybe? Gwen's father, who wasn't even a sorcerer or knowingly working with one, is dead explicitly because of Uther's awful laws. Did everyone in this episode forget that Uther tried to BURN GWEN ALIVE AT THE STAKE not that long ago (Episode 3)?

ARTHUR: "[Morgana]'s right, Father. You hear the word magic, you no longer listen."

UTHER: "You saw it for yourself. She used enchantments."

ARTHUR: "Yes, maybe. But to save her dying father, that doesn't make [Gwen] guilty of creating a plague. One's the act of, of kindness, of love, the other of evil. I don't believe evil's in this girl's heart."

UTHER: "I have witnessed what witchcraft can do. I have suffered at its hand. I cannot take that chance. If there is the slightest doubt about this girl, she must die or the whole kingdom may perish."

ARTHUR: "I understand that."

UTHER: "One day you may become King. Then you will understand. Such decisions must be made. There are dark forces that threaten this kingdom."

ARTHUR: "I know. Witchcraft is an evil, father. So is injustice. Yes, I am yet to be King, and I don't know what kind of king I will be, but I do have a sense of the kind of Camelot I would wish to live in. It would be where the punishment fits the crime."

UTHER: "I fear you're right. She's played with fire, and sadly she must die by fire."

When the adult druid (Cerdan) accompanying Mordred is killed (Episode 8), Arthur objects afterwards! On his own! While Arthur is sometimes an active participant in Uther's tyranny and otherwise complicit, he's been told all of his life that magic is inherently evil and corrupting, he was raised by the very man spreading this hateful philosophy, he should probably hate magic more than anyone after Uther, and yet he still disagrees with Uther's methods and judgments. Even though Uther is apparently VERY willing to lock both his son (Episode 4) and his ward (Episode 8) in the dungeons for disagreeing with him and disobeying him!

ARTHUR: The Druid was only in Camelot to collect supplies. He meant no harm. Is it necessary to execute him?

UTHER: Absolutely necessary. Those who use magic cannot be tolerated.

ARTHUR: The Druids are a peaceful people.

UTHER: Given the chance, they would return magic to the kingdom. They preach peace, but conspire against me. We cannot appear weak.

ARTHUR: Showing mercy can be a sign of strength.

UTHER: Our enemies will not see it that way. We have a responsibility to protect this kingdom. Executing the Druid will send out a clear message. Find the boy. Search every inch of the city.

Obviously, running a kingdom is complicated! Uther apparently won Camelot by conquest and is in conflict with many of the neighboring kings, including Odin and Cenred, and likely has more of the respect of the local nobility than young Arthur does. Uther's death would create some instability! (Agravaine de Bois hasn't been created yet, but let's assume there are many other potential vultures.)

But the show generally isn't pushing that angle. This isn't really about smooth transitions of power. Personally, concerning Arthur's "lack of judgment", I do find his ready conviction that it is his duty to die for Camelot's honor if necessary (he says as much to Merlin explicitly before fighting Valiant in Episode 2, then again before fighting the Black Knight in Episode 9) more than a little concerning, but that doesn't seem to be angle pushed here either.

The show has characters (Merlin, Gwen, Gaius) suggesting that offing the King, who regularly kills innocent people whether they have magic or not, who has forbidden use of the tool that might have saved innocent people from Nimueh's plague or the wraith of Tristan de Bois, would be wrong! It would be murder and murder is bad! It would make (in the words of a grieving Gwen) her "just as bad" as him.

Even though Merlin has at this point already killed Aulfric and Sophia (Episode 7), as well as Mary Collins (Episode 1) because they were trying to kill Arthur. And arguably got an assist with Valiant (Episode 2). And will kill many more as the show goes on. This conversation with Kilgharrah in S1 E14 is in many ways so, so funny:

KILGHARRAH: Well, young warlock, what is it you come to ask of me?

MERLIN: I need your help.

KILGHARRAH: Of course you do, but this time, will you heed my words?

MERLIN: The sorcerer Tauren is plotting to kill the King. He's made an ally of Morgana. I don't know what to do!

KILGHARRAH: Do… nothing.

MERLIN: What do you mean? If I do nothing, Uther will die.

KILGHARRAH: Don't you want Uther dead? It is Uther that persecutes you and your kind, Merlin. It is Uther that murders the innocent…

MERLIN: But surely that doesn't make it right to kill him.

KILGHARRAH: Only if Uther dies can magic return to the land. Only if Uther dies will you be free, Merlin. Uther's reign is at an end. Let Arthur's reign begin. Fulfil your destiny!

[The dragon flies off.]

MERLIN: Wait! Where does it say my destiny includes murder?

KILGHARRAH: Free this land from tyranny, Merlin! Free us all!

I feel for Kilgharrah here. He was VERY straightforward. I don't know how he could have been clearer about this.

I won't say that Merlin's character writing doesn't make ANY sense here (I do think the character writing in this show is NOT amazingly consistent), because... he IS being influenced by Gaius, who is, unfortunately, a bootlicker and also probably extremely traumatized by all of the death he's seen (big contributor of the bootlicking) (also, apparently Gaius only becomes a "freeman" at the end of Episode 6, so there's that). And Merlin is also being heavily influenced by Arthur, who loves his father, despite everything. For Arthur's sake, if no one else's, Merlin will go out of his way to save Uther. Sure! That tracks!

Merlin spends a lot of time in this show protecting a terrible status quo under some assumption that Camelot will... somehow suddenly become better under Arthur? Instead of perhaps eventually just trusting Arthur and talking to him after their years of knowing each other? There are several, in-world reasons for this and I don't think they're all unrealistic! It's tense! It's thrilling sometimes!

(Though I am ultimately a little annoyed that Merlin's many secrets never really come out and get dealt with by the characters, because that would have been fun drama and some resolution to all the tension, even if the story did still end in death.)

There's some tasty tragedy in this silly show, in many ways. Merlin is confused and conflicted and scared and without clear guidance in many ways. Kilgharrah is mysterious and not at all reassuring. Gaius is complacent and (very reasonably) incredibly secretive. Merlin doesn't get to see many of the moments where Arthur speaks up for magical people and tries to talk Uther down. Morgana and Arthur are both stuck here in a "The hands that cradled you are covered in an unimaginable amount of blood." "But they cradled me, yes?" nightmare scenario. (There's also a sexist element where male characters like Gaius and Merlin won't let Morgana know about her own powers "for her own good" in a gaslight-y way that's fascinating to me in how it creates a villain.)

But, also, the compelling tragic elements here don't make certain episodes any less frustrating to watch in their execution. (I don't think villains being frustrating to watch or read necessarily makes them effective villains, especially when what I really find annoying here is the heroes' reactions to the villain. Uther has killed SO MANY PEOPLE! FOR NO REASON!) Especially when a lot of the overall results of this show often feel more accidental than purposeful. I do understand why the writers keep Uther around! He's a formidable antagonist to have looming all over the place and the actor is fun.

