#WHY does she like posts about wanting to communicate when she last reached out to me to randomly send me her address

[yououghtaknow]

this is the most real thing to happen to anyone ever.

[crljhnn]

Math tutor

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader

Summary: Rodrick is continuously unsuccessful in asking you out, so when he finds out that you are now tutoring his younger brother he decides to use this to his advantage. The only problem, Greg doesn't play along.

No physical description of the reader; No use of y/n

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: None

>Posted on AO3 as well<

“So that means x equals 9.” The answer comes out more like a question.

You've been tutoring Greg for about three weeks now and he finally, for the first time since starting this school year, seems to understand what is going on during math class.

“Yes, that’s right!”

“Really?”

While Greg wasn’t the first Heffley you ever tutored, he was the first to actually listen to what you said and process your explanations.

A few years ago you were taking the same math class as his older brother Rodrick who, back then, quite literally begged you to give him some tutoring lessons. While you didn’t like the idea of spending extra time at school to teach someone math, him apparently being so desperate for help, tugged at your heartstrings, making you give in.

On top of that, him being kind of cute and your teeny-tiny crush on him helped convince you as well. However, this adoration you harbored for about three months at that point, died about 5 minutes into your session.

He was barely paying attention to what you were saying, focusing more on drumming his pencils on the edge of the desk while humming along, using every breath you took to change the subject, mostly telling you about this little band of his. The straw that broke the camels back was when he dared to ask why you wanted to end the session only 15 minutes in, following it up with a „That was fun, let’s study together again soon!“.

Since you felt rather disrespected by that, you haven’t really spoken to him since. The highest form of communication was a forced smile when he would greet you in the hallway. You don’t have any common classes anymore.

However, your fiasco concerning Rodricks tutoring lessons didn’t stop his mom from asking you to tutor her younger son who, unsurprisingly, was falling behind in math as well. The significant difference this time was, that you were being paid. So even if Greg turned out to be just as uninterested in what you were saying as his older brother, it wouldn’t be a complete waste of time, at least for you.

That’s how you ended up in the local library every Monday and Wednesday for the last few weeks, explaining math to the younger brother of your former crush.

Today was different though. Since the library had to close down for a week, because of renovations, you decided to meet at the Heffleys house instead.

The last thing Rodrick expected, when he went downstairs to raid the fridge for snacks, was finding his crush of 3 years sitting in his living room.

Having his eyes fixed on you, he misses the last step, causing him to stumble, managing in the last second to grasp the railing to stop himself from face-planting. The result was him reaching the end of the stairs with a loud crash.

“You surely know how to make a remarkable entrance.”

“Haha yeah, hi.” He nervously scratches the back of his head “What are you… hah… what are you doing here?” ‘Stay cool Rodrick, you got this!’

“What does it look like? She’s tutoring me dumbass” The oldest Heffley son honestly didn’t even realize his younger brothers presence until he spoke up.

“Ah cool, so uhm good luck?” With another awkward laugh, he turns around and runs back upstairs.

Back in his room, he begins to panic, if he would have known that you were here he would have prepared better. But he’s sure he can still wing it.

First of all, he’s calling the band over for practice, I mean, he has his own band, chicks dig that.

He has it all planned out in his head, he will put on nice clothes, a nice perfume, and maybe even a bit of eyeliner as well, surely you’re into that. Then he’s gonna go downstairs, let his band in, and have a little jamming session with the boys.

Then there are two possible ways how the plan could continue to play out.

Possibility one, you hear his band playing from the living room and are so impressed that you just have to go and get a closer look. After that, he is going to invite you to sit in on practice for a bit longer. At the end of the session mesmerized will be an understatement to describe your state of mind and you won’t even have to think about it twice when he finally asks you out on a date.

The second possible outcome of you hearing him play is that you, while amazed, are still too shy to come up to him, so he will take a little break to get himself something to drink. Like one of those movie cliches, he’s gonna come in all sweaty, taking a sip of water and then emptying the rest of the bottle over his face and body to ‚cool himself down. Women find that hot, right? You definitely won’t be able to take your eyes off of him then.

While he is daydreaming about you drooling over him, he simultaneously digs through his closet, trying to find this one specific band shirt, that he bought after overhearing you gushing about their newest album. At the same time as he finds it, he hears his friends pull up, making him change in record speed while leaving his room to go back downstairs.

“Oh my god thank you for finally changing your shirt, the last one was smelling disgusting after you’ve been wearing it for like two weeks straight.” Greg had picked up on Rodricks crush on his tutor instantly, quickly deciding that using this new information to mess with him is the best form of revenge for the years of torture his brother put him through.

“Ugh shut up.” He turns to you “He’s lying you know. I change my clothes an appropriate amount of times. I actually just got ready for band practice. You remember me telling you about my band right? The boys are gonna be here any minute now.” He tries to be casual by leaning against the railing of the stairs but ends up stumbling instead.

“Yeah, I remember,” You don’t seem too happy about it though “But why do you have your shirt on backwards?”

Rodricks head snaps down. Fuck. Greg giggles. An awkward silence follows.

He's saved by the doorbell ringing, followed by the other Löded Diaper members walking in.

“Hi bro!”

“Yo Rodrick!”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Why do you have your shirt on backwards?”

This time it’s you who giggles.

Sensing how embarrassed their band founder is, the boys take pity on him and rush him away.

After Rodrick explained his plan to his friends, resulting in him getting hyped up by them, they played for a while. After about 30 minutes he concludes that you won’t make the first move, which brings him to execute plan B of his strategy: to take matters into his own hands.

“You got this man!” He jogs back towards the living room, expecting to find you and his younger brother still studying but instead, he is greeted with Greg sitting in front of the tv playing video games.

“Oh is your tutoring session over already?” He tries to sound unbordered but fails horribly.

“Yeah you know I found it really hard to concentrate with this loud music, so we cut today short.” Greg grins up at the oldest Heffley child.

“Listen up you little shit-” he doesn’t finish his sentence. Maybe he could use Gregs help for his own benefit since you always seem to flee when he tries to make a move. It was the same a few years ago.

He had it all planned out back then as well. First, he was gonna ask you out for a study date, well that didn’t quite work out and it ended up more like a tutoring session. However, the result was that you two were spending some alone time together, so you could say that he roughly reached his initial goal. At least he counted it as a success.

Then Rodrick was going to make you fall for him. And how was he gonna do that? By impressing you of course. And what is the best way to impress a girl? Being in a band! Easy.

Well, that didn’t work out, driving you away even further. So maybe he could use his younger brother to get some inside info on what you like in men and what makes you fall for them.

Rodrick is fast to lay out his new plan to Greg.

“And why would I assist you with that? What is in it for me?” As expected, he is not exactly keen on helping his older brother out. So threatening it is.

“Cause if you don’t, you will regret it.” Greg is about to refuse again when he gets an idea. This would be the perfect way to get revenge on Rodrick. He is just gonna spin around everything you say and make his older brother ruin every chance he's ever had with you.

“Alright fine, I’ll do it.”

—

“Okay spit it out!” You and Greg are seated at your usual table at the library “You haven’t been able to sit still since you got here, what’s wrong?”

“I have a question.” He is not looking at you.

“Okay shoot!”

Greg has been thinking about how to interrogate you about your type without raising suspicions since the day he agreed to help Rodrick. “So there is this girl I kind of like and I wanted to ask you for advice. If a guy would want to go out with you, what would he need to do to stir your interest?”

“Well, every girl is different so-”

“Yeah but what about you?”

That confuses you a bit, but Greg asking you for girl advice was cute enough for you to not overanalyze it further.

“Well me personally, I like sweet and considerate guys,…”

—

“So what did she say?!” Rodrick was waiting for his younger brother at the front door, attacking him with questions as soon as he was close enough to hear.

“Calm down! So first of all she said, that she likes assholes you know, just your typical badboy!”

—

“…you know, the kind of guy who listens to what you have to say and really values your opinion. I want someone who actually hears what I say and shows that he is interested in me as a person...”

—

“She wants someone who is just a natural leader, an alpha, someone who makes decisions for her and shows dominance by interrupting her frequently. Also don’t seem too eager, she said she finds that overwhelming and just too much. Play it cool, act like you don’t care.”

—

“… so that means I also prefer deeper compliments, not just about my looks. Of course, it's nice to be called pretty every once in a while, but there is nothing worse than a guy repeatedly telling you how attractive you are, without ever appreciating anything else about you! Like is that the only thing about me that you like, my looks?…”

—

“She also likes to be complimented about her looks a lot, the more the better. Don’t even bother with any other kinds of compliments. ”

—

“… And lastly, never compliment a woman by putting other women down. The whole ‘Oh you're just not like other girls’ thing is deeply rooted in misogyny. It’s never a flattering compliment when it's only working because you are putting someone else down.”

—

“And lastly, she wants to feel special, you know, the best compliments include a comparison, for example, tell her how she is prettier than other women!”

Rodrick was hastily writing everything down.

“Thank you so much, I owe you!”

“No problem”

—

While you forgot about Gregs weird behavior as soon as you go back to explaining math, you are reminded of it again later, when he asks you to have your next session at his house, without giving an actual reason.

The weirdness reached its peak when he, shortly after you arrived at his house the next week, excused himself to quote ‘Look for, uh… you know,… a thing? That’s in my room’, then went to the bathroom instead, and ‘coincidentally’ as soon as he left his older brother showed up.

“Heyyy what’s up?” Rodrick mentally revises the list he learned by heart last night.

‘Be an asshole’ he kicks your water bottle that was standing next to you, “Oops…”

“Rodrick what the fu-”

‘Show dominance’

“Pick it up!”

“Excuse me? What is wrong wit-”,

‘Act like you don’t care’

“Quit talking like I care about what you have to say, what was your name again?”

“Wh- We both know that you know my name, what the fu-”,

‘Compliment her looks’

“You’re hot!”

And lastly, ‘Make her feel special by comparing her to other women’

“Especially compared to the other girls at school”.

A perfect delivery. He did everything that Greg told him to do. But why did you seem so angry? You looked like you were ready to swing at him.

That’s when he saw it. His shitty little brother was watching the interaction through the slightly opened bathroom door, holding a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. When he catches Rodricks eye he slams the door shut.

“I’m gonna kill you!” He is sprinting towards the room his brother is hiding in, banging his fists against the door.

“What the fuck is going on?” You haven’t been so confused in a long time. That’s when it clicked for you too. That’s why Greg was acting so weird, that’s why he asked about YOUR dating preferences specifically. He asked for advice for Rodrick but must have messed with his brother, based on the older ones reaction.

“Rodrick, were you trying to hit on me?” Your voice is heavily laced with disbelief.

The boy stopped his obnoxious assault on the door.

“Did it work?”

You barely hold in your laugh. “Sure.”

“Wait really?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Your smile is kinder now, finding this side of Rodrick, where he is eager to appeal to you, really endearing. Shit, are your feelings for him coming back? You definitely were completely over your crush before, so how did he so easily wrap you around his finger again?

“I would have never guessed that you out of all people were into me, you know, after the little stunt you pulled a while ago.”

“What do you mean?” Rodrick is confused, when did he do something that made you believe that he wasn’t interested in you?

“Our tutoring session? When you completely disrespected me by not even listening to me after you were the one to ask for help.”

“I was listening to you! It's just hard to concentrate when you are so… you! And your voice is so…” Wow he just has this way with words “And I didn't intend for it to be actually studying when I ask you. I just wanted an excuse to hang out with you, maybe impress you a bit, my band being the impressive part by the way, and then later ask you out on a date.” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly.

“And this little scene that played out just now, I guess that was Gregs doing?”

“Yes, since it didn’t work out the last two times I tried to get you to go out with me, I thought this was the best way to do it.”

Oh, your crush was definitely back, and bigger than ever at that.

“Well you never actually asked me out, maybe that would have been enough.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know, guess you have to ask to find out.”

[carlyraejepsans]

Rate UT characters on likely they are to eat spoiled food

premise: as monster food does not spoil, this speculation is based on how i think they'd treat human food in the post pacifist ending

frisk. trash burger. enough said. (also i hc that they grew up on the streets, so... not a lot of chances to be picky with your food.)

sans. second most likely. there's milk in the fridge bought specifically for him to drink out of the carton whenever frisk's or papyrus' friends come to visit, like a stereotypical disney channel older brother (he loves being annoying on purpose). it's been there for a month. he's still not done with it. it's probably rancid. enjoyer of food and lover of even shittier food. mr worst burger on the menu. he is ESPECIALLY gross about food and he is gross about it on purpose, he will peel an apple for papyrus and then take a bite out of it before cutting him a slice. and then call him a wuss when he acts disgusted. ("stop being a baby bones, we have the same germs anyway" "NO WE DON'T. *YOU* HAVE GERMS! AND I DON'T WANT ANY OF THEM!!" "why? they're pedigreed" "OUGH!?!!"). he mostly uses it as a chance to make a gag (or a lack of gagging, lol) but his strong stomach did also come in handy in the early days of papyrus' interest in cooking

mettaton, of sequins-and-glue hamburgers fame. he's technically tied for 2nd place with sans, but i put him in third because i feel like sans does it on purpose, for mettaton it's more like... a side effect of starting life off as a ghost. few people question it since he's a robot now.

alphys. she doesn't go out of her way to do it, but she buys her snacks in industrial pallet-fuls to reduce social interactions to a minimum, so by the time she reaches the last 3 or 4 packets of blue takis, they're well past their expiration date. not that it stops her. now, this wouldn't happen on the surface because she gets better and has a solid support system, but if monster food could spoil back when she was going Through it with the amalgamates, i feel like she'd either be too depressed or tired to care and eat it, or she'd tumble into a "g-god. you can't even take care of your own f-food. is there anything you can't fuck up" self-deprecation spiral and lose her appetite altogether

flowey. did it to see what would happen. nothing did. never did it again. tbh I just don't think he eats much of anything, spoiled or not.

undyne. getting into the "wouldn't eat spoiled food" tier. she actually thinks it's really gross but papyrus tricks her into doing it by challenging her machismo. she gets SO sick from it. they do this aprox 3 times a month. rinse and repeat

asgore. he's a gardener, and i can see him working in a community garden on the surface, so he'd have access to a lot of fresh produce, for both himself and to give away. however, if some of it were to go bad, he'd probably cut off the affected bit and eat the rest so it doesn't go to waste.

toriel. she is SUPER careful about expiration dates and mold and checks to make sure all she owns is still safe to eat almost weekly. this level of care, however, is mostly meant for other people, not herself, but she would really rather not eat anything that's gone bad. same reasoning as alphys', IF monster food could spoil when she was still in the RUINs, i could technically see her biting the bullet, if only because 1) she was also heavily depressed and struggling to take care of herself, though i think she might sooner skip out on the meal altogether, rather than eat something spoiled, and 2) the awkward stares from the other monsters in the RUINs supermarket might not be something she's willing to deal with on any given day.

papyrus. he would NOT. no way. master of cleaning, germophobe extraordinaire papyrus (well, not really, but he plays the part). if toriel is meticulous, papyrus is obsessive. there better not be a SINGLE spot on his food. and no lines or plaid patterns either!! he WILL wash it untill it goes away. with soap probably. canonically a picky eater to begin with (his picks are just weird as balls). can should and WILL get on sans' ass about his unhealthy eating habits, and that includes eating food that's gone bad.

