#OH and making money off a community you're not even a part of / engage with is weird

[castawavy]

I'm glad she got called out for that, charging for EA recolours is crazy that wouldve taken her 2 hours tops and dont get me started on how they even share eachothers meshes...

😐

[princescribbler]

Some USEFUL REMINDERS for CG/L Dynamics (Especially Online or LD)

Presented in no particular order or significance, a few useful reminders!

Your Caregiver is more than just that... they're a complicated, whole person with interests outside of CG/L, ABDL, and kink.

Nobody, and I mean nobody, likes to be introduced or harassed online with "Hi wanna be my mommy/ daddy/ little" as an opening line. Like... that's a huge amount of effort, time, and responsibility to take on just cuz somebody you don't know asks... it isn't gonna happen.. if you want that, work for it and build a relationship!

Reminders are great! Send them to your partner, yourself, your friends, whether it's for daily tasks like checking in with a CG or boring work stuff... be the person people appreciate because you check in, give reminders, and generally enable everyone to succeed easier.

There will be extremely tough days where you'll feel bad and want to give up your kinks, your fetishes, etc... and that won't fix a single thing. See, whether you're kinky or not; Jobs suck, renting sucks, everything sucks sometimes! Stop blaming your kink for your problems and accept that you might need to find more complicated answers than just hating or blaming kink.

You and only you are responsible for your fetish activities... you choose how you engage in them, even if it's at someone else's supposed "orders." Don't see yourself as somehow not an active participant!

Consent is key, and informed, enthusiastic consent is key. Whether it's hand holding, keyholding, sex, cuddles, or just sexy messages and texts, consent is key. If you don't get it, don't get kinky with them. And major important note: coerced or manipulated consent is NOT consent.

Pixar and Disney remain excellent at any age, and you don't need to be a little to enjoy! Seriously.

Littles can be toxic! Yes, there's tons of fake caregivers, fake switches, fake and manipulative buttfaces out there, absolutely. But littles can be toxic, too, and if you're seeing those toxic behaviors within yourself, you need to change. Now... it isn't acceptable or fair to damage others with your toxicity just because you're afraid to change and grow!

Consent is needed from all involved, including spectators. Don't bring your kinky stuff in public without the consent of ALL impacted parties. Don't make the whole community look bad, either!

Depression, anxiety, and mental health in general can be a risk when adopting a kinky lifestyle. Don't ignore them or just try to work around them... it won't work. You need to deal with them, and social relationships can help but sometimes you need professionals, not just friends.

When in doubt, assume you should be doing the responsible thing..I know, especially for bratty subs, that it is hard to choose to do the responsible thing... but seriously, being a little isn't an excuse to EXCLUSIVELY do irresponsible or naughty things!

Things like diapees, pacifiers, bottles, most little or ABDL or CG/L gear can be passed off by just saying "Oh, it's for a friend" because everyone assumes there's a friend with a kid. When you accidentally feel exposed... just try to remember most people don't care, or notice, and if they do they probably assume it's a misunderstanding. Stop freaking out!

Your caregiver isn't your therapist. They're not here to fix your emotional trauma from childhood.. they might help you, but they're not meant to fix your whole life just because you let someone be in charge of you.

You are still an adult, even in littlespace... so you need to act like it when it comes to serious stuff. Money, sex, responsibilities, these deserve an ADULT view and should involve your ADULT mindset in participating, unless you and your caregiver have a very specific and well negotiated/ understood agreement about power exchange and decision making... and even then, you should still be an active part of the planning.

Everybody fucks up, and it's USUALLY stupid to hold a mistake against someone who means you well. Give your partner the benefit of the doubt, by default... it can be either you alone against your problems, or you WITH a partner...idk, seems like being on a team is just easier and a better way!

Communication isn't everyone's thing. If you're with someone who never learned healthy methods, you can teach and help. You aren't obligated to, I'm not saying you're responsible if your Partner isn't knowledgeable about this stuff... I'm just saying, if you know a healthier and better way, show your partner, don't expect them to just improve because you think you model good behavior.

Diaper and ABDL play isn't ubiquitous... in this community, some people love it (myself included) and others hate it, and that's fine. As long as nobody is shaming or hurting anybody, let them be, whether your kinks match or not.

Very, very few people want unsolicited pics, whether of penises, breasts, butts, chastity, diapers, etc. If you want to send a pic, check that the pic is welcomed.

Just a short, hopefully informative list than jumped into my head today and I figured I'd share!

Sending you all lots of good vibes, good times, and good luck!

As always, stay happy, stay healthy, and stay kinky!

-Scribbler

[donnabroadway]

It's okay to be the rich auntie

So recently, lawyer, podcaster, and reality TV star Eboni K Williams recently came under fire for her unwillingness to date a bus driver, unless he owned the company. All the usual talking points of she's going to die alone, bus drivers make money, her standards are too high, etc and all I can say is I agree with her. The question is, why would a bus driver want to date a woman like her? It's a recipe for disaster. If you are only dating someone because you don't want to be alone or you're of a certain age and you feel your biological clock ticking, it's delaying the inevitable. You're going to end up alone anyway. You may get your wedding, social media posts bragging about being a wife, your babies, big house, and man to accompany you at events but it won't last. The mentality of a bus driver and someone like an Eboni K Williams are too different.

This is not about money because many blue collar workers can out earn their professional, college educated counterparts, and many blue collar, uneducated skilled workers, live in gated communities, beautiful homes, big cars, wife retired, kids in private school, so many isn't the issue. It is lifestyle and mentality. A bus driver gets his schedule, drives his route, does his overtime, and goes home. He may go to a holiday party or hang out with his coworkers after work but it's not mandatory. A lawyer is expected to work 12-14 hour days and then join the partners at happy hours, galas, social outings, work parties, are all mandatory and a part of the job to get ahead. While the initial outings may be fun, it gets old and uncomfortable very fast when someone asks "what do you do?" and he says "bus driver" or some other blue collar job and everyone goes "oh" or engages in polite conversation. He is going to ultimately feel uncomfortable in the sea of lawyers, doctors, educators, intellectuals, public figures, engineers, etc. he is forced to interact with. It doesn't matter if he makes more money than them, the mentality is different and it's only a matter of time before the necessity of education comes up and he declares "you don't need to go to college or bus drivers make more than a first year resident, or you don't have to go into student loan debt to make money." It will become uncomfortable and either he will stop attending her social functions or she will stop being invited because he stands out too much and is making everyone uncomfortable. Also, with Eboni being a public figure, it takes a lot for anyone to stand in the shadow of someone the world admires so much but you know the real them and people become jealous and bitter and that's why many high profile women are single or divorced many times over. I think men believe they can tame this type of woman and it may work, temporarily, but eventually she will go back to her true self because she was playing a role to make him happy. Also, will she fit into his family and lifestyle? There will be resentment there because he's always available for her but she's not available to him due to work obligations. Also, just like her friends may find him low class, his friends and family may find her to be bougie, unappreciative, and undeserving of the great man he is.

I need more women to accept the role of rich auntie, even if they aren't rich or an auntie. Too many women are trying to have it all and they either need a really supportive partner who doesn't like the spotlight and is willing to be in the background holding down the household and taking care of the kids, while she works and builds her career. Not enough men want to do that. They want to feel needed and like they're providing and them "living off a woman" and being Mr. Mom may make them feel emasculated in the long run and they may sabotage the relationship by cheating or becoming verbally, emotionally, and maybe even physically abusive. Women need to accept that it may not be ideal to date to marry, be in a serious relationship, or have kids at their current point in life. If you are building a career that you work long hours in, travel a lot, or just aren't available, emotionally or physically, it is okay to hold off on seriously dating, marrying, and having children. It's not forever, just like in life, everything has a season and it may not be their season to build their personal life. Many women wait until their career slows down and they are older to marry and have children and some have children but do not marry and all is okay but there are too many stories of children of public figures stating they felt abandoned, barely knew their famous parents, and had things but really wanted their parent. It's not fair to bring children into a crazy lifestyle where the norm is you working 12-14 hour days and then traveling 20-25 days out of the month. It's not fair or a conducive environment for raising children or having a family and it's okay to realize and accept that. A delay is not a denial.

It is okay to be the rich fabulous auntie, with the aspirational career, nice house, the one who gives the best gifts or is able to provide a lifestyle for a niece or nephew in need, and one who can treat the kids to a nice trip or outing. Sometimes it is your lot in life. It's not about settling or not settling, it's about realistically asking yourself if you have space in your life for another person, spouse or child.

[grison-in-space]

Oh yes that's uh, that's better but not by enough. Is it a matter of record how the bone got broken?

Your notes in tags about it being worse because he's so rough with a dog that is clearly trying to follow the "rules" are right on the money--I've certainly used some of those tactics before (body blocking for example), but never ever ever on a dog that is so uncertain.

I think part of what upsets me about it so much, actually, is that I think that aversive interaction is a natural part of social interaction but one that has rules for healthy relationships and conflict solving. Lot of thoughts about that under the cut.

See, here are the rules: you start with the minimum level of aggression to be noticed and then listened to, and then if you want to preserve the relationship--as, when dealing with a dog, you should; no one is forcing you to interact with or keep a dog--you make sure that at the first sign of behavioral impact, you reward and lean heavily on the affiliative signaling. Because behavioral change is hard; because people and animals doing annoying or even frustrating shit are probably not doing them at you; because if you want a different behavior, making sure it pays off is a good way to encourage that; because conflict is scary and individuals frightened over a certain threshold are as likely to panic and attack as they are to do as you'd like. You use the minimum amount of pressure that is necessary to be noticed and to change whatever behavior won't be altered with use of rewards, often because it's self-rewarding, and then you reward and direct whatever other directions behavior trickles down to reinforce those patterns instead.

I don't love aversives, to be clear. And in my own training and work I prefer to limit them as much as I can: like I said, you use the minimum aversiveness necessary to be perceived and adjust the undesirable behavior. You want anyone you're teaching and working with to be interested in engaging with you, following along with your lead (even if only temporarily and in specific circumstances--I use exactly the same philosophy with other humans), and confident enough to mess around and make mistakes. You don't get that if you're too harsh. You lose so much in training when you focus too much on the hyperspecific behaviors you're trying to control and micromanage and forget to think about the big picture and what kinds of emotional and arousal mindset you want to be working within. Because the learning environment itself is also something that anyone you're working with will learn to form associations around. You don't want correction to be the first thing on a student's mind when they enter your classroom; you want the material to do that.

At the same time, there's wide variation in sensitivity to corrections, right? Some people (and animals) straight up don't notice interventions that could shut down another individual completely. Part of that slow increasing in intensity is finding the minimum threshold that is noticable for the individual, but not overwhelming. It's not a one size fits all kind of thing, and it's so influenced by the existing relationship you have in any given situation.

And then you have this guy, who being rough and a bit aggressive with a dog who is screaming "I'm trying! I'm trying! What do you want me to do? I'm trying to listen to what you want, can you just tell me what it is?" The dog is communicating that it's listening and that it wants to be "right" really hard, and furthermore it's communicating that it's upset and inhibited and that it has learned that "training time" is actually pretty shitty in fact. It doesn't matter that the actual interactions with the dog are mostly relatively mild, like simply moving and repositioning the dog. It's the overall relationship that has been poisoned because of the emphasis on punishment and rough handling without rewarding interaction or clear direction, and I hate it so much.

there's a court case going rn that might end up defining the line between discipline and abuse in dog training in norway.

it's part of a case where an owner is charged with violence towards an animal + not providing sufficient care, and it's interesting for two reasons:

whether or not financial difficulties are a mitigating factor for not providing sufficient medical care (because the owner couldn't afford it, the dog had a broken femur for six weeks before being taken in for surgery)

deciding whether this video shows 'rough treatment for training purposes' (per the defense) or if it's violence. it's more the general scope and repetition of this type of treatment rather than the specific actions shown that's up for consideration, but it's pretty clear in terms of where the bar might be set. video under the cut

the owner was found guilty and sentenced to four months in prison and losing the right to animal ownership in district court, and the case is now in appellate court with an expected judgement on feb 1st.

Ps. the dog is rehomed and is doing well.

[littlewinter1917]

ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴅᴀʏꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ

𝔸 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℤ𝕠𝕠

My blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI. 🔞 Don’t repost my work anywhere.

Series Masterlist

Words: 8.7k

Pairing: Steve Roger x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Steve make the most out of the last days of summer and decide to visit the local zoo. But as fun and romantic as the activity is, you also have to face the fact that dating a well-known Super Soldier isn't always easy.

Warnings: It's pretty much just pure fluff, with the tiniest sparks of angst. Pet names (mostly Sweetheart & Angel) and some teasing. Maybe an undetected swearword or two.

If there are any warnings, that you think are missing, please don‘t hesitate to reach out and tell me, so I can add them accordingly.

A/N: This is my first time writing and sharing a story, so if you're reading this, I hope you enjoy!

“Sweetheart, are you ready yet?”

Steve calls out from the bedroom, hoping you’ll hear him while you’re getting ready a few doors down in the bathroom.

“Yes! I’m almost done!” you shout back, straightening your t-shirt and taking one last look in the mirror.

The excitement you feel is clearly written on your face, and you can’t help but let out a small squeal at the thought of all the animals you’ll be going to see and pet.

You are so caught up in your little daydream, that you don’t notice Steve’s approaching footsteps or the soft opening of the bathroom door.

With your mind still occupied, you turn around to leave the bathroom, only to be met with the sudden and unsuspected sight of Steve leaning casually against the door frame, smiling down at you lovingly.

“Good God, Steve!” you exclaim startled, clutching your hand to your chest, trying to calm down your now rapid heartbeat. Steve’s adoring gaze quickly turns into a more apologetic one, once he realizes that he accidentally scared you.