But OOF, I felt that "Do... Nothing".

Merlin! MERLIN! LISTEN TO THE SCARY DRAGON! MERLIN, REMEMBER THAT TIME UTHER TRIED TO BURN GWEN ALIVE??? JUST BECAUSE GWEN IS TOO NICE TO GO AFTER UTHER WITH A KNIFE AND TAKE REVENGE, IT DOESN'T ACTUALLY MEAN KILLING HIM MAKES YOU "JUST AS BAD"!!! MERLIN!!! YOU HAVE ALREADY MURDERED MULTIPLE PEOPLE WHO KILLED WAY LESS PEOPLE THAN UTHER!!!

In Episode 4, Morgana says to Uther: "You can't chain [Arthur] up every time he disagrees with you." This implies to me that Uther has had Arthur thrown in the dungeons before. In Episode 3, Arthur says to Morgana: "Father will slam us both in chains if he knew I'd endangered you," and maybe he wasn't at all joking with that? Arthur is rattling the bars of his cell here, apparently fairly ready to be aimed wherever Merlin points him, bucking against being aimed at innocents by his tyrant of a father.

But nooo, Gaius says Arthur is "not ready yet" because...??? He seems less hotheaded than Uther to me, honestly. Are his tax policies not up to par yet? You can hire a guy for that. Suggesting that Arthur would be in any way worse than His Majesty "Anyone Who Talks To A Sorcerer Gets Executed Even If They Didn't Know They Were A Sorcerer" feels quite mean to Arthur, really. I think he'd do alright, in comparison, Gaius who lies to the King every single day, but I suppose you sometimes want to be a loyal friend to good ol' King "Made Merlin Drink Poison That One Time And Wouldn't Let Anyone Go Get The Cure". Good for you. Bad for everyone else.

Like, I know, I know this show is not very deep. I like that all of the characters are flawed and fumble a lot! I even kind of enjoy that it ultimately ends in death with so many loose emotional threads. It is a weekly burst of fantasy nonsense that is not especially concerned with consistency in worldbuilding or characters from episode to episode. But the executive discrepancies here are, like the ones in "Star Wars", weirdly fascinating with all of the holes and wobbly bits it creates.

This show: "Yes, our hero has once again saved the tyrannical king who kills innocents! Preventing the oblivious prince from assuming the throne and trying to do better as he so clearly wants to do! Good work, Merlin, taking the high road (which involved murdering the rightfully angry people trying to kill the tyrannical king) again!"

Me, every time: "...I am genuinely not sure how the show wants us to interpret this. What did they think they were doing with this? Was this always meant to be a tragedy from the first season? Because personally, I'm getting some kind of tragedy from this."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Birdie's Halloween

Mary Earps x Child!Reader

Summary: The fifteenth of my Halloween-centric fics

"Listen, Mum," Mary says as she weaves through the aisles of the store," I'd love to chat but I'm really quite busy right now."

"Oh yes, I'll let you get back to what you're doing," Mary's mother says on the other end of the phone," But just remember to send me her Christmas list, alright? And maybe that list of-"

"Mum," Mary says again," Seriously, I have to go."

"I know, I know but- Oh! I didn't tell you. Mrs Todds - you remember Mrs Todds, right? Anyway, Mrs Todds from next door said-"

"Mum. Me, go. Have to. Alright?"

"Oh, fine, Mary. You go. I'll call tonight. We can finish this then."

"Great," Mary mutters, looking down at her phone impassively," I'll look forward to it." She sighs, shaking her head and slipping the device back into her pocket with the startlingly discovery that she's lost you.

Again.

It's actually kind of incredible how she can lose an eight year old and her puppy in such a small store.

"Birdie!" She calls out," Birdie!"

There's no answer.

Mary sighs. "Y/n! I mean it, come here!"

Your head pops around one of the aisles and Newton's golden fur moves in speedy circles as he waits for Mary to get closer.

"You can't keep wandering off," Mary tells you, taking your hand," What happens if I lose you?"

Ever practical, you reply," Well, if I get lost then I have to go to the nearest shop worker or mother and tell them I'm lost. I have your number on my ID necklace so I get them to call that."

You beam up at her and Mary laughs despite herself.

"You know, I think Tooney was right when she called you a little smartass."

You keep beaming. "Ella's just jealous she's not as smart as me."

"But at least she knows not to wander off in a store."

"I have Newton with me."

Mary gives you a pointed look, staring down at your very dopey dog who's only now growing into his service dog vest. He's great for your emotional regulation and anticipating meltdowns but for your physical protection, not so much.

"Still," Mary says," Let's just stay close, alright?"

You huff, muttering," Just because you don't speak French," but still keep close as Mary looks through the racks of costumes.

"And you're absolutely certain you want to match?"

"Yes."

"Alright then."

It's nowhere near your first Halloween with Mary but it's your first with Newton, your adorable service pup who enjoys things like sleeping on a heated blanket and accidentally treading on his own ears.

Usually, you choose something to match with Mary but you don't want Newton to feel left out, especially because of everything he does for you.

Newton's your best friend in the whole world, even more than the horses at the barn you go to for your lessons.

So this year, you're foregoing a matching outfit with Mary in favour of one with Newton which is what led to Mary spending hours looking for a shop in Paris that sold human costumes and dog costumes.

"What about this one?"

You wrinkle your nose up at the cheap ghost costume Mary holds up for you.

"That's basic," You complain, "Newton deserves better."

Newton seems to whine in agreement, sitting up on his haunches in the same way he begs for scraps when he's off duty.

"Fine," Mary grumbles," Fine. We'll find something better."

"Newton's a gentlemen," You continue," That's why he deserves a better costume."

Mary smiles fondly as you go look through the racks yourself.

Newton whines a little ten minutes later, wedging his body between you and the costumes when he notices how distressed you're getting.

Mary notices too, guiding you away from the dog section to ones more your size.

"Let's choose yours first," She says gently," Are we going scary or cute?"

"Cute," You mumble, running your hand through Newton's soft fur.

"How about these?"

Mary lets you be for the most part, taking items off the rack to show you the choices.

"That one," You mumble, already halfway to non-verbal as you repeatedly run a hand through Newton's fur," Please."

"Good choice, Birdie," Mary says," Shall we choose one for Newton today or-?"

You nod your head, shuffling back to the dog aisle as Mary throws your Belle dress into the basket.

You rifle through the racks quickly, though one hand remains rooted around Newton's leash.

"This one?" Mary checks as you pull one out for her to take. "You're going to be Belle and Newton's going to be the Beast."

You nod.

"Good choice," She says," Let's pay for these and we'll head home. There's some chocolate milk with your name on it."

[plantvariant]

I too am in the background eating flowers, Aubrey.

I loved that AAA bts omg, but I'm seeing all the critiques and such about not a ton of Agathario, and how everything was cut down, etc. For me, the video seemed most centered on the outfits and the culture within the show surrounding those outfits, as well as the kind of like lore behind the magic and how it relates to each witch.

