#and by the time i did i knew it was something i'd get bullied for- something others would'nt tolerate

[tillinghastcorporatemedia]

A lot of this as true but as a cis guy who's been assumed to be queer since before i knew i was queer and has long hair, which normally wouldnt even be something i'd bring up, but this is something ive experienced due to being really short and having long hair but i wanna refer to number 3

3. That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men.

Idk if you've had to be around these fucks but let me tell you, men like this act like im not a man. every day i wear a mask i get called maam even when ive got a beard spilling out of the edges of my mask. (got called mamacita at a taco truck the other day while having to pick up a dashing order. thats new) But growing up, i was the punching bag. Didnt matter if i was agreeing with everything they said, did, or even hyped them up. I was the punching bag. Ive had my hair lit on fire while driving, beat up multiple times, bullied until i started fighting back. you could say it was just shitty high school guys but then we get into adulthood. When you become older but still dont even clear the national average men dont look at you the same. im still a target to these people just because of my look, and not even the hair. I got assaulted, by a straight man, while i was checking the oil in my car. My hair wasnt down, wasnt wearing feminine clothing, doing autowork checks. And guess what when i freaked out because some random guy came up behind me and started grabbing at my chest he backed up and then freaked out i was a guy and was threatening to beat me up because i was "tricking him" call me a coward i just ran off. You can call out your friends sure, and sometimes it might work in a social group setting. but i guarantee you youll just stop getting invited instead of behavior being corrected. this is said already but the men these men listen to arent gonna do this, and you might be able to change some minds with words. But as someone who pays attention to shit, words dont do shit. actions do though. if you wanna fix this problem its not gonna be the tiny little gay guy these men wanna beat the shit out of that they are gonna listen to.

at some point something else but words is gonna have to be done and as a man i wish i could figure something out but because of both my sexuality and my unchangeable features of my body im basically excluded by most any "masculine" guys.

I dont have an answer, i wish i did but i dont

But i will say its gonna take actions, not just words, for these sacks of patriarchal dung to take themselves to the trash can or clean themselves up.

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

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

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

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

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

Problem with that being:

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

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

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

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

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

[snekdood]

if words are not enough to get a manipulative person to leave you tf alone and hit the road, wtf are ya supposed to do? maybe throw a small toy at them to send a message

[sigma-alpha-writer-chad]

Grow Up, Would You? [Josh Washington]

“I don’t know if you’ve changed any since middle school but I really hope you’ve learned the difference between pranking somebody and just being a fucking bully.”

You can also find this story on Ao3!

Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six

[CHAPTER FIVE]

"Chris, you are... not good at this," Josh says, holding a 4 of diamonds in his hand. "This is, like, the third time you've gotten my card wrong."

"I'd be better if I wasn't drunk off my ass," Chris defends, smacking the deck of cards on the counter. I say nothing, too busy trying to calm my laughter and holding on to Matt for balance. Laughing, himself, he holds my forearms to keep me steady.

Although they'd left us for a while, Matt and Mike eventually migrated back into the kitchen at the sound of the laughter. I was shocked that Emily wasn't wrapped around Mike like she usually was, but no one would ever hear me complain or even acknowledge her absence.

"I don't think we've ever actually spent much time together," Matt says, straightening up as he wiped a tear from his eye. "You're cool. I'm sorry for maybe seeing kind of, standoffish, earlier...?" He rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"Oh, no," I giggle. "It's awkward meeting new people, I get it. Thank you, though." I knew Matt was more meek than the others, but I didn't realize he was a sweetheart. Mike pats me on the back.

"She's maaad cool," he confirms. By the way his words merge together I can tell he's drunk. "I've never gotten to talk to her thoughhh, Emily think she wants me or whatever."

"Emily thinks everyone wants you," Josh snorts. Mike gasps, placing his hands over his torso dramatically.

"Don't they?" I cringe. Josh taps the counter loudly, drawing our attention to the lineup of shots.

"What are the, uh," Chris starts, looking into his shot as he tries to find the words he needs. "The girls! Sam, Jess, and Emily, the twins, what're they doing?" he asks.

"Some skin routine, or something. Jess brought an entire kit," Mike sighs. "I'm pretty bummed out that she said girls only, that stuff is fire." We all clink our glasses together and take the shots, Matt shaking his head violently after he swallowed.