“Sorry Angel, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” he concedes, while gently pulling you closer and placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Hm,‘s not your fault.” you whisper against them whilst playing with the soft strands of hair at the back of his neck. Steve just hums at that, before tightening his arms around you and gently kissing your shoulder.

“So, you’re ready to go?” he murmurs against your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

You only manage to nod in approval, not wanting to disturb the little moment of tenderness that engulfs the two of you. But once Steve starts to draw soft patterns on your back, you can’t help but let out a small sigh of content, snuggling closer to his chest and basking in the feeling of his gentle embrace.

The moment is short-lived though, as Steve decides to break the otherwise comfortable silence. “We should get going soon,” he mumbles, voice low, as he gently untangles himself from you.

Even though you try not to, you let out a soft whine, voicing your displeasure at the loss of his touch, making Steve coo.

“You can get all the cuddles you want Sweetheart, when we’re back from our little trip.” A small huff escapes your lips before you demonstratively hold out your pinky finger to him.

The sight of your stubborn determination makes Steve laugh, and the warmth of its sound fills both the room and your heart, making you smile.

“I pinky promise that you can get all the cuddles you want, Sweetheart.” Steve adoringly whispers, intertwining your little fingers, before pulling you into him again, gently kissing your forehead.

Your hands instinctively grab and hold on to him, trying to get him closer, and your honest display of affection and longing for him makes his heart flutter.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he coos, “I thought you were excited about going to the zoo, hm?”

Oh god, the zoo!

You almost forgot about that completely, and by your wide-eyed reaction, Steve can clearly tell.

“So, you want to keep the penguins waiting, or… ?” he teases, and you playfully slap his side before reluctantly letting go and trying to move past him.

“You know, if you’d rather stay in today and have the zoo-date another time, we can always reschedule.” He says, his eyes searching yours, trying to communicate the same reassurance that his voice transports.

“No.” you chirp. The excitement from earlier is already back in your eyes, and you shake your head to emphasize your stand. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to keep the penguins waiting.” you add.

“Alright, then let’s get our things and get going. There is only so little time, and so many animals to see.”

“And plants!” you add enthusiastically, being almost equally excited about the small botanical garden that’s incorporated in the more tropical segment of the zoo.

“And the plants.” Steve agrees, while following you down the hallway, smiling.

🍋 �� 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

While you were getting ready earlier, Steve had packed everything you two could possibly need into a big, sturdy backpack.

“I think we have everything.” Steve mumbles, more to himself than to you, while briefly going through its content again. “We have some sunscreen, sunglasses, water bottles and those sandwiches you helped me make, some snacks and fruits, money for the tickets, keys …”

He trails off, looking over the room once more, trying to think of anything he might have forgotten.

When he spots his baseball cap near the entrance, he speaks up again.

“Sweetheart, do you want to take a hat with you? The weather is supposed to get even hotter, and I don’t want you to get a heatstroke or something.”

“I think I’ll be fine, Stevie.” your voice is a little bit mumbled, since you’re currently kneeling on the ground, preoccupied with trying to tie up your sneakers.

“Alright! Well, I’ll be wearing mine, at least at the beginning …”

Steve doesn’t finish his sentence; he doesn’t need to – you already know what he is trying to say.

He’ll be wearing the cap not as a prevention for a possible heatstroke, but for the simple sake of at least some sense of anonymity, trying to lessen the chances of him being recognized.

It’s not like Steve hates the attention he often gets from the public. There are times when he is more than happy to stop for a quick photo or a handshake, but when he is out and about with you by his side, he does desire a certain sense of privacy, and so do you.

When you two first started dating, that was the hardest thing to get used to, and truth be told, you still struggle with it.

Obviously, you’d been aware of Steve’s public persona as Captain America, and the responsibility that the title entailed, long before you even started dating, but the visibility and public scrutiny that came with his occupation, was rather new to you.

Especially once the word got out, that the two of you were dating. Suddenly parts of the public interest that were initially focused on him also shifted on to you.

You used to joke, that if you’d get a dollar every time Steve and you get approached by people in public, you’d easily be able to compete with Tony’s net worth. And while you were obliviously exaggerating and making fun of the situation, Steve could also tell that it was taking somewhat of a toll on you.

To be fair, it wasn’t like you hated those encounters across the board. There were, and still are, a lot of times where Steve’s interactions with the public are nice to watch and take part of.

The number of times, for example, that random children would approach him, starstruck and starry-eyed, are as countless as they are endearing, which is to say, very - and, subsequently, many.

It always makes your heart gleam with a mixture of pride and joy when you get to witness those interactions.

You’re not quite sure if it is because Steve is naturally good with kids, or kids are naturally good with Steve, but each encounter is filled with a warmth and a gentleness, that makes your heart both melt and pop.

And so, you tend to stand there with your heart in a puddle, while Steve talks and engages with the children in such a carefree yet gentle way.

But there are also some encounters, that don’t spark as much joy.

Or none at all, if you’re being honest.

Those are usually the ones whose timing couldn’t be worse. Like getting approached while the two of you are having small romantic dates out in the park or in cozy coffee shops. Even your cute little trips to museums and art galleries once in a while aren’t spared from the casual interference of others.

There’s almost always someone, somewhere, shouting in both a mixture of disbelief and joy:“Is this Captain America?”

And then the heads start to turn, and the murmur starts, and your previous little date idea gets turned into a live meet-and-greet Captain America event.

And it sucks.

It’s not like you want to keep Steve all to yourself; it’s just that you don’t want to share him every single time you two go out in public together. Especially when it’s supposed to be a fun and romantic activity just between the two of you.

And so, because of that, Steve often tries to keep his recognizability somewhat more subtle and limited by wearing his baseball cap and some sunglasses, but there’s only so much that that supposed ‘transformation’ can do.

Tony once kindly offered that the department responsible for the Avengers suits and apparel could probably help, and come up with a more cohesive incognito look, but that didn’t work out too well either. Not for a lack of trying on their part, though.

You two had taken them up on that offer once, and they managed to turn Steve into someone so completely unrecognizable, that you almost walked past him when you’d come to pick him up.

Apart from his clothing, plaid trousers and a simple button-down shirt that emitted more the vibe of a hip history professor, the thing that threw you off the most was the 16 inches-long wig he was wearing. It made him look like Thor’s long-lost twin brother, and you could hardly take his appearance seriously.

When you finally managed to stop laughing, you pulled him into the living quarters of the compound, where the laughing continued, once everybody realized who they were looking at.

The Date to the planetarium that followed went great; not a single person recognized and approached the two of you. The only downside was that the date with Steve didn’t really feel like a date with Steve.

Apart from the reason that Steve’s long-haired wig made you feel like you were out and about with a beefier version of Jesus, rather than your treasured Super Soldier, the wig was also highly unpractical in a more tangible sense. Every time you turned to him and leaned in for a kiss, your hands and jewelry would easily get tangled up in his long strands of synthetic hair.

Neither of you were used to the hairy mess the Avenger’s apparel department provided you with – and it showed.

It did make for a fun date tough.

Steve was highly amused about the amount of double takes you had to do when you were looking for him.

You, on the other hand, had the time off your life once the two of you exited the planetarium, only to be greeted with a pleasant afternoon breeze, that took Steve – and his hair – by surprise. It looked like an unsuspected hair commercial in the making, and you almost tripped down the stairs laughing while trying to take a photo of Steve’s glorious mane in the wind.

All in all, it was a good time, but at the end of it, you both decided that it was neither worth the trouble nor a sustainable solution to your problem. And so, Steve traded his wig for his beloved baseball cap again, even if it heightened the possibility of him being recognized.

You knew that Steve was trying his best to give you some sense of normality in your experience of dating a super-famous Super Soldier, and you appreciated his efforts, even when they didn’t always work out.

Once you and Steve step outside of the Avenger’s Tower, you’re hit with both: The sudden brightness of the sun, and the common busyness and noise of New York City’s bustling streets.

One single ray of sunshine manages to find its way between the tall skyscrapers in front of you, making you squint. Instinctively you raise one hand in an attempt to shield your eyes from its blazing gaze.

Steve, who is already wearing his sunglasses, quickly gets out your pair for you and you gratefully take them. His attentiveness is something you’ll never get tired of; even when he sometimes has the tendency to dote over you, it’s rather endearing.

You make your way down the street. Hand in hand, because the craze of the city can otherwise easily separate the two of you.

Even without the frantic mass of people, that hastily bustles about the avenues, in a city that big, you will always seek out the shelter of your beloved Super Soldier, who still knows this place in a way you probably never will.

So, in an attempt to not get lost, or trampled, or abducted, your hand reaches out for his, and his hand does the same.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

Steve navigates himself and you through the city like he’s done it a million times before, and it never fails to amaze you how good his sense of direction is. It’s something you’re obviously lacking, and Steve can’t help but teasingly bring it up every now and then.

This time around though, he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps talking about the little, newly opened Italian restaurant that you two just passed by.

“It looked really cozy and busy – that’s always a good sign, right? Maybe we can check it out this weekend.” Steve offers, while gently swinging your joined hands back and forth.

You hum in agreement, more focused on not getting jostled by the oncoming businessmen and -women.

Gripping his hand tighter, you curl up more into Steve’s side, seeking out the protection and safety of his tall statue.

Once Steve realizes what’s going on, he immediately pulls you close to him, wrapping his arm protectively around your smaller frame and making sure you’re okay.

“I can always give you a piggyback ride.” he offers, and you shake your head, laughing.

As inviting as that proposal sounds, the fear of the potential attention it might garner makes you decline his offer. You’d rather be subjected to the ongoing pushing and shoving of some careless pedestrians, than the unwanted attention and possibility of recognition.

“We’re nearly there, Sweetheart.” Steve gently encourages you, while keeping you as close to him as possible, leading you down the busy streets of New York.

You must have picked a good time to visit the zoo, because the line in front of the ticket booth is almost non-existent.

It doesn’t take long for it to be your turn, and Steve immediately takes charge, getting the tickets. The woman at the counter also hands him some pamphlets with certain attractions, and a small map, which he gratefully takes.

You softly tug on his arm, trying to get his attention, before pointing at the small bags with dry food, that are arranged on a shelf behind the vendor.

“Can we buy some of that food for the animals in the petting zoo?” you ask, eyes bright.

Steve instantly agrees, and the small squeal of joy that escapes your lips is like music to his ears. “There you go, Sweetheart.” he says, as he hands you your ticket and the small paper cone, filled with little pellets of dry food.

“Thanks, Stevie!” The way you beam up at him has his heart doing flips.

God, you’re adorable.

“So, where do you want to go first?” he asks, while looking down at the open map in his hands.

“The petting zoo!” you chime while clapping your hands in delight. You have to suppress the urge to just grab Steve's hand and drag him to the enclosure, so instead you softly bounce on the spot.

Looking up from his map, Steve’s eyes soften once he sees how you’re barely able to contain your excitement. It radiates off of you in a way that’s contagious.

Well, contagious to him anyway.

“Alright.” he approves, and that’s all the agreement you need, before sprinting into action, grabbing Steve’s hand, and tugging him along.

You only come to a brief halt at the doors of the enclosure, while you read the small signs that introduce some of the animals inside of it.

The petting zoo contains mostly goats, bunnies, guinea pigs and some piglets, but there are also two donkeys and one of them is called …

“Steve!” you joyfully exclaim.

“The donkey is named after you!”

The man in question furrows his brow, and you point him to the part on the metal sign, where the donkeys get introduced.

“See, Steve and Sally. Aww, he even looks a little bit like you!” you coo, looking at the small picture they provide next to the profile.

“I don’t quite see it.” Steve says dryly, and you huff.

“He even has similar interests to yours. It says here that he likes sunshine, early morning runs, pets behind his ears and bananas!

Biting your lip to keep yourself from laughing, you innocently look up at Steve, who regards you with a fake scowl.

“You’re being awfully bratty today, Angel.” he chides, yet his words don’t have any bite to them.

“Me? Never!” your fake indignation is riddled with the giggles you’re desperately trying to hold in. That mission fails completely though, once you read the Interesting Fact they provide next to each introduced animal.

“Oh my god, Steve!” you croak out between laughter. “He even tried to eat an American flag once. God, I love him already!”

Before Steve has the chance to reply, you’re dragging him into the enclosure. “Come on, let’s meet my newfound hero!”

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

The donkey is just as cute as in the picture, and even friendlier than you imagined. After you introduced yourself and Steve - you couldn’t help yourself from saying “Steve, meet Steve,” while pointing between the tall Super Soldier and the rather small pony-sized creature – you slowly started petting the animal.

The happy brays he lets out make you laugh softly, and your smile only widens once your eyes find Steve’s.

“Don’t you dare say he sounds like me too!” Steve exclaims, and that comment only fuels your giggles.

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” you say, while stroking the fur behind the donkey’s ears. “But you have to admit, he’s adorable!” you coo, before quickly adding: “Not as cute as you, of course, but it’s a close second.”

“Well, that’s certainly comforting to hear.” Steve retorts. “So, you’re not gonna leave me for one of those gray-haired fellas?”

“I already have my gray-haired fella at home, old man,” you counter, before whispering a small “almost.”

Steve still picks it up, and his reaction is instant. His strong hands reach out to you, playfully poking your sides.

“You take that back! You take that back right now!” he urges, laughing, as you try to squirm away from his grasp, the sweet sound of your giggles filling the air. Your antics only come to a halt once you’re breathlessly begging for mercy, and Steve pulls you in for a hug.

“You still have a lot of energy for a 103-year-old.” you whisper.

“Oh Sweetheart, you know, I can be relentless.” he counters, and you hum in agreement.

“You don’t actually look like a donkey.” you try to clarify. “It’s just that the donkey somehow looks like you.”