I didn't expect a season 2 announcement going in so I wasn't disappointed but I am intrigued now that the big wigs are looking at the success of AAA and seem to be considering more? That is a BIG deal for a QUEER MARVEL SHOW! And that is so cool if it does culminate into something else. Whether that be some additional eps, a movie, or yes even a season 2 (I know these are long shots but it's still cool!).

One thing I'd like to point out, and yes I do agree that everyone's anger and feelings are valid, but I also want to remind everyone that AAA Assembled was pieced together and created AROUND the time of the actual shoot and making of the show. The things we see Jac saying now in interviews about the characters and relationships, and her feelings of regret about mishandling it at the time are more than likely genuine. Don't attack her or Marvel for this, because the end product in the show was still good and fun! There was actual magic in how much the cast and crew genuinely loved it and working together on it and that should be considered.

Consideration as well, with what Jac has said in recent interviews about Agatha All Along and Agathario it feels, to me at least, that it's given her some like solid perspective on how to handle the subject matter in the future. Sure, it might be wishful thinking on my part, but the care and love I saw in that show and the Assembled video gives me some hope.

[thumperdaetime]

the music is punk because it challenges the norm. the clothing is punk because it challenges the norm. the politics are punk because they challenge the norm. it's not a sound, or a look, or a book, or a slogan. it's a way of thinking that puts radical acceptance and relentless pursuit of joy, face to face with a world that wants you dead. you can't put a price on it. the disabled woman that says "fuck it people know I can't hold my blatter anyway. I don't care if they can tell I'm wearing the rehab-provided brief. Get me my bright lipstick I'm going to bingo!" is flexing the same muscles as the suburban white boy who steals eyeliner from his conservative mother. they are both people using identity, to create joy and signal comradery in lonely times, reputation be damned.

not to mention, all of the clothes I have been able to afford new when I was in my poorest moments were shit quality anyway. anything you can do to extend the lifespan of a physical object that was made under the modern fast fashion system past "thrown out, unsold at the store" is a win. in the same way that any pressure you can keep against an actively bleeding wound is a win. cloths are a common class of tools we use to help regulate our comfort, with that is with the temperature or our cave-mates. if the clothes make you feel uncomfortable they are already useless. it is already trash. why not try anything to see if it works? there are intelligent capable people across the centuries who died dreaming of what to do with once gorgeous expensive trendy fabric, that will now look dated and trashy outside of "the spring of '32 when i fell in love with jazz." or whatever the kids are into these days. the stupid walmart blazer you took a chance on 2 years ago but now feel "too X to wear" is no different. either you trash it now, or live with that trash in your home until your kids do it for you, while crying about how they always thought you looked good in that color. you might as well see if there's enough fabric to re-make that halter top you loved in college. when it looks homemade you get to boast and explain all about how you're trying to make shit better in little ways. and who cares if it fails? Aren't you deserving of a little petty violence? when the last time you really didn't give a shit about seam Ripping and just went to town? don't you want to be able to yell at something with no moral consequences? so much in this world is complicated and nuanced and requires forethought and responsibility. Wouldn't it feel nice to have a hobby that lets you get reasonably angry at evil fabric for not doing the thing, and then you can just throw it and swear, and then never have to think about it again. because it doesn't matter. it was already cheep plastic made to feed a system that would rather watch the world burn than lose a shareholder. you eat credit cards a year. you can not hurt wasted disposable plastic more than it will hurt you.

and then if it works you have a cute top to wear around places to show you are the kind of person who has cool tops! and help you ease people into the idea that a political movements starts with people deciding what things they inherited they actually want to keep around. and then maybe one day you cut apart and re-make out of nice quality fabric, with the mistakes you learned from the first one. so you can weaponize your ability to present yourself as ""respectable"" when you have to play the politics game in big official ways.

or (imagine this) you can even use your new knowledge of what types of edits you often make to clothing to buy a quality garment that will be more worth investing in. Ones that are made in ways that add value to their communities will feel good on your body from day one, and you can be mened and adapt in ways that may let it outlive you.

or maybe you elevate that shity, guilt ridden- shirt out of the gym lost and found on the last day of freshman year, because "fuck it- I liked that middle-school library fit. and Its a size too small but I'm bound to get thinner eventually. and I don't think its actually stealing if no one else wants it." Maybe if you make it into a statement piece scrap in your favorite "look I'm not happy about it either!" outfit, to show that you want to fuck with the systems in a "hey we should still have A Library tho right?" sort of way. you might run into the middle school girl who gets to break the ice with a fellow "cool garment person" friend. and she gets to laugh about your shirt deadnaming her. and you get to apologize and offer to let her sign something over it. and now you are advertising the formative art of a local queer-punk-artisan who you know is also out there trying her best to make the shitty stuff a little less shitty when they can, even if it means learning how to thread a sewing machine.... eventually.... hopefully.

also, as a person who has spent about a decade trying to figure out ways to keep kids of all ages informed and prepared and enriched on a budget. "Tug of War turned tie-dye Party" would of been a smash hit, my queer and rural in the 90's type parents would have loved it. after growing up with Halloweens filled with pieced-together costumes that made room for sensory issues and accessibility aids. and family "vacations" taken on public land with what's left of the food stamps. i think there is definitely a market for how to teach your children the fundamentals of serving in a world that might find their misery profitable. without like... terrafing them.

imagine how much easier alot of it would have been if someone early in your life had sat you down and said "ok. a lot of times things are going to be bad and unfair and evil. and there's going to be complicated reasons you cant do much about it but feel bad. but if you feel bad all the time it will only get worse. so what you can do is take what is around you, figure out what it is and how it works and why it's there, and then break it in ways that are meaningful and delibrite. and re-shape it to help the actual people who are trying survive."

then they showed you and all of your little friends how to research, what fabric is and understand why you bought supplies, and then get their hands dirty testing how strong it is, and why jeans have rivets even when you want to sew right there. and re-asure them that it's ok you paved the way to make sure they can't hurt anything too bad even if they are really really bad at it. and then let them find joy and pride in making something unique and custom with their own tools for the cost of cleaning out a closet, and some rite dye.

and then the community has a couple new little baby punks making decent folks smile with little bold fashion statements, and turning heads when they experiment with which parts of society they want to bring into the new age. tl;dr: I think we need to start telling the “I’m too poor to dress punk” crowd that they’re posers. -polyamorouspunk, November 2024, tumbr.com

I think we need to start telling the “I’m too poor to dress punk” crowd that they’re posers.

[amazinglyashy]

hiii I’d like to make a request for LADS🙏

scenarios for the boys (specifically the original 3) when you meet and you’re already dating someone (maybe eventually you leave them for one of the boys). like. i can imagine raf and xav having a hard time keeping their cool about it and perhaps zayne acting the way he did in neon night since he doesn’t remember but fjdjsksm

You actually sent this a day before I got Neon Night, so I was able to reference it in real time and not look up the card on YT or anything, I'm so happy-- This was actually super fun, thank you so much for the request!! I hope you enjoy <3 (I'm gonna warn you tho, I made it a bit angsty--)

LaDS men when you're already dating someone [for now-]

Rafayel -

Rafayel is... upset.

to say the least.