"Goddamn, shit is nasty," he hissed, scrunching up his face. Everyone else can't help but laugh, though I can feel my face starting to burn. It could be nothing or anything, but in the past I've learned that sometimes it means I just need some air.

"I'm gonna go get some air," I say, hiking my thumb behind me towards the back balcony.

"Gonna hurl?" Josh asks, that stupid grin on his stupid face.

"No, just need some air." I walk out the door and outside. Shit. I forgot my coat. I decide against going inside - it would be embarrassing if they realized. The night was going so well, I didn't want them to watch me take the walk of shame to grab my winter garments.

I clear off a part of the railing and lean against it, shivering and holding myself. The icy air did it's job quickly in cooling my skin and opening my lungs. Despite my shivering, I took slow, deep breaths until I hear the door opening and closing behind me.

"Hey," I greet, not turning around.

"Cold?" I chew on my cheek as Josh leans next to me, holding one of his thick coats in his hands.

"Freezing," I admit, laughing. Josh says nothing, instead gently placing his coat over my shoulders. Holy fuck it was warm. Despite my reservations I quickly put it on and zip it closed, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, wow, thank you. It's so warm." Josh laughs loudly and leans again on the railing next to me, our shoulders a hair apart.

"I have it hanging next to the fireplace," he explains. I look up at him through my lashes, and he looks down at me. "So, always nice and toasty... like a Hot Pocket." I look back out across the snowy forest in a failed attempt to hide the smile from my face. I don't know why I thought it was funny - because it wasn't.

I've always hated that Josh was able to make me smile, even when he was at his worst bullying me. If he was making jokes nearby, I was the one nearly bursting a blood vessel trying not to laugh. I know he sees me, though, because he had a twinkle in his eye and a gentle grin of his own.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks me, tilting his head in an attempt to be on my level.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I reply, surprised he was asking. "I just need a break sometimes." I pause. "Thanks for checking."

"Alright, girl, well," he starts, leaning against me for a second. He's so warm I almost ask him to stay there. I knew at that thought that I should start drinking less vodka and more water. "I'll give you your... your alone time."

"Thank you, Josh." I say. He pauses, and suddenly there's much more hesitance to leave. I wonder why. Is it that I said his name? "Are you okay?" he takes a deep inhale.

"Yeah," he starts, though I'm immediately not convinced. "I just need a little space, sometimes, too." There's another pause. He's still leaning against me, our shoulders pressed together. For a millisecond I can feel my head move to lean on his shoulder and I freeze. Josh opens his mouth again, hesitating to speak. "I don't know how I'm feeling about Mike, lately."

"Mike?" I repeat. He nods, taking another deep breath.

"Hannah's got a thing for him," Josh states. He's looking across the forest with his eyebrows furrowed. "And he keeps playing with her feelings, I think."

"You think?" He nods again.

"He hasn't - he won't reject her. He knows how she feels about him and he just let's her. I think he digs the attention or something, but it's pissing me off. I tried to tell Hannah he wasn't into her, but -" he cuts himself off and shakes his head. I can tell he's getting angry at just the thought of the subject. "But she just won't listen. How can a girl so smart not see what he's doing?"

"I don't know," I murmur. I wasn't sure what to say, or how to comfort him. "She asked me about him, earlier." Josh looks at me as he waits for me to continue. "Asked what I thought about him. I just said he wasn't my type, he's got a girlfriend, whatever."

"Oh, well, what is your type?" He smirks. I roll my eyes and lean hard against him as he laughs at me.

"I think she knows Mike doesn't feel the same," I say. "She just doesn't care."

"The land of delusion," Josh huffs before looking at me. "Wanting somebody you can't have, well... I guess that sort of runs in the family." I side eye him and my heart rate picks up.

"Sam?" I gulp. Josh bursts out in laughter.

"Oh, Jordan," he starts, rubbing his eyes. "You kill me."

"I'm funny, I know," I grin. We make eye contact again and the pressure of his shoulder against mine increases as he leans further into me before, finally, pulling away. The absence of his warmth is immediate and I frown.

"I'm just worried about Hannah, is all," he clarifies, suddenly. "I'll see you back inside."

"See you." I smile, softly, and listen as the door opens. Instead of closing, though, I hear gentle conversation and a 'she wants some alone time right now, man.' I turn around to see Mike trying to go to the balcony with me, Joshua blocking his way. They continue to bicker, but I can't hear anything else until Mike notices me watching.