Before Steve can rekindle his attacks, you’re already apologizing again. “I’m joking! I’m joking!” you exclaim, as soon as you feel the tiniest brush of his fingertips poking your sides.

Hugging him closer once more, you whisper: “I’m sorry. I’m being mean. You’re still the prettiest man on the planet, and you always will be.”

Brushing your hands softly through his hair and gently cupping his cheek, you notice the small red tint that adorns them.

“Aww you’re blushing!” you quietly tease. “I guess I don’t call you pretty enough. I need to tell you that more, I think.” you observe.

His blush only deepens, and you coo again.

He really is the prettiest man alive. And the sweetest, and kindest, and bravest.

As you softly tell him all about your thoughts, his grip around you tightens, and he burrows his face in your neck.

“I love you so much.” you mumble against his shoulder, and even though you can’t see him right now, you know that he’s smiling.

“I love you too.” he whispers back, voice low, before gently kissing your forehead.

His lips lingers there for a moment before he speaks up again.

“I think we need to stop; there’s an older lady, who’s already giving us the stink-eye.”

“Oh, let her stare. If they look at you funny, you just look right back at them funny, that normally does the trick for me.”

“I’m not going to glare down a grandma!” Steve whispers exasperated.

“Well, you might not, but I certainly will, if she's making you uncomfortable.” you announce, and Steve just shakes his head, laughing.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

After moving on from the donkeys, you spend some time with the goats. Even Steve has to admit that they are rather endearing.

“Maybe we should bring Bucky with us next time. You know how he still gushes about the goats he had in Wakanda. I’m sure he’d enjoy some time here.” you suggest, while feeding a small brown doeling.

She softly munches the food right out of the palm of your hand, and the feeling of her rough tongue on your skin makes you giggle.

“If we would bring Buck, that’s going to be your liability, because I’m pretty sure he would never leave the goat enclosure again.” Steve observes.

“Can’t really blame him. I might have my donkey at home, but those goats certainly have character.” you tease.

Instead of answering, Steve decides to just throw some pellets your way.

“Hey!” you whine playfully, before making a counter strike. When you don’t hit your target, Steve just grins at you cheekily.

It’s that boyish smile you love so much, and it fills your heart with a joy that’s carefree and content. It feels just like the soft sunrays that are currently caressing your skin: Warm, light, and golden.

Your thoughts are only interrupted once another pellet flies your way, barely missing your face.

“Hey!” you exclaim once more, laughing, yet Steve’s eyes turn instantly apologetic when he realizes he almost struck your pretty face. You quickly reassure him that it’s alright, before walking over to the rabbits and guinea pigs, patiently sitting down next to them.

Rather than just grabbing one, you wait for one of the timid rodents to approach you instead. A small – and presumably younger – bunny seems curious enough, as he hops your way, and you manage to coax him with some food and a very gentle voice. His fluffy fur is in an off-white color with gray specks and his floppy ears twitch every now and then.

“Hey little friend.” you whisper once his wiggly nose brushes your open palm. It takes some more coaxing before he starts eating out of it, and you beam at that development.

Steve watches the interaction with a soft, adoring gaze.

God, Wanda was right. He really is head over heels for you.

But then again, how could he not be.

There’s a gentleness and kindness in the way you approach the world, and the fact that you’ve chosen him out of all people to trust the most, fills his heart with an endless amount of pride and happiness, that’s hard to put into words.

You’ve come into his life like a whirlwind, turning everything upside down and taking over his heart by storm.

Without your knowing, you made all of his previous priorities flip, until you were the only and most important thing on his mind. You still are, of course, and Steve is sure that this is something that will never change.

You’re the one.

The one who’s voice and laughter he’ll never grow tired of hearing.

The one who he comes home to after a rough mission, taking up the biggest space in his bed and in his heart – and he wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

You’re the most precious thing on the planet, and he’d burn it all down if he had to, just to keep you safe.

“Steve!” you softly call out to him, and his focus shifts back on you.

The small bunny is now sitting contently in your lap, while you’re sporting the proudest look.

“His fur is so soft!” you quietly mouth to him, and he smiles before making his way to you, gently kneeling down by your side. “Here! Feel!” you chirp, as you carefully guide his hands towards the small bunny.

“Do you think we could get some of those?” you carefully ask.

“Of course.” Steve agrees without really thinking - he doesn’t need to. If you want it, you’ll get it; no questions asked. He’ll even fight Tony on it if he has to, or anyone else for that matter.

“Really?” you beam.

“I pinky promise, Sweetheart.” he whispers before kissing the top of your head and standing back up. You follow suit, after carefully moving the bunny from your lap.

“Let’s just visit the piglets, and then we can move on to the bigger animals!” you proclaim, while reaching for Steve’s hand again, gently tugging him towards the small, baby pink piggies.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

Once you’ve finished cooing over the small piglets while simultaneously feeding and petting them, you and Steve make your way back towards the regular path of the zoo.

Steve had just gotten out his map again, trying to visualize the vicinity, when you spot the panda enclosure.

Nice!

“Steve, do we have to consider the map? Can’t we just walk around and go wherever our curiosity takes us?” you ask.

“You mean, wherever your curiosity takes you.” Steve teases and you let out a small huff while folding your arms over your chest, defensively.

“Not true.” you whine, before adding: “I can’t help it if I’m younger and pick up more things, you know.”

“Uh-huh” Steve hums. “And patience is a virtue that …”

“I’ve never met once in my life.” you finish the sentence for him.

“That is not the quote I was going for, but it certainly rings true too.” Steve agrees, before folding his map up again. “Alright, so where’s your curiosity leading you to, this time.” he concedes with a warm smile and your eyes light up at that.

“Easy, this way!” you say, before grabbing his hand, dragging him along once more.

“Steve, look!” you exclaim, while excitedly pointing at the wild cat enclosure. There’s a tiger that’s currently taking a bath, and it completely seizes your attention.

At the risk of sounding like a total lovesick fool, Steve has to admit that he’s way more encaptured by your endearing reactions to everything, than the actual attractions and animals themselves.

You two already visited the panda and bear enclosure, looked at some monkeys, zebras, hippos, and foxes, and now you’re leading him towards the area with the wildcats.

Lynx, lions, pumas, cheetahs, and some tigers are what’s initially advertised; still, he’s barely able to focus on that.

With your hands closely intertwined, and your soft voice that calls out to him, his attention has a hard time staying away from you.

You’re especially excited by the cheetahs, and you enthusiastically tell him all the facts you know about them.

How they’re incredibly fast and powerful, yet often also anxious and shy. You tell him how some of the cheetahs living in captivity often need emotional support dogs, to help them cope with their high levels of stress.

They’re the true scaredy cat-cats.

After your ramblings about the wildcats, you start gushing over their emotional support dogs. “They must be so proud!” you tell him. “Imagine being a dog, who ends up working with those cheetahs. How badass it that? Like a mouse who’s a therapist for a housecat, or a sparrow that takes care of an alligator…”

Steve smiles at your excitement, while listening attentively to everything you’re saying.

How did he ever get this lucky?

But as your speech slowly comes to an end, another sound appears. It’s faint, but Steve’s Super Soldier hearing still picks it up. He’s heard it enough times to be able to identify it – It’s the sound of your tummy rumbling.

“Sweetheart, are you hungry?” he questions, and you look up at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Dammit, I had hoped you didn’t catch that.” you mumble embarrassed, and Steve laughs.

“How about we look for a more quiet space, where we can eat some of our sandwiches and snacks.” he proposes, and you agree.

This time, Steve takes your hand, leading the way.

After some searching, the two of you managed to find a little bench, shaded by a rather sturdy oak. The tree doesn’t just shield you from the blazing sun, but also from the curious gaze of others.

It’s a romantic little space, as you look out onto a small park area, not too far off from the peacock enclosure. You’d stopped there briefly, fascinated by their colorful display of shimmering feathers, before moving on.

And now, you're sitting here, next to Steve, eating your little sandwich and sharing some small snacks. It's calm and peacefully quiet, apart from some faint bird-chirping and the remote sound of children’s laughter, carried over to you by a soft summer breeze.

“This was such a lovely idea, Steve.” you comment quietly once you’ve finished your sandwich.

The man in question smiles at that. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Angel.”

You hum in agreement, before popping some fresh berries into your mouth.

The satisfied sigh you let out is making Steve laugh. “Are those berries that good?” he questions playfully.

“No, but the view right now is to die for.” you say, while locking eyes with him.

“Hm, I guess you’re right. This little park area certainly has some flair.” Steve agrees, and if it wasn’t for the blueberries in your hand, you’d face-palm right now.

“I’m not taking about the park, Steve.” you clarify, while giving him a pointed look, and he blushes.

“Oh, I see … “ he mumbles, red-tinted embarrassment tainting his cheeks and migrating up to his ears. Who knew a Super Soldier could get that flustered – and look so endearing while doing it.

You weren’t lying though – even with Steve just sitting there, wearing a light gray t-shirt and some washed-out jeans, he looks like a god; Completely out of this world.

And it’s not just his sturdy arms and muscles.

It’s in the way his kind eyes light up, framed by those rich eyelashes.

It’s in the way he looks at you; looks at the world with such benevolence, such compassion, even after everything he’s been through.

Maybe it’s also in the way that those small rays of sunlight, currently shining through the tree crown, illuminate his skin, giving him a golden glow.

But whatever the reason may be, he certainly looks good. Especially, when he’s blushing like that, you think, smiling.

Once you two finished your small lunch, you’re eager to get back to the animals.

The giraffes and elephants are next, followed by the penguins and some wombats.

You and Steve have also established a small game by now.

One of you steps up to the informational sign of the enclosure first and reads it, before letting the other person guess what the Interesting Fact about the animal is.

It’s currently Steve’s turn at guessing, as you two are standing in front of the flamingo area.

“Okay!” you chime, as you turn away from the metal sign, focusing back on Steve. Your eyes are sparkling with excitement, letting Steve know that this fact is going to be good.

“So, flamingos are known for their pink color and dorky looks, but there is something else that makes this animal quite badass. What could that possibly be?” you challenge Steve gleefully.

He ponders your question for a moment, looking over at the pink birds. “Hm, maybe they can stand on one leg for over 24 hours.” he contemplates.

“Is that your final answer?” you question, and the playful glimmer in your eyes lets him already know that he’s wrong.

Still, he stays with his entry and nods.

“Well, that is incorrect!” you announce. “Or at least, that’s not the fact they have written down.” you clarify.

“Okay, I’ll give you three options instead, and only one of them is the correct one.” you offer.

“So, once more, what makes the flamingo so badass? Is it a) they all have pink belts in karate; b) they can drink boiling water; or is it c) they can hold their breath for half an hour when diving for food.” you question, expectantly looking at Steve, who’s scratching his head, laughing.

“Well, it’s either b or c, but they both sound so unbelievable, I might as well go with answer a.” He jokes.

“Sir, I need an answer from you now, the time is running up.” you playfully chide and it’s making him laugh even more.

“Alright, show host, you can log in answer b for me.”

“B? Are you sure?” Steve just nods, and it makes your smile grow wider.

“Well, contestant, you won’t believe me when I say this, but your answer is …. ding, ding, ding – correct!” you exclaim excited, while wrapping your arms around his neck

“Wait, really?” Steve looks at you, dumbfounded. “Uh-huh. Flamingos can apparently drink boiling water.” you reiterate, before pulling him closer.

“Congratulations, soldier, you’ve won the main price!” you whisper against his lips before softly kissing him, and the sweet action makes Steve smile into the kiss, as his heart melts in the blazing sun.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

Moving from enclosure to enclosure, your little game continues. There are wolves, deer, beavers, and burrowing owls, and each stop at the gates is filled with your playful antics and shared laughter.

You only come to a short pause, once you notice a small ice cream parlor in the distance, and it doesn’t take much convincing to get Steve to go there with you.

Actually, it doesn’t take any convincing at all.

The shop is small and features only a select number of ice cream flavors. You order 3 scoops each, before happily making your way over to the American bison enclosure.

The area is less crowded and actually quite peaceful. The scenery of the meadow with the occasional grazing bull emitting a sense of tranquility.

While sharing your ice cream, you two watch these seemingly serene creatures, who are just standing there, munching on grass, and lazily gazing at the landscape around them.

There’s a timelessness to them, you think. The way they just stand there, unbothered, like they’ve seen it all.

And maybe they have.

Steve gently pulls you out of your thoughts, when he offers you his last bit of cherry ice cream, holding out his cone to you. You gratefully take him up on his offer, while simultaneously holding your cone out for him.

Sharing is caring after all.

Once your ice cream is done, you and Steve continue sitting there, just talking until Steve suddenly leans closer.

He gently brushes some lingering ice-cream stains from the corner of your mouth with his thumb before licking it off. He keeps his eyes locked on you, and the action leaves your cheeks feeling heated, and your heartrate in a frenzy.

“Two can play this game, Angel.” Steve whispers, giving you a knowing smile.

You let out a small whine, before burrowing your face in his chest, trying to hide your embarrassment.

Steve just coos at your flustered state.

“Steve, stop. You’re giving me heart palpitations,” you mumble into his chest.

“No can do, Sweetheart. It’s only fair that you get a taste of your own medicine.”

You bite back your reply to that; otherwise, you two might end up doing something entirely different.

Unaware of the questionable thoughts in your head; Steve changes the topic, reminding you of the activities you still have planned.

“Do you want to go to the meerkat and prairie dog enclosure, now? Their feeding should start soon.”

You’re still curled up into his chest, basking in the feeling of his strong embrace, and the gentle smell of his cologne. “Can we just stay here a little longer.” you request, voice mumbled, and soft.