[misscammiedawn]

Legitimacy vs Selection Bias in Hypnosis

This has been on our mind a lot recently. It's mostly been sparked by the recent Mindless Banter podcast run by @theleeallure @enscenic and @hypno-sandwich where the three hosts spoke about how they dislike academic models of hypnosis and a recent post by @h-sleepingirl discussing why they herald hypnotic education.

One thing that is always going to be true about the advocates of our kink who have been involved with the community for a long time is that we are going to be experienced and capable hypnotists and/or hypnotees.

Likewise those who join and find themselves brought in to the fold tend to self-select; if a person is not able to find any success or joy in hypnosis because it's not working or they do not gel with the styles taught and practiced then they will not hang around.

This means that we have a functioning ecosystem of people who know the lingo, who are primed to react as they should and tend to have things work for them.

Which is great! It makes it so much easier to work out when everyone is on the same page.

But it also creates an insular community.

I've written before on why the insular nature of our community worries me.

One of the lines I wrote in that post was this

One of the big differences between the online erotic hypnosis community and the NGH (National Guild of Hypnotists) who rue our existence is that we do not require legitimacy to function when they themselves exist in a half-truth state where when receiving both of my certifications it was impressed that we needed to perform an uneasy dance of providing services without practicing medicine because hypnotherapy is not licensed psychology in the same was that chiropractors are not performing medicine.

Legitimacy is the idea of taking what we do, what we are, what we believe and what we practice and trying to make it valid to those outside of the community. It's performing studies, it's building a framework of hard rules, it's about pretending that we understand how the brain works beyond the anecdotal evidence that we witness it every day within our corners and communities.

Fact is, hypnosis is a malleable and belief-based practice that rests right in the middle between faith and science. As mentioned in the above linked post, trance can be detected on an EEG:

Source

Our last post on this topic just spoke about accepting that we exist in a soft science where what we believe, how we approach our beliefs and what ideas we allow to take root in our minds will have a firm impact on how the minds of the hypnotists and hypnotees we interact with.

Today I want to talk about why keeping the education and the science involved in the conversation is important.

Because, like the Mindless Banter crew, I have reached the point of my career in hypnoplay where should Dawn wish to induce a trance she need only find a partner, lay out what will happen and perform. The rest of it just happens.

Once you reach a level of confidence and community, it pretty much takes care of itself. The interaction between a hypnotist and a person who has never experienced trance before and the interaction between a hypnotist and an enthusiast will play out differently.

What I mean by this is if Dawn is approached in DM by someone who wants a session she will be able to pick up a number of tells without even noticing it on their confidence and experience. Someone shy, unsure and untrained will not dive straight in. Which makes the encounter less likely and even if it does happen it comes from the power dynamic of a teacher and student rather than two enthusiasts going to town.

This is normal and it's not a bad thing. It just means that the typical educator in the hypnokink community is typically aware of the "weight class" of their hypnotees which paints their expectations of how things will go and allows for a line between the way hypnosis is taught in 101 and how it is practiced in enthusiast circles.

It's why Progressive Muscle Relaxation is something which gets scoffed at a lot in our circles. The typical enthusiast does not need to spend 20 minutes on an induction when their typical partner is someone they can hold the shoulders of, stare at with intent and give permission for the hypnotee to drop.

That isn't to say that experienced hypnotists only play with experienced hypnotees. It just means that the majority of the play from those who educate does not match the material that we teach to beginners. Not a bad thing.

But it does breed this divide I mentioned. Between the experience of those who do this all the time and what is "academic".

So, besides helping new people into the community or playing in pure theoretical space, why must we keep the academic approach involved?

Well, first... the science does inform what we do. Yes, a lot of this is based on belief but there is a large amount of the science which is just fact no matter what we do. The neuroplasticity of traumatized brains is a topic we type about a lot given our dissociative disorder. I mentioned in my Dissociative Disorders and Hypnosis post that there are multiple studies that there's a higher hypnotic suggestibility in those with conditions that include dissociation as a symptom. The fact that this was being taught in a 101 class was why I made that post to begin with.

From my Mind Makes It Real post I mentioned that we need to be aware of the truths to keep ourselves in check. We should always be wondering "am I wrong?" about everything and the moment one lets go of the academic framework and commits to the loose ethos of "it just works" you lose a little bit of that footing and external perspective. We're an insular community and there's an element of "the popular ideas win out", not to stress a point too much but the whole hatred of the progressive muscle relaxation induction is a good example of this. I know a few community leaders who reflexively rant any time they hear it. These people have the ability to control the con schedule. They teach classes and part of their lesson is their personal disdain for that approach. This goes into the minds of those who were taught by that person and becomes part of the internal dogma. Suddenly you have a situation where a minority of people in the community need to defend the PMR.

I do not actually care too much about PMR but it really is one of the most accessible entry level trances and the disdain for it is a little gatekeepy, if I am being honest. I don't think any individual means for it to be something they keep out of the community but enough individuals following a trend creates a community concept, a widely held belief.

And hypnosis is entirely about widely held beliefs. Thus it is now a fact that PMR is boring and ineffective and there's more fun ways to do trance. That is an example, hopefully one that is understandable to an audience who are also into hypnokink (apologies to my non-hypnosis Tumblr followers, I hope if you're reading this you enjoy this peak into a little internet sub-culture).

Which brings me to legitimacy.

Do we really need it?

Hypnosis is both science and fantasy. A person attending a hypnokink convention could treat hypnosis with the technical skill and care that one would approach as ropeplay, learning all of the different terms and all of the safety procedures and treating it as a psychological version of what can be physically observed.

But you may also have someone who treats hypnosis as roleplay and improv with a framework not too dissimilar from a tabletop sourcebook for D/s shenanigans that they can learn and play within much the same as a D&D player can switch to World of Darkness. I guarantee there are a large number of people in the hypnosis community who do this and they're not wrong for doing it.

But as I mentioned above. Hypnosis is a scientifically observable phenomenon and it is dangerous if abused. Heaven knows I know that more than most. One must not believe in the dangers for them to be real. An immature hypnotist is a danger to a hypnotee regardless of if they think they are roleplaying or performing edgeplay. And the same is true for a hypnotee, too. If one believes it's all roleplay then their limits and safety will be at a different level than someone who is aware of the risks.

One need only look to the dark corners of our community where covert hypnosis is practiced eagerly, recruitment is a game and personality erasure is an aesthetic to know that there are uncomfortably large swaths who are practicing hypnosis from the perspective of fantasy. I do not want to pull out the news articles about how Disney Deer brainwashing ruined people's lives again.

The good news is that within the educator/convention going portion of the community we do teach this stuff. We do make everything clear. We're not currently in a community where academic approaches are shrugged off.

But it makes me uncomfortable when experienced educators in the community forget how far their words reach and dismiss the academic for the sake of "what works".

We do not need to seek legitimacy for the eyes of those outside of the community. We do not Demand To Be Taken Seriously. We have a community where people are welcome to join or not join. We do not need external legitimacy.

But we need internal legitimacy.

We need the people who practice within our care to know that they're practicing with dangerous tools that can and will mess a person up if treated without proper care.

Safety and education require we keep room for the academic and seek to legitimize what we do or those who look at hypnosis as pure fantasy will not be able to recognize the risk.

At least, that's my opinion.

-

For more of our ramblings on hypnosis and the hypnosis community, please check out our Hypnokink Writing tag for other bits of education and commentary like this <3

[ltbarnes]

‘Tis the Damn Season

Stark U #6

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, you’re too drunk, you’ve basically avoided Bucky and Steve for six months and the last person you’d want to meet at this party just happens to be yelling in your face. The panic attack is inevitable, really.

Pairing: college!Steve Rogers x reader, college!Bucky Barnes x reader, college!Sam Wilson x reader, college!Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: so much angst, past SA, alcohol, talk about violence, Christmas celebrations, things finally start to happen, kissing :)

A/N: Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates and to those who don’t, I hope you have a good few days anyways <3 This is the first I’ve posted since July which is awful of me so sorry

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You didn't see them all summer. The day after your last exam was over, you bolted back to your hometown and spent the entire summer selectively ignoring messages from Bucky and Natasha and Steve and Sam asking what you were doing and how your summer was going and maybe you could all meet up and go somewhere and—

It's December now, and every goddamn day since June you have been trying to figure out if what Bucky said to you when you were sick was a fever-induced hallucination or if he really, actually, said that he wanted you to take his last name someday. It made you panic, because the entire spring term you tried to convince yourself that your feelings towards them were batshit crazy and any inkling to them feeling the same was a delusional reach, grasping for crumbs that in reality were just friendly gestures. And then he says that.

"She's just practicing her future last name, Stevie."

So, yeah...things have been weird. Three months have passed since classes started and none of you want to mention what happened right before summer break. Actually, with each day passing you feel more like maybe it was just a hallucination or a very vivid dream, because both Bucky and Steve act like it never even happened. Bucky even had his mouth latched onto some blonde sophomore at a dumb, stupid frat party on Halloween. You went home right after and cried for two hours. But it's not hard to conclude that even if there was some spark or connection or anything beyond friendship with either of them before summer, it has died out completely.

The subject will probably never be broached. You're too scared of confrontation and definitely too scared of revealing unreciprocated feelings for that to happen. The slightly tense atmosphere in the loft is entirely your fault—your lack of communication with anyone in the group during the summer has made them a little confused, you guess. You mostly spend time in your room, giving excuses of studying and talking with parents on the phone and 'I'm just tired, sorry'.

Spending too much time with Natasha scares you too, because she reads you so well and you don't want her to know how hurt and unhappily in love you are. She'll try to do something about it and then Steve and Bucky will catch on and then you will end up rejected and labeled as crazy, because who the fuck falls in love with two people?

That doesn't mean you've managed to avoid her. Living in the same apartment as her definitely makes that hard, but just the fact that she won't let you makes it impossible. Last week she even broke into your room when you had it locked, because apparently she knows how to pick a lock open in under ten seconds. She absolutely knows something is off, but so far she hasn't brought it up.

Natasha is the sole reason why you're now standing in the backyard of some rich kid's house just off campus, surrounded by smoke from cheap cigarettes and fairy lights hung up between the trees and one too many shots of vodka in your blood. It's December utterly and thoroughly—there's snow on the ground but people still haven't accepted the fact that wearing their short dresses and tank tops without jackets does not work anymore. Ice drops hangs from the tree where you stand, listening to Natasha talk with a drunken girl looking for her phone.

It's fun, sure. Not the worst party you've been to and not the best either. You talked to the girl you've been sitting next to in History class earlier for almost twenty minutes. Got free vodka. It's Friday and you don't have any exams to study for. None of that makes you forget that things aren't the same.

"Nat. Nat." You poke her shoulder repeatedly, obnoxiously probably, until she glances over her shoulder with a slight glare.

"What is it?"

"I'm gonna get 'nother drink. Inside," you tell her, pointing with your thumb towards a hedge even though it was meant to be the door. Natasha seems to understand anyway.

"Okay. Don't wander off too long. And come back here right after."

"Yes, ma'am." You give her a half-assed salute before turning around, swaying slightly in your step. It's the uneven and slippery surface of the snow-covered ground, you tell yourself.

There's a lot of people here, is what you note as you push yourself through the seemingly endless crowds of the living room. You kind of hate that they haven't played a single song you like and if Steve was here he would agree, because he doesn't listen to any music made after the internet was born. Bucky would then make fun of Steve and you would laugh and everything would be right in the world. Instead you're pressed to kitchen drawers of a dark kitchen, cheap vodka mixed with soda running down your throat.

The kitchen is crowded too, but either way it's a respite from whatever the hell's going on in the living room. Jumping up and down and calling it dancing (you were doing the same the hour before). You're too drunk to be miserable about everything happening in your life this entire term and much too drunk to feel the absolute atrocious taste of your drink.

In half an hour you will probably throw up and tomorrow will be spent nursing a horrible hangover, but those consequences seem insignificant right now. You just keep thinking about the image of Bucky shoving his tongue down someone's throat that wasn't yours. It was heartbreaking. That he's not here is a good thing, because you'd either witness the same thing again or actually bring it up to him, and that's much worse. God knows it's only a matter of time before Steve does the same thing.

Someone pushes into you, forcing the liquid from your cup to spill from the confines of the red plastic onto your dress. It's black, so it doesn't really matter, but the alcohol still seeps through the fabric until it reaches your skin.

"Shit, fuck—"

Your hand tries to somehow dry your dress by fanning the fabric, which obviously doesn't help very much, and the paper towels placed on the counter in front of you escape your drunken mind completely.

Fresh air and icy winter winds are the only options, so you push through and stumble into people on your way outside. It takes a lot longer than it should. You can't really see much considering the dizziness and darkness inside, but somehow, magically, you are eventually dragging your way towards Natasha who stands in the same place as before.

"Nat. Natty—I spilled. Look."

The black dress with the now wet patch is lifted towards her by your hands, highlighted for her to see. You sway as you tell her.

"Jesus, you can barely stand straight," Natasha answers with a stabling hand to your shoulder, shaking her head to herself instead of focusing on the very urgent fact that you spilled on yourself.

Natasha turns to the girl she's talking to, saying something you can't bother to decipher, before stepping aside with a guiding arm around you.

"We gotta get you home before you embarrass yourself for real," she mumbles underneath her breath.

"I heard that," you whisper, a loud hiccup following. Whoops.

She rolls her eyes, fishing her phone up from her pocket.

"Who—who you writing? To?" you ask, slightly aware that your sentences lack correct structure but not really caring. As long as the message comes across, right?

"I'm texting Steve. I can't drive and you sure as hell can't."

Even in your state, panic instantly sets in over the mention of his name even though you live in the same goddamn apartment.

"Nooo. No Steve."

Your hand grasps for her phone. Nat pulls it away from your reach much quicker than you can comprehend.

"Yes Steve. You're a mess and he's the only one with the patience to take care of this level of drunk. I don't care that you're avoiding them for some stupid goddamn reason," she tells you.

"Nat," you whine. "He can't see me. I spilled!"

She just glares at you. "I swear to god, Y/n...nobody cares that you spilled your drink. I can't even see it."

"I'm so drunk!"

"Yeah, I know. Just—just stay here, okay? I'm going to get you some water so you can sober up by the time your precious Steve comes for us."

Natasha is heading inside before you can process her words. Waiting in place for a few minutes turns into an eternity in your mind. She should know better than to leave you unattended and then expect you to stay—really, it's her own fault. You will accept no blame if Nat gets mad at you for going inside again. It's cold and you need to go to the bathroom. Also, you're mad at her. Telling Steve to come get you? That's just...embarrassing.

Once again you're shouldering your way past people on about the same level of intoxication as you. There's a bad remix of a Christmas song playing loudly. Makes you wanna punch whoever's phone is connected to the speaker. The bathroom is so, so far away. It's something the architect of this house should've thought of before he put it at the very end of this long hallway you're currently making your way through, but clearly he didn't have you in mind.

"Fuck! Watch where you're going, asshole," some girl seethes at you as your shoulder nudges against hers. A nudge is an exaggeration—you brushed against it at most. She's probably an aggressive drunk, that's all.

You don't answer, instead fumbling for the door handle to what you believe might be the bathroom. Some couple is making out in here, the girl with her ass planted on the edge of the bathtub and the guy nearly devouring her face. Doesn't look very pleasant, if you're honest.

"Out. I need to pee."

Your hands find their way to their shoulders, ushering the lovesick pair out of the room without much protest from either of them. They're still making out as they walk out.