"Hey, Jordan, just thought we could get to know each other better without Emily bitching you out!" He calls. I frown and look at Josh, who is staring at the back of Mike's head so intensely I half expected to see smoke start rising from his dark hair.

"You talk about your girlfriend weird," I blurt out. I look around me as if Emily would descend upon us at any moment and exact her wrath. "Don't you like her or something?" Mike laughs and shakes his head, finally pushing past Josh, who stumbles a few feet back.

"Of course I do," he says, placing both hands on my shoulders. I tense up immediately and make an attempt to gently shrug him off, but he just tightens his grip slightly. "But sometimes she tries to keep me from making new friends, or trying to strengthen already existing relationships. You understand, right? Jealous girlfriend things."

"I'm about to go inside," I gulp. I want his hands off of me now. I don't hate Mike, but the discomfort was incredible. "Just go on in and wait for me."

"Oh, come on, let's -"

"She said she's going inside." Josh butts in. I furrow my eyebrows and Mike finally lets me go. My feelings are complicated, both appreciation and annoyance swirling in my chest. Appreciation for the defense, and annoyance for not letting me handle it myself.

The appreciation wins over.

I pull the coat up over my cold nose and look between Josh and Mike. It's now, as Mike holds his hands up in defeat and he and Josh bicker, that I realize Josh's coat smelled so good. Did he smell this good? My drunken mind considers getting really close to Josh to find out.

It smells like pine, firewood, and cologne. I was almost sure though that the pine and firewood was from the cologne itself. I close my eyes. The scent was comforting and made me feel warmer.

My serenity is interrupted by Mike slamming the lodge door behind him as he finally relented and went inside. I jump, startled, and slip, falling flat on my back. There was enough snow that it didn't hurt, but I wasn't happy. I can hear Josh laughing.

"I'm going to try to help you up," he says through giggles. I start to sit up, slowly, and he offers is hand. I take it, and smile mischievously. "What're you-" I pull him down into the snow with me, doing my best evil laugh as I stand up. Josh rolls around, trying to get a grip on his surroundings, and he grabs my leg and pulls me back down on top of him.

I land on his chest and he lets out a huff, the air from his lungs being knocked out of him. As I try to get up, he wraps his arms around me and doesn't let go.

"Hey, hey! Release me, wench!" I yell. I try to sound serious, but I'm giggling and beaming.

"No can do, lady. Feel the wrath of Mr. Winter!" He rolls over so that I'm sunken into the pile of snow that had accumulated at the edge of the balcony. It reaches just over my ears.

And he's on top of me, his hands now on my hips and holding me down, his knee resting between mine. I'm shaking, but not from the cold anymore.

"Comfy?" He asks, moving his hands from me to hold himself up.

"Five stars," I sigh, rolling my eyes. I wish I wasn't smiling. I wish my heart wasn't pounding. "Can I get up now?"

"I don't know, all this alcohol and being wasted shit has made me tired," he yawns. His breath smells like booze and breath mints he'd been popping all night. He moves slowly, as if giving me an opportunity to stop him, and lays fully on top of me. "I'm going to sleep." Instead of shoving him off and screaming, like a part of me tells me to, I let him. His breath is warm on my neck as he fake-snores loudly. I shudder.

"Okay pal, get off me before somebody comes out here and sees this."

"Embarrassed?" Josh laughs breathily, his warm breath continuing to send chills through my body.

"Nervous."

"I make you nervous?" He sits himself back up again, that dumb smile back on his face. I try to think about the terrible things he'd done to me in our elementary and middle school times, but I can't seem to be upset at him no matter how much I try. I'm feeling something different for him. Not disdain or annoyance or the usual hatred.

It's something different.

"Yes." I relent. "And you do smell good."

"What?" I laugh out loud in embarrassment and disbelief at myself.

"I've had too much to drink," I sigh. I smile at Josh, and he smiles back, but he appears nervous and his eyes can't reach mine. He chews his lip as he starts to get up. I almost frown as he does, the warmth and weight of his body was comforting. He reached out his hand, again, and this time I take it.

"Let's go back inside," he mumbles, brushing the snow off of me. I smile as he does. "Okay?

"Okay."

----------

I sit at the counter of the bar, resting my chin on the palm of my right hand. On the other side stood Josh. He has a cocktail shaker in his hands, shaking it like a professional bartender would.