Steve lets out a small laugh, that makes his chest rumble and vibrate. “Of course, if that’s what you prefer. You just sounded so excited earlier when you heard about the public feeding.” Steve tries to clarify, making sure that’s what you really want.

Steve’s right. When he told you about the attraction earlier, you could barely contain your excitement at the idea of watching the small animals nibble on some food. But in that very moment, you didn’t really think things through.

It was only sometime later, when your excitement had cooled down a bit, that you realized that this endeavor might not be the best idea.

There’s obviously going to be a crowd watching the spectacle, and those are something to avoid when you’re with your beloved Super Soldier. The chances of getting recognized there, are just a bit too high, yet you’re hesitant to tell those thoughts to Steve.

You don’t want him to feel bad, and you know that he’ll try to convince you that it’s no big deal. You already feel selfish for feeling so protective of your relationship, and the fear that he might think you’re overreacting lingers in your mind, even though he has never given you a reason to do so.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on? You’re being awfully quiet right now.” Steve pries. He can tell something is wrong; he just knows you too damn well.

“Nothing!” you chirp, but the sound is off. It’s too high and anxious.

“Angel.” his tone is stern.

Steve doesn’t often use his Captain America voice with you, but when he does, it works every time.

Just like now.

Playing with the fabric of his gray t-shirt and looking anywhere but his eyes, you quietly mumble: “There’s going to be lots of people, Steve. Lots of people to recognize you…”

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he knows what you’re getting at, and it makes his heart twist in guilt.

“You know, we can still …”

“No, Steve,” you interrupt him. “We can’t, and I don’t want to. This day has been nothing, but a dream come true. We haven’t been approached once, and I’d like to keep it that way. If I have to sacrifice a meerkat feeding for that, I’ll happily do it.” You state, and Steve sighs.

“I’m sorry, Angel.” he whispers, voice low and tainted with regret. “Maybe you could go there by yourself, while I stay somewhere in the background?” he offers, but you just shake your head.

“Steve, it’s okay. I’d rather see all the other animals with you, then one meerkat feeding without you.”

He smiles at that, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m still sorry about this.” he mutters, guilt clear in his voice. You sigh. That’s exactly what you were trying to avoid.

“Steve,” you whisper, gently cupping his cheek, making him look at you. “This isn’t your fault. Stop feeling sorry about something that you have no control over, whatsoever. If anything, I’m sorry for being so sensitive about this.” you state.

“No, you have every right to be!” Steve defends, and the conviction in his eyes makes some of your worry ease away.

“Well, if I’m not allowed to feel guilty about that, neither are you.” you assert matter-of-factly, and this time the smile that adorns Steve’s face reaches his bright blue eyes.

“Alright, deal.” he affirms, before taking your hand, sweeping you up from your seat. “Let’s continue. There’s still a lot to explore.”

You’re about to walk into the reptile house when you spot one more open enclosure.

“Oh my God Steve, look!” you call out, while pointing at one of the llamas. “Aww, he looks just like Kuzco!” you observe, and it makes Steve frown in confusion.

“Sweetheart, that’s a rude thing to say about someone.” he softly chides, and you give him a puzzled look.

“What? Are you telling me you don’t know who Kuzco is?” you ask, dumbfounded, and Steve just shakes his head.

“Is he a work friend of yours? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned someone with that name?" he questions, brows still furrowed in confusion.

“Steve!” you laugh, “have you not seen The Emperor’s New Groove?”

“No, I don’t think I have.” he confesses, and you look at him in disbelief.

“Oh my God! I thought Tony introduced you to the best works of this century’s cinema.”

“Yes, but I don’t remember a movie named like that.”

“This is outrageous. I can’t believe you’ve never seen this masterpiece! We’ll have to change that once we’re home!” you proclaim playfully, before taking his hand and walking towards the reptile house.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

Stepping into the building, you’re immediately greeted by a sudden temperature drop.

The rooms are a lot darker and cooler then the outside premise, and you can’t help but shiver as goosebumps form on your skin.

Instinctively, you pull Steve closer, grabbing his hand tighter.

The animals that follow vary from adorable to absolutely frightening. The small turtles and geckos make you coo, but the bigger lizards and snakes already sport a more intimidating look.

There are boas, pythons, and mambas, and you have to remind yourself that you’re protected by both the Plexiglas as well as your trusted Super Soldier.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

Once you’ve finished exploring every room, you make your way to the small botanical garden. Its atmosphere stands in stark contrast to that of the dark reptile house.

There are colorful flowers and bright green plants and palm trees.

There’s light coming through the ceiling, illuminating the stone path before you, and the temperature is warmer and a little bit more humid.

After walking through the vicinity, hand in hand, the two of you spot a small, secluded bench. It’s placed next to a little pond, and a small bush of plumerias.

Sitting down, you sigh in content as you breathe in the sweet smell of the little white and yellow flowers. Steve gets out some left-over fruits, and you share a second, small meal. You can hear the soft splatter of water in the background, and it’s as relaxing as can be.

Looking at the man in front of you adoringly, your expression falters when you see the small furrow etched between his brows. He’s thinking about something, and it’s not a pleasant thought.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, having learned the small signs of worry that sometimes cloud the face of your beautiful man.

Steve just sighs, before pulling you closer. So close, you might as well just sit in his lap.

“Was just thinking.” he mumbles, voice low, and still preoccupied with whatever’s going through his mind right now. “About?” you inquire, and the silence that follows makes you sigh in return.

“Steve, we talked about this. Don’t shut me out.” you whisper, knowing that your beloved soldier still has a tendency to keep his worries hidden from your view, trying not to burden you with it.

“I was thinking about the meerkat-thing.” he says, and you groan.

“No, hear me out, Sweetheart,” he continues. “You deserve the world, you truly do, and it pains me to know that everywhere we go, you have to sacrifice something, just because you’re with me. The meerkat-thing is just one of the many examples that reiterate that.”

“Okay,” you assess slowly, “what are you trying to say?” you carefully ask.

“I don’t know.” he whispers.

“I just keep thinking that you have to sacrifice so much, just in order to be with me. I wish I could give you more than that. I wish I could take you out on dates without us having to worry about being recognized, approached and disturbed.”

He looks at you with such turmoil and pain in his eyes, it makes your heart clench and curl up into a ball and cry.

“Oh, Stevie.” you murmur, before gently cupping his face and straddling his lap.

“Steve honey, listen. This whole getting-approached-by-strangers-thing sucks; I’m not gonna lie about that, but do you know what would suck a million times more? Not having you in my life! I could live without going out on anymore dates for the rest of my days, but do you know what I cannot live without? You!” you declare passionately, while looking into Steve’s eyes, which are somewhat glossy.

“Sweetheart.” he mumbles, voice thick with emotions, and you just pull him closer, nuzzling your face into the side of his neck.

“I love you, Steve. I love you even when we’re surrounded by what feels like hundreds of people, who all want a piece of you, and take over our dates.”

You feel a light wetness at the nape of your neck, and you gently brush your hand through Steve’s hair. Blinking away your own tears, you make a soft shushing sound, trying to calm him down.

“I love you. Don’t ever doubt me on that!” you whisper softly, and you feel Steve nod against your skin before whispering a small, timid “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I love you, and as long as you love me back, that’s all I need. That’s enough for me.” you try to clarify, before gently adding: “I know you feel a close kinship and obligation towards people, and you’re too polite to call them out when they approach us at the worst possible timing, but you’re allowed to tell some people off. The shield might be public property, Steve, but you aren’t. You’re allowed to have boundaries too.”

Your kind words fill Steve with a warm, fuzzy feeling, and it spreads on his face in the form of a soft smile. The love he feels for you keeps blooming and expanding, like the fragrant flowers growing all around you.

He’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to put it into words just how much you mean to him exactly, but he knows that he’ll try his damn best to show you every single day.

He hopes that that’s enough, hopes that it’s good enough for you. Losing you would be worse than dying, he’s sure of that. But all he manages to mumble out is a soft: “I love you so much.”

His words and voice are filled with such honesty, such devotion and conviction, you fear your heart might pound straight out of your chest, and into his lap.

“I know,” you whisper. “I love you just as much!”

He hums in content, and the silence that follows is the most comfortable silence you’ve ever experienced.

The two of you stay there, curled up in each other’s embrace, basking in one of the best feelings ever. Loving and feeling loved.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

You’re not sure how much time has passed, when Steve speaks up again, but the sun is slowly starting to set, and it fills the garden with a golden glow.

“You’re ready to go home, Sweetheart?” he questions softly, voice full of affection.

No. You just want to stay in his loving embrace forever, but instead of articulating that, you let out a small whine, while shaking your head demonstratively.

The laugh that rumbles out of Steve’s chest is warm and hearty, and he softly smiles down at you.

“Come on.” he coaxes.

There’s something he’s sure he can beckon you with.

“I think they have a small souvenir shop near the exit with lots of stuffed animals.” he offers, and it makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and excited.

Gotcha. Steve thinks, a satisfied smile on his lips. The promise of stuffed animals works every time.

You slowly untangle yourself from him, before standing up and taking his hand.

“What are you waiting for, old man.” You playfully provoke him while he’s adjusting his backpack.

“Careful Sweetheart, or I might accidentally lose you in the middle of New York.” he says, yet you know it’s an empty threat. He would never even dream of doing something like that, not in a million years.

“Don’t underestimate the grasp I have on you.” you joke, referring to the way you’d normally cling to his arm and hand, but Steve thinks about how true those words are in a broader sense.

How you have the strongest possible grasp on his heart, in the gentlest way.

Unaware of his adoring thoughts, you drag him to the exit of the botanical garden, and he watches you with the warmest smile.

Once you step out of the garden your eyes instantly find, and fixate on the small souvenir shop, walking straight towards it.

The place is spacious and there are a couple of kids running around, shoving stuffed animals in their parents faces. The selection of stuffies is broad, but you already know what you want.

Steve thinks you’ll be going over to the cheetahs, yet he finds himself surprised, when he watches you walk towards… the donkeys?

He observes you carefully picking up a medium-sized stuffie and clutching it tightly to your chest, a satisfied smile on your lips.

“Stevie! Look!” you exclaim, as you turn your attention to him, holding the stuffie up proudly.

Little did you know, he was already looking at you the whole time.

Eyes soft and smile warm.

“Sweetheart, are you sure? Don’t you want something more… exciting?” he questions, as he points to the array of wild cats and panda bears.

“Nope!” you chirp, the look of content on your face clear as day.

He always wants to see you like this - happy, content, satisfied.

“Wait, Stevie! You should get one too!” you exclaim when you see him slowly make his way toward the checkout.

“The donkey will remind me of you when you’re gone on missions, but you need a stuffie that reminds you of me, too!”

“Sweetheart, you’re in the back of my mind 24/7. I don’t need a …”

“Not the point.” you interrupt him.

“You occupy my mind almost all the time as well, but it’s nice to have something tangible to remind you and to keep close sometimes.”

“Alright.” Steve concedes, before looking at the countless shelves of stuffed animals.

Which one should he even pick?

He thinks back to your interactions earlier, thinks about how soft you looked, with that small bunny comfortably sitting in your lap.

He thinks about how excited you were, when you told him everything you knew about cheetahs, eyes sparkling bright.

He thinks about how softly you’d kissed him at the flamingo enclosure, and how serene you looked while you were watching the American bisons - a dreamy look on your face, and ice cream in hand.

God, is picking your own stuffie always that hard?

His eyes continue to wander along the shelves when he spots it.

There’s a medium-sized cheetah stuffie wearing sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt with little plumerias printed on it.

That’s you.

Cool, adorable, and with a questionable fashion sense.

Thinking back at how you were holding him close in the botanical garden, the sight of the small flowers instantly fills him with the memories of your comforting words and touch.

That’s the one.

Steve makes his way over to the stuffed animal, and it’s even softer than he’d imagined.

“Oh! It’s adorable!” you coo when you see his choice, and Steve smiles.

That’s the one.

He thinks, as he watches you.

The one, who has complete reign over his heart.

You made yourself quite at home in there, filled it with your sweet laughter and your little smiles, the softness of your touch and the kindness in your eyes.

He keeps all these memories of you safely tugged away, underneath his rib cage, in that little treasure chest he calls his heart.

You’re both, his most prized possession, and the strong protector that watches over it all.

The guardian angel of his heart.

“Steve!” you call out to him, from the checkout.

“They say they have a 10 % senior discount for people over 60! Come over here, and figure this out, please!”

It makes him laugh, and there’s only one thought in his mind:

God, how he adores you.

---------------------------------------------

Ahhh, that's it! Thanks you so much for reading!

[minisoc]

As requested, line by line breakdown of testoster2's anti communist rant about parties.

> idk which baby leftist needs to hear this

off to a great condescending start from someone whose only left credit is claiming to be on the left on their Tumblr

> but joining a socialist party will be a waste of your time.

I couldn't imagine a more cop opinion to start us off with. i see things like this and i think: whose interests does this serve? "oh no baby leftists, don't join a party" just brings to mind this image

> you'll probably have to pay a monthly due

that's true. every communist party in history has taken dues from members. it's typically scaled to what you can manage though and it's part of the collective effort of the party organization to make social change. my dues sent comrades to Venezuela and Cuba to learn from socialists there, they produced our programs for free lunches, it built our community centers. i have no regrets about paying my dues, i pay dues to my union as well.

> that goes to like. flyers no one reads

projection. sounds now like op is defending their own lack of action with a lack of belief in the possibility of change. in my experience people do read things and even change their minds after reading things. if people were not able to be affected by the written word then propagandists on all sides would be in a tough situation.

> that you yourself will have to give to people

oh no, you mean joining a party means you might have to do outreach and talk to people? can see why it's not for op, then.