Despite your less than sober state, you manage to remember to lock the door after they leave. Some of the mascara that previously inhabited your lashes has moved down to rest under your eyes. You rub it away, smudging it slightly, but it just makes you look a little more like one of those cool girls you always see on campus. It will do.

You kind of want to throw up, but decide against it. That hasn't happened since you were a freshman, and you'd like to keep it that way. Staring at yourself in the mirror occupies your time in the bathroom instead, swaying slightly with your hands placed on the cold sink. If Steve saw you now he would be so disappointed. At least you imagine he would be—that fatherly look on his face as he tells you how you need to be more mindful with your alcohol consumption. Did you even watch who poured your drink? Never go anywhere alone at a party. Especially not a frat one. You know better than this, Y/n.

Steve's imaginary voice is interrupted by someone banging on the door, shouting for you to hurry the fuck up. It's been over ten minutes, but to you it just feels like three, and Natasha has been looking for you ever since she returned to the garden with a glass of water in her hand and no one to give it to. It's not her banging on the door, unfortunately, but instead a dickhead guy who has no patience. Can't a girl spend some time alone in the bathroom doing nothing anymore?

The guy glares at you as you push the door open, stumbling out into the crowded hallway while paying him no mind. It's dark save for the red LED-lights plastered on the walls, making it feel like a seedy dive bar instead of a seedy house. You don't see much.

"Hey! Hey, you—the girl with the black dress!"

Someone pushes their way past the people talking and making out and leaning against the walls, shoving through them as he searches for your attention. Of course, you don't really think it's you he's after. Half of the people at this party are wearing black dresses.

A clammy hand finds purchase on your shoulder, halting you in your less than gracious steps and turning you around with ease. Head tilted back, gaze running upwards until they settle on the face of a quite attractive guy. He doesn't look pretty happy to see you. You're not very happy to see him either.

The blood drains from your face, stealing away all that alcohol-induced heat within a second as his curly hair and green eyes look down at you with that same contempt he had when Sam dragged him away from the kitchen almost a year ago. You had hoped you never had to see him again. It was a naive thing to wish for.

"Y/n, right?" he asks bitterly. You don't answer, but he takes your silence as a yes. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway. His slightly crooked nose was perfectly straight the last time you saw him. His face is committed to your memory, burned in to taunt you on sleepless nights and everytime an unknown man walks a little too closely when you're out alone. "Your little boyfriend broke my fucking nose. You know that?"

Another rhetorical question. Definitely more threatening. Might be the tight grip he has on your arm too. Either way, his mere presence has apparently stripped away your ability to breathe normally. It feels like you've been running to the point of nausea, dark spots dancing before your eyes as he shakes you in attempt to get an answer.

"You ruined my fucking reputation. For what? I barely touched you. Such a sensitive fucking bitch, going around telling everyone that..." His voice trails off, ushering you into a quiet corner when he realizes people are staring. "Got nothing to say now, huh? Been so good at running your fucking mouth before, haven't you?"

"Let me go," you whisper, voice wavering. You don't sound assertive at all, instead weak and fearful. It's what you feel, as an upbeat, slightly bad cover rendition of "All I Want For Christmas" booms through the house. Girls shrieking in excitement over in the living room reaches your ears. You would have joined them if you weren't currently cornered by the guy who assaulted you in your own kitchen a year ago.

"No, we're going to fucking talk. What the fuck were you doing, going around saying shit like that about me to everyone?"

"I...I didn't..." Your lips part between words, breathing out shakily, trying to articulate sentences long enough to make sense. Why can't you speak? Why can't you even think?

"You didn't what?" he seethes. "You're such a fucking bitch, you know that? Acts all innocent and hides behind her friends. My nose is fucking crooked forever because of that fuckhead you sent after me."

Is it the alcohol that renders you this goddamn useless? There's just tears springing to your eyes, unable to say anything in defense of yourself. Can't even walk away.

He pushes you against the wall, knocking the breath out of you. To other people it probably looks like you're hooking up. At least that's what you hope they think, because otherwise you want to wonder why no one is intervening.

"Joshua, please let me go," you tell him again, even more pathetic this time. You're crying now, curled in on yourself in attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

"Fuck, you're so—"

"She told you to let her go."

The assertive, familiar tone booms through the hallway. It doesn't really, can probably only be heard by the people around you, but it feels like it when Steve's tall figure pushes through with hasty steps towards where you and Joshua stand, followed by a glaring Bucky with his jaw clenched so fucking tightly. A sob of relief is drawn from your lips, muffled by the back of your hand.

Joshua steps back instantly. Kind of funny to think that he's so scared of those two, and sad to think that he only respects a 'no' when it comes from men.

"Nice nose job," Bucky speaks up, pointing at his own nose as he stares at Joshua's crooked one, courtesy of the damn good punch he managed to land with his left fist all those months ago.

"Fuck you," Joshua growls, taking a step forward in attempt to appear more threatening or something. He doesn't really succeed—both Bucky and Steve towers over him in both length and build, unrelenting in their stance. As if they're stone walls keeping out the enemy.

Steve rolls his his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. "Just get out of here. Don't go near her ever again, you hear me? Bucky's glad to fix your nose otherwise. Break it right back. Can't promise the result will be very good, though."

Bucky stands slightly behind Steve, raising an eyebrow in Joshua's direction that tells him there's not even a trace of a lie in the blonde giant's statement.

"You—fuck this." Joshua throws his hands in the air, aiming the most distasteful glare over his shoulder in your direction, before pushing past Steve and Bucky with a shove.

Your body instantly deflates, the tension melting off your limbs as you close your eyes and lean back against the wall. Gentle, firm hands instantly reach your cheeks, your arms, searching for any trace Joshua might have left behind on your body.

"Hey, hey. Y/n, are you okay? Did he touch you? Sweetheart, look at me."

Bucky's voice draws you out of the anxious, panicked state you slipped into, fluttering your eyelids open to see his worried frown and an equally worried Steve looming behind him. Wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes greet them, pupils dilated from the alcohol.

"Y/n, are you hurt? How long have you two been talking?" Steve adds, looming over you in such a way that his large frame blocks out any of the colorful lights plastered on the walls.

They already know you're drunk—Natasha was the one to call them here to get you, after all. Maybe your silence and obvious intoxication makes it clear to them after a couple of seconds that an answer from you is a few minutes away, a few miles of distance from this foggy, packed house. Nothing more is said or requested from you. Instead your trembling form is led away and out into the biting cold by gentle hands belonging to your friends. Even your slight shock can't shield you from freezing your ass off as soon as you get out into the fresh air again, teeth beginning to chatter within the second step on tightly packed snow.

"What the—where the hell have you been? I swear to god, Y/n, I was gone for two minutes! I've been looking for you everywhere!" an angry Natasha yells, running perfectly towards the three of you down the slippery lawn to where Steve is currently helping you into the backseat of his car.

"Nat," Steve says, giving her a pleading look that silently tells her it's not the time for a scolding.

"What? I told her to stay put when I went to get her a glass of water and she just disappeared out of nowhere. Slippery motherfucker while drunk, I swear she'll be the death of me—"

"Nat," he repeats, sternly this time. In that tone only he masters, silencing even the most eager tongues with a single exhale. "She met Joshua. And she's not okay. So please, leave your yelling for tomorrow and get in the car."

Steve holds the passenger door open, gesturing for the seat beside Bucky. He's turning the key, letting the car warm up properly while he clutches the wheel tightly. Natasha's irritated frown turns into a concerned one, nodding silently before slipping inside. Steve closes the door shut behind her.

You lean your head against the frost-covered window, fogged up by your breath two inches away from it, and close your eyes. Steve leans over you, reaching for the belt and fastens it over your torso. You forgot. He never does.

It's no surprise, doesn't startle you despite your absentminded state, when his warm hand cups your cheek, turns your head to face him. Soft, blue gaze and ridiculously long lashes. It's nothing but contrasting against the clouds released from your mouths with each breath—warm, concerned...loving? Maybe.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, thumb rubbing over your cheek.

You nod. "Yes. I am now."

Bucky puts his foot on the gas, turns on the blinker, and pulls away from the curb, out onto the streets. It's nearly soundless. The usual rumble from wheels against road is cushioned by the snow.

"This was a mistake. Sorry, I can't—" Sam gags, moving his head out of the bathroom before returning his presence within a few seconds. "You're a real shitty guard, Nat. Why'd you let her drink this much?"

All four of your roommates are gathered in the bathroom, surrounding you as if you're a newly born lion cub in a zoo, while you puke your guts out into the toilet. Steve is kneeling on the floor beside you, a comforting hand rubbing your back, while Bucky sits a few feet away with a glass of water in hand, ready for whenever you need it.

"Fuck you. You weren't there—she was like a goddamn ghost, just slipping away everytime I blinked. Looked fucking everywhere for her. 'S not my fault," Nat answers, residing on the floor of the shower in lack of space.

"Not true," you murmur in answer, your voice echoing off the ceramic surrounding you.

You're pretty much done throwing up, it's just the exhaustion following that's keeping you slumped over on the bathroom tile. Your hand stretches out in Bucky's direction, reaching for the glass of water that's gulped down within a few seconds.

"Careful. Gonna get sick again if you do it this fast," Bucky says, unable to help himself from brushing away the stray drops of water running down your chin.

The gesture is nothing new from him. He did it when you were sick all those months ago too, and you haven't forgotten it at all. His thumb gently rubbing over your skin as if you're precious, something deserving of gentleness, is engraved into your mind. You're thankful for getting most of the alcohol out of your system, because you might not have remembered this moment in the morning if not. Fuck it if you forgot the way his pupils widen just slightly, as if he didn't mean to, as if he couldn't help himself.

"I'm fine," you whisper in answer, clearing your throat. "Got it all out."

"Good." Steve's hand moves up from your back to your head, stroking it for just a second before withdrawing his touch. "Let's get you to the couch."

"I don't wanna go to the couch. Wanna be in my bed." You're pouting. Maybe there is some trace of alcohol left in you.

"Steve and Buck will feel much less like creepy stalkers if they stare at you sleeping on the couch instead of hovering around your bedroom all night like a bunch of pervs," Natasha speaks up. A snort follows after, as if it was a joke and not a statement. Definitely tipsy too, despite unwilling to admit such a weakness.

Steve raises a reprimanding eyebrow Natasha's way, telling her to shut her mouth with just his gaze. She smirks in answer.

"Don't listen to her. A fucking liar," Bucky remarks, but there's still some form of amusement in his expression. He can't even deny the statement—he is going to watch over you. Doesn't really matter if it's in the living room or in your bedroom. "Now let's get you up. C'mon."

With a push from your arms against the cold tile, you're standing on two legs again. Steve is hovering his hand near your back, ready to support if the vodka decides to topple you over. But you're fine—just tired now.

For ten minutes it feels things are back to normal again. On the living room couch, nestled in between them, your head leaning on Steve's shoulder as a stupid Hallmark Christmas movie plays on the tv. Sam and Natasha are in their rooms sleeping, and for a few moments you forget why you kept your distance. Everything would have been good if this is how the night would end. If Steve didn't have to address the past six months.

"I've missed this. With us," Steve whispers as he strokes your shoulder absentmindedly, like it's second nature to him to have his hands on your skin. "You've been so distant lately. For months, Y/n."

The room instantly becomes tense enough to make you nauseous. A clearing of your throat, an attempt to sit up out of Steve's hold and away from this conversation that you'd much rather avoid is futile—it's instantly stopped by Bucky's hand on your chest that pushes you right back.

"No," he says sternly. "You're gonna sit right here, sweetheart, and tell us why you've barely let us see you since fall term started. 'Cause it's sure as fuck not something I take lightly. Why have you avoided us?"

You look away, shaking your head to yourself as you try to talk yourself down. You will not break. You will not confess a single thing. You are going to act like everything is fine and you are not currently freaking out being sandwiched between the only two men you would gladly be sandwiched between under different circumstances than this.

"What are you even talking about?" you answer meekly. It's clear as soon as the words come out of your mouth that no one is falling for your innocent act, not even sweet, naive Steve. Then again, you're doing a particularly bad job. "Both of you think I've been distant?"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/n. If we've done something wrong, just say so." Bucky bites his cheek, glancing down for just a second, but it's enough to let his vulnerability slip. He's hurt.

A wave of guilt instantly washes over your body, an unusual feeling. During all these months of avoiding any interaction with Bucky and Steve besides the necessary ones, you didn't think that they'd actually mind your absence that much. They might not be hopelessly in love with you like you are with them, but they're still your friends. Friends miss each other.

"Or if it's something personal, you can tell us, you know? Is it anxiety, or are you feeling generally low, or...?" Steve chips in, trying to drown out Bucky's accusatory tone.

"No, no...I'm not depressed, Steve. And none of you have done anything wrong, I promise," you say hastily, shutting down their concerns as quickly as possible while trying to buy yourself time to come up with an excuse. "I just...needed some alone time."

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Sassy man. "Bullshit again. You've spent a bunch of time with Natasha. Sam, too. It's us you're avoiding." He points to himself and Steve with his hand. "It's been almost six months, Y/n. What the hell's your problem?" He pushes himself off the couch, standing up and blocking your view of the tv. It's as if his frustration is all contained while sitting down.

"Bucky," Steve scolds, glaring up at his friend. He's not appreciating the tone at all, that's for sure.

"There's no problem, Bucky," you tell him, shaking your head. Trying to dismiss this entire conversation before you reveal too much.

"No! Y/n, I'm going fucking crazy! This is the first time you've even let me touch you in half a year!" Bucky yells, a pleading tone in his voice that breaks your heart just a little. Because it's true. You have barely even hugged since June. You've barely talked for more than five minutes at a time.

"Don't yell at her, for god's sake, Bucky," Steve adds, his hands on your shoulders and ready to get up from the couch any second.

"What the hell's going on with you, huh?!" Bucky continues, ignoring Steve's statement. His eyes are solely focused on you, void of the usual softness. There's just anger. "Cause if you can't stand us, then tough fucking luck. I can have your fucking things moved out by tomorrow for all I care. Can move right into Walker's dorm. Bet he'd accept you with open fucking arms if you get to your knees and—“

The drop of your heart down to your stomach can almost be heard, an echoing, hollow sound. You're sure of it. Bucky shuts his mouth, as if he realizes what exactly was about to come out of it. What is not even a second of silence feels like a whole minute, before Steve shoots up from his seat beside you and grabs Bucky by the collar, rattling the whole room with the force in which he nearly tackles Bucky against the wall with. The tangy taste of iron starts to fill your mouth, your teeth biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. There's tears lingering in your eyes but you can't hold them back, not anymore.

"You don't fucking talk to her like that, you bast—"

"I love you! It’s ‘cause I fucking love you guys!” you yell, a pathetic sob marring the words. “So I’m fucking sorry that I’ve avoided you two but I’m trying to get over these goddamn—these feelings, but I can’t, okay! I can’t!”

The bitter delivery is punctuated by the sleeve of your sweater wiping away the tears furiously, cutting Steve off and drawing both of their wild eyes towards your figure now standing up, just a minute away from a complete breakdown. You don't even process the fact that Steve cursed. It would've been teased about endlessly in any other situation.

"I will go. I'll leave if that's what you want," you seethe with a voice so unsteady that it's almost unbearable to listen to. "But I don’t hate any of you. I don’t, and I get why you’re mad. But fuck you, Bucky. Fuck you for saying that.”