"Another water for the fair young lady?" He asks, taking my glass and filling it with the clear liquid, adding as much dramatic flair as he could.

"Oh, yes, m'dear, thank you," I hum. Chris and everyone else had headed to bed long ago, leaving Josh and I alone in the kitchen, the both of us deciding to be mostly sober before even going to bed. Josh slides the water to me and winks. I laugh, then snap my mouth shut.

"What is it?" He asks, tilting his head and leaning over the counter.

"I..." I start to laugh, moving my arm to hide my face. "I sound so, so drunk." Josh laughs at me before pushing the glass of water to me again.

"Drink up, madam," he says. I grab the glass, slowly sliding it towards me as Josh and I lock eyes. I raise an eyebrow and bring the water to my lips, downing it quickly like a massive shot.

"I'd like another, please. And make that a double."

"As you wish," he laughs. He gives me water in a much bigger glass, not bothering with the theatrics this time as he gets himself a drink as well. Instead of walking around the bar to sit, he stays opposite of me and leaning over the counter. I take a sip from the cup. I can feel myself growing more sober as time passes, but not by much. "How're you feeling?" I tilt my head in thought. I wondered for just a moment if I should be honest with him.

"I'm feeling good," I admit, smiling to myself. I can feel him watching me. "I'm..." I swallow, a bit nervous. "I'm glad I came. Thank you for tolerating me." My eyes move to his. The kitchen was completely dark save for a single light above the stove. For a moment I think he almost looks handsome in this lighting.

I must be wasted.

"I should say the same," Josh sighs, looking away from me. He's staring at the counter now. "I know I'm not... Your favorite." He starts, inhaling deeply. "But you've been showing up, anyways, for Chris and... And my sisters. I love Chris, and I love my sisters, more than anything, y'know? So... If they call you friend, you..." His eyes meet mine for not even a second, seemingly too nervous to meet my eyes. "You let me know if you need anything and I'll try to help you out, alright?" My eyes are watering. Why are my eyes watering? Why is he saying this to me.

"...okay," I croak. I can barely get the words out of my throat. "Thank you." I gulp down the rest of my water in an attempt to snuff out the fire burning in my chest. The air becomes heavy and thick with awkward tension. I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding.

"Do you want to put on a movie?" Josh asks, snapping me out of my fog.

"Uhm, sure. What are you thinking?"

"I've got Scream," he grins. "Do you like scary movies?" I roll my eyes, but I can't hide the smile growing on my face. "Ahh, there it is," Josh says gently, his voice low. My face feels like its set on fire.

"Is the couch fine?!" I gasp, standing up quickly and stumbling backwards. Josh laughs and asks if I'm okay, but I ignore him and scurry to the couch. Above the fireplace was a massive television. Josh turns it on and flips through channels to his own recording of Scream. I can't help but laugh.

"You recorded Scream?"

"Hey, man, don't be a hater," Josh sighs. As the movie starts he takes his seat. I'm at one end of the couch, and he's at the other. As we watch the movie, I take suspicious glances every now and then at Josh. Sometimes, I look at him and he's fully turned to look at me.

"Is there something on my face?" I ask when I catch him again. He shakes his head.

"No, I just want to see your reactions to the movie," he admitted. He's sounding less sober and more tired. As I look back towards the TV I can feel the sofa move as he moves towards me.

"I've seen this before," I whisper.

"Say what?" Josh scoots closer again so he can hear me. When I look at him again the movie starts to disappear. I don't know what I'm thinking.

I scoot closer to him.

"I said I've seen this movie before," I repeat, slightly louder. Josh is staring at me now without hesitation. I can tell he's tired, yet he has no issue with keeping his eyes on me. He looks like a puppy dog, pleading for any sort of attention.

"Oh, have you?" He says. This time, he's whispering, yet he's close enough that I can hear him just fine. I only realize, now, that our knees our touching, exactly as they did at the pizza bar. My heart rate picks up as Josh scans every detail of my face.

"Mhm," I hum. I look at his lips. They look soft. My hand twitches as I resist the urge to reach up and brush my thumb across his lip. How much have I had to drink?

"Jordan..." He starts, leaning in.

"Josh?" I gulp, looking back into his eyes.

Green eyes.

His hand slowly moves itself to my forearm.