He'll act rude and obnoxious to whoever it is you're dating at the time, to an uncharacteristically high level of sass and snippy comments. You have to try and ask him what's gotten into him, but he won't answer you.

Further meetings will go just as smoothly, so your current partner will just chalk up to you having an oddly rude friend.

He'll say something that comes across as weird to you at some point- a biting comment during a completely unrelated argument about how he waited so long for you, searching high and low for any trace of you returning again, and you didn't even have the courtesy to wait for him.

He'll leave angry, but he'll stand in the hallway regretting it, because he knows. He knows you don't remember him, and he can't keep faulting you for that. But damn-

It hurts.

It hurts to know that he did everything he could to find you, to protect you- to keep you safe until he could see you again. Talk to you again. Love you again.

But here you were.

Just out of reach again.

Xavier -

You're trying to handle a toddler now, not a grown man.

He's so upset, it's borderline ridiculous.

It's like any comment or conversation starter your current partner tries to toss at Xavier, it doesn't even make it out of the hangar before it's shot down.

Any attempts you make to be friendly with him are also met with snippy remarks.

He did not travel as far as he did, do every single hard thing he had up until this point- just to lose to some average every-day person who was currently enjoying holding your hand.

His jealously is through the roof.

His pouting face is actually pretty cute, though, so there's that.

After sulking for a long time, he'll start inviting you places more frequently, under the guise of wanting to hang out more as coworkers.

His actual motives are trying to make you see just how good of a partner he could be for you.

Yes he's trying to steal you out from under your current partner's feet.

Is it working...?

Sylus -

He's not surprised.

He's also not threatened.

What, was Sylus supposed to suspect that someone with no recollection of him or your previous time knowing each other would hold out for him, until you met again?

He tries his best to be a rational man, as there would be no rationality in getting upset at you for something you have no knowledge of.

He's hurt, but he also has a mild sense of confidence coating his doubts and pain.

He knows you'll come around to him eventually- it's everything that fate had destined, he'll muse jokingly to himself.

Still, he can't help a little doubt itching in his subconscious. He doesn't have any way of outwardly handling it, though.

He isn't the type to flaunt what he has in front of other people in order to appear better. It's gaudy to him, and shows just how little someone actually is worth if they're so desperate to put themselves above another through a dollar amount.

Treats your current partner with the same level of respect he does towards you, and shows them similar levels of care.

They make you happy, and he doesn't want that ever taken from you.

No matter how badly he wants you all to himself.

Zayne -

If it bothers him, you would never be able to tell.

Always the epitome of kindness and civility no matter who he's dealing with as long as they aren't unkind to those who matter to him- namely you- the person you're dating is treated no differently.

That is, as long as they're treating you properly.

He's no overprotective psychopath, but he does have his own concerns given some of the patients he has treated in the past. As long as certain basic criteria are met, he doesn't see any issue with it.

Still he's... a bit sad.

He blames himself wholeheartedly, for going away for so long. For leaving you alone. It's his own fault for missing his chance with you, and while somewhere deep inside of him is praying on your current partner's downfall- it's a very small portion in the back of his mind. Something dark he'll never truly humor.

He wants you to be happy, above anything else. Above personal feelings, his own wishes, anything. And if your current partner is making you happy, then that's all he could ever wish for.

Even through the sting.

He's happy as long as you are.

[squibsformers]

Miscommunication

Rodimus x Human Reader, Drift x Ratchet x Human Reader

Summary: After Rodimus tried looping you into something you really weren't into, you sought out your other partners to complain about his reveal of character.

Word Count: 1,128

AN: NSFW suggestive talk, no outright smut. Also hi this is my first tf writing soooo lmk what your thoughts are, i love comments. I'm already working on a reader insert series and wanted to start with a few one off bits. Enjoy! tagging valveplug just in case.

Drift looked up when you entered the medbay, his greeting dying on his glossa as his field just PINGED with the waves of displeasure coming off you.

“Jeez… what's got you all wound up, huh?” He straightened his backstuts as he stood up more from the desk he leaned over, messing with Ratchet temporarily set aside.

You hissed a rush of words under your breath as you strutted in, something that he couldn't TELL what was said but he understood it wasn't very polite. Even the older medic bot lifted his head to address you.

“I only managed to make out Rodimus in all that. What did our oh so brilliant captain do to piss you off?”

 “I thought this whole time we were leading up to something… fun. But it turns out I misread every step. He thinks he's BETTER than me.”

“He's the captain, he is better than you.”

You whipped your head around to glare at Ratchet. “Better enough that I deserve to clean the dirt off his kibble with my tongue?? Because I feel that's pretty fucking degrading.”

Both bots stilled, and the medic's “Wait, what-” was interrupted by Drift stalling briefly and talking over him. “That doesn't sound at ALL like something Roddy would say.”

“I thought so, too.” You huffed before your attitude melted into something a bit sadder. “I mean… I've been flirting with him for so long, and he's been receptive towards it. You even told me he said he likes me. So I don't know where this came from…” 

Groaning, you put your face in your hands, and idly Ratchet patted your back while working (and half listening). 

“I didn't even think that would be a thing with you guys, making someone tongue-polish your like, plating and stuff.”

“That sounds like something Megatron would have had Starscream do back in the day,” Ratchet groused, making Drift mock gagging.

“I'm going to purge my tank, don't make me think about those two like that.” A shudder wracked the ex ‘con's frame. “Eugh. No it's not really a thing with us. Is…is it a human thing?”

“Ah…” The question made you pause to think. “Not… really? I mean, kind of. It's usually an extremely exaggerated form of punishment from someone who wants to uh… show superiority while demeaning the other. Though it's shoes or boots for us, not armor spikes. The idea is to polish the dirtiest article of clothing with their tongue - or glossa - so they feel... sub-human. Though there's always exceptions, and some people are into that kinda thing as like, a kink? But it's really not…what I'm looking for.” You wince.

….Ratchet paused his comforting as he listened, before turning to look you over. “Hold on, back up. Armor spikes… kid, what did Rodimus say to you?”

Drift leaned over the autobot's shoulder, studying you closely. The samurai looked both confused…and disbelieving.

Alright, fine then.

“He said ‘Y’know… Maybe you can put that glossa of yours to use and… clean my spikes with it.’” They let out a grumble. “I didn't peg him for the degrading type…”

The two mechs went oddly quiet and still.

“Spikes… plural?” Drift pressed.

You thought back more, mulling the memory over, of the captain of the Lost Light leering down at you with that heated smirk and his thumb on your cheek…and shook your head.

“No, sorry. Just spike.”