More tears fall. It's futile to wipe them away when they'll be replaced the second after. You want to say more, hit Bucky where it hurts, but you cannot get the goddamn words to form on your lips. Opening your mouth and closing it again, shaking your head, comes before hastily walking towards your room and locking yourself inside without giving them a chance to answer.

As soon as the door is slammed shut, your hand comes up to your mouth to muffle the sobs. Sinking down to the floor as if you’re in a movie, forehead resting against your knees. The rate of your heartbeats could be considered dangerously high, but you just blurted out a whole love confession for two of your roommates in the midst of a fight. How the hell could everything turn to shit so quickly? Half an hour ago all of you were joking around in the bathroom, and now you're not sure you have the courage to face any of them again.

It's a rash, impulsive decision fueled by anger and betrayal and shame, but you rush over to your closet and pull out an overnight bag that's soon filled to the brim with enough things to last you a few days. You're crying the entire time.

When you pass the living room again, Bucky isn't there anymore. But Steve is. Barely a glance his way is spared, with hasty steps heading towards the hallway. You remind yourself of a furious toddler when you angrily put on your jacket, stick your feet into your winter boots. The bag is slung over your shoulder, hand resting on the door handle.

"Don't go. Y/n, please don't leave."

Steve stands at the other side of the hallway, a broken down expression on his pretty face.

"Bucky went out of line, but he didn't mean it, I swear. He's just too prideful to admit it," he continues. You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. "Please, honey. It’s Christmas Eve. It won’t be the same if you’re not here tomorrow.”

"I just need some space," you whisper, brushing away a stray tear with the sleeve of your jacket. You’re so embarrassed and hurt that you can barely look him in the eye. "I can't be in the same apartment as him right now."

Steve sighs, looking about ready to just throw you over his shoulder to get you to stay. But he won't do that. That's not Steve. So instead he glances down to the floor, shaking his head to himself.

“Did you mean it?” he asks softly. “The thing about—you said you loved us. Did you mean it?”

It takes a few seconds before you nod tentatively, sniffling and keeping your gaze on a spot past Steve. He doesn’t say anything.

Steve gathers courage enough to walk up to where you stand by the door, grabbing your cheeks with his hands, thumb running over the tear-stained skin gently. For a few moments, he just looks at you. Loud thoughts running amok in that perfect head of his.

“Nothing I say right now will do my feelings any justice, so I’m gonna save any big speeches for tomorrow. But just…stay. It’s 2 am, it’s freezing out and you’re still drunk. I don’t want you out there on the streets alone. I need you to stay, even if it’s only for your own safety. Don’t have to talk to any of us if you don’t want to.”

His words makes you nod automatically. All it took was his hands on your skin and the flicker of hope his words ignite in your chest, and you conceded within a second. No hesitation left in that exhausted body of yours. He‘s not saying outright that your feelings are requited, but it doesn’t feel like a rejection either. He doesn’t seem disgusted by your confession, by the knowledge that you’re in love with both him and his best friend.

“Good girl. Let’s just—let’s get you to bed, okay?”Steve tells you, squeezing your shoulder gently. With your confirmation in form of another silent nod, he nestles the bag out of your grip and takes off the jacket from your torso.

The bed feels so soft and warm and comforting when you lie down. Steve tucks you in. It’s achingly sweet and you don’t really deserve it after avoiding him and Bucky like that for so long, but he looks out for you nonetheless.

“Steve,” you whisper, drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “I’m sorry. For being so distant.”

He shakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were scared,” Steve answers. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? Get some sleep. You’ve had a tough night, Y/n.”

The softest of smiles grazes your lips, puppy eyes gazing up at Steve. Your wonderful, caring, perfect Steve.

“Are you alright? It must’ve been hard meeting Joshua again. And what Bucky said, it…it was far from okay.”

“I will be,” you whisper.

He nods, observes your face for a few seconds. Leans down to press a kiss to your forehead—what kind of college guy even does that? And then he leaves the room, turning the light off behind him.

You’re woken up by a red headed, crazy woman sitting on top of you over the sheets, shaking your shoulders.

“Wake up, fuckhead. You’re gonna open the presents I got you,” Natasha urges, grinning down at you as you blink your eyes open, groaning.

“Fuckhead?” you ask, a tired chuckle from your lips as Natasha climbs off the bed.

“Yes. Don’t like it, huh?” she teases. “C’mon. The guys are already waiting.”

With slow steps and a loud yawn, the slightest trace of a hangover plaguing your body, you drag yourself out into the living room. Around the ugly, little tree that Sam insisted on cutting down from the campus gardens last week (he almost got arrested by the security guards) the three boys sit. Your gaze falls to the floor, scratching the skin right above your lip nervously, once Bucky looks up at you. Can’t really read his expression, but you figure you’ll lay the fight aside for the day. It’s Christmas, after all.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Steve says, urging you to sit down next to him right there on the carpet. You offer a soft smile, and an even softer ‘Merry Christmas’ back. You’re still unsure about yesterday. Despite there being no rejection from either of them, the uncertainty is kind of killing you. A pit of anxiety rests in your stomach, an uneasy feeling corrupting every cell as you sit down on the floor next to Steve.

Not even ten minutes later, the living room is drowning in a sea of wrapping paper. Natasha went overboard with the gift shopping this year, it seems like, but her absent father is also some kind of Russian oligarch or something so she tends to use up as much of his money as she can. You’re not complaining.

The special edition of The Hobbit, signed by the director of the movie, that you managed to get on eBay and cost you a fucking fortune is received with a whispered ‘thank you’ from Bucky. He holds it in his hands tightly, staring down at the book without a word, and you don’t know if he’s happy for it. Maybe he’s not happy with anything touched by you at this moment. He hasn’t gotten you a gift, it seems like, or maybe he threw it in the trash and burned it yesterday.

Steve got you three books that he’d heard you say you wanted months ago, and a dainty silver necklace with a bee pendant hanging from it. “You know, uh, I usually call you ‘honey’ and I thought it was a little funny, maybe. But I can exchange it if you don’t like it. It’s no problem,” he had said, even though there were tears of gratitude in your eyes. Your arms were thrown around him a second later, hugging him tightly as you thanked him profusely for the most thoughtful gift.

Now you’re leaning your back against the couch, still on the floor, watching as Sam and Natasha are tinkering with his new Nintendo Switch that he got from her (overboard with the gifts, as previously mentioned). He’s so happy it almost makes you zoned out as you watch his childlike excitement. It’s nice to see the two of them so calm and sweet with each other too. Usually bickering and getting on each other’s nerves all the time otherwise.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

Your head tilts back, looking up at Bucky standing nervously in front of you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a deep hesitation within you, a pride that wants to say no and remain in your angry state forever without confrontation. But it’s Bucky. You hate this animosity between the two of you, the tension. Despite being pissed off and hurt and afraid that he doesn’t want you, you can’t say no, so you nod and push yourself up to a stand.

Bucky closes the door to his room behind him gently, clearing his throat and looking at anything but you. A sigh comes out of his mouth, shaking his head, before he parts his lips to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. What I said was disgusting and unforgivable and so fucking out of line. You didn’t deserve that at all. So out of proportion to what I was mad at you for,” Bucky says, running the palm of his calloused hand over his face.

“It was,” you answer honestly. There’s no use in denying that what Bucky said was stupidly hurtful. He nods, looking away from your gaze.

“It made me angry thinking that you ignored me, because at first I didn’t know what I had done, you know? And then I thought for a few months that me and Steve had been too overbearing and that you tried to keep your distance because you thought we were annoying or something. But that’s not the case. I should’ve known better by now than to think that you would do anything to purposely hurt us.”

You gulp, nodding, looking down to the floor. “I’m sorry too,” you whisper. “I didn’t know that you guys thought I had something against you until last night. Obviously, you…you know now that’s not the case,” you tell him, embracing yourself with your arms. “But last night, Bucky, I…you hurt me. I know you were angry, but saying those kind of things isn’t okay.”

“I know that. God, I know, Y/n. I’m so sorry. It was fucking childish of me, retorting to saying that Jo—“ Bucky shakes his head, hands coming up to tug at the roots of his hair. “And it felt stupid giving you that present in front of everyone, so now you think I didn’t get you anything, too, and—“

“You got me a present?”

“Yes. Of course I did, Y/n. But I saw how much Natasha had bought and that necklace Steve gave you and my gift felt stupid in comparison to that. Just didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone,” he says, a little awkwardly. A little boy giving his mother a drawing he made in kindergarten, he reminds you of.

“Bucky…that doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you have gotten me. I’ll like it no matter what if it’s from you.”

He shifts in his place, contemplating something, before picking up a sweater on his bed, revealing a wrapped present hidden underneath. Bucky took the gift from the pile without anyone noticing before, throwing it into his room so no one would see.

With a tentative hand, he reaches it out to you. Doesn’t watch as you unwrap it, instead biting on his thumbnail. You reprimand him for it, and the hand returns to his side.

“Is it a book?” You run your fingers over the cover, a hardcover with nothing on it. Blank.

“It’s a photo album. Shit, it’s stupid. I don’t know,” Bucky answers, looking about ready to snatch it back, but you open the first page up before he has a chance to.

A picture of you, Natasha, Sam and Steve on the first page. It was taken last year in November. You’re all running after one of Sam’s model planes, fall leaves singling down from the sky. It’s a beautiful picture.

“4 grown idiots running after a kid’s toy - November 12th, 2022”

“It’s just pics I’ve taken with my phone, so it’s nothing artsy or anything, but…uhm.” Bucky runs his hand through his short, brown hair.

You flip the page. You’re looking out through the kitchen window, the sun shining through and casting shadows over the room and your figure curled up on the chair.

“Angel in the sun - March 25th, 2023”

A soft chuckle is drawn from your lips, resisting the urge to run your finger over the photo, but you don’t want to smudge the blank paper. On the same page there’s another picture of you with your arms around Natasha’s shoulders, nearly wrestling her to the ground with the force of your hug. You look so happy.

Bucky looks nervous as you glance up from the photo album at him. “Know it’s not much, but…yeah.”

A loud huff of hair escapes Bucky as you throw your arms around him. It takes a second or two for him to hug you back, but he soon has his chin resting on top of your head, arms around your waist.

“I love it,” you whisper, holding onto him tightly enough to constrict his breathing.

“You do? I can take it back if you don’t like it.”

Your grip around him releases, arms coming down to your sides so you can take a step back and look him in the eyes. “This is everything, Bucky,” you say softly, feeling a lump in your throat that can turn into tears any second. “The fact that you took the time to make this for me is just…it’s the most thoughtful thing ever. And these pictures are so beautiful, Bucky, and just the thought of you sitting down and glueing them onto the page and writing captions and—“

His lips against yours. Oh god. Oh my god, Bucky has his lips pressed against yours. Gentle hands hold your jaw, his head leaning down to compensate for the height difference, and Bucky Barnes is kissing you with urgency and desperation.

The shock is enough to make you unable to return the kiss. He seems to take your surprise as rejection despite the fact that you literally yelled ‘I love you’ in his face last night. Bucky steps away and takes his hands off your skin, running his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, don’t know what the hell came over me, I—“

On your tiptoes, fingers grabbing his sweatshirt to pull him closer, and you nearly smash your lips against his to shut up any of that doubt he carries. It’s not a graceful or very romantic kiss, but by the sound akin to a very mild growl that comes from Bucky and his hands sliding down to your waist to pull you closer, you guess he likes it anyway.

It doesn’t last more than 20 seconds. A harsh knock on the door to Bucky’s room interrupts it, forcing you part from his lips and get down from your tiptoes again.

“What the hell are you doing in there? C’mon! I’ve made goddamn Christmas brunch!” Sam yells, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips as your forehead meets Bucky’s chest.

With a soft smile, nothing said, you back away from Bucky. Slipping out of his room and leaving him there all flustered and semi-hard from a 20 second make-out session. The first ever between you, though. He thinks it’s pretty understandable.

As Bucky follows you into the kitchen, sitting down at the table by Steve, he leans towards his best friend and whispers into his ear low enough to make anyone else unable to hear.

“I kissed her, Stevie,” Bucky says with a shit eating grin on his face. “I finally fucking kissed her.”

The blond man turns his head enough to look over at Bucky, the red flush of his cheeks and ears enough to tell anyone what’s been said.

“Are you serious?” Steve asks.

“I kissed her and she kissed me back, I swear. I gave her that photo album I’ve worked on for weeks. She said she loved it, Steve.”

“I guess it’s my turn then, isn’t it?” Steve answers, a shy smile on his lips as the two of them watch you sit down opposite of them at the table, glancing through the window out at the heavy snowfall. Natasha puts a newly toasted bagel on your plate.

“Go get our girl, Stevie.”

[gunsandspaceships]

Did Tony really like to party?

We'll list every party we know Tony has attended in the MCU (including deleted scenes and What If? S2 E4, since that Tony is a copy of the main Tony from the MCU) and see what he was doing there.

MIT

When Tony was 17-18 he went to parties with other MIT students. Here's the main post, but I'll quote the MIT alumni again:

“I remember him at after-parties on Thayer Street. He was up later than anyone else. But you could always get a ride home with him, because he always had a car.”

“No one really knew him, he was just a rich kid. Everyone wanted him around, though, because he'd always bring something fun for the party.”

What he was doing there: entertaining others. Didn't really communicate with them, didn't drink, helped them get home.

Bern (New Year Eve, 1999)

Two questions: 1) Does he look drunk? 2) Does he willingly communicate with people other than Maya and Happy? My answer to both questions is no.

What he was doing there: separately from everyone else quietly communicated with Maya; avoided people except her, to help with this task took Happy with him; if it was not possible to avoid interactions, reduced them to a minimum; despite Yinsen's words from IM1 he didn't seem drunk, while people around were; happily left the party to spend time alone with Maya. Wearing sunglasses in darkened rooms at night.

Jet (on the way to Afghanistan, 2008)

What he was doing there: sprawled on the couch, sipping champagne and looking at his flight attendants, while drunken Rhodey tried to convince him that he's a good person. The party didn't last long - one of the flight attendants blindfolded him and took him to the bedroom.

Dubai (2008, alternative trip to Gulmira)

As you can see it was either a VERY fun party or not at all.

What he was doing there: creating an alibi for himself to fly to Gulmira to save people from the Ten Rings. Wearing sunglasses at night. Avoiding interactions, visibly uncomfortable with those he couldn't avoid. Left immediately with two girls ordered for conspiracy. Having reached the bedroom, left them and flew away on the mission.

P.S. He also asked a third girl to join them on the way to the bedroom, leaving the guy who was with her alone. I imagine that incident potentially could create another Marvel villain.

Charity Ball (IM1, 2008)

What he was doing there: showing the public and the board of directors that he's fine. Avoiding people, had unwanted interactions with Coulson and Christine just because they caught him. Basically ignoring Coulson, staring at Pepper. Drank a little. Enjoyed time only with Pepper: slow dancing with her, joking around, paying attention to her feelings and needs, asking if he makes her uncomfortable, and offering to go outside for some fresh air when she needs it. Together with Pepper, left for a secluded place on the balcony. Quietly talking to her there. Went to get drinks for Pepper without question when she felt the urge. Told Christine that he is feeling uncomfortable there. Actually showed signs of discomfort. Immediately left after talking with Stane.

Birthday Party (IM2)

Another super fun alibi party. This time to "pass" the armor to Rhodey and push everyone away from himself so that he can die alone and so that no one will mourn for him.