> (this in case the money doesn't go straight in the party leader's pocket).

op has never seen this but says it like it's a fact. it would be pretty easy to find out if your party leadership is embezzling and your party should be structured in a way that you know they'd be thrown out if they betrayed everyone like this. i have that confidence in my party, at least.

this is also very reminiscent about how anti communists engage with propaganda. they feel comfortable making claims of any kind whether supported or not. anyway, this is another obvious cop opinion.

> you'll waste time writing papers and reports and shit, it'll feel like having a second job.

not explained is why writing is a waste of time. i think writing for a party is almost always a useful activity, whether you're making plans for a new action or campaign or producing new agitational materials or analysing the results of previous work so you can improve on it.

it is a job, though. being a communist does mean doing work, society won't change by sitting at home and attacking communist parties on Tumblr. the lifelong sacrifices made by hard working communists are why we have seen so many socialist victories in the last century.

> the most exciting events will be lib shit like elections

this again can only be projection. the most exciting times for me have been in some of the countries largest protest actions, organizing campaigns to free political prisoners, providing at risk communities with basic needs and engaging with them, building new unions, etc. etc

> or peaceful protests that the party would still organize w/o you as a member

here's the key issue with op i think. they want to be vital to the revolution. they don't want to think that they're only one of many people all working together. yes it's true the party will continue without you, especially a wannabe cop like you. but it doesn't mean party work is useless, it just means you are useless as an individual.

> (showing up at a protest w/o having a party affiliation gives you more freedom

freedom to do what, i do wonder? being afraid of party work bc it doesn't let you do whatever you want is kinda silly, if you don't want anyone to ever tell you what to do then yeah don't join a party. if you want to make change in the world then do.

> + makes you a bit less arrestable - as opposed to if a cop saw you carrying a name tag w the hammer and sickle on it. just fyi)

this again appears to have been just made up by op. I've never been arrested for wearing a pin or a party tshirt. i don't know a single person who has. and I've known plenty of people without any markings get arrested.

> all this w/o even mentioning how (depending on your luck) there could be a lot of infighting, splits, sometimes purges

well yes it sounds like there would be a lot of drama wherever op goes but it doesn't seem to be the case generally. my party did form in a split, but over 15 years ago. i don't see any reason to worry that it would happen again any time soon. we don't infight at all, sorta the concept of the party is people who want to work effectively together.

another bit of funny evidence that op is anti communist is the inclusion of the word purges, lol. purge means expulsion from party, ooh very sinister.

> all in all, joining a socialist party is a very, Very ineffective way of building communism lmao

well first it's simply a truth that no socialist country was ever built without a communist party. not one.

but also, did any of ops points have anything to do with effectiveness? all i gathered is they're pushing an individualistic, don't tell me what to do outlook. and the condescension about protests and flyering suggest they want something more adventurist, possibly involving violence. remember the fbi and police always instigate when they infiltrate groups. they always push for criminal actions and violence.

> i'd instead recommend you talk to your neighbours abt their lives, and see how you can help each other.

hey, guess what a party does! do you think our new tenants unions and unemployed councils could come into being without talking to neighbors? do you think our new unions could come into being without discussing the way we could help each other?

> if you live in like a very rich neighbourhood or something, instead of joining a socialist party

well isn't this an interesting premise. i wonder what it says about op that they want to emphasize what the well off should do.

> it'd be way more effective if you joined a liberal/conservative party and then fucked their shit up as much as possible

sure, just see every other attempt in history at wrecking or entryism with the Democratic party. i encourage you to look into it

> if ur only goal is meeting other leftists, only go to the first 2 or 3 party meetings, by then you'll know the scene and you'd have already befriended the interesting people. that;s my advice at least

this piece of advice is generally good. in fact before applying to join any party if at all possible i encourage you to meet with the members local to you, see how they work, see what you think of their ideas and what they're doing. if they're not active in your community, ask why not. there's nothing requiring you to join if it isn't for you. but if you want to make change in this country, learning how to do it from those with experience is best. and working together in an organization that can effectively chart a path forward is the only option there is. every communist revolution was built with the leadership of the communist party.

[castielific]

Title: Fancy and the tramp

Story status: Complete, 8 chapters

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dean/Castiel, Alternate Universe, Fake boyfriends, pretend relationship, homeless!Dean, rich!Cas, family, angst with a happy ending, temporary breakup, getting back together, coming out, past!homophobia, self esteem issues, Dean Winchester has a sexuality crisis, first time, homelessness, bed sharing, pining

Sex tags: anal sex, switching, bottom!Cas, bottom!Dean, first time, frottage, marking, blowjob, fingering, barebacking

Special warning: Contrary to what the title may presage, there are no spaghettis in this story. 

Summary: 

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new fake boyfriend. What a weird day. 

Link to AO3

Chapter 1 under the cut:

************

"Come on Ricky, you owe me that money!" Dean says on his phone, taking a step forward when the line of the coffee shop shortens. 

"I don't owe you shit, Dean. You still owe me the last three months of your rent," his ex landlord says on the phone.

"And I'll pay you, you know I will. But to get the money, I need a job, and to get that job I need some new clothes and-"

"Yeah yeah, I know the deal. You think no one has told me that one before? No bueno, man, I'm keeping your deposit," Ricky grumbles. 

Dean groans in frustration. "Come on, all I need is fifty dollars so I can buy a pair of pants without any holes in it. You give me fifty, I get the job and I pay you back, how does that sound?" he tries to negotiate. 

"Like a fucking lie," Ricky spits just before hanging up.

"No Ric-fuck!" 

The woman in front of him in line sends him a dark look. Dean rolls his eyes at her. Like she hasn't heard worse before. 

Ricky was his last shot. It was a long one, he really does owe that bastard some serious money. Guess he can kiss the job interview at two goodbye. It's some kind of assistant job. It sounds easy enough, buying coffee and picking dry cleaning and stuff. It was still a long shot anyway. Dean's only real job experience is being a bagger boy when he was seventeen and it lasted about two months before his dad decided to move them further east. 

So far, he'd always managed to get by doing repairs or cleaning at gas stops and motels. The older he gets and the harder it gets to find that kind of random job. People are more willing to give a few bucks in exchange for manual tasks to a kid than they are to a nearly thirty years old guy. Now they just tell him to fuck off. 

And since it's always been casual and off the book, the only official work experience he has is the bagger thing. He doesn't even have a high school diploma because he dropped out long before that. Not exactly a stellar resume. Which explains why he hasn't found work in eight month and is currently living in his car. Thank God he has Baby. 

He had been too ambitious thinking he could get his own place. It could only pay rent for about five months before he went broke. He's never had a home before, and had no idea that having an apartment cost so much. In motels, you don't exactly have to pay for water or heat or utilities. There was a bunch of stuff he hadn't planned for that ate up the last of his meagre savings. Ricky threw him out after three months when Dean couldn't scrape up enough money to pay rent anymore, putting a violent stop to Dean's pipe dream of living a normal life. He hoped it would be simpler to get a job if he had an actual address, had even thought about scrapping up enough to maybe get his GED. He's not sure what he's going to do now. 

He's always wanted to be a mechanic. If his dad ever taught him anything, it was how to take care of the Impala. John taught him all the basics and Dean got the knack of it. As a teen, he spent days reading car magazines and working on the Impala, trying to learn as much as he could about how cars worked and how to repair the different parts. He knows enough by now that he could easily work in a garage, but he's got no diploma, and hasn't found anyone willing to hire him on faith alone. 

The line of the coffee shop shortens again, the barista asking her order to the goody-two-shoes in front of him. Dean looks regretfully at the display of sandwiches. He searches his pockets and only comes up with three dollars. Of course, the cheapest piece of food cost four dollars. Dean sighs. Guess just a coffee will have to do today. 

He won't have another choice but to go to the soup kitchen tonight. He hates it there. The food is crap and he wants to punch the prancy people serving it. They always try to give him some Jesus bullshit with his food, like Jesus is ever gonna put a roof over his head and find him a decent job. Neither Jesus nor God nor whatever gives a crap about him. Not that he blames them. Hell, if they exist they're probably not big fans of the guy that used to slip into church as a kid to pick the lock of the donation box

"Just an americano, please," Dean says regretfully when the barista asks for his order. At least it will keep him warm and fill his stomach for a short while.

Halloween just went by and the weather is becoming really cold. He should use the last of Baby's tank to go as far south as he can before winter really hits. He probably won't get farther than Wichita though, and the thought makes him shiver. No one wants to get stuck for a winter in Wichita. Maybe he could go and see if he can make a few bucks at the nearest motel, that kind of place always needs a handyman's help. He hasn't tried the one on Corn Street yet. He's noticed only two lights are still working on their sign, he could offer to help with that. If he makes fifty bucks, he might be able to reach Austin. 

Dean stops on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, pondering if he should walk to the bar a few streets down or the motel. Sometimes Benny, the owner of the bar, lets him use the sink in the back to wash up. If he's lucky, he'll even get some leftovers from last night. It's generally just some stale pretzels, cold fries on good days, but it's still better than nothing. He's got two cans of beans and a car with an near empty tank to his name right now, so he's not picky. 

Dean takes a look at his watch. It's eleven thirty already, the leftovers are probably already in the trash at Benny's. The motel is probably his best bet. 

"I'll give you a hundred dollars if you pretend to be my boyfriend." comes a hoarse voice, way too close to his ear. 

Dean jumps, nearly spilling his coffee on himself. He spins to the right to face the man who just talked and is met with a pair of clear blue eyes. Way too close again. He waits a second for the man to take a step back as he realises as close Dean turning brought them, but the guy just continues to stare at him, head slightly tilted to the side. He's wearing an oversized trench coat over a dark blue suit that looks expensive. He's so close a gust of wind makes the bottom of his coat brushes Dean's shin. 

"Dude, personal space," Dean reproaches, taking a step back. "And fuck off, I don't swing that way," he adds, not meanly. It's not the first time he's getting hit on by a dude. Sadly, not even the weirdest. He's strictly into chicks though, so no dice.

"Two hundred bucks," the man insists. He looks ready to fall on his knees and beg, eyes going wider and wider as he throws a panicked look to the right of Dean's shoulder. "It won't take more than ten minutes and all you have to do is nod along," he begs, making Dean wonders if he's in danger somehow. Maybe he has a stalker or an abusive ex? 

Dean follows his eyes to a woman coming closer. She's very elegant in a grey pantsuit and a long white fur coat as she walks straight toward them. He can feel her eyes judging him even from thirty feet away, looking at him from head to toes. If he wasn't already self-aware of the number of holes in his jeans, he would definitely be under that gaze. 

"Five hundred dollars," the other man whispers just as the blond woman reaches them. 

"Castiel, dear, you should have told me we would have company, I would have notified the restaurant," the woman says, sending a clearly disapproving look toward Dean as she deposits a kiss on the other man's - (Castiel, apparently, what kind of name is that??) - cheek. 

"Mother, let me introduce you to my boyfriend," Castiel says, looking ill at ease. He's obviously not a very good liar. 

Dean blinks a few times as their attention turns toward him. Castiel seems to be trying to communicate something with his eyes, and Dean frowns in incomprehension for a moment before he gets the hint. 

"Huh. Dean. Winchester," he finally says. "Ma'am," he adds when she just continues to stare at him like he has grease smeared all over his face. He's pretty sure that she wouldn't want to touch his hand if he were to offer it to shake, so he doesn't. 

"Naomi Novak," she introduces herself. "What a delight to finally meet Castiel's new companion," Naomi says, her deadpan tone contradicting her words. "Of course, I would have preferred not to be ambushed by such an announcement. Castiel, you know, that Le Délice hates it when we change our reservation last minute. Who knows if they will even have a table for three," she declares, already composing a number on her phone. 

"It's okay, mother, Dean won't be joining us for lunch."

"Oh, is it because your attire isn't appropriate?" Castiel's mother asks, looking at the holes in Dean's jeans and the big leather jacket that used to be his dad's. "I assure you they won't say a word about it if you're with us," she reassures. 

Dean squirms a little, wondering what the hell is even happening. Ten minutes ago he was buying a coffee and going at his day like a perfectly normal person (well, albeit a homeless and jobless one). Now, his fashion sense is being criticized by the mother of a man who is pretending to be his boyfriend. Did a piano fall on his head or something? Has he finally lost his mind?

He looks to the man beside him. He's scratching the side of his neck in nervousness. The move makes his coat fall a little over his wrist, revealing a freaking Rolex watch. Dean looks back to the woman, eyes sliding on her diamond earrings and the huge rock around her neck. 

You know what? That's not okay. His stomach has been crying for food since last morning, and he's what? Supposed to help this stranger by saying no to free lunch at one of the most prestigious restaurants in town? Fuck no. He's gonna eat like a king and make a few hundred bucks off the back of those rich assholes. 

"In that case, it would be my pleasure to join you," Dean announces with his most charming smile. 

"What?" Castiel can't help but bark. "But y-your work thing?" he tries, sweating. The round panic eyes are back. Dean sends him his best shit eating grin. They both know he now either has to invite this stranger to lunch or reveal the lie to his mother. The guy is trapped and may as well continue to play along.

"It's not as important as a chance to finally get to know your mother, honey," Dean answers. "He's told me so many nice things about you, Naomi. Can I call you Naomi?"

"Of course, dear," Naomi says. She looks a little wide eyed too, probably thrown by Dean turning on the charm to the max.

"Perfect! We shall go now, we don't want to miss your reservation. I do hope it won't be too much of a bother for them to add a chair to your table," Dean says. He should probably tone it down with the pompous tone, because he nearly added an English accent here. 

Naomi leads the way, and Dean is going to follow when a hand grabbing his arm makes him fall a few steps behind. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Castiel hisses.

"Acting as your boyfriend?" Dean says innocently. By Castiel's glare, he's not fooled. 