"I am..." He laughs softly. "I think I have to be wasted." His hand slowly moves up my arm and to my shoulder but he doesn't stop. He brushes his thumb across my collarbone before he gently settles his hand gently at the side of my neck.

"Me, too," I whisper. Josh parts his lips and slowly moves closer to me, his thumb brushing my jawline. Is he going to kiss me? Holy shit. Is Joshua Washington going to kiss me? My heart pounds and I worry for a moment that I'm about to die. My chest is going to burst open at any second now.

"So we should stop," I say breathlessly, my hands quickly moving to his chest. It was surprisingly solid. My heart is twisted harshly, my chest so tight it felt as if my ribs would shatter at any moment. I half expect him to call me ugly, to scoff and roll his eyes, tell me it was just a joke.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against my own.

"I'm sorry, Jordan, I don't know what came over me," he spoke softly, just above a whisper. His hand doesn't leave it's place on my skin, and for some unspeakable reason I don't mind it. "Can I just... I'm... I don't know. Things feel fine with you," he admits, whispering as if I'll break if he speaks too loud. "Can we just stay like this for a while?" I nod, closing my own eyes as he rests his head on my shoulder. My hands move to his head as if on instinct, one hand brushing his hair softly and the other tracing circles on his back. He slowly wraps his arms around me in a loose hug, his weight pushing me backwards as he fell deeper into sleep.

Instead of laying back, myself, I slowly guided his head to my lap, where I continued to run my fingers through his hair.

"Chris would go insane if he saw this," I chuckle, a small smile on my face.

"You drive me insane," Josh mumbles something I can barely catch.

"Says you, Mr. Locker-Rats," I scoff. He smiles at the nickname.

"That's such a stupid name," he laughs. He takes a deep breath and his smile falters. Thank you, Jordan," he sighs, turning over into his side. "I really needed this."

"Hm?"

"I need this..." Josh says as he drifts off to sleep.

I'm sober now.

I know I'll remember this. I'll remember this for the rest of my life. The fragile body of my worst enemy left open and vulnerable to me like no one else had ever been, his head in my lap, with what felt like his soul held in my very hands. I felt as if one wrong move would break him.

Would he remember? Will he still be so kind, so gentle when everyone else can see him be kind to me?

I didn't think so. I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth. Despite my reservations I continue to slowly pet his thick, soft hair. It's now, as I look down at him sleeping, that I start to realize that maybe I don't hate him anymore.

Maybe we could be some sort of friends.

I smile to myself and sigh, leaning back against the couch. I swear right then that I wouldn't fall asleep. Once the movie was over, I would go to my own room to spare Josh and I the embarrassment of being found in such a comfortable position with each other.

"You've changed," I murmur. "I think I like it." He says nothing. As the movie goes on, I watch his body rise and fall with his steady breathing. He'd been good to me today.

As the credits roll, I gently slide out from under him and replace my lap with a pillow under Josh's head. He doesn't move, and I lay a nearby throw blanket over him. I contemplate removing his boots, but decide against it to avoid waking him up. As I crouch down to his level, I take a moment to examine his face.

I hate to admit it, I do, but he looked serene. I thought to myself that maybe it was time to admit that he was physically appealing. I felt a safety and comfort around Josh, now, that I'd never felt before. Why? Is he really that different? Does he really care about me?

Or are we both drunk?

I chew on my lip as I stare at him. I don't know what's happening to me, I don't know what's come over me, but I run my fingers through his hair one more time as I place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. He shifts, and for a split second I think I see him trying to hold back a smile. I squint, but he doesn't move again. I sigh.

"Goodnight, Joshua."

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

Hey y'all! Thank you so much for your patience. This chapter did not want to work with me and kept not saving progress made and I kept having to re write it. I believe this chapter is a bit longer than normal, so I hope that makes up for it! The next one will be longer, too. I love talking to everybody, so thank you all so much for the kind comments, they make me so happy. Much love!!

Also: Accidentally posted this early, so some may be seeing this a second time. If that's you, this is the FINISHED chapter! Thank you.

❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @sc4rrc @mattymxmo @cellyx33 @jenepleurepasbaby @kalynnjonas @spinback-kiva @frankcastlesvest @barnxsromanxff

[matt0044]

This is something I've often experienced with other shows be they stuff I have it bad for or stuff that I acknowledge is good but isn't for me. It's gotten to the point where when I see something getting dunked yet see that it's a fairly thriving series or even a full-on franchise, I start to scrutinize the scrutiny.