What he was doing there: acting. Pretending he is dead drunk and enjoying the party. Wearing sunglasses at night inside the house (in the deleted scene with Natasha). Destroyed the ice statue of himself. To Natasha's question "What about those people around?" said "That's why we are doing it. It's for them. It's my party, it's my friends. They like this sort of garbage". What kind of "friends" are these for him, you can find out from Jon Favreau himself here. Kicks everyone out of the house by yelling during the fight with Rhodey. Just lying exhausted in a destroyed house after everyone left.

Age Of Ultron Party

What he was doing there: greeted Rhodey and Sam. Spent some time in the small company of Thor, Maria Hill and Rhodes. Was quiet - listened and smiled more than he spoke. Drank a little, perhaps less than the others. Quietly played cards with the team after most people had left. Became active only at the stage of attempting to lift the hammer. Encouraged others to try.

To summarize: he was quiet and attentive overall. Was just hanging around his house like a stranger while people other than the Avengers were at a party. Seemingly felt more comfortable when most of the people left and he stayed with the team, just playing cards and drinking beer.

Indian wedding (Spider-Man Homecoming)

What he was doing there: Tony attended someone's wedding in India. Apparently he didn't know the language, so he couldn't communicate and kept away from other people. Looked busy with Peter and something else. Showed no interest in the event. Didn't really drink and left quickly.

Grandmaster's Birthday (What If?)

"I've put my party days behind me".

What he was doing there: Grandmaster forced Tony to stay to celebrate his birthday by threatening him with his Melt Stick. Tony settled on the couch away from the others and was not very pleased when the Grandmaster joined him. Showed no signs of enjoyment throughout the event. Just wanted to get home pronto. Chose to save the people first instead.

Victory Celebration with Val and Korg (What If?)

What he was doing there: enjoyed their little company, but thought about Pepper and Earth.

Conclusion:

As you can see, the common characteristics of all or most of his party visits, except those when he was in a small group of close friends, were:

avoidance of people

sunglasses (if available) when they don't make much sense except covering his eyes from others

focusing on quiet calm interactions with people he knows

leaving the parties at the first opportunity/running away from them

focus on entertaining others, not himself

no alcohol consumption or consumption in small quantities

showing signs of discomfort

looking and acting like he is out of place

At the same time, at quiet parties with a small group of close people, he seemed to feel more comfortable.

You can already draw your conclusion. Mine - he didn't like parties at all. He sometimes enjoyed spending time in the company of people he liked, and it had nothing to do with enjoying parties per se.

His own words here.

[penancepropulsionn]

it's time for penancepropulsionn to look into a very small detail again at 5 AM!

so. i noticed something. let's go back and rewind on the last episode. like, let's do it together because i'm gonna need you to hear for this one i want us to pay specific attention to the line teruko says when she selects eden and ace:

"It's you two, isn't it?"

"isn't it"

i need an answer. why does she say this. why is this tacked on in this specific voiceline, for this specific moment? what need is there for her to add any ambiguity or uncertainty, if she is CERTAIN these are the only two people who could have killed arei? you could say that this is just part of teruko's change in demeanor. her delivery, in particular, is pretty flat. it's forthright, but not really loud or brazen at all. honestly she sounds kind of disappointed so i figured, for a bit, it might be that. but then it struck me, no, that doesn't make much sense either? let's look back at chapter 1 when teruko selected min, and listen to the voiceline used then:

"It must be you!"

yeah, that's said with a whole lot more conviction. it sounds certain and final. and, okay, i should take into account that this new voiceline doesn't sound certain and final because it isn't certain and final. because, obviously, teruko hasn't figured out the final, singular culprit yet but even then, it still doesn't explain why she specifically said it that way? if you wanted to keep the solemn yet forthright delivery of the line, it could have been made "It's you two." and if you wanted to keep that and the fact we haven't figured out the true culprit yet, but still solidify YES THE ONLY CANDIDATES FOR CULPRIT ARE THESE TWO, it could have been "It's one of you." this ambiguity is really leading me to further believe in the possibility it may not be ace or eden. think about it, if it were one of the two, when we DO figure out the culprit, wouldn't it be super obvious? it wouldn't be a big climactic moment, it'd be only be a logical progression. if, for example, eden's innocence is proven, it wouldn't be like "It's Ace?!" it would be like "Oh, it's Ace, then." so if the viewer could easily figure out that the culprit is ace just because it isn't eden, then another "select the person" minigame would be really redundant therefore, if it is a third party, we spin out into a crazy and climactic twist where it can be like "It's [seemingly totally unrelated person], and here's why"

this is really where my intuition is leading me, but i suppose i shouldn't get too deep into it because we're getting the grand conclusion today. it's crazy to think we've finally reached this point, so if i may close this out with some sentimentality i hope this post has struck you as an interesting observation, as well as the rest of my posts! i'm not one of the most dedicated posters or theorists in the community but i like to think i've contributed my own fair share where it counts. see you on the other side, everyone!

[the-bjd-community-confess]

Hello, Anon:

This is your Oldie Chinese Diaspora Anon™ This is the second part to me trying to detail Imómó’s recent troubles. Some of the issues are trivial while others are quite grievous. It’ll be a bit of a jog, but let’s take it together, you and I.

The first stop is another anonymous whistle-blower who came up to accuse Water of something that I have never heard before.

This person claimed to have worked as DZ and DC’s artistic director. He invited Water in as a collaborator before and thought very highly of her skill and her integrity. Unfortunately for him, a victim reached out to him to let him know that they have been sold the design of a body that is over 90% similar to the Mimi Dog design that’s been made and sold by Imómó (this one:

This goes above and beyond recasting and is absolutely _verboten_ since it makes legit buyers of either “sculpt” end up looking like they bought counterfeits and recasts. Ex-director had screenshots he had with the victim. This made him look like he was complicit in the scheme, and he’s really angry. Other buyers have also popped up to comment that Water had claimed that her sculpts were sold off by “Her boss” in the past (about 2-3 years before this incident) but now it looks like she simply sold the same sculpt to two different companies and tried to play the victim. She was the sole proprietor at the time (which was traced by whistle-blower #2) and there was no “boss”. This is also mentioned in the next XHS link below, too.

The second stop along the way is the quality control for Imómó. Over the last year or so, people have mentioned that the headbacks were of a different colour with a bad fit that was obviously wrong for the face sculpt. (This was mentioned in an earlier XHS post:

As Ex and the two whistle-blowers revealed, the reason why the headbacks do not fit was because they were never meant for the rest of the head sculpt. The headbacks were left overs from previous shipments and the factories were trying to use them up since they weren’t getting paid, so they did not want to make more doll parts for free. This eventually led to more shoddy workmanship because the factories were working for free.

Due to this incident, a lot of the older unboxing and reviews started to float up to the surface as well. People are trying to find out just when did this embezzlement issue really start. For example, this buyer showed off her doll’s shoddy quality back in 2023:

(video attached)

This one with the really thin vinyl happened in August of this year (but the sculpt was probably developed and made much earlier:

She also mentioned that she bought this head from SWDolls and wants people to avoid both of them. Perhaps it’s just me, but it does seem that these two entities are entangled with each other in some ways. SWDolls is an agent for many, if not all of the Chinese brands, but their names are not attached to anyone in specific like this one is.

And finally, if you have been here for a while, you may have remembered me talking about the problems with PVC as a doll material as well as some issues found on an unboxing of a larger PVC doll (found here:

This is from a different company, of course, but the same issue had been raised with Imómó’s larger vinyl dolls as well. Unfortunately, the results can be hilariously sad:

(The neck and shoulder area had sunken into the torso. This is usually due to the vinyl being too thin and cannot fully counteract the stress from the strings. I am not sure why there are marks on the skin in the neck and the abdomen area, but I think we can agree the workmanship is quite bad. Maybe this is the “revenge of the poor factories”, but either way, it’s a bad look.

Step 3 has something to do with the relatively anonymous world of the Internet. This XHS user called out a new company called “Niji Doll” for the extremely high similarities between their doll heads and the Imómó head:

Niji Doll is another “Three-nothings” stores with a lot of secrecy behind it. There are now people who think that Water is actually selling her doll designs to other brands as an exit strategy. This one is left last because there are way too many speculations involved. But I think it’s a good idea to include this for completion’s sake.

That seems to be where the story ends, for the moment anyhow. I will keep an eye out for more exposé should any arise. It’s not exactly up to me to say if I believe the official Imómó channels or a nameless, faceless (and obviously disgruntled) person like Ex here, but I do have my suspicions. Like I said at the beginning, this is a case of a “Bad business with a good product”. Should the owner stick to decent, good business practices, there is a bright future for vinyl dolls like the one he sells. Unfortunately, at the end of the day, it’s hardworking factories and their employees as well as the guileless buyers who ended up being the final victims. And this is just sad all around.

~Anonymous

[hockeyboysimagines]

F*ck me like I’m famous

Chapter 4

Warnings: Sex, implied sex, talks of sex, alcohol, language.

Hello friends! Here is chapter 4. Sorry for the delay. As I said in the chapter I just posted for Sway I’ve had a ton going on. Hope this is worth the wait!

Enjoy🤍

“Hey Josie.” Vince called from his living room “Are you ready? We have to leave like…10 minutes ago.”

“Yeah I’m coming!” She called.

“You did that last night already!”

“Vince!” She yelled from the bathroom.

He giggled and stuffed his feet into shoes, grabbing his keys from the table next to the door. He was having the time of his life.

She had made good on the phone sex and dirty texting multiple times over last night, until the early hours, which was part of why they were running late today. He also might have caused a distraction in the shower, but that was a minor detail.

He had some autograph signing thing that would kickstart the celebrations for the week, and he was planning to meet up with friends for drinks later on. He was so excited to show her off to everyone, if they ever got there.

He heard her shuffling and then coming down the steps and turned the corner.

He paused and smiled “Damn.” He said giving her an appreciative once over “You look hot.”

“Really?!” She asked brightly, glancing down at her dress “It’s not too dressy or boring?”

It was pale green, falling mid thigh, with a floral pattern on it, paired with black wedges. Her long hair was loose and wavy, and he almost considered taking her right back upstairs. But then he remembered this week was not only about him, but the community as well.

“Not at all. Oof. You’re in for it later.”

She blushed and waved him off, taking his extended hand and they made their way to the car. The sun was shining down on them, a beautiful perfect day to start a beautiful perfect week.

“Where are we going exactly?” She asked from the passenger seat, turning to put her purse in the back. He smiled a little at how comfortable and natural she looked in his passenger seat before he answered.

“I have an autograph signing.” He said, turning the key in the ignition and backing out of his driveway.

“Ooooooh. An autograph signing? Fancy.” She said side eyeing him “How many body parts do you think you’ll sign?”

He rolled his eyes and nudged his chin at her “I can think of one I’d like to sign later.”

“No I don’t think so. The pen is way too big.”

He burst out laughing and shook his head “Okay you win. So how was your first official day in Canada?”

“It was good. I spent most of it with this hot guy.”

“And how was your first official night in Canada?”

“Average.”

He gasped and reached over grabbing her thigh and squeezing it. She screamed and slapped his arm “I’m kidding! I’m kidding sheesh.”

“Okay so let’s try that again.”

“My first official night in Canada was amazing.”

“Better. Just means I’m gonna have to one up myself tonight.”

She chuckled and watched the Canadian countryside zoom past outside. She was having so much fun and it hadn’t even been 24 hours yet. Being here, although in a country she’d never been to with people she didn’t know, felt so normal, like she’d been here before. She wasn’t nervous, or awkward or anything like that. She felt at peace.

It was so nice.

“So when does the cup actually get here?”

“Friday. That’s when the fun begins.” He waggled his eyebrows “And there’s a ton happening that day. Are you excited?”

“Me? Are you excited? It’s your big day.”

Josie didn’t know Vince when he won the cup. She hadn’t seen the game, watched the moment, or even knew anything about how he and the team had gotten to that point. But what she did know was that if anyone deserved this week, it was him.

“Of course im excited, but i want you to be having fun too.”

“I’m just happy to be here and watch you do your thing.” She said, smiling widely and reaching forward to squeeze his hand.

Josie spent most of the signing hanging out behind him with his mom. She’d been friendly the day before, but she could tell her guard had been up and with good reason. Vince was a highly successful professional athlete, who had a lot at stake in life. She didn’t blame his mom for being wary at first.

But now she had truly warmed up and they were talking and laughing like old friends.

“What are you telling her back there, because whatever it is you can be sure it’s a lie.” He called over his shoulder.

“Most of it sounds pretty on brand.” Josie said smiling at him “So I’m inclined to believe her.”

He made a face and turned back around, but the thought of her being close with his mom brought a small smile to his face that stayed there the rest of the afternoon.

As the line wound down, and the last few pictures had been taken Vince turned to her and waved her forward. When she reached him he gestured to a lady he’d been talking with.

“Josie, this is my mom’s friend, Sheri.”

Josie reached forward to shake her extended hand “Hello. Nice to meet you.”

“And this is your-?” Sheri asked, looked at Vince expectantly as she let go of Josie’s hand.

“This is my girlfriend.” He said simply with a smile, hand on the small of her back as he gave her a gentle push forward so she could shake the woman hand.

Girlfriend.

GIRLFRIEND.

The word made Josie want to jump for joy, scream, ugly cry and kiss his socks right off but then she remembered they were in public so she just smiled, feeling a redness come to her cheeks. They chatted with for a minute when Vince’s mom called her name and Sheri walked away.

Josie turned slowly to look at him “Girlfriend?” She asked quietly.

“Is that okay? I didn’t really know what else to call this.” He gave a small laugh.

“I mean-yeah. It’s okay.”

“I really wanna kiss you, but we’ve already been on the cover of one newspaper.”

She giggled and smiled at him “You can make it up to me later.” She waggled her eyebrows and he gave her waist a small squeeze.

**********

“So you’re here with Vince?”

Josie turned to find a dark haired girl standing next to her and frowned a little, leaning away from her.

The day had gone great. Better than great. She’d had so much fun watching him do his thing and interact with members of his community. She’d also really enjoyed being introduced as his girlfriend.

They’d met up with a few friends of his that she hadn’t met yet for drinks at what Vince called “The best bar in Lindsey” and it was still great.

“Uh, yeah?” She looked across the bar at Vince, but he was absorbed in a conversation and didn’t seem to notice. She looked back at the girl who was staring at her, one hand braced on the bar top.

“You must be his new fling of the week.” She said off handedly, glancing at her and then over her shoulder where he was standing.

Josie felt a twinge of annoyance. She wasn’t a confrontational person, and the last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene in front of his friends in a country she was visiting, but she wanted nothing more than to back hand her. The smug smile on her face had sparked an irrational rage that Josie wasn’t sure she’d even had in her before today.

“What are you talking about?” The question came out more rude than she’d anticipated but it didn’t seem to phase whatever her name was.

“This week it’s you, last week it was someone else, and next week it’ll be- hi Vince.”

Josie looked behind her to find Vince was there, frowning at the girl she was about to beat up.

“I was just talking to your new girlfriend of the week here and I-“

“Yeah well stop talking to her.” He turned Josie abruptly, and steered her across the room and out the front door of the bar.

She waited until they were some feet away until she said very quietly “Who was that?”

“Just a girl I know is all.”

She stopped walking, which caused him to stop and she crossed her arms, head turned to the side “Wanna try that again? But with an actual answer this time.”