"I asked you to nod silently for ten minutes, not to do method acting for a whole meal," he reproaches. Naomi sends a look behind her shoulder and Castiel smiles at her like there is no worries, indicating for her to lead the way, 

Dean shrugs. "I had some free time."

"I'm not giving you more money than planned, if that's your goal," Castiel says with a suspicious squint. 

"I'm fine with the five hundred as long as you're also paying for lunch," Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows as they walk toward the restaurant. Something passes on Castiel's face that Dean can't quite identify. The other man stares at him for so long that it's a wonder he doesn't trip. He finally relents with a long suffering sigh as they enter 'Le Délice'. 

Apparently, Naomi Novak is prominent enough that they don't mind changing her reservation after all. They're seated at a table near a legit indoor fountain. Dean is looking around, trying not to let show how impressed he is by the place. The walls are made of stone and covered in frescos that he always thought you couldn't see outside of a church or castle. A waiter gives him a leather covered menu and Dean opens it eagerly. After a few niceties to Naomi, they're asked what they want to drink. Dean has an inkling that he probably shouldn't ask for a beer in an establishment like this. 

"Same for me, please," he says after Castiel ordered some wine with a name Dean can't pronounce. At least, he hopes that's wine. Who knows. Hell, in this place the bottles of water are probably more expensive than his usual brand of beer. 

Dean starts to second guess his decision when he realizes that the menu is in french. What is it with rich people and France? He just wants a damn steak, how do you say that in french? Is there even steaks here or is it just frog legs and snails? Oh god, he hopes not. 

"I think I'll take the duck today," Naomi notes. "Nobody cooks it better than chef Francis. How about you Dean? Have you ever come here before?" There is a mean glint in her eyes that says she knows perfectly well he hasn't. Hell, from the side eyes he got from everyone as they crossed the room, everyone here knows he's not from their world. There are three holes in his jeans, threads hanging from the bottom and his dad's leather jacket probably should have ended up in the trash about three years ago. Even now, it's still too big for him and the sleeves are so scruffed that they're nearly paper thin. The original dark brown color has turned to a light beige in most places from wear. His scruff is just the bad side of too long now, and he hasn't had a haircut since April, strands starting to fall into his eyes. At least, he's wearing his best plaid shirt and managed to wash up last night, so he's not smelling too rank. Why would Castiel pick him out of all the people in the street at that moment to play his boyfriend? It makes no sense at all. From the guy's obvious discomfort as he hides behind his menu, he probably realizes it. 

"Actually, Naomi, duck sounds like a delicious idea," Dean says, voluntarily ignoring her question. To be honest, he’s never even eaten duck before, but it's poultry so it probably taste like chicken. You can't go wrong with chicken, right? His stomach certainly likes the idea, gurgling so loudly that he has to hide it behind a cough. 

Castiel ends up ordering some fish and soon their drinks arrive. Dean barely has time to sip at his red wine before Naomi pounces. 

"So, tell me everything, how did you two meet?"

Dean nearly chokes on his drink. Castiel seems to gulp down his whole glass. 

"We met at a coffee shop. Dean was in line in front of me and we started to talk," Castiel explains, not quite meeting anyone's eyes.

"How quaint!" Naomi exclaims, clasping her hands in delight. "I'm just sorry that you didn't tell me about it sooner, Castiel. How long have you been keeping this charming man a secret?"

"Not-," Castiel clears his throat, "-not long."

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you Dean. I sure wish this luncheon will give me the chance to learn everything about you."

Luncheon? Who even talks like that outside of Downton Abbey?

"I do hope I'll get to keep some mystery, we wouldn't want this guy to lose interest," Dean says with a wink. He pats Castiel's hand on the table. Should he hold it or something? How open on PDA are gay people those days? Not that he knows more about how heterosexual couple act in public anyway, especially in those crowds. It's probably safer to keep the PDA to a minimum here. 

"You have to at least tell me some things. For one, what career path are you on?" She looks like a shark circling her prey. 

"I'm a mechanic," he lies. He'd rather stay as close to the truth as possible. It's a little unfair that Castiel is letting him do all the talking when his initial demand was that he stayed silent, especially since it's his skin that Dean is apparently saving, but the guy looks like he's swallowed a potato whole. 

"Oh, that's...interesting," Naomi says in that insincere tone of hers. She looks like he told her he was fucking children’s corpses every full moon. He's two seconds away from telling her that he's actually jobless, penniless, and homeless, just to see her face, when Castiel intervenes. 

"How is Anna's engagement party coming on?" 

Thankfully, this seems to be a subject Naomi loves because she tells them about every aspect of the future party all the way through their meal. 

Duck, as it turns out, is actually very good. It's more like red meat than chicken, which is a great surprise. Although, Dean isn't a fan of the way rich people put tiny quantities of food in very large plates. He eats all the dinner rolls and scrapes every single bit of sauce out of his plate, yet he's still hungry by the end of it. He nearly starts crying when the waiter asks them if they'll take dessert and Naomi declines. He's starting to wonder if that little piece of duck was worth sitting through lunch with her. 

"That sounds like you're turning this into a wonderful event, mother, Anna must be delighted," Castiel compliments. 

"Oh, you know your sister," Naomi waves it off. "It sure feels like a nice opportunity to introduce your new beau to everyone."

Dean frowns. What's a beau? Is that him? That's not him, right?

"I wouldn't dare take any attention away from Anna," Castiel tries to refuse. 

"Don't be daft, you know your sister won't care. Everyone will be so happy that you've finally found-" she passes a long look, over Dean, like she's doubting anyone would actually approve of him. She certainly doesn't seem to, "-someone," she finishes lamely. 

"Oh shoot, I don't think I'm available that night," Dean tries to play off. 

"I'm not sure I've told you the date of it yet."

"Cas did," he says. The other man perks up at the surname, but whatever, 'Castiel' is a mouthful. "And I have this huh work thing, you know? Bummer," Dean says with a fake pout. 

"What kind of 'work thing' can a mechanic possibly have on a Saturday evening?"

Dean tenses up, pursing his lips. "One he can't get out of?"

"Nonsense, you're coming," Naomi brushes off. And that is that apparently. Shit. There is a vein about to pop on Castiel's forehead. "Castiel, dear, you look a little white. Was the fish okay?"

"I-Yeah-I-Actually, do you think we could possibly cut our lunch short? I am indeed feeling quite unwell."

"Of course, my dear," Naomi says, leaning forward until her hand touches his forehead. "You're as clammy as a fish. I should come home with you, and make sure you're okay," she announces, taking her napkin off her lap and deposing it on the table, ready to stand up. 

"No!" Castiel stops her, a little too brusquely. "I-Dean will take good care of me, don't worry," he says, getting up and grabbing Dean's arm so he does so too. Dean follows his lead, all too happy to get out of here. "Stay and enjoy your tea, mother."

"If you say so," Naomi says, sending an unsure look at Dean, obviously upset at being brushed off in his favor. "Call me this evening, or I'll worry all night."

"Of course, mother," Castiel acquiesces, kissing her cheek. Dean hovers behind him. Is he supposed to kiss her too? Wave hello? Shake her hand? 

"Dean," she says as what is apparently a sufficient goodbye. Thank God. "I'll be sure to see you on Saturday," she reminds just as they're walking away. 

Cas turns on him as soon as they're outside the restaurant. 

"What was that?!" he asks, not quite yelling. He starts pacing, rubbing a hand through his already pretty ruffled hair. 

"You owing me five hundred bucks? Dude, you're lucky I don't charge you more for the fresh hell I just lived through."

"You went through hell? You?!" his pacing gets faster and Dean has an idea that if he stops pacing he might punch him in the face. 

"That's what you get for asking this kind of stuff from a perfect stranger," Dean shrugs, pushing a pebble with the point of his shoe. His red sock is peeking out from a tiny hole near his big toe. It's such a contrast to how grand everything and everyone looked in there. It's making him feel like shit. He's maybe feeling a tiny bit guilty for trapping Castiel like that too. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, albeit one with a psycho mom.

Cas turns on him, eyes glaring and mouth open in what will probably be a flow of reproaches. He stops himself before he says anything though, seeming to deflate. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe instead, shoulders falling. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should be thanking you. I have no right to make you any reproach when I brought this on myself."

"It wasn't so bad, though, was it? I mean, I think I sold it?" Dean asks, a little hesitant. He even used pedantic talk and everything. 

"You did as well as could be expected."

"That's not much of a compliment…". 

"I shouldn't take more of your time," Cas apologizes, taking his wallet out. Dean goggles at the amount of cash in there. 

"You really shouldn't have that much cash on you, that's, like, asking for trouble."

Castiel squints at him like he's wondering if that means Dean is gonna rob him for a moment, before he hands him a wad of cash. 

Dean's eyes bulge out, "That's way more than five hundred dollars."

"There's also an advance in there to buy some clothes for the engagement party."

"The what now?" Dean blinks dumbly for a second until his brain catches up to what is happening. "Dude, no, I'm done!" 

"You were the one to push it so far in the first place," Castiel reminds. Accuses, really. 

"I just wanted to eat fancy food, okay! Not, like, go steady."

"There will be lots of food at my sister's engagement party," Castiel tries to persuade. Badly. 

Dean gives him a nonplussed look. The cash feels heavy in his hand. He's never had so much before. This could help him get a new start. What's a night of playing Downton Abbey compared to the many many nights he might not have to freeze his ass off in the backseat of his car thanks to it?

"Why are you even doing this anyway? And why would you choose me? Do I look that desperate for cash?"

"No," Cas says after what's definitely a too long pause. Dean scowls. "You were in front of me in the coffee shop line. I heard you talking on the phone. You said you needed some cash to buy a new outfit for a job interview. Begged, really."

"Where the fuck do you get on listening in on other people’s conversation?" 

"I didn't listen, I just heard."

"You know, what? Fuck you," Dean spits, "I don't need that bullshit in my life right now." He has enough cash to get to Austin and replenish his stock of food, even buy some new clothes. At least this way he can keep his dignity rather than being insulted by a bunch of rich assh-

"Please," Castiel begs, following him as Dean storms away. "You don't understand…"

"Oh I understand perfectly," Dean says, stopping and turning around so brusquely that they nearly bump into each other. "You think you can shit on other people from your high horse and that they'll still do your deed for a few hundred bucks. Well, I'm not your freaking puppet, man."

"I have never shitted on any-" he stops himself with a frustrated groan, before turning on the puppy dog eyes. "Dean, please. Listen to what I have to say at least?"

"I know what you're gonna say. I've seen that movie before, Cas. You're going to bring me to that party, so you can parade me around like I'm some earned price or some shit. Meanwhile you get to appease mommy dearest and the clan of hyenas putting pressure on you to find a husband, while still having the satisfaction of giving them a huge fuck you by bringing a guy like me instead of the golden boy they're dreaming of."

"I-" Castiel stops himself, pursing his lips. "That's actually not that far from the reality."

"Of course it isn't. Told you, I've seen that trope before. Except this is real life and your plan sucks, so you can keep your money and I'll keep my dignity. Just grow a pair and tell them all to fuck off, will ya?"

"You sure do like saying that to people," Castiel sulks. "Are you sure you can't do it for me?" 

"Oh believe me I would love to tell your mom to fuck off, but I like my balls attached to my body, so that's a hard pass."

Castiel laughs slightly at that and Dean can feel his own anger start to abate at the sound. "Good self-preservation instinct on your part," Cas mumbles. The puppy look is still there, except now it's making him feel like he's kicked the puppy.  

"You know, we're in the 21st century, right? You shouldn't feel pressured to the point of inventing a boyfriend. Who gives a shit about that nowadays?"

"My family does," Castiel answers in a long sigh. "You don't get it, how could you... I have three brothers, Dean," Castiel explains. "Two sisters. My little sister, who is just nineteen, just got engaged. I was already seen as the irremediably unwed one and now I…," he pauses, sending a nervous look at Dean, looking ashamed.

"Oh come on. How hard can it be? You're rich, objectively good looking. Do you have weird kinks or something?"

 "I-I wouldn't know. I've never even been in a relationship before," he confesses, looking at the ground.

"When you say 'relationship', you don't mean you've never…" Dean inquires. Cas' cheeks redden, and Dean blows like he just got punched. "Wow. That sucks."

"Yes, it's very pathetic."

"What? Eh no, it's not pathetic. Surprising, yeah. But, to each their own, you know?"

Cas inclines his head like he's not sure he does know. 

"I'm sorry I tried to drag you in all of this. You seem like a good man. You don't deserve-"

"-to be served on a platter to your family?" Dean asks, searching Castiel's gaze until they exchange a smile. 

"Yes. That." The man is still looking dejected. The money is still in Dean's hand. That duck really was good. Damn it.

"The food better be freaking awesome," Dean relents with a frustrated grunt. Castiel seems instantly relieved. "And you're not pretty woman-ing me," he warns, pointing a finger at the other man. "I'm choosing my own clothes and I don't give a shit if I don't know which fork to use for fish."

Castiel's head is tilted and he's blinking owlishly, like he doesn't understand a word that Dean is saying. Figures. He's not sure how he could convince anyone that he's this dork's boyfriend, honestly. Naomi certainly looked like she wasn't fooled. 

"I'm sorry for the way my mother behaved toward you. I assure you, being yourself will be amply sufficient to the task."

"Dude, the way y'all talk, where do you come from, Victorian England?"

"I-I don't think I have English ancestry, no. Why?"

They blink at each other for some time. 

"I must be a freaking masochist."

Cas' face scrunches up even more in incomprehension. 

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so: no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods. 

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new boyfriend. What a weird day... 

You can read the rest on AO3

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP Meme Lines from "AHS: Coven" Episode 11: "Protect the Coven"

Why I had to leave Paris, the jewel of civilization, return to this shit hole, I'll never understand.

They have no inner light.