Especially when a lot of the popular talking points are either memes or passed around so often, they may as well be meme.

A while back, Netflix's 13 Reasons Why was bandied about Tumblr and YouTube as this most offensive thing for it's portrayal of suicide. I was aware of how this wasn't the sort of subject to take lightly lest I be eating my foot for a full course meal. As such, I took the outrage's word for it and steered clear.

I did start to get curious with a lot of specific scenes from Season 1 being passed around for the afformentioned dunking. Such as Hannah calling Clay a nerd for referencing Star Wars only for said post to show how much The Force Awakens grossed.

Said curiosity grew when I saw many video essays tackling 13 Reasons Why. Most were negative but what I footage saw didn't seem bad. Some of it was pretty... nice actually. But still, this was the show that gave suicide and poor mental health a bad name with how the female lead took her own life seemingly out of revenge.

So... I stayed away. That is, until I saw a billboard for Season 2 in NYC. Now this got me seeing that this show had a legit audience. Not just hatewatchers but those invested in the story of Hannah Baker and Clay Jensen. That's when I decided to add it to my watch list.

At best, it would be bad but maybe a fascinating kind of bad. The kind that RiffTrax would sink their teeth into. At worst, it would be a bore and I'd turn the other way. Then I started to watch it.

Twenty Six episodes later... I loved it. I felt that it... spoke to me emotionally on how life can be so messed up. I loved how no character was totally good or bad. How even Number 12 on the tapes had his depths despite being, well, the worst really.

When Hannah reached the end of her rope, I found myself begging her to not do what I knew she'd do. When Tyler Down tried to take matters into his own hands, I wished I could be there to talk him down. It takes a very special kind of story to invoke that kind of visceral dread.

Now if you've heard me out, how it relates to RWBY is that a lot of the dismissal and derision relies on a specific kind of media illiteracy: the active lack of curiosity.

Rather than be curious about people pitching a fit about "X show" and seeing for themselves what all the hubbub is about, they just stay away. They go with the crowd essentially.

And why wouldn't they? It's like how school bullies get away with picking on their victims even in front of others. Anyone else who doesn't want to play hero would keep their head down and not even be associated with the targeted kid.

I mean, we've got clickbait titles called "We Watch 'X' So You Don't Have To." That is literally ripping off the Nostalgia Critic AKA baby's first Angry Geek. It's not that looking into a show so you'd know if it's worth your time or not is bad. It's when it's from second hand sources like very leading Video Essays.

So many act autoritative and present themselves with the kind of confidence we so wish we had in ourselves. We trust that they're editing isn't being coy and that their assessment is legitimate or, if more emotionally, honest at the very least.

But what about the show itself? Why not find any clips online that highlight certain moments? Why not at least view some of the trailers? Why not go onto subreddits or Socials to ask, "Hey, why do some many seem to like this show?"

Because between James Somerton and Lily Orchard, it's become abundantly clear that there are many who are willing to abuse this this trust. And they are not isolated incidents. Even those who maybe are just giving their opinion may be twisting facts to suit their narrative. They also may be not.

But you won't know unless we let ourselves be curious. Is the show trash? Or is it just another punching bag for YouTubers to hit so money will fall out if they make a hard enough blow?

Is the show truly offensive? Or did it mishandled pre-warning those of its subject content?

Is the show bad... or just not for you?

Be curious. Find the answers for yourself. Nobody is ever immune from mob mentality.

@tumblingxelian @citadelofmythoughts @galaxy98

it is wild to me that the word of mouth on RWB/Y being 'bad' is like, secondhand

almost every time it's someone saying they've never watched the show but they got their opinion from a youtuber or reddit

the casual admittance that they outsource their thinking to other people, who they don't know, and they can't know are telling the truth, because they refuse to engage with the source material, and then proceed to go about their lives on pure confirmation bias, everyone who validates that opinion (regardless of whether they actually watched the show or are also regurgitating someone else's opinion as fact) is truthful and anyone who disagrees and says that the show is good, actually, is dismissed as either being a liar or stupid (because it's definitely smart and mature to make a mass value judgment on people you don't know, about a topic you know very little about)

and that's the thing, when you've got one group of people saying a piece of media is bad and the worst thing ever, and you've got another group who are saying it's good and fun, then a) it's clear there's some level of subjectivity involved here, which means the "objectively bad" claims you've been consuming should have immediate doubt cast on them (though really if anyone says anything is 'objectively bad' then they're conflating their opinion as fact and that's a red flag) and b) the smart thing to do would be to actually try to consume the media to see what it is that has appealed to people enough to contribute to its enduring popularity, even if it doesn't end up appealing to you, and not dismiss it out of hand