He sighed “I hung out with her one time at a party last summer. Nothing happened, she wanted more and I just didn’t see her that way and she’s been dragging my name through the mud since then. She does this every time she sees me out with anyone.”

“I see. She said there was another me last week? Is that true?”

Vince’s mouth fell open and he looked back at the bar in outrage before he turned back to her “She said that? Josie I swear, I haven’t been with anyone else since I met you. I can’t believe-“

“If you have been it’s okay. I wasn’t your girlfriend so I can’t really get mad.”

It was true. She hadn’t been his girlfriend last week so he was able to do whatever he wanted. But it didn’t mean it would hurt any less if he had.

“I swear to you. I am not talking or hooking up with anyone else. And fuck her for saying that to you.” He gripped her hand “You believe me right?”

She stared at him for a few minutes. She did, she didn’t think he’d fly her out here if he was hooking up with girls at home, but her guard with him was up a little for the first time. It had definitely brought down her mood, and made her feel a little bit weird about the whole thing.

“Josie?”

“I-I believe you. But why would she say that?”

“You don’t believe me I can see it all over your face. She’s jealous obviously.”

“Jealous of who? Me?”

He rolled his eyes “Of COURSE she’s jealous of you. Your beautiful and smart, and your here with me and she isn’t.”

She shrugged and looked at his hand, which was still holding hers. He gave it a squeeze.

“I promise you. There’s no one else.”

Josie pursed her lips and looked at him “Okay. I believe you.”

He glanced over her head and then around the street. It was empty and then he smiled.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?” She asked as he tugged her along by the hand.

“You’ll see.”

Before she even knew what was going on they were tangled up in the driver seat, attached at the lips.

“Oh my god this is so risky.” Josie breathed out as Vince stuffed his hands underneath her shirt, hands sending goosebumps across her skin.

The car was cold, but they had fogged the windows up in less than two minutes. Their make out in the bar had now spilled into the front seat of the car.

“Shhh it’s fine just kiss me.” He said quietly, pulling her down to his level and pushing his tongue in her mouth. He had a hand on either side of her hips, fingers brushing her bare legs until he had her skirt pushed completely up.

He reached down, fumbling around on the side of the seat looking for the lever to move the seat back, and finally found it, yanking on it a little too hard because it sent both of them flying backwards with a squeal, followed by laughter.

“Jesus Christ.” He mumbled against her neck pulling on it again and lurching them forward. Josie was crying with laughter until he gave a large push and they flew forward, Vince’s elbow hitting the steering wheel, horn blaring.

They both jumped expecting it to stop but it didn’t.

“What the fuck?!” He looked around her, smacking the horn several times, the loud sound cutting through the night. Josie felt her face burn for the amount of embarrassment she was about to feel when someone came over to investigate why the horn in the car was sticking, and found them both in the drivers seat, half dressed.

He finally punched it and it stopped, and he glanced up at her before resting his forehead against her chest.

“This just isn’t meant to be.” He picked up his phone and checked the time “But I can have us home in 10 minutes.”

*********

The rest of the week in Lindsay passed by slow enough to enjoy it, but too fast for it to be over. Every morning she woke up she got a little more sad. She was having so much fun and by Thursday evening she only had 3 days left and it had begun to weigh on her. She never wanted this trip to end, and as it inched closer to Sunday she was reminded that she would be going home alone.

“What’s wrong?” Vince asked as she plugged in her phone and laid next to him.

She glanced up “What? Oh nothing.”

“Liar.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed “Nothings wrong. Just bummed that I have to go back to St.Louis soon is all.”

“Yeah.” He nodded and sighed “Me too. But let’s just enjoy our last three days together, and then we’ll go from there.”

She frowned “What’s that mean?”

He pursed his lips and turned on his side to face her “Well. I was going to suggest maybe we take a trip, a vacation if you wanna call it that, before camp starts in September. If you can get off of work and everything.”

“A trip? Where?”

“To a place where all you have to wear is a bikini.”

“Vince!”

“What?” He said innocently, letting one hand trail up her bare leg “Can’t a guy have dirty thoughts about his girl in a bathing suit.”

A slow smile spread across her face until it was so wide her face might crack “What did you call me?”

“My girl.”

She wanted to kick her feet and squeal “I like that. Being your girl.” She ran her fingers through his hair, nails scratching his scalp. He leaned up to move his lips across her jaw until he reached her mouth, hand traveling up her thigh to the band of her underwear on her inner leg.

He was slotted between her legs, pelvis grinding up against hers as he kissed her slowly. He floated a hand up her shirt, resting it on her waist.

Before she knew it her shirt was gone and he was unhooking her bra big hands roaming everywhere. Every nerve ending in her body was a live wire, as his lips left hers and moved down her jaw towards her neck. She tugged at his shirt, prompting him to reach behind his head and pull it off in one quick movement.

She marveled at him as he hovered above her. Everything about Vince was thick, broad and muscled. Her hands roamed from his lower back up to his chest, scratching her fingernails across his skin. His mouth crushed hers, hurriedly kicking his boxers down his legs and tossing them aside.

She was shaking underneath him, cheeks red, goosebumps across her skin as she took a page breath in, the bones of her ribcage rippling underneath her skin. He stopped for a minute to really look at her.

“Goddamn your beautiful.” He whispered, eyes never leaving hers. Her blush deepened but she just pulled him back down by the chain to kiss him. Slower this time, her fingers moving down his back, nails scratching his skin, causing him to shiver. He sat back, hooking a finger on either side of her underwear and pulled them down her legs, leaning back over her and pushed a finger inside her causing her to gasp.

“That’s the prettiest noise I’ve ever heard.” He pushed another finger inside, moving them in and out, hooking them ever so slightly as he kissed her. She gripped the sheets, balling her hands into fists.

His lips brushed over her neck, eyes flicking up to meet hers as he pulled his fingers out, moving up her body and bracing himself between her legs.

“Tell me what you want.” She reached down, guiding him towards her. His head tipped down, stray hair falling into his eyes. She pushed it out of the way and bucked her hips up to meet his. She closed her eyes dreamily as he slowly pushed inside her, body arching up to meet his. He was so big, so broad as he moved above her, finding her mouth and kissing her slowly, methodically.

Vince splayed a hand across her ribcage and pulled her right leg up over his hip, lifting her clear off the bed. She let out a moan as he pushed deeper than before, hitting a new spot that had never been hit before.

“Vince I-“

He let out a breath, abdominal muscles tightening as he pushed faster, leaning down to kiss her desperately as he did. Her heart felt like it was about to explode out of her chest as a crippling, toe curling orgasm made its way through her body, sending shockwaves from her head to her feet, her entire body flooding with heat. She felt like she couldn’t breath as Vince gave his last few pushes with a groan and leaned down, head resting in her neck. His breath tickled her skin and she could feel his heart beating through his skin. He pulled out and laid next to her, chest rising and falling as he tried to slow his breathing, and he turned to smile at her.

“Your amazing and I-“ He stopped and cleared his throat “And your amazing.”

He’d almost said something crazy, but she thankfully hadn’t seemed to notice as she began to rummage around for her shirt and slipped it over her head before collapsing next to him. She rolled on to her side, eyes closing sleepily and hooked one of her legs with his, and promptly fell asleep.

**********

The cup arrived early the next day, and Vince had jumped out of bed like the house was on fire. He was showered, dressed and putting on his shoes by the time she had come out of the bathroom to get dressed.

“How fancy is this anyways?” She asked rummaging through her suitcase “Like should I wear a dress or pants or-?”

“Whatever you wear will be hot, but I like that one.” He was pointing at a yellow dress she had hung over the back of a chair in the corner of his room. She’d bought it and never worn it, tags still hung from the arm of it. She smiled.

“Perfect.”

There was already an entourage outside when they left the house, many friends and family had gathered in his driveway to watch the cup be handed to him. Even though Josie had no idea what was going on she was still excited to watch him pick up the cup. She googled it the night before and apparently within the hockey community it was a huge deal, so because it was big to Vince, it was to her. He gave her hand a squeeze before he released it and made his way over to the keeper of the cup to shake their hands. His mom spotted her and made her way over.

“You look nice.” She said commenting on her dress.

Josie looked down “Thanks. Vince picked it.”

“Well he did a great job. It’s so special you’re here with him for this, it’s his greatest achievement.”

“I didn’t know him then, but if it’s important to him it’s important to me.”

She smiled at her and gave a small laugh “You are important to him. I hope you know that. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

Josie smiled and looked back at Vince as he picked up the cup and lifted it over his head and cheers erupted around him.

It was going to be a great day.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

why did you tag your post with gaz erasure my ass? like what was hard to believe that the cod fandom has blatant patterns of purposefully removing the only black character and replacing him with everyone under the sun? your friend lied about killing themself to make them look like a victim. and you participated in harassing people who saw this for what it was. you need to step back and reflect on your own self on why you thought that your friend’s “death” was caused by people calling out patterns of anti black racism and then go on to harass them. you are not an ally by any means.

Back when I used that tag, I paired it with another tag right after, it was meant to be an aggressive call out on misinformation, I had meant for it to read as 'Gaz erasure my ass, y'all just can't read'.

(This because the original post didn't read like intentional erasure but rather like codslut thought Gaz didn't fit the post, since she also didn't use Reboot Soap, she used *Captain* Soap, idk how best to explain it but to me the two soaps are different characters so i figured it was an intentional choice to use him and keegan rather than reboot soap and gaz)

Edit: I want to add that I also used codslut's own explanation as the basis for why I didn't think it was erasure. And at this point, she's clearly not to be fucking trusted, so it wouldn't surprise me if it really *was* erasure/racism and I believed her word that it wasn't.

As time went on, I dropped the last part of the tag of 'y'all just can't read', and looking back it not only reads as a racist dog whistle but also, just in general, sounds and looks fucking disgusting.

I've said this before, but I think it warrants saying again: I *didn't* mean to say Gaz erasure doesn't exist. It does very much exist in the community and even Activision themselves often erase Gaz from promo materials.

I'd hate for people to think that I either dislike Gaz or don't see the blatant racism/dislike/erasure that happens with him on the community. That's not the case. Gaz is a main character (unlike König like so many people try to replace him with) who I absolutely adore, and I call out erasure when I see it here on Tumblr, on Tiktok and on Twitter.

I never meant to make it seem like Gaz erasure doesn't exist. I only wanted to call out misinformation... and ended up doing the exact opposite of both my intentions. I'm sorry about that. It was not just disgusting but full on stupid of me.

I also want to say that I didn't think that that screenshot post specifically or even the act of people calling out racism where they saw it was the cause for codslut possibly killing herself. That is not what I meant at all. And I don't want anyone to think I blame @soapskneebrace or @glossysoap or anyone else for that. Blood was never on their hands, I want to make that very clear!!!!

When I was confronting people, I was doing so on the basis that they're big creators with big platforms and that by accusing codslut of racism/erasure they opened the door for anons to justify their actions when going after codslut because they have so much reach and people with bad intentions need less than that to justify the hate they send people.

Looking back, I know I was in the wrong for how I spoke. I was aggressive and rude and mean, and none of the people involved deserve that. Hell, my actions were hypocritical as hell and I probably opened the door for them to get hate themselves. I'm really fucking sorry.

If I could take it back, I would. I never believed nor wanted them to believe that someone potentially harming themselves was their fault. It wasn't.

I do plan on taking a step back to reconsider not just the way I acted but everything that's happened. In fact, I was already taking said break and came online only because I got word of @/fulltacs' post.

I appreciate and thank you for holding me accountable (and by that I mean you and everyone!). And I especially thank *you* anon for wording this ask this way, and giving me, at least, a chance to explain.

[socksenjoyer]

ok haha life series au idea time let's go bc i need to get this off my chest. I love being cringe 💞🌸✨

SO victorian/maybe georgian era life series AU. Supernatural shit is common but shunned from everyday life. Grian is the son of a rich family who vanished in.... mysterious. circumstances. So now he has the entire gigantic house to himself. His friends -- the life series members -- are mostly supernatural entities but Grian himself seems (mostly) human. They often visit him and vice versa, everything seems nice.

He's even visited his mysterious shut-in neighbour, who is a vampire trying to hide it VERY badly. Mumbo's only companion for the last few years has been his robot, Grumbot. Mumbo struggles to communicate with anyone because he's exceedingly anxious and incredibly ominous, but Grian has decided he WILL be friends with this strange man, so they are friends. Grian introduces him to the wonderful possibility of just asking for (animal) blood, instead of stealing it like a fricking chupacabras. Grumbot goes to live at Grian's house, because at this point Mumbo is just living with Grian. It's good. Everything's good.

Then, Grian barricades himself in his room, completely covering the window and absorbing himself in some kind of work. He refuses for any lights to be turned on in his vicinity (too bright) and instructs Mumbo to post a number of letters, one to each of the life series members. Each member tells the member that they need urgently to go to Grian's house NOW. Mumbo posts these letters, along with his own postscript explaining that Grian is obviously very sick, everyone starts to make their way there.

People start to arrive (scary!!) and chaos ensues as both the area Grian wants to be kept dark and the number of people increases. Since Mumbo can see fairly well in the dark, he's the only one who can get down the hallway to communicate with Grian. A few people become suspicious, as they don't know Mumbo (only Scar really knows him and impulse and skizz have at least met him) and he could easily be lying about what Grian's saying. One person, Gem, is exceedingly suspicious. She does NOT like Mumbo's general vibe (hmmm gem i wonder why gem) (ok in all seriousness she used to be a monster hunter, particularly a vampire hunter. She doesn't tell anyone this, but her old prejudices kinda start to show through). Everyone arrives but Pearl and Lizzie because Pearl is literally countries away and Lizzie is doing secret things...

One night, Grian tells Mumbo something, and tells him strictly not to tell anyone else. Turns out Grian is not Grian! He is in fact an eldritch horror that has been inhabiting Grian's body for the past *checks notes* fifteen years! This doesn't really change anything between them, since Mumbo and most of the lifers have never known the 'real' Grian, and it also doesn't answer any of anyone's burning questions, such as:

-why are we in this house

-what's the deal with the eyes? there's so many eyes, spinning and turning, always seeming to stare in one direction, maybe at me. i see them when i close my eyes now they're so bright i cannot think i cannot breathe all i can do is stare like a deer in headlights oh god oh god

-how do i know what a deer in headlights is? And why does Ren keep calling people 'dude'?

-What's up with Grian?

We don't out people in this house, so Mumbo doesn't tell anyone.

Only a day later, when everyone's asleep (apart from Mumbo insomnia gang💯🔥💯🔥 also he craves human flesh or whatever)(by extension Gem is also awake because hmm suspicious......) humongous hands appear, unable to be destroyed or escaped, taking people out of their beds and seemingly into the floorboards. It seems Grian is controlling them, but he can't be reached and didn't seem aware of what he's doing. It's only when Scar says something very quiet into Grian's ear that they both get dragged down No Childrenstyle and the hands stop. The only people remaining are Gem and Mumbo, thoroughly shaken up by the whole experience.

The goal then becomes to get along long enough to figure out what's going on and save everyone. First thing they do is send letters to Pearl and Lizzie, letting them know what's happening and maybe to hurry. They also send letters to Cub (knows stuff about magic) and Doc (knows stuff about interdimensional shenanigans) in the hopes they can help. Cub is very busy and says he might not be able to make it for a while but everyone else gets their ass in gear to come help.