They have no intellect to engage with.

I fear my restless mind will become feeble.

I need inspiration.

I hear crochet is popular in New Orleans.

Do I have to bother with this thing?

Do I have to kill it?

Please don't make me.

Give me that cleaver.

How hard can it be to chop the head off a chicken?

I'm hurt bad.

Should I run and find a doctor?

We want to stop that blood.

I think I'm going to like it here.

What can be done?

Bitch, you left me for dead.

Oh, get your ass over here.

That's for dismembering me.

The most important thing is that you're safe.

None of us are safe!

I've been suffering the tortures of the damned.

I'm not taking another step!

I suppose I was an unhappy child.

I kept to myself, communing with rodents and small animals.

No one thought I'd amount to much, but I surprised them all.

I married well.

My lavish soirées became a coveted invitation.

It goes perfectly with the wine.

How the mighty have fallen does not begin to describe my torment.

I've been giving plenty thought to how I'm gonna deal with you.

Thinking this time, I'll finish what I started.

Stick that head of yours in a construction site shit hole.

You seem half mad, dear.

I think this could amplify it.

Ah, figs, ah, figs, Mother Nature's brown diamonds.

Figgy pudding cures the blues and banishes acne.

Lately, I've been asking myself just what was it that fed my soul back then.

I just... developed a scientific fascination for their... their body parts and their... their organs... and their cries of agony.

Oh, what have we here, a romantic bubble bath?

Don't you care at all?

So it wouldn't bother you if I got on my knee pads and blew him, right here, right now.

You're a peach.

You think you can just throw me away for some junior varsity mall rat?

He's not your slave.

God, you're such a brat!

What is all that racket?!

You are the worst kind of Hollywood cliché

You're a dried-up old Hot Pocket, but I don't judge.

You can't speak to me that way-- I am your elder.

Crotchless panties for everyone.

Well, putting you together was fun but taking you apart's gonna be even more fun.

Ah, go slow with that.

I want to take you there.

We'll spend out the rest of our days drinking gin rickeys on this porch.

What's so funny?

Oh, imagine me a farm wife. Milking the cows.

Well, you've lived a big life.

You went everywhere, you've met everyone, you've done everything that your stormy little heart desired.

But you were never ever truly happy, huh?

We could live like normal folk for a change.

Not very robust, were you?

Feel better?

I thought you'd run off.

One doesn't explain art.

I thought you were tongueless.

Are you saying you're dead?

I spent enough time in the grave to know a spirit when I encounter one.

I've been watching you.

A life without purpose is no life at all.

I thought I'd found my purpose. Or at least a hobby.

I think I just made a mess.

Guess who gets to clean it up.

You long for release.

I know how you can achieve it.

I've been cursed.

It's a violation of the natural order.

Why do you care?

The bitch is immortal.

Are you saying I can kill her?

I can provide you with the means. But you have to do something for me first.

It won't be cheap.

Dirty hippie can kiss my ass.

Things around here change fast, but damn.

You are a very strong and powerful young woman.

But how did you survive?

Turns out I got some new powers.

He shot you with this?

Not even a silver bullet can stop me.

Don't touch me.

My eyes are open.

You are just as weak as you've ever been.

Might want to take one long-ass vacation. Let somebody else run this joint for a while.

No enemies on the outside perhaps, but danger lurks within these blanched walls.

Everyone knows it.

I have no secrets.

I deserve better lies than that.

I just need a drink. Steady my nerves.

I've done what you asked.

You're sure this is the original gown?

There's a certificate of authenticity in there somewhere.

It's unsavory.

Now, before somebody notices that half the silver's gone missing, you give me what you promised me.

It's that powerful?

You'll be blinded by the sheer craftsmanship.

A sapphire and topaz harvester ant made for me by Joel Arthur Rosenthal, the Fabergé of our time.

Do you want me to wear it?

You could never pull it off, darling.

I want you to hock it in case of emergency.

I'm completely lost here.

I had a love like that once.

If you stay here, your life is in grave danger.

Run away together and start your life over.

How dare you be so unromantic and so very, very selfish.

Be ready for anything, but keep the dogs at bay.

This war, it's a thing of the past.

Sometimes I feel like I'm trying to rid the State Department of Communists.

This is the end.

God knows all the money in the world can't buy good taste.

Too much?

You got any last words?

To the beginning of a long, long friendship.

Only thing that could ruin this moment is to have to look at your fugly face.

I'll leave when I'm finished.

Stupid cow!

I'm not finished.

Your fate is sealed.

Oh, you stupid rube!

Damn you. Damn you!

The only thing I'm allergic to is you.

You were most likely to cooperate.

You have to finish packing.

I have these feelings inside that I can't... I can't control.

We're leaving, just like planned.

[witchcraftingboop]

Further Insight on Briar's Recent Discourse & Prim's Apparent Grooming of Younger, Newer Witches

It was suggested to me that instead of making one long post (which I was genuinely sorry for creating in the moment as well), that I should offer the second half in a separate one so that it is easier to share and harder to simply ignore as a wall of text.

Here is the link to the first half of the current JBird and Briar discourse floating around. I highly encourage everyone involved in the Witchblr community to review both posts and not just this final addition. 

Regarding Prim stirring the pot, I actually do have proof of that on my page somewhere if you wouldn't mind my sending it to you? The person I reblogged it from, Mahi, also received death threats from Prim when they were only 16 and Prim was 20 (I can't ask him to share that though because Prim has since used her following to drive him off of Tumblr and he's still fairly [and justifiably] sensitive about it.)

Regarding Briar's statements more specifically though, I can see where the confusion is coming from. After the "in France" part, she's just defining a relevant term (hence the use of "irrelevant details) and then giving an explanation of how she came to be so knowledgeable about that term/concept. I wouldn't say she's calling Prim's activism an "irrelevant detail," but pointing out how Prim uses it as a shield against backlash whenever another blog (not just tradcrafters) calls out her platform. I don't expect you to fully understand or see what I mean when I say that, of course. Because you are still new, and these are habits I've observed of hers from nearly a year of following their interactions. I would, however, like to point out that Briar doesn't say anything racist about Prim and does not once bring up her race. In fact, I think if you read her entire post and not just point 3 as Prim has it cropped out in all of her mentions of it, you would see more fully the depth and amount of frustration Briar is trying to express. Similarly, Briar never threatened to dox Prim. She has, in fact, repeatedly tried to point out that Prim should be protecting her online information and be more aware of how to stop others from finding out about her private life/situation. These statements, however, have since been warped by Prim and her followers to come off as a threat on her life. Briar's statements above aren't a threat of doxxing. She's never once posted Prim's personal information or told others to find it or use it in any way. She has, however, searched for Taglocks on Prim, something witches especially are known to look for. In that search she found more than she was even looking for, despite trying to tell Prim repeatedly to stop being so open online with the information she posts about herself. Doxxing though is not racist. It is something used by them, sure, but it is not inherently racist.

Additionally, Prim has raised money, sure, but I still have not seen any actual receipts as to her *actually* donating it to any public or private organizations. This, for me, is highly suspect. In reality, we still have no idea where that money is. Whereas with Briar, she took no money in for a couple days on her readings and instead merely asked that those requesting a reading first submit proof of donation to an organization linked in the post. She raised substantial money for the BLM movement, but no one seems to want to bring that up in all of their "she's a racist" discourse. Also, the observation that someone is misleading or gaslighting their following is not racist. Just because she said Prim was recently using her BLM reblogs & promotions to do it *this time* still does not make it racist. Questionable wording is just something the reader disagrees with, in my opinion, and should be addressed as such.

I'm not going to lie, I do feel a little frustrated at this point. I was really hoping to come to you and see that you had concrete proof to offer that Briar is a racist. I do understand that you have your own reasons for feeding into the assumptions and twisted outlooks already taken on Briar's words, but I don't have enough energy in me to fully swallow my tongue on this one. I really do hope that you at least consider what I've said here. I'm not sure what I can say at this point because all of the information I've read from you thus far has been purely conjecture or assumptions or just "not feeling right" about the wordings on a single post. A racist, from my perspective, is not something I would ever feel comfortable calling someone off of this lack of evidence.

I understand it is hard to separate preconceived notions from your mind when reading through the words of others, but I really do miss when you were more open to the words of others. If I could ask one thing of you, it'd be to please try to read Briar's post again but from the perspective of seeing it how it was meant to be: a witch who has been on the butt end of Prim's harassment for going on three years now. She is tired of the wild accusations and constantly having to defend herself, and even when she supplied her proof a couple years ago, no one wanted to hear her. She has, largely, given up on being heard, and now screams into what feels like a void when attacked.

Proof of Prim stirring the pot that I offered: An example of Prim actively seeking out the community and trying to stir the pot with an already dealt with situation that had passed over a year ago.

A direct source that I offered as further proof of what has occurred already: This is one from the account mentioned before who was directly involved with the previous discord server where the Trio incident took place a couple years back.

[A Reply.] I think, to be fair, I saw your comments on her previous posts through your main, and with how much aggression you packed into those messages, I don't necessarily blame her for deciding not to engage with your private messages. As I've said, she's very used to people attacking her like that, and in her mind, unfortunately, you've probably been added to the list of aggressive people ready to fling the blame at her rather than look at the situation as a whole. I do apologize for the way her post may have made you feel, but I think it's also important to remember the potentially aggressive things you left on her page (I'm not saying you meant to come off that way, but even I couldn't help but read that way). Also, regarding the ask, it's no small secret that the occultists of the tradcraft group are skilled and well-versed in hexes and curses. When reading her posts about how she may respond to further antagonism on Prim's part, I see a fully realized occultist wielding their most well kept and trained weapon: baneful magic. I'm sure Prim herself also understands that the "threat on her life" she's saying she's so afraid of, isn't a physical threat, but a metaphysical one. She has repeatedly and continually tried to drag these people through the mud, and now that they're refusing to just sit back and be canceled, she's afraid. She knows how strong their magic is, and they aren't shy about it 🤷‍♀️

[A Reply.] No, I completely understand where you're coming from. I, personally, have seen your willingness to talk things through, despite how aggressive you can come off at times in the things you say, so I think that's why I was genuinely so surprised to see your comments on some of her posts. But I do think her response and refusal to further directly engage with you is warranted and her right. Unfortunately, it is hard to tell who is genuinely open to talking and who is just trying to bait and add to the problem. And with how aggressive your comments were, 8 honestly think she most likely was responding from a place of "oh look another young Prim follower here to bait and berate me." I don't think she looks down on you for your age, but her views are likely a reflection of the fact that a lot of 18yos follow Prim and have openly harassed her without even asking for her input on the matter.

At this point, I would like to talk about the second half of the title of this particular post. Grooming. This is a very serious allegation against Prim that I have not spoken on previously because I had no proof that it was happening. With this person's permission, I would like to share how exactly they wound up fighting Prim's battles for her.

I will note: I am highly disgusted by what follows.

[A Reply.] Oh no! You cannot fault yourself for this! Prim is a known manipulator, and the fact that she was able to make you somehow think this is part of your being "gullible and naive" is just testament to the fact that she's gotten wayyy too good at what she does. This is in no way your fault or because of some fault within you. Practiced manipulators are cunning and dangerous even to the best of us. It was unfortunate that she chose you, but her twisting you around is in no way a bad reflection on you as a person!

I've chosen to include my reply to this person rather than our continued discussion because of how personal and involved our conversation turned. I've included it to show, as well, that grooming others to fight your battles is (though this should go without saying) NEVER OKAY. Prim has shown her true colors, in my opinion, and while I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt time and time again, I simply cannot permit myself to ignore the harm and damage she's inflicted on not only the tradcraft community, but also this innocent group of friends. A group who that has hitherto dedicated their time to sussing out predators, terfs, nazis, and racists. A group that should never have had to deal with being gaslit and manipulated by a well-known and respected blogger on this platform.

I cannot reiterate enough how sorry and deeply shocked I am at the information this person has brought to my attention. I am still stunned by Prim's activities and unable to fathom how many other potential individuals are out there being groomed to support and fight for her cause. I am sorry to the Witchblr community as a whole. I feel as if I have sat by and watched as Witchblr has been manipulated and am therefore complacent in the damage and needless hurt that has been allowed to spread throughout our community. I am just so very, very sorry.

I will be taking a couple days off of Tumblr because of this, as I feel as if I need space and time to think, but my inbox is always open and I am always available to speak with others on my return.

[sassyfrassboss]

Harry’s 2020 Endeavour Fund Speech

So when I listened to his speech I heard something that sounded like a passive aggressive dig at the BRF. Let me know what y’all think.

A lot of you tonight have told me you have my back, well I'm also here to tell you, I've always got yours.

Congratulations to all the winners, to the amazing nominees, and to the families and friends who support all of us – without whom none of this would be possible, and too often are forgotten.

Thank you.

This is his speech in its entirety:

It's great to see so many familiar faces altogether in one room and thank you to everyone who made this evening possible. Meghan and I are so happy to be back here with you, to celebrate each and every one of you for your achievements, your service and your resilience.

For some, the military community represents a brotherhood or sisterhood that no other organisation can provide, and for others it's a way of life which you never want to leave. For a lot of us, it's both.

Being able to serve Queen and Country is something we all are rightly proud of, and it never leaves us. Once served, always serving!

Leaving the military and hanging up your uniform is - we know - an incredibly hard thing to do...unless of course it's blue in colour...

But being forced to hang it up due to injury, beyond your control, can be even more difficult to accept. It can take time and effort to recognise the fact that it is something that happened to you, rather than something that's wrong with you - so please don't ever forget that.

The Endeavour Fund came from seeing the gaping hole that can be left after taking off that uniform.