[snipersfucker]

As someone new to transformer fics, I'd love a fic where Mirage and the reader learn what the others name for body parts are (hand/servo, etc.) And obviously Mirage uses it as an opportunity to put the moves on the reader.

yall are so creative with these i legit opened my mouth when i read that...... such a good idea omg lets go (im so deep in that shit i legit remember most robot names for these body parts without having to look em up lmao)

"That's a chassis."

You let out a sigh as Mirage pointed at another part of his metal body. You knew you wouldn't be able to remember all these ridiculously strange names, but still wanted to be a good student, especially because you asked him to teach you.

"Mine's a bit bigger than the ones your little boys have."

And there it was. His constant bragging, showing-off, comments that indicated he was damn aware he was better than humans.

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, not having to look up that much because he was sitting on his... aft. Or something.

"Helm, face plate, optics, pedes, tank..." He kept pointing at random body parts of his, naming them as fast as he could just to get to the most interesting ones he could use to finally rizz you up.

"'m surprised you don't have a diploma for being the best teacher ever, Mirage," you muttered under your breath shamelessly, sarcasm dripping from your tongue as you stood there with your arms crossed on your chest.

He liked the way you said his name, even if it wasn't in a particularly nice tone.

"No speaking unless you're being spoken to, miss," he reprimanded you like a strict teacher would, using his best Optimus Prime voice. Then, before you could talk back, he extended his left arm, putting it right in front of your face. He made a fist but allowed his middle finger to stay up, "What's this called?" he asked you, even though you haven't gone through this particular body part yet.

"Flipping someone off, sir," you answered in an overly eager, sweet tone, as if you were trying to sound like the teacher's pet.

You calling him sir made his spark skip a beat or two.

"Wrong." He lowered his hand and placed it on his metal thigh with a soft clang. He shook his helm in fake disappointment, letting out a long sigh. "It's a digit. And what do we do with digits?" he continued in a teacher's voice, making a specific motion with his servo to encourage you to answer his question, even though he automatically did so in his mind.

We put them inside disobedient girls.

"We flip people off, sir," you responded in a fake innocent, childish tone, straightening your back and smiling widely as if waiting for praise for giving him a good answer. It made you cringe internally but you also thought it was funny so the choice whether to continue talking like that or just leave was easy to make.

He snorted at your words, shaking his head in amusement once more as he brought his servo to your body and flicked your arm gently with his two digits.

"That's what we do with 'em."

"Oh, fuck off." You smacked his servo before he could pull it away from you. Even though you could barely feel the flick of his robot fingers, you still massaged your arm, hoping it'd make him feel at least a little bit bad, and he'd stop bullying you.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" He raised his optical ridge at your words, not being able to fight back a teasing smirk forming on his lips.

You could kiss me with that mouth.

As soon as the thought appeared in his mind, he immediately got rid of it, not letting it distract him.

"Tibulen, cadulen..." he began naming other body parts, and there was no way in hell you'd be able to remember those. "Glossa..." He stuck his metal tongue out, pointing at it lazily with his index digit.

A question popped up in your head, "You got saliva?"

For the first time, you were actually curious about something, expecting an actual, truthful response, but instead you got what Mirage was best at. Sarcasm.

"Oh, yeah, our saliva's made out of corrosive acid actually. Cool stuff." He shrugged nonchalantly as if what he just said was nothing. "Want me to spit on you so you can get the drill?" he asked overly casually, already slightly leaning in your direction.

He was having so much fun...

You grimaced at his question, even though you knew he was most likely joking. Most likely.

"Pass," you murmured under your breath.

"...But there are other ways you could... feel it."

His time to shine has come which he was very much aware of.

His unnecessarily mysterious tone made you snort quietly, an eyebrow involuntarily raised as you asked him with amusement dancing on your tongue, "Care to share?"

He tilted his head with a very, very sly smirk on his lips, which partly gave you an answer to your question. The realisation almost made your face drop but you contained yourself, and just rolled your eyes at his silent offer, pretending not to notice the heat spreading across your own cheeks.