Gym & mambo become tentative friends. They start to try and decipher Grian's notes, which appear to have been written in a completely unknown language. While they do this, something begins to happen around the outside of the house. Stone statues begin to appear, in a clockwise manner, completely buried apart from their arms, which poke out of the surface. Their first thought is to dig the statues up to see the rest of them, and doing this prompts the worst headaches and hallucinations (so many eyes and blinding lights blinding me blinding me in glory) either of them have ever felt. So we will not dig them up. They work out that the hands may well belong to the other lifers, since there's space for 14 people. Unbeknownst to mumbert and germ, the hands are also appearing in order of player deaths.

At about the same time Scott's statue appears, about a week after the disappearances, Mumbo mentions that Grian revealed something about himself near the end (the eldritch horror stuff). Gem is convinced this could be important and a little pissed that Mumbo is withholding crucial information. He refuses to tell her because it's not his secret to tell, and he doesn't think it would help them anyway. This entire argument devolves into Gem drawing her sword (which is so heavily consecrated that Mumbo physically recoils at being in the same room as the bare blade) and maybe accusing Mumbo of projecting his own fear of discovery onto Grian (Worth mentioning that Mumbo hasn't told her that he's a vampire but the fact he has to step away from the sword as if it were blasting the full concentrated power of the sun was kinda the last straw in figuring it out). Mumbo also gets incredibly pissed and asks why she even has that sword because the average person isn't carrying that shit around. So Gem admits she used to hunt vampires. Everyone gets to be furious until they sit down and have a nice talk HAHA ONLY JOKING THEY STEW ABOUT THIS SILENTLY AND ARE ONLY GETTING ALONG BECAUSE THE CIRCUMSTANCES DEMAND IT!! THEY ARE SILENTLY PISSED AT EACH OTHER FOR FUCKING CHAPTERS BABY.

Around the time Impulse's hands show up, Lizzie arrives. She is absolutely fucking going through it. She confirms that the hands of Joel are his because she recognises his ring. After the 'sorry your husband got buried and turned into a statue' talk she begins to help shed light on the language Grian has been writing in (it's standard galactic but with the added fun little twist that it is not encoding something in english but a whole new language only spoken by.....watchers!!! muahaha).

Bdubs' hands show up. Everyone is tense and upset and sleep deprived, and they've hit a wall. Lizzie can tell some shit has gone on between Morbius and Gort and suggests they maybe...talk to each other about it? They're both about to admit that they don't want to stay mad at each other but WAIT all of a sudden hold on. There's hands outside. That's Scar and Grian's hands and they're POETICALLY TANGLED TOGETHER, NO CHILDRENSTYLE? They both rush outside because that means everyone's here, so what now? Mumbo puts his hand on top of theirs and before Gem can warn him he is grabbed and pulled into the ground. Panicked, Gem goes to find Lizzie who is also nowhere to be seen, and in a dramatic final girl moment she fucking figures it all out OH MY GOD IT ALL MAKES SENSE AND THEN GEM ALSO IS TAKEN BY THE HANDS ANNNNND SCENE

Doc arrives at the house finding it completely empty, apart from Grumbot, who powered off a while ago because there was nobody left in the house. Doc powers Grumbot on to find answers, which is where we get a recount of the events from (Grumbot's been here.... the whole time!).

So yeah. I might end up writing this or comic-ing it or whatever. If anyone wants to use my idea w/credit please go ahead i would actually pledge my soul to you if you did that. Just you guys wait until you hear about the sleepover demon summoning au.

[slafkovskys]

All of this start of the season Jack content is making me feel things!!! All I can think about is him and older Norris reader after the ring toss! What does he plan for the date? How does it go? What is everyone in their lives reactions to it? Does she go to Jersey with him? Jess your writing is so immaculate this AU has infiltrated my brain😂🥰

read part one here :)

as she hears his footsteps descending the steps, she thinks about how she wouldn't be doing this for anyone else, especially not on a first date.

her dress and heels were long abandoned in a guest room, instead exchanged for a pair of jack’s sweatpants and a too big t-shirt from her college days she had left at the hughes brothers’ house at some point during her many trips there over the past few weeks. her hair was now pulled away from her face, the fact that she had moved her wash day for the occasion be damned.

“so,” he lets out a big sigh before quite literally falling onto the l-shaped part of the sofa beside her. she’s got her legs tucked underneath her, a wine glass held tight in one hand, and her head resting on another on the back of the couch. the remote is resting on her thigh and all either of them had to do was press play on the third mighty ducks movie (“it’s better than miracle, jack. not even an argument,” and she quickly learned that jack does whatever she wants, so that was an easy debate to have before he retreated to shower) that had been queued on the screen for the past twenty minutes. instead, jack throws an arm lazily over her legs, gives her that stupid grin of his she’s become obsessed with, and nods, “tell me about y/n.”

“you know about y/n,” she states as though it was a fact, which it was. they weren’t strangers to each other in the slightest, having been somewhat background characters in each other’s lives for the last eight years.

“no, i don’t. i know about the y/n whose posts i see on instagram or whatever updates my mom tells me she’s learned from your mom. that doesn’t count,” his index finger traces the outside seam of the pants she was wearing from her calf, to just above her knee, and back, “i want to know about the y/n in front of me.”

“okay then,” she takes a deep breath, swirling her wine around in her glass before taking a sip, “i was born here in michigan, but moved to germany for a little while when my dad was still playing. before you ask me, no, the only german i can remember is my old address and how to tell them i was lost. when we moved back here, i picked up hockey for a couple of years before deciding to leave it to the boys-”

“you played defense, right?” jack interrupts, staring at her with such an interest.

she hums, “why do you think i always win when me and my brothers fight? i had potential, but it really just wasn’t for me.”

“is that so? because i remember a certain tipsy moment a few weeks ago where you said you quit because you didn’t like the colors of the uniform.”

“that may have been a contributing factor, but i was fourteen and very fashion-conscious. you can’t hold that against me,” she rolls her eyes. she catches sight of the wristbands on his arm and she can’t help but to reach down and tug on them as she resumes her story, “anyway, graduated high school, moved to minnesota for college. go gophers-”

“debatable,” he teases.

“got my degree in communications. thought that i met the love of my life in the backyard of a sigma chi frat house, which we both know how that worked out. moved down to florida, got engaged, called off the engagement, and now i’m back living with my parents. i have lived a life, jack hughes,” she sighs as she finishes off her glass. she didn’t miss the way that his face twitched at the mention of derek and how she just barely ghosted over what had happened. due to the movement, his damp hair had fallen over his eyes and she reached out to push it away, “it’s going to take more than one glass of wine and a first date to get into the good stuff.”

“but i already knew all of that,” he huffs, “tell me something that i don’t already know. tell me about something that makes you happy.”

“recently?” she quirks an eyebrow and he hums, “honestly, you.”

and jack’s world comes to a screeching halt. for as long as he had known her, she wasn’t the type to get sentimental, vulnerable, but over the last two months, he felt that he had seen more versions of her than he knew existed. from the first night she was home, to that plane ride to florida to get her things, to watching her toss her engagement ring into the water right outside his house, it wasn’t enough. he wanted, no he needed more of her. he needed to know every single version of her, every single story, every single emotion that she had to offer him.

her eyes find his and he squeezes her knee, a silent ask. he watches as her throat bobs and just as he goes to crane his neck up to meet her, an alarm sounds. that stupid fucking pizza.

after scouring the entire grocery store, they couldn’t find any pre-breaded chicken for chicken parm and neither of them wanted to bother with doing it themselves. so that’s how they found themselves snatching up a premade pizza with a reduced sticker on the front because its sell-by date was that day and even though jack insisted on getting one that was fresher, she only rolled her eyes and insisted it would taste the same. he, of course, let her sit it in the basket along with the thing of cookies she suddenly had a craving for the second she laid eyes on them. the way her face lit up made it worth the extra work he was going to have to put in later.

despite the insistent beeping from the stove timer, neither of them dared to make a move to go and pull the pizza from the oven. she blinks, “we should probably go and check on it…”

“i think that it can wait for a couple of minutes,” and yeah, it definitely could, because jack was leaning in and so was she. the second their lips meet it’s like nothing either of them had felt before. the build-up, the tension between the two of them over the summer was worth it as they melted into the kiss.

jack’s hand grips onto her thigh while her hand cradles his cheek. it was easy to get lost in each other, lips moving against one another’s like they’d been doing this forever. only when the need for air becomes too great do they pull away panting, still holding onto each other like either would disappear at any given second.

“we really should go check on the pizza,” she insists, swearing she can smell the cheese starting to burn.

he frowns, “can we do more of that later?”

“if you hurry back, you don’t have to wait that long,” she incentivizes and jack is all but scrambling towards the kitchen with the sounds of her laughter following behind him.

yeah, this was definitely something they could get used to.

(they never did hit play on the movie and the pizza didn’t burn, but it didn’t get eaten either. they were too lost in each other to even bother slicing through the crispy dough as it grew colder and colder on the countertop. oh well.)

[bengiyo]

Be My Favorite Ep 6 Stray Thoughts

Last week, this show put me on my back foot when it asked me to be kind. So much of last week was about people choosing to be kinder to one another and that choice paying forward for the recipient. Kawi is building a genuine friendship with Pear. Pisaeng went to a gay club for the first time and saw Max. Max read the baby gay for being self-centered, but then softened it with good advice. Kwan encouraged Not to give Kawi just a little bit of encouragement after asking him to sign the book she had already panned. They subverted the rooftop confession by having Kawi gently turn Pisaeng down. Kawi actually sang and now is part of a band. I’m actually invested in this show now. Was not expecting that.

Hey, Kawi’s smiles are starting to look genuine.

It’s sad that this is probably the first time Kawi ever expressed his worries about his dad.

I know we better save Kawi’s dad’s life. Kob Songsit is one of the most reliable BL dads.

I like that Max is a prickly queer. You gotta establish boundaries with baby gays because they can glomp on way too hard.

Oh. I see. Pisaeng’s family isn’t just rich, they’re “comfortable.” Curious how Max will feel about Pisaeng having a complicated relationship with his mom, or the reveal that anyone with that level of wealth is involved in crimes.

Pear’s house was used in Dark Blue Kiss and Bakery Boys I’m pretty sure.

I am having a lot of feelings about this scene with Pear asking her dad to help Kawi’s. I’m sick, and one of my friends reached out to his doctor parents to get me into care. I don’t think I’d be alive without their help.

Oh, Kawi. Now is the time to be strong and tank the embarrassment. It isn’t bad that Pear knew what you wanted to ask. It’s actually good that Pisaeng told her. She was there as an advocate with you. The mission is your dad’s health, not your ego.

Okay, I do like this show finally acknowledging that all these arguments people have are so loud that other people definitely know what they’re saying. I love Max.

Max is speaking my thoughts. I will let him write the rest of this post.

“I will not apologize for doing what I thought was best to help you with a serious problem. However you feel about it, I will accept it,” is really something I think we could use more of in the West. I feel like we as Americans are obsessed with ‘winning the conversation’ as a concept, and I think it makes us inherently combative.

This Kawi reveal about the source of his anger is giving, “I’m angry at myself.”

Not sure where I sit on Pear and Not as a pairing.

I get how repressed Kawi is and everything, but don’t kiss a man who has confessed to you while you’re drunk. There’s no turning back now. And then he falls asleep! This messy spaghetti ass boy!

Pisaeng going from an emotionally-complicated queer encounter directly into a closeted conversation with his mom as he has to figure out in the morning how to explain Kawi’s presence is giving me intense emotional flashbacks.

Okay, this show broke me. Pisaeng is not stupid. Pisaeng has always known who he is. His mother manipulated him deep into the closet when he was 15, and he knows it. His mom is using his own community against him. Some of you may be shocked that his mom has gay people turning on each other, but there is a long history of the police infiltrating gay spaces and threatening people convictions to turn them into informants. This is the sickest thing I think we’ve seen in a long time from GMMTV. I am deeply appalled. I will have to blog about this because this is so evil. The weaponization of our own community into surveilling and reporting on each other makes me so angry. That she is also publicly progressive enough that a person like Max admires her also infuriates me.

Nevermind. Fuck Not. Why is he speculating about Kawi’s sexuality to Pear? This is not how you flirt.

Ah, we’re back to the time travel portion of the plot. I’m curious what Pisaeng does with this knowledge.

I like Pisaeng. Despite everything going on, he’s still focused on the important thing: Kawi’s dad.

I do think it was important for Kawi to speak directly to Pear’s dad about getting help for his father, and not letting it just be a favor Pear begged for.

I’m so glad Kawi went to Pear as well to apologize for running out on her. She’s incredibly understanding and I hope she finds happiness and fulfillment.

I often talk a lot about the relationship with gay boys and their moms, but I also have strong feeling about boys and their fathers. Kawi admitting that he feels no need to improve himself if his dad won’t get to see it hits me to my core. I love my dad. He and I get along great. I need to call him later today once I watch Strange New Worlds. I get this.

I don’t mind Pisaeng letting Kawi know he’s willing to wait for him to sort his feelings.

I am going to have to write a separate post at some point this weekend. I am not in the read headspace now to talk about the rage flowing through my veins right now at a businesswoman with political ambitions gaslighting her own son into staying in the closet, and then using her own queer employees to surveil him. For those of you new to marginalized spaces, enforcement organizations have infiltrated our spaces forever and turned our own people against us. This was especially easy queer spaces because white men were threatened with losing access to whiteness. I cannot overstate how evil this is and how unexpected it is for me to have a GMMTV show NOT from Golf going directly into this.

[bittrlys]

I don't hate the main cast of tdp but dam do I think the series has a lot of wasted potential for them.

Yeah this is gonna be a rant and a long one at that so sorry and a warning here.

Rayla: there was so much potential rayla that all gets diminished in the series in my opinion at least. For example rayla is pretty discriminatory towards humans but that's not addressed or brought into light as much as it is when its Callum being discriminatory towards elves. I wanted to know more about raylas moonshadow culture and how that heavily influenced her actions in leaving Callum for two years, I wanted to see what she was doing in those two years, why did she come back if she didnt find viren, what are her views on her being ghosted and having her only living father figure ghost her as well, what are her views on runaan or her anger towards her parent or her fears in having to deal with what might happen to Callum and his possessions or her fears of water (I absolutely hate how that was fully conquered off screen) or how she can be hypocritical at times but the narrative doesn't acknowledge it properly or ever. (I hate the fandoms perception of morally upstanding rayla and the prescription that rayllum is a healthy ship when it isn't and it lacks communication so badly it makes me want to cry)

Callum: he also had so much potential like I hate how we don't see much of callum's views on being an orphan, him maybe getting jealous at rayla for having parental figures that are alive, or his feelings towards runnan (they're touched in a comic but not the show and I hate that even more), or how he wants to keep everyone he cares about close to him and fears losing them, or how much of an over thinker Callum truly is, or how he could of had a proper arc with aaravos where he sees how humans were mistreated during history, or him interacting with ezran a lot more or how Callum has an interesting amount of Parallels with characters he kind of hates like runaan, finnegran and viren+Claudia. Sure Callum gets a lot more justice done within the narrative but the bar is in hell for that (also your last ask post explained perfectly well why I hated how the show handled rayla dismissing callum's worries)

I don't know a lot of callum's and rayla's arc very much center eachother to the point that there is no substance outside of what they both serve to rayllum .