“PFFT-”

You looked up to see Drift looking away, one of his servos clamped over his intake as he cackled. His limbs shook and he held onto Ratchet to steady himself. The medic was looking away, face buried in his hands. His shoulders shook.

He was also laughing at you.

“What. WHAT! HEY?? HELLO!!”

“Kid…Kid, Sp..spike is another term we have for plug.” Ratchet mumbled out. Still laughing. Very much laughing at you. His words caused Drift to wheeze and bend over, his vents stuttering as he cackled.

“He was asking you to interface finally and you totally missed it..!! Oh Primus help me, what did you say? What did you say, tell me. Please, it has to be good.”

Your face got warm as you thought of the fact that you had finally gotten Rodimus interested enough he would make a bold pass. Your face was hot when you realized you had totally missed his signals. Your face was practically on fire when it clicked just how badly you fumbled the whole interaction.

“I… I said Ew, no thanks. And came here-”

“THAAAAHAHAATS THE WORST THING YOU C-COOOHOULD HAVE SAID!!! AAAHAHAGHA OH PRIMUS-”

“Frag me, kid you did not-”

There was no saving you. Both mechs were now openly laughing at your misery. Your face buried in your hands you mumbled out a weak “How was I supposed to know!” that only made Drift start losing it all over again.

After some time (Ten. Minutes.) the two much larger beings had settled, Ratchet returning to his work and chuckling on occasion while Drift…pestered you over your absolute dropping of the ball.

“I can't believe this. I'm almost scared to flirt with you now because you may not get it!”

“Driiiiift…!” You whined, the cheeky samurai squeezing your hips. “Let me go, I want to jettison myself out of the airlock.”

“Not a chance!! I mean I want to make sure if I tell you I wanna have you eat my valve from the back that you aren't going to mistake it for me, say, threatening to mug you or something.”

Your face was bright red. “Drift!!”

“Or, oh man, if I tell you I want to slot my plug between your thighs, maybe you'll think I'm wanting you to-”

“RATCHET! DRIFT IS BULLYING ME AGAIN!” Complaining loudly, you squirmed in Drift's hold while eyeing his Conjux, displeased and humiliated and hoping the medic would scold him or something.

Ratchet barely spared you a glance with his optics as he continued his inventory count. He was literally busy and not paying attention to you two.

“Between words from attractive mechs, manhandling, and something almost too big to go in, you enjoy being bullied, and all of us here are very aware of it,” drawled the grouch's response.

You stared at him, mouth dropped open in shock and WORSE embarrassment at how he called your bullshit out. All while Drift began cackling all over again.

—

You stared up at the habisuite door, staring at the imposing metal barrier of captain Rodimus Prime's personal chambers. Your stomach twisted in knots nervously, your palms somewhat sweaty as you raised a fist and knocked hard, twice. Mentally, you prepared your apology as you heard shuffling and the soft clank of pedes across a metal floor.

God, you hoped the mech thought stupid was hot.

[restless-soulz]

HOW THE HOUSEWARDENS ACT W/ A BABY (not their own, they're all still underage)

RIDDLE:

-man this guy is so bad with babies, but damn it if he isn't efficient

-he'll make sure that the physical needs are taken care of, but that's not entirely what a baby needs.

-but a baby can't tell you what exactly it needs so it'll just be stressful for both of them until he figures it out

-it might be a while

-doesn't do super well with physical affection (giving)

-he probably won't burn down the house to make a bottle for the baby but he will stress about the temperature and it'll go cold before he's satisfied and it'll repeat the process ad infinitum

LEONA:

-pls the baby he knew was cheka, and he was easy he's got this (NOT)

-lion man just wants to sleep and does not appreciate being woken up for feedings or changings or anything else

-doesn't care about bottle temp, milk is milk

-won't show but is a little stressed about having claws vs incredibly fragile baby skin

-genuinely confused to as why not all babies are not like Cheka

-after a while he'll get down the baby language and be so fast at it, just to maximize his sleep

-hey if it works it works

AZUL:

-another one not really fit for children

-would try to foist off the child to the leeches, and then realize that unfortunately he is the much better option (because morays eat their young)

-he will do his best tho and he will do an almost perfect job

-he just...overestimates human baby milestones

-it's ok, it can go one of two ways. either the parent is delighted by fast progress or Azul feels embarrassed

-like riddle, doesn't super love the whole physical contact thing

-also secretly i'd think he'd be great to talk to for anything involved in being recognized outside of your children or a body dysmorphia kind of depression cause same

KALIM:

-mans has 40 siblings or something

-i trust him, but he can be a little...cloud heavy

-he will make sure that baby is cuddled, and fed, and played, but sleeping is not his thing. adorable, but babies are AWAKE around him

-plus he's had servants that take care of the gross parts so he's clueless about how messy babies usually are

-jamil would lose his mind having two people to take care of, one infinitely more dependent than the other

-as much as i love him, don't give him a baby

VIL:

-he wouldn't try very hard

-babies are hard and he's not planning to babysit very long, he has more important things to do, but in the meantime

-this baby will be TAKEN CARE OF

-he bought a lot of...well...everything and all the excess goes to the parents.

-the cutest outfits you've ever seen

-detests changing and other gross parts but will do it

-does not like the not sleeping part, but he will admit they are very cute

IDIA:

-you're playing with fire here

-the only baby he's ever been around was Ortho, and that...ended terribly

-panicking every single second, and rapidly googling every time the baby breathes a little weird

-builds an automated bottle warmer and baby rockers so he has minimal contact with the baby as possible

-until Ortho says that skin to skin or physical contact is best for optimal health

-he'll whine and cry but do it, for a super short amount of time

-made an automatic changing station so he never does the gross parts

MALLEUS:

-adores children. they do not adore him.

-he can scare them a bit being all dark colors and rbf

-but he does theoretically know how to take care of a human baby

-i don't think silver should count since he's more of a changling

-will not put the baby down unless absolutely necessary (my kind of guy)

-the baby lives in a singular too big shirt or the most regal ensemble you've ever seen. no in between

-doesn't bother with changing since he can just magic it away

-also buys everything for the baby and keeps half for when he hopes to be asked to babysit again

[yannaryartside]

I am pretty sure that this scene

is a parallel of this scene

There are plenty of negative and positive elements in it, but the two scenes are basically identical in nature.

Step 1: the staff is having difficulty adjusting to a new regimen and performance requirement

Step 2: Sydney guides a particular staff member (Debra in s1 and Tina in s3) through a complicated culinary process (the count in s1 and the recipe in s3).

Step 3: Carmy STARES

Sydneys defiance

In both scenarios, Sydney goes through the process with patience and care despite her own exhaustion and frustration, particularly with Carmy.

In both scenarios, Carmy seems to be impressed by that. Hence the way he hooks at her.