"No."

"I didn't say anything," he responded in an amused, innocent tone, raising his servos in a defensive gesture.

"Yeah, but your eyes said a lot," you argued, the sudden shift in your confidence making you unable to find the situation as funny as before.

He made an unbelievable amount of butterflies awaken and fly around in your stomach, and as pleasant as it felt, you couldn't show him that.

"Optics," he corrected you immediately, playful superiority in his tone coming back just in time to crush you once more. He leaned in, making the gap between your faces a lot smaller than before. "And I'm pretty sure you're just imaginin' things," he added teasingly, the smirk almost challenging you.

His plan was working.

"Am I?" You tilted your head slightly to the left, your gaze never leaving his blue optics.

The intensity of your eye contact made him back off just a bit, before he shook his head in both amusement and surprise at the sudden comeback of your confidence.

"We're not done yet," he just said, which may have sounded like a warning but you felt like he was talking about something else than this game you were both playing. "I didn't show you everything," he explained, even though this lesson about his anatomy was the smallest thing occupying his mind at the moment.

You refrained yourself from frowning, feeling pretty sure that he'd already named every single body part of his possible, but you didn't want him to notice how little attention you were actually paying. So you just nodded, getting ready to hear more of that very interesting stuff.

"...Ever seen a metal dick?"

Your jaw almost dropped when your brain registered his shameless question. You couldn't even say anything to that, just unsurely shaking your head to show him that you, in fact, have never seen a metal dick.

And you thought he was about to offer to present one to you just now, but he just let out an amused noise. "Too bad."

And with these words, he transformed into a silver Porsche and drove past you towards the exit of the garage, leaving you confused, breathless, and wanting something more...

might make a part 2 for this with smut if you want

[silent-stories]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 - 𝟐

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Eddie finally works up the courage to talk to you again and he's not disappointed.

Part 1

"I'm sorry, I won't." You repeated for about the hundredth time as you placed some brushes in a jar and then on a shelf.

The lesson had been over for a few minutes and your classmates were getting ready to finally leave.

Aaron rolled his eyes as he washed his hands at the sink located in the corner of the art classroom, watching the water wash the red paint off his hands, coloring the liquid as it descended.

It almost looked like blood.

"Your parents won't be home for two days. Two fucking days, Y/N. And you don't want to have a party?" He turned to you with his usual smile he used when trying to get someone to do what he wanted.

It was not going to work with you.

"Well, I'm sorry. I'm not really one for parties." You shrugged.

Aaron had spent all of class trying to get you to throw a party on Saturday night since your parents were away for the weekend, your house was big, and you had a pool.

Aaron insisted. "But it will be fun. We can invite your friends, Jason and his team and-"

"Aaron, c'mon. Even if I had this stupid party, I wouldn't invite those people."

They were the last people you wanted to see at school, let alone invite them to a party.

"What's wrong with Jason? He's been one of the first people I've talked to since I moved here, besides you, and he's a really cool guy."

You liked Aaron, you had met him a week ago when he asked if you knew where the art class was and you had accompanied him, saying you were going there too, but sometimes he would say things that would skyrocket your want to slap him.

Over the next few days you'd gotten closer and closer and you'd noticed how most of the girls – and even some of the boys – watched Aaron at school.

He was new and that equaled interesting, he was blond and green-eyed, which for many cheerleaders equaled cute.

You also suspected that many of them were jealous that he was spending so much time with you instead of them.

Anyway, you didn't like him that way, of course you had to admit that he respected the canons of beauty to which people paid attention, but there were things more important than how symmetrical someone's face was.

"Cool? Do you want me to make you a list of all the reasons why I don't like that asshoke? He's selfish, obnoxious, vain, a bully....should I go on?" You crossed your arms over your chest.

"Nah, I'd like to listen to all your reasons but I have to go, honey. I'm going out with Jason and his friends later." He said running his fingers through his blond curls.

You raised your eyebrows, still hoping you misunderstood what he said.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I told you, they're cool guys."

"Like a stick up your ass."

Aaron burst out laughing. "Y/N, c'mon!"

"What? It's true!"

Aaron shook his head before grabbing his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, okay?"

He smiled at you as he usually did, showing his perfect white teeth and rested a hand on your arm for a few seconds.

His smile was sometimes frighteningly reminiscent