Soren: probably handled really well but the way his arc was done so dirty in season 4 made me cringe like why put him in PJ's and make him a joke for such important character events?!?! I wanted to see a proper Soren reaction to Viren being alive, I wanted to see guilt eat him away at the state Claudia is in, I wanted to see him have conflicted feelings when it came to Viren and Claudia how he rejects them but also just wants a family or wants them back, I wanted to see the true breakdown of sorens character and how he uses humour as a way to cope or try to soften situations. I wanted soren to maybe play a role in Claudia's redemption help reach out for her, I wanted someone to see Soren and the pain he is in and offer comfort. (I do think that Soren was done the koat justice out of all the main hero cast this season)

Ezran: i wanted to see a lot with ezran like how he felt towards zubeia sending assassins to kill him and king Harrow, or how he feels towards runnan (yeah it's touched upon but not in the main show) or how he struggles to take on royal duties and tries to get as much freedom as possible but fails, or how he is trying to choose wisdom and peace above all but a pacifist can't always successfully avoid conflict and must pick up a weapon at times, or how he felt about rayla leaving or Callum throwing himself into studies and changing after such an event or how he handles being an orphan. Also does ezran ever search who the orphan queen is? Are they similar? Or does ezran get blinded by hate and labels it justice? How is his relationship with Callum? It seems like ezran has become an isolated character stuck in a role that isn't built for him and being strapped of any innocence and naivety at a young age. Finally, what is ezrans connections to animals and we should of gotten a deeper dive on how that effects him or how he uses it.

Zym should talk more the dragon is a plot device and he has no arc or depth going for him

Yes, my feelings on the main heroes of the show are they're fine on paper but the execution (namely, how little consequences they face and how stark it is in contrast to the suffering of the villains who are allegedly taking 'easy shortcuts') leaves me wanting.

Something you touched on which I also dislike is important information or character beats being stored in supplementary material. If I don't want to drop a hundred plus on books I'm missing out on things that matter? Okay! My city's library doesn't stock all of them. Even through questionable means they're not all available. Yet if you never read, say, the book one novelization, you would miss out on the damning humans v. unicorns lore, and you're left frustrated at how the show discusses the topic of human suffering and denial of magic. This is why, while aware of this side lore, I prefer to keep my analysis centred on the show's presented narrative ... and then you're left going, "Why the hell is Rayla doing that?" for example.

Rayla feels frustratingly lacking in an internal life. As you said, a lot of her feelings on things are just not covered. I don't pay attention to the fandom at large (I see their Viren opinions and start composing manifestos in my head) but it's tough with female characters. They're often either idealized or vilified, and either way there's little care for their complexities. Even real fans of the character, in response to typical sexist fandom backlash, tend to be quite defensive. I've been there, I know the feeling, but. I wish there were more honest conversations about Rayla's issues and the way she treats Callum.

Callum really should have had more to do with Aaravos, I agree. He could have learned a lot and been taken to interesting places. At least when it comes to Callum, he at least has his pursuit of magic as a strong thread throughout the show and its his personal journey that has nothing to do with anyone else. It's given him one of the most notable character journeys on the hero side of things. (He's also allowed to actually suffer a bit.) Still, the "Rayla is his guiding star" thing is emblematic to the way he -- and Rayla -- are both burdened by their relationship. I'm really not an anti-ship grouch and indeed I enjoy a good Romeo and Juliet ship but maybe the emphasis needs to be on "good."

Maybe if they'd been written as an intended couple from the start of the show there would have been more thought to how their stories would have to eventually meld while retaining their characters. There's an interesting thing this season to how Rayla (who is alone in the world post-banishment) is scared of ending up like that ship's captain and not choosing love versus Callum realizing he should be less motivated by fear and instead by love and how they're almost conflicting motivations to arrive at the same conclusion (prioritizing love.) Yet the specific framing doesn't exactly work for me.

I hope now that they're together the relationship drama part of their stories is going to be over, at least for a good long while. They can start communicating better, be a cool battle couple, and focus on their own stories while supporting each other.

Soren did get the best stuff this season, I agree, and as ever, it's because Viren and Claudia carry the dramatic weight of the series so being closer to them increases the quality of a character's story. Hah. But seriously, I really disliked how much of a joke Soren has felt like and how disconnected he feels from the heroes. He's felt like a prop so letting him have real feelings again that take priority in the story is really nice.

Ezran ... yeah. Like Rayla, I feel they aren't so interested in his internal world. "Being king is hard" or "being king is noble" is so 101. It's like there has got to be more to this kid than that and espousing various morality speeches. That he's single-minded and hardheaded and intent on quietly suffering are not uninteresting traits, but I don't know, maybe he feels so flat because as you said he's very isolated. He lacks a peer to confide in. His brother's always off doing his own thing and Bait and Zym are just pets, and I don't think he'd want to put too much on his adult advisors because he's so determined to do things by himself. Possibly giving Ezran a friend that he can both communicate himself to and have fun with would help inject some life into his character. If he's not very curious about the world around him, fine, but what if his friend was? What if his friend challenged him? I think Aanya could be a decent choice for this but she has her own country to run, so.

"STOP BARKING, ZYM" should be on T-shirt. At this point it feels like they don't want us to get too attached to him as a character because Aaravos is going to ritually sacrifice him. Which would be funny!

Thank you for the ask! ♥ (I got really excited at how you colour-coded their names haha it's so cute.) You brought up a lot of points I have thought about myself. I'm going to go into more of what I want from the character's stories eventually, but reading through your message a unifying theme for me is just "we need more insight into their feelings." And unfortunately a lot of the feelings I most want explored may not reflect well on Xadia (Rayla's banishment, Callum with the history of humanity, Ezran with Thunder/Zubeia/Runaan) so they probably won't ever get into that stuff. Alas!

[that-left-turn]

Please, I beg you, please stop posting any anons that try to invalidate Carol, Mel, Caryl or the fandom. I'm on practically any platform. That anon is full of bullshit and tries to warm up allegations from years ago. That bullshit with not speaking out etc is as untrue as their newest claims.

Please, by posting these anons you're unfortunately dragging their bullshit on our accounts too.

Can't we just outright ignore them, please. We don't need that drama. And it's always the same anon jumping from one Caryl account to another every few days.

I really love your account and how you're always interacting with people but no matter how you explain something or not. These fans don't want to understand your standpoint. For them, all Carylers are bad. So please, let's just enjoy our fandom and leave drama out of our safe zone.

If you'll indulge me, I'll explain my reasons for engaging and then, we can see where that leaves us?

I'm aware that there are anons who don't reach out in good faith. (You should see some of the asks I don't post 🫣) I'm not gullible and my response isn't about convincing these anons or having a never-ending argument. I don't want drama. I want to reach the lurkers and the passersby. People who haven't given the workings of racism much thought, or who don't have ready access to this information or a cultural cheat sheet to decipher it. Not everyone lives in the US, and TV shows and movies are not a reliable reflection of real life good tools to understand how and why something's contentious.

A chunk of time ago, there was an incident where a Caryler wrote something racist and was called out (I believe by a Caryler of Color?), but it turned into "a whole thing" instead of just an apology and an amendment. The responses from other (white) Carylers in the wake of it made me so sad. They couldn't see the problem, which is why I wrote a post that provided historical background and cultural context. Because of anon asks, I later wrote some more posts on racism (in relation to TWDU and TV/film) and on general industry practices, including some of the problems with misogyny.

Regarding the ask you referenced, someone sent me screenshots of the mentioned tweet and it wasn't from years ago. It was in the last couple of days and those pictures were racist. I still think a part of the general problem—not speaking specifically about this tweet because it's on a different platform and I have no context for the poster or the discourse over there—is one of awareness, not rampant racism. Racists so seldom are the raging, frothing-at-the-mouth kind. It's usually that nice-lady-who-lives-around-the-corner type, who's kind to children and animals. She has some slight biases that you write off because she's a good person and does all these other nice things.

If you've never been a minority—always visible and seen—in your community and you've never had to deal with insidious bigotry on a personal level because your name signals that you belong to the dominant culture, your skin tone is light, you wear no outward signs that you're Other (like a hijab, yarmulke or dastār), and you don't speak with a foreign accent or in a dialect that's considered "lower class," then it's so easy to not notice what it's like for those who deal with that in their daily life.

The visible portion of the Caryl fandom is predominantly white, so it isn't a "safe zone" for POC when someone says/does something ill-advised, even if it's about a different part of the fandom. It's a reminder of real life and that you have to behave in a way that doesn't make white people uncomfortable. If you don't, then you're a troublemaker or the one who doesn't understand that "it's not that deep. Just get over it." Getting over systematically being treated as 'less than' by otherwise well-meaning people isn't a realistic expectation—look at Caryl and their invisible emotional scars that they struggle with—low self-esteem from reinforced institutionalized prejudice doesn't just "go away."

Everyone's bombarded with subliminal messaging from the time that we're children and we absorb these "truths" subconsciously, without reflecting on the validity because we don't notice that our views are being influenced. (It's like erosion.) Which is why it's possible to say casually racist/sexist things and not be aware that what you're saying is racist or sexist. You don't consciously think that people who're different from you for one reason or another aren't fully human, but the signal you send out by using language or imagery that's some form of -ist conveys that sentiment to the person who's impacted and also that it's okay to talk about someone else in that way.

My aim isn't to throw stones at anyone or bring cross-platform drama. I would prefer it if people stopped asking me to 'do something about someone who did something on a different platform' because I'm not part of the landscape over there and I have no relationship with those people that I can use as social capital to affect anyone's behavior. But, I've tried to highlight social injustices affecting TBOC and Caryl fandom so people can see the issues, even if they're not personally affected by them.

That's why I'm also talking about how things work in the industry. I see a lot of assumptions among fans, which is understandable since it's not a field most people come in contact with. I've tried to offer explanations of how a production functions and the ways in which female creatives are confronted with sexism and misogyny. I would like for the industry to change, but for that to happen, consumers need to know what they're buying into. AMC and TWDU in particular is not a place where women want to work because the misogyny is deeply entrenched.

That doesn't mean that I want to disparage, undermine or dismiss Carol, Melissa, Caryl or the fandom. I talk about the workplace inequality and the lack of narrative integrity because I care about these characters. I want Carol and Melissa to get their dues. I want canon for Caryl because that representation matters and it could help change what we see on other shows too. (Tiny creeks turn into mighty rivers.) It's about the aforementioned narrative integrity: Caryl's emotional arc has run throughout the course of the flagship show, even if it was arrested for a couple of seasons during the Saviors arc.

A TV show isn't produced to satisfy its EPs. It's supposed to make the studio money and the only way to do that is if there's a paying audience. You have to respect the viewers. Write for them. If you distill an ensemble show into a small spinoff focused on two characters, you need to tell a story that viewers who are invested in those two characters will tune in for. You shouldn't try to weed out the audience you have in order to attract the audience you want to write for. That's a poor financial decision.

Regardless, I'm not trying to stir up drama, I promise. I hope anyone reading my posts can see that I'm not combative, and I'm not posting the hateful asks or those that have nothing to do with TBOC. I try to offer a fair perspective regarding the direction of the show. I see red flags, but I try to elaborate on why in more practical terms than "this is how I feel about it." I hope that comes across to people 🫠

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Arc Asks A Lot of Questions

Yes another one. Still need to iron out stuff for these two. Yes I did just write this directly into the tumblr post don't worry about it.

Tag list: @outpost51 @nanashi23 @winterandwords @jezifster @kk7-rbs @aether-wasteland-s @dumbthunder @manathen @the-void-writes @livums @vacantgodling (Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!) 

Arc and Tharion had lived on the same planet. Separated only a day's walk away from each other. Followed the same god. At least for some time anyway. But Arc could admit they'd never known of Tharion. Or much about the communicators. Beyond the usual appearances of them.

Arc listened to Tharion's claws tapping on the wall, "How much can you see with your visions?"

Tharion hadn't looked over at Arc yet. Continuing to tap his claws, mumbled prayers twisting his tongue. Arc waited patiently, reaching out their hand to rest on Tharion's scarred over shoulder. Rolling up his sleeve to run their fingers over it. Tharion remained unbothered, tilting his head in Arc's direction when he finished.

"It depends. Sometimes I just see our god in different forms, sometimes just voices and backdrops."

"Is the shaking a side effect or the cause?" Arc asked now, referring to Tharion's epileptic fits.

"The cause I think. I've heard things I'm not supposed too through our god. Like Greeter's screaming," Tharion turned to face Arc, amusement ridding tension in his back, "And a lot of shit talk about the two the red brutes travel as if it stays in one place calmly itself."

Arc made a low sound of acknowledgment continuing to follow over the series of scars, "Does Cosma know?"

Tharion shrugged, "She probably already pieced it together. Her mission is a pointless one. Greeter told her not to chase but she's obsessed."

Arc rolled their eyes at the thought of Cosma's mission. She'd destroy a dozen systems before she could even get contact with Greeter. Their god was good at that: moving away from harm, starting anew, killing. Cosma didn't stand a chance. They ended that topic of conversation with an exaggerated sigh.

The fighter's curiosity found its way back to Tharion. Arc continued to follow over the scarring. Tharion hadn't fought against it. He only sighed waiting for Arc to be sated. Instead they tilted their head and grinned.

"Were you so harsh of the last one you followed?" Arc's eyes honed in on Tharion's face.

Tharion's face lit up, even in the dim part of the hall they had found. Running from the annoying intensity of the overhead lights. He ran his hand over the scarring in a pattern Arc didn't recognize. Speaking a garbled name in a low hum matching the lights further down.

"Well she'd been the one who recognized my ability. Robed me as a bridge. She could be harsh but us bridges were also fighters like you."

"I knew you were too good with those," Arc commented gesturing to Tharion's claws.

Tharion could only smile at the interruption. It had been awhile since he could freely speak of his old religion. Of his old life. Tharion's claws thrummed against Arc's thighs, digging in a couple times. Arc bit his cheek every time not wanting to disrupt him over something like this.

"So can you bridge with multiple gods?"

Tharion's face scrunched at that one. His mustache almost curved hilariously upwards. His curled lip practically making it a diagonal line. Arc would've laughed but Tharion's claws made them grunt instead.

"Kinda."

"At once?" Arc asked licking at their wounded inner cheek.

"I'd probably die if they tried something like that," Tharion barely apologized, pulling their claws from Arc's thighs.

Arc poorly restrained Tharion's wrists in his hand. Desperately needing Tharion to stop shredding through their skin. They swallowed the blood staining their tongue.

"But you pray to multiple?"

Tharion kept his hands in place. Not breaking Arc's hold yet. He clasped his fingers together, pointing at Arc, "You're almost as bad as Cosma. Why so many questions?"

"Do you pray to multiple?" Arc repeated, ignoring Tharion.

Tharion hummed softly. As he often did when determining the worth in something. As far as communicators go that had to be one of the most accurate stereotypes. At least when applied to Tharion.

"You don't pay much attention for someone who fights to protect others," Tharion stated instead.

Arc released Tharion's hands and sighed loudly, "Are you all fucking shit talkers?"

Tharion laughed giddily at Arc's remark and he'd answer this question, "Yes. You're lucky to have gotten so much from me for free."

The dim light had decided to beam down on them with a concerning clunk. They both glared in the direction of the artificial lighting. Missing the heat of the star's radiation. And the forgiving shelter for those running from it.

Arc grumbled, "I should chew your damn claws off."

"I'd slice through your jaw before you'd have a chance."