The negative element here is that in both scenes, Sydney is doing what she is doing despite Carmy; in the scene with Ebra in s1, Carmy thinks she is mad at him, and in s3, Sydney is directly confronting Carmy and (almost) disobeying an order. Both scenes serve to establish Sydney as the true leader of the kitchen, not inspired by Carmy but despite him.

And Carmy also seems to feel some type of way about that. In the scene in S1, right after, Carmy starts to pressure the staff to keep the tempo, which kind of feels like him trying to establish himself as the one who was actually in control.

I dont think this is Carmy resenting Syd, but maybe feeling bad that he cannot contribute something positive to her, in s1 that seems to feel increased because her dismissal of his apology.

in s3, right after Sydney helps Tina, you can see them lock eyes, and Carmy almost seems frustrated, like he wants to say to Syd, "Why did you do that? or "I don't like the fact that you dismissed me"

Again, I think this is more about him wanting to feel like the hero of the situation and his frustration with the fact that he is doing it all wrong and Syd has to take the lead, but also a part of him admires and recognizes something else...

Syd is taking the system that made Carmy (the chaos in s1 and the abuse in s3) and taking a step back on making sure no one is left behind.

first gif by @shamixlour. The rest from @thoughtfulchaos773, also credits to them because they clocked them showing Sydney’s paciente in s3.

[loverslodge]

after the date

Bucky was stunned by the way Steve had talked to you. He too felt like a prized pony but there had to be a better way of putting things, weren't there? One of them made you cry. Bucky couldn't remove the sight of your face when Steve said those things. He swore he heard your heart break. Your tears were an added bonus that wrenched his own heart.

Steve was seething. He felt used. He had the same feeling he had felt when he had broken up with Sharon. This was it, wasn't it? This was his life. A famous person, up on a pedestal, just to look good. But something else cracked. When he saw your broken face, he knew he overstepped, he knew he said things he shouldn't have. He didn't mean it like that. But you had left. Left before he could even realize he fucked up.

………………….

The journey back to the compound was eerily quiet. Bucky wasn't talking to Steve and neither did Steve initiate any discussion.

Bucky knew he should say something but he was too pissed off. If he started talking, punches would have flown with them so he kept quiet. Held himself off. He looked down at his hand to see the bag of books with that single rose you had given him in the morning.

Steve was fidgeting in the seat. He was holding the rose you had given him that morning. You had said you show how you feel because you were never good with words. Was this you showing something? Had he missed something?

As soon as the car stopped in the garage, Bucky jumped out and stomped in the compound. Steve ran after him to talk but Bucky had already slipped in the elevator and had gone up to their shared apartment.

As soon as Steve entered the apartment, a punch flew to his mouth, staggering him. He was ready to counter attack but seeing it was an enraged Bucky, he let it go. Steve did deserve a punch after what he did.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you end a perfect date like that?” Bucky needed answers.

“It was the right thing to do. We were slipping way too much into her life. It was a fake date.” Steve went to his room and gently put his rose on the side table.

“Come out here. Talk. I'm not letting this behaviour of yours slide.” Bucky demanded.

Steve stomped out. “You are not my boyfriend to demand this kind of shit from me.”

“Is this what it's about? A pent up 100 year old hold up?”

“No. This is about us not addressing the issues. I was in love with Peggy and not you. You were just there and that kiss was a drunken mistake.”

“I don't care about any of that. Let's call it a mistake, fine. But what was that tonight? You made her cry.”

“I told her the truth.”

“There are ways of telling the truth, Steve. You are the gentle one. What the fuck happened back there? Why did you just jump guns?” Bucky walked very close to Steve. He wanted to slap his face and put some sense into it.

Bucky poked and pushed him with the question again and again because Steve kept on ignoring him.

“I got jealous, okay? I got jealous, thinking that there could have been more candidates and she would have picked someone else over us. Us, Bucky. I don't even care if she chose you. I was happy that it was me and you and not me or you. She accepted us together. But got jealous thinking if someone else had responded before us then she would've gone.” Steve ran his hands over his hair and face.

“So you weren't jealous of me being with her?”

“God no! I really liked seeing you with her. It made me happy to see you happy with her.”

Steve held Bucky by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. Steve was on the verge of tears for what he did to you.

“Then why the fuck did you say that to her?” Bucky asked him in a quiet tone.

“I got angry. I acted rash and dumb. I- shit. I feel so guilty. She was nothing but incredible. Every time there was sadness in her eyes, she would push it aside and smile for us. She did so well the entire day and I ruined it. I ruined her perfect day.” Steve sat with his head in his hands.

“Didn't we jump to this because it was all no strings attached and no expectations? Then why were there strings and expectations?” Bucky wasn't just asking it to Steve but to himself as well.

“Maybe because of her.” They both looked at each other, understanding what Steve was trying to say. “It was all her. She just- she's an angel, Buck. Sweet, kind and adorable little angel. If just looking at her made us think that then imagine how much we felt when we talked to her.”

“She drew strings without knowing. We were so confident in proving that we won't have expectations but her being unconditional about everything just broke our confidence, didn't it?” Bucky stared down at his hands. “She expected nothing. She even went as far as to open herself bare to us without expecting us to do something about it.”

“She was ready to leave us alone once the day was over, did you know that?” Steve looked at Bucky who looked at him with wide eyes.

“How do you know that?”

“I read her memos. She was getting gelato for us in the park and her memo fell out. She was detailed about today. She had written it down. Underline and everything! She really dove head first without asking for anything in return.”

Bucky and Steve sat in silence. Today had brought a lot of clarity to them. One of them being that they belonged together but not alone. They belonged together with you.

Sure, Bucky and Steve have had their moments with each other but they never talked about it. But it seemed like after today, there needed to be a lot of clarifications. Both of them spent hours talking and clarifying.

They were both in bed, next to each other. Still wanting to talk about the most important thing, you.

“So, I know we just started something new but what about Angel?” Steve really did want you in their lives.

“I was thinking the same thing. I know we have us but it feels, I don't know, empty. Today, with her, I felt like we were complete.” Bucky shifted and looked at Steve.

“You know, I felt so much at ease with her. Like she wasn't expecting me to just burst my heart open for her every two seconds. I felt very calm with her. I just wish I hadn't said those things. We would've gotten more time with her. Maybe talk to her. Ask her if she wanted this to be something real.”

“We didn't even get to say goodbye. You know, after the dinner, I was going to ask her if she would be willing to spend another day with us. I've never felt like this before, you know. Except with you. I felt very comfortable with her.”

There was a moment of silence between them.

“So we're okay with a third being with us. And we want that third to be her and only her. Correct?” Steve summarized their thoughts.

“Correct. Our Angel. We need to talk to her.”

“Do you think she'll want to talk to me after what I said?” Steve’s voice turned sad.

“Of course she will. We will not let a misunderstanding get in our way. We will win her back.” Bucky was determined.

“You know, I think I know why she came up with this no expectation thing.” Steve looked at Bucky

“Why?” Bucky was curious to know Steve’s interpretation.