The power that sport and adventurous challenge plays in recovery, yes; but most of all - the chance to be part of a team again while attempting to achieve unthinkable challenges - as if being shot or blown up wasn't enough, you guys continue to impress, inspire and challenge what it means to have a life changing injury.

You have wanted to push yourselves harder than you'd ever done before. Not just for the thrill, or the experience, but to prove to yourself, to your family and your mates that anything is possible when you put your mind to it. Physical strength means little without actual mental fitness, and you have proven that time and time again.

Oh, and there's the part of inspiring quite literally millions of people and raising money while doing it too! At the end of the day, you're awesome, and I love working with you... well most of you....

You have all had to demonstrate physical and mental strength that I doubt you even realised you had. NEVER underestimate what your actions, your choices and your resilience means to others.

You should all be tremendously proud of what you've achieved and the positive service you continue to provide to so many. To see you guys excelling and uplifting others while doing it makes me incredibly proud and grateful to all of you - because you don't have to do it, you choose to do it.

To our winners, Tom, Lee, Danny, Superhero Tri, and to all our nominees – you are fantastic representatives of our armed forces, and a credit to your country.

I know a lot of you are far too humble to acknowledge it - I guess that's part of the training - so even if it's just for tonight, please let yourself enjoy the applause and admiration, because you truly deserve it.

The Endeavour Fund is not just about recovery, it's about discovering a new way of living – finding a new sense of purpose and you have most definitely found that.

86% of Endeavour participants have told us their injuries forced them to re-evaluate their own sense of identity, the very essence of who they are. And understanding this is behind the DNA of both The Endeavour Fund and the Invictus Games.

Which is why 84% also say their experience with us helped them rebuild a positive definition of who they are. We should not underestimate how powerful this can be.

Nearly two-thirds of those involved in endeavours last year had no previous engagement with sport post injury, and the fact they now have is thanks to people like you going out, finding them, and encouraging them to get involved and daring themselves to achieve what they thought was impossible.

Not only are you the Masters of your own fate, but you are helping others find theirs and I've seen this repeated over and over again.

From Walking With The Wounded working in Lesotho - to Deptherapy and our partnership with Super Hero Tri Series - I want to thank you al for using your endeavour experiences to help others outside of our community.

The Endeavour Fund has grown into something much greater than I could ever have imagined. It has flourished thanks to the dedication and hard work of the Endeavour Fund team, and I'd like to recognise and thank them, and thank everyone who's worked on it or supported us and the guys over the years.

I firmly believe that there is an even greater future ahead. Our ambition is to build on what has been achieved - to expand the Endeavour Fund further so that its impact can be felt around the world.

For this reason, I am very pleased to announce that we are looking at opportunities to create a much closer working relationship with the Invictus Games Foundation.

More will be announced in due time but it's been made possible by the generous support of some specific people, so thank you.

Invictus proves that when we bring people together from around the world - men and women who have fought together side-by-side - to have the opportunity to enhance their recovery through a shared experience of sport and challenge, is something that breaks through cultural difference, through skin colour and through bias, and is truly amazing.

It is my hope that in the future, this Invictus spirit will not only be spread at the Games themselves, but regularly, consistently and continuously through new worldwide Endeavour opportunities.

I know for many of you, your journey is not over. But by keeping this community together, we can do more amazing things, at a time when it is so desperately needed....and it works!

I feel lucky to be able to count myself as one of you; and am deeply proud to have served among you as Captain Wales.

A lot of you tonight have told me you have my back, well I'm also here to tell you, I've always got yours.

Congratulations to all the winners, to the amazing nominees, and to the families and friends who support all of us – without whom none of this would be possible, and too often are forgotten.

Thank you.

[sol1056]

If you go to the panel, passive message or not, they still win. If you're wearing VLD related cosplay or merch to a con, they still win. You're giving the canon attention, you're filling their seats. That's what success looks like in a con, no matter your intentions. If you really wanna show your feelings, you keep using the "won't get my money anymore" ideology by not acknowledging VLD in a con at all.

Oh, like the way picketing a business is effectively drawing attention to it and therefore still supporting it? Yeah, no. That’s not how this works. 

Companies tend to slot customers into one of three categories. The first are generally happy; their complaints are put in the “fix if we get a chance” box. They’re not leaving, so it must not be that bad. They’re loyal ‘cause they’ve never really been tested. The third has quit, walked away, shut the door. They’re a lost cause. The company gets no financial benefit from listening to them, because they’re never coming back. 

The middle are previously happy, but now disengaging. This group always creates the biggest waves. They tend to express themselves in terms of betrayal, and that has emotional resonance that can catch up others in the wave. [Yes, these also happen to map nicely to @blue-rose-89​‘s post about how S7 split the fandom three ways.]

But – and this is the important part — if a company makes the effort to address those complaints, that wave will turn in the company’s favor. The narrative shifts from, “I loved this company and it broke my trust,” to “they screwed up but they gave a damn and they made it better.” 

If no one shows up, no one cosplays, no one buys the newest merchandise, the company is gonna shrug, write the product off as failed, and move on. But if 3000 people show up wearing t-shirts or cosplaying and are clearly fans of the product but no one is buying a goddamn thing — the company will notice. I guarantee you there will be execs demanding: “Someone explain to me why we have max capacity at every venue, but our numbers are in the cellar.” 

You don’t make a difference with corporations by simply refusing to give them money. That’s not a boycott; that’s just quitting as their customers. You make a difference by waving your money under their noses along with your enthusiasm. Your message is: “This could all be yours, if you just cleaned up your goddamn act and fixed this shit.”  

And that is why, even if you can’t attend NYCC (or any other con) but want to continue the pressure, then stay noisy. Share the fanart and fanfic and meta because that shows engagement, but drive home the narrative, too: “I loved this company’s work and they betrayed my trust.” Not, “I loved this show,” either, but this company. Enough noise, and that unhappiness will infect the entire brand — and that is the last thing a company wants. 

Remember the other component: millennial loyalty is notoriously fickle, and powered (more than any previous generation) on recommendations of friends and BNFs. No company wants to deal with a social-media web of discontent prompted by bad PR. (And, in case it wasn’t clear, Dreamworks is marketing itself to children whose parents — the ones with the actual income — are mostly millennials.)

Last, for those of you planning to be noisy: focus on what’s actionable. 

That means: what is feasible and would prevent the harm, had it been in place. Depending on your specific concerns, actionable items could be: 

diversity training for showrunners and staff, 

inclusion of community advocates in script reviews, 

collaborating with community representatives to craft better representation, 

an email/hotline for reporting insensitive/bigoted speech by company employees in public venues, or 

a marketing/PR person who tracks community feedback and is empowered to issue statements regarding how the company will address a community’s concerns.

That does not mean: asking the company to redo what is already done, such as changing a specific relationship or character after production is complete. The barriers are too high. You could of course request an apology, but without a clear statement of how the company will prevent a repeat, any apology would be hollow. So be sure to also include something actionable that you feel would resolve the issue for you. 

Eyes on the prize, my wonderful noisy fellow fen. Tag DW on the social media of your choice, with your chosen action items. Make clear that until you see action, you consider the entire company accountable for the harm it’s done. And then keep tagging. Don’t let up. 

As for those of you at NYCC: go forth and represent.

[turned-the-page]

PART 2 - Sending hate to Tessa and Scott

So the conversation currently raging in the Fandom about which one of them get more hate, why they get hate and who defends them the most. Really, people discussing hate for tessa and Scott is a real thing. Let's just think about that for awhile. Things that make you go uhmm, right?

Let me just go there. The anonymity of the "anon" feature on social media is the best friend of these haters. I mean these haters are posting international. Nobody knows their culture or country of origin. We simply see their posts. Maybe in their culture or country communicating through hate is all they know, so expecting better from them is a non starter, quite futile. So along as they attach themselves to Tessa and Scott's journey hate is what they have to offer to the fandom.

And we send them hate because?

Fandom: we are their fans. We are entitled of course. We spend our hard earned money to buy a ticket to their show, which means our 100.00 that we spent for the ticket and enjoyed the show, gives us unlimited rights to their lives. UNLIMITED RIGHTS TO THEIR LIVES, PERSONAL AND PROFESSIONAL. We have the right to say whatever we want about them because we bought a ticket to one or two of their shows. Our rights to their lives exceed their rights to their own lives. After all our ticket money is keeping them alive. They owe us.

Oh, I see

Can I just say FOMO.

firstly to the stans who jumped on the vm bandwagon after they won the Olympics. Why are you criticizing and sending hate to them? You do realize that all of the noise you're making on social media is actually about you getting attention and maintaining a voice on the internet and has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with the real life of Scott and tessa. In other words FOMO. case in point, look at you watching their 2014 TV show and freaking out about it as if its not a 4 year old show.

I mean, ask yourself, what does your fanship bring to Scott and Tessa's life? They've been winners long before you discovered them. Do they need anything from you? What positive thing can you add to their lives that they don't already have?

Did you happen to notice that it is their skills and abilities that gets them speaking engagements you didn't even know about? Did you notice that you had no input into getting them these engagements. What? Did you think that voting for them for some online awards added anything to their lives or made you irreplaceable in the larger scheme of their lives? Wasn't that online voting more about bragging rights for "fans".

Did you notice that the WoF was not fan driven? It was an honour that the organizers and their country felt they earned and deserved by virtue of their skills.

Do you realize that the sponsorship and ambassadorships that tessa gets is because the companies know that Tessa's name will make money for them. So tessa is making money because the companies want to make money off her face and name. Win win for both parties.

Scott and Tessa have dded a benefit to the "fans" lives. Their existence as skating goats gives the fans an escape from their own lives. FOMO prevents the disgruntled fans from leaving social media and facing their own life's issues.

So, acknowledge the fact that vm didn't issue you a personal invitation into their lives. They do what they do and you the fans decided they want to be a part of that. You chose to join the fandom and stay in the fandom for your own reasons.

Vm are elite athletes and decent and polite people. When they realized that people had a sustained interest in them, they acknowledge your interest and brought the TTYCT to the smaller skating communities for them to enjoy. Look at the name, thank you Canada. They knew who were their for them from the beginning. The grassroots skating organizations and skating fans.

It's very nice that international fans came TTYCT but they dont owe the fans anything. Fans are FREE remain fans or unstan at anytime. If all of the online noise makers were to move on, Scott and Tessa wont know you're gone. So don't fool yourself into thinking you are an integral part of their lives.

I'm a fan, I live them and I dont need them to be other than they are. I am a supporter of them as skaters and as two young canadians you have done well. I need nothing from them. My life is fine. I'm not suffering from FOMO. I'm on here writing because of the bad behaviour of the fandom towards them.

So, about your rights as a stan

YOU freely decided you wanted to be a fan of this successful ice dance team. YOU can also freely unstan and move on. You have No other rights. Your self- exaltation as a fan is just that, self exaltation. Your opinions are your own, freely express your opinions in the privacy of your DMs or GC. There are many of us who will appreciate not reading any of your negativity towards vm because not only is it not decent behaviour, it is not deserved.

I leave you with this.

VM did not invite you into their lives. Since you invited yourselves, maybe behave like proper guests.

[indi-flying-with-dragons]

….Medical tourism shouldn't even BE A FUCKING THING. WHY are we all accepting it as a "of course it happens *shrug*" thing...

instead of getting FURIOUS at how it exposes our pathetically inadequate medical system and how ABSOLUTELY FUCKING HORRIBLE the medical care is in so many parts of the world, especially HERE in FIRST WORLD COUNTRY of FUCKING UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!?!?!?

. If you absolutely HAVE to go outside of the country at all to get ANY what decent health care and medical services...

then I seriously wonder about the state of our country and the abilities and skills of our SO-CALLED "SKILLED" DOCTORS.

And the fucked up to hell and back state of our fucking economy!!!

If anyone dare tone-polices me for my rage, then take ONE LITTLE SECOND to realize that ONLY people able to fucking BUY a plane ticket and deal with all the rigors of travel (including jetlag) and trying to fit your life and medical equipment in a fucking suitcase to boot, would be able to engage in "medical tourism!!!"

You are fucking screwing over the vast majority of disabled people especially those living on SSI and prohibited from EVER having more than $2,000 TOTAL in ALL of your accounts and total money to your name at ALL, PERIOD, at any ONE TIME or automatically BOOTED off the SSI like *snaps fingers* THAT.

You are screwing over all the homeless and those stuck in the care of abusive caretakers and guardians who'd rather see their so-called "loved one" DIE than let them leave the country at all, because they'd be "outside of their reach."

You are screwing over all those under 18 years old who desperately needs medical care their own family doesn't believe they require, due to "religious reasons" or hard-core ableism.

YOU ARE SCREWING OVER THE VAST MAJORITY OF THE DISABLED AND CHRONICALLY SICK COMMUNITY BY TRYING TO INCENTIVIZE THIS FUCKED UP THING CALLED """MEDICAL TOURISM.""""

Use that fucking money to MAKE OUR HEALTHCARE BETTER!!!!

Don't snicker behind your fucking hand about "OH haha medical tourism, isn't that so funny it exists at all? Let's take advantage of it!"

GO OUT AND MAKE A GODDAMN WORLD where THAT ISN'T A LIFE-SAVING REQUIREMENT OF LIVING ON THIS FUCKED UP PLANET!!!!

Because gods knows that if WE sick and disabled people can't afford that BULLSHIT "Medical tourism" THEN WE CAN'T DO ALL THE FUCKING FIGHTING FOR A BETTER WORLD BY OURSELVES you fucking absolute WANKERS.

You're able-bodied! NOW USE your fucking able bodies to HELP US. In the ways we need it MOST.

Not this BULLSHIT "medical tourism."

You just want us all to die out of sight and out of mind, why don't you.

Now come out and admit it. ==_== Don't be a fucking hypocrite.

It’s The Real Cost Of Getting Sick In The US