“Because no one fought for her. After listening to her story, it's very clear. While she tried her best, when she left, no one was there to tell her to not go. It was as if nobody cared.” Steve had tears in his eyes.

“Then we show her. We show her that we will fight for her. We want her and she is it for us. We will show her. Maybe we can mend her heart the way she's mending ours.” Bucky patted Steve and rubbed his arm to give him confidence.

……………….

It had been two weeks since the date went horribly wrong. You had been in a sad rut since then. Many times tears welled up in your eyes thinking about the time you spent with them.

First three days you spent thinking about how you had been feeling the same way about the two of them. Whatever affection you were feeling for them was, surprisingly, in an equal amount. There was no leaning towards one over the other, it was leaning towards them.

You spent time trying to sort your affections. Two men? How? Is this even right? Are they together? It felt like they were. Was what you did right? Did you get between two people?

But then you slipped back into the dark thoughts not being loveable. Your mind went into overthinking how your past relationships made no attempt in exactly loving you. You aren’t just an arc of rainbow but you are also the rain. They only loved the rainbow.

You had spent two weeks mulling over your idea of love as well. Maybe Steve was right. Maybe you are looking for a broken love. But how could you not? You have become a broken person. You had become this shell of a love that kept on giving but received nothing in return.

It was Saturday and you were sitting in your favourite cafe, working on your laptop. Your table was littered with your heavily sweetened drinks. You might've been on your tenth cup, or that's what you assumed when you thought you were hallucinating two super soldiers swaggering towards you.

“Hey Angel.” Bucky’s dazzling smile was blinding you and your eyes were dry as is.

Bucky’s smooth voice was pulling you more into your dreamland. More like, you had been so stressed and sleep deprived that everything looked like a hallucination.

“Angel, are you okay? Your eyes are very glassy.” Steve crouched down to look at your eyes better. His heart wrenched at the sight of the redness of them and heavy bags under your eyes.

“Buck, I don't think she’s well. Maybe we should take her back to her place and talk to her next time.” Steve was getting very worried about you.

“I'm fine. Nothings wrong. I just…” and you were about to topple off the chair when Steve caught you by your shoulder and leaned you against him.

“Ok, that's it. Buck, grab her things and find her keys, we're taking her home.”

Your eyes were glassy but you distinctly remember Steve picking you up and Bucky smoothing out your hair from your face before they got walking.

Once they reached your apartment, Bucky carried you and your things while Steve had rushed to open your door. Bucky walked in and went straight for your bedroom and laid you down. You tried to get up to change but he just pushed you back on the bed.

“Please. I wanna change. Very uncomfortable.” You were feeling delirious.

“Angel, I don't want you falling.” Bucky held your waist as you made your way to grab your comfiest pjs.

“What are you doing, Angel? Get back to bed.” Steve walked in the bedroom to check up on you but seeing you walking around with Bucky supporting you concerned him.

“Let go. Gotta change.” You wriggled your way out of Bucky’s arms and stumbled into the bathroom, locking it.

“Angel, did you just lock the bathroom? You'll fall down. How are we supposed to help you?” Steve knocked on the door to make sure you’re fine.

“You're supers, you can break in.” You called out from the bathroom. You washed your face and finished your business. You stumbled a little but managed to grab onto the doorknob. You twisted it and stumbled out in the waiting arms of two super soldiers.

“Alright, Angel. Let's go to bed.” Bucky tucked you in the middle of the bed, making sure you have no way of getting up.

The two men were about to leave your room when your soft whisper traveled through the room. “Please don't go.”

Your small plea made them weak in the knees and they almost fell to their feet. You were definitely looking like an angel, laying on your bed with glassy eyes. They took off their shoes and got in the bed, one side each.

Their jeans brushed against your thighs and so you got a bit more aware. You pouted at Bucky and asked them to remove their jeans and shirts because they were making you uncomfortable.

They were shocked by it but did what you asked anyway. They were now laying beside you in just their briefs. You shuffled and turned to Steve who was looking at you just like you had always wished for and so was Bucky.

You put your hands on their cheeks and brushed your thumbs against their cheeks. “Please look at me just like that.” Your hands slipped down and you snuggled into the pillow, falling asleep in the warmth of two men who have been haunting your dreams.

……………………..

Bucky and Steve stayed right where you had asked them to. Tears slipped out of Bucky’s eyes.

“This is because of us, isn't it? We are the reason why she's exhausted. We hurt our Angel. We waited way too long.” Bucky wiped his face but the lump in his throat was there to stay.

“But we're here now. We will make it right. We will take care of her. We will never hurt our Angel again.” Steve brushed some stray hair out of your face.

You shuffled in your sleep and snuggled into Steve who immediately wrapped his arms around you and shoved you deeper in his chest.

“She feels so good, Buck. I don't want to let her go.”

“We don't have to. We will go down on our knees to win her if we have to.”

Although they wanted to stay in bed with you till you wake up, they wanted to clean your apartment for you. So they both slowly got up from bed and were about to slip out when a few laminated papers caught their eyes.

They both walked to look at what it was and their mouths stayed agape. Those were the pressed roses. The same roses that they had gotten her. The roses still looked fresh and pink but pressed. Two roses had Bucky’s name on them and the other two had Steve’s.

“Every time we think she’s human, she does something that makes us think she's an angel.” Bucky walked back to bed and kissed your temple. Steve also kissed your temple before they slipped out of the room and took over the cleaning.

While Steve was cleaning the house, Bucky went to the kitchen to cook a fantastic meal for all. He had noticed your sweet tooth for chocolate so he also decided to make chocolate muffins. You surprisingly had all the ingredients for baking but not much for cooking. Bucky sent Steve to buy ingredients to make lasagna and till then he whipped up cupcake batter.

Bucky occasionally went to your room to check how you were doing. You shifted from one side to another but overall you were sleeping peacefully. Bucky was still only in his briefs and your cute pink apron.

Your eyes fluttered open and you looked around. You knew that it was too good to be true. You must've walked home and went to sleep. Why would they come here? You gave them nothing but grief and made them feel like you were a prize to be won which was untrue. You weren't a prize, never have been.

A smell of vanilla and chocolate hit your senses and you panicked. Who the hell is in your apartment? You tumbled out of the bed and ran in the kitchen to find a very beefy back staring back at you.

“Angel! You're up!” Bucky turned around and gave you a heart-stopping smile.

“Bu- James! What are you doing here?” You were flabbergasted.

“Angel, call me Bucky. I've told you before.” He put the tray in the oven and set the timer.

“But-”

Bucky walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. “Call me Bucky, Angel.”

“Bucky,” you gulped and your voice softened. “What are you doing here? And, um, is it… is it just you?” Your eyes were wide with curiosity and somewhere, at the back of them, hurt.

“Nope, not alone. Steve has gone grocery shopping for lasagna and I think I also told him to bring pizza with him.” Bucky cupped your face. “You asked us to stay, Angel and we weren't going to leave. We came to talk.”

You pried yourself out of Bucky’s arms and stood at a distance. “I- ok, well, once Steve is back, you both can leave. Sorry for all the inconvenience i caused. You don't have to do anything.”

“Angel, what-”

“I'm back! I got the pizza! Lets wake up Angel and get her to eat and-” Steve sensed a tense situation.

“She wants us to leave.” Bucky’s voice had turned into a whisper.

“What?! No! Angel, no! I- we don't want to go. We want to stay, talk.” Steve just started to beg.

“Why? You don't like me, I'm just a burden. Whatever happened to me today is my problem, not yours. Sorry for troubling you but you don't have to be polite. I'll manage.”

You had withdrawn yourself completely. You didn't deserve whatever they were giving you. You shouldn't be getting between them. You shouldn't even think about them. They deserve better than anybody but you.

“Angel? Baby? What are you talking about?” Steve walked closer to you, trapping you between him, Bucky and the wall.

“I'm just telling the truth. You don't have to take care of me. I dont des- you don't need to do this. Don't be gentlemanly. I appreciate you bringing me home but I've been a burden enough. I don't want you to feel obligated about anything.” You were fidgeting with your oversized t-shirt, unable to look them in the eyes.

“There is no obligation, Angel.” Bucky came closer and moved hair strands out of my face.

“You're not a burden. Why would you think that?” Steve put his hand on my shoulder and rubbed his thumb against my clavicle.

“It is true. Otherwise I wouldn't have put the two of you in any of those awkward positions on that day. You accepted because you expected a normal day out and I ended up making you do things against your will.” Tears ran down your cheeks as you looked at Steve. “You were right, Steve, I am looking for a broken love because that's what I deserve.”

Steve’s heart broke hearing you say that and Bucky’s eyes welled up. They had sent you off to the deep end without even realizing. They should've come to you sooner.

Steve and Bucky dragged you back to your room because you were hysterically crying, unable to breathe. They wrapped you up in your blanket. Both of them moved to each side of you and pulled you closer with your back resting on Bucky’s chest and your head resting on Steve’s.

“Angel, if you would please give us a chance to talk. We have a lot to say and it's not what you think. Will you listen?” Bucky asked the question in such a whispered voice, you couldn't help but nod your head against Steve’s chest. Your breathing had calmed down and their touch was very soothing.

“First of all, you are not a burden and you don't deserve broken love. We just- we got jealous.” Steve started putting sentences together. “Bucky held off his jealousy but I couldn't. It made me think that you had a better shot with someone else and my imagination started running wild.”

“Steve thought, and I did too even if I didn't say it out loud, that if someone else had accepted your email request then you would have picked them over us. That idea didn't sit well with us. We wanted you all to ourselves.” Bucky continued.

You sat up straight and looked at them. “But why would you get jealous?”

“Because, Angel, we fell in love with you.” Steve’s confession stopped your heart. You looked at Bucky with wide eyes expecting it to be a joke but the soft smile on his face and a nod told you it wasn't.

“We had accepted your request because it gave us a chance to experience a romantic relationship for one day without strings and expectations. That's what we thought till we actually met you.” Bucky looked at you adoringly.

“We saw you the first time and we thought what we felt was infatuation. But as the day went on, we drowned in your smile, in your laughter and all the little things you did.” Steve moved hair out of my face. “The first time we realized we were falling in love, it was at the park when we sat together. That entire time felt so… domestic, homey.”

“All that time falling in love with you, we forgot you still thought what was going on was fake.” Bucky intertwined your fingers with his. “So when you talked very casually about things, Steve got pissed and said things he shouldn't have.”

“I'm so sorry, Angel. I was being an idiot. I had never felt this way before. So at home with someone and it pissed me off that someone else could've had my home. I got jealous and I got possessive.”

Steve pressed his forehead against yours and Bucky did the same. “We're very sorry, Angel. Please forgive us.”

“But should I say sorry?” You slowly pull away to look at them. “I played with your feelings, didn't i? I should be apologizing for making you think that it was real.”

“So, it wasn't real?” Just one look in their eyes and you knew you had broken their hearts in a million pieces.

“It was! For me it was but I thought you thought I played you and I kinda did if we look at the semantics.” You started to ramble. You wanted to fix whatever this was.

“Angel, if it was real for you and if it was real for us then that means you haven't played us.” Bucky pushed their actual agenda forward. “And even if you were playing with us, which you werent, it would have been a privilege to be played by our angel.”

“Our?” You had been hearing them mentioned as theirs, not Bucky’s or Steve’s but theirs.

“That's what we actually wanted to talk about.” Steve sat up straight. It was time to ask you what they have been meaning to ask. “We have been talking about this, adjusting to this new… idea. We thought it was wrong at first but one of our dear friends helped us figure things out.”

“He means Natasha. Black Widow. Blond hair, murderous eyes, kinda okay face.” Bucky started giving you the context.

“I know who she is and she's hot. Don't put her down like that.” You used to have a crush on her before it had drifted off but you didn't need to tell them that.

“What? I-”

“Buck, not the time.” Steve put his hand on Bucky’s chest to stop him. “Back to the point. We thought hard and we only thought of you-”

“Gross.” You made a playful face that earned a chuckle from Bucky and an eye roll from Steve.

Steve pulled you closer to his body, causing you to yelp in surprise. Then you felt a pressure on your back and saw Bucky leaning his entire self on you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“We want you to be with us, Angel. Just us three and no one else.” Steve’s chest rumbled with confession and you found yourself blushing. “Would you like that? Being with us? You, me and Bucky?”

“None of that is going to happen if I die under the weight of an old metal person.” You groaned playfully and tried to shove Bucky over, only for him roll on you entirely, crushing you against Steve.

“Bubye Steve. This is the end of the line for me. I'll see you on the other side.” Your muffled speech could be heard through your groans. “Write on my tombstone. Death by Bucky, a heavy cuddler who wouldn't leave his girlfriend room to breathe.”

Hearing you say the last line. They both sprang up and looked at you.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did you just say you're our girlfriend?” Bucky asked excitedly. If they had tails, it would've wagged itself off their asses.

You rolled your eyes at them and smiled widely with blush creeping up your cheeks. “Yes.”

They both attacked you in a hug and made sure to leave you room to breathe. You couldn't help but giggle and laugh at their excitement.

“We promise not to mess things up this bad.” Steve kissed your temple.

“But I do want to see the list of men whom you sent the emails to. Gotta know whom to brag against.” Bucky pulled you closer to his chest and kissed the crook of your neck, making you shiver.

All three of you got up from the bed and made your way to the kitchen because your stomach wouldn't stop making rumbling noises.

Once they had fed you well, their words, not yours, all three of you chose to cuddle back in your bed to watch one of the many rom-coms that were your favourites. You looked at both of your sides to see them intensely watching what made you happy.

“Hey guys,” you said, making them look at you. “Thank you so much for looking at me like that.”

“Always, Angel. Forever and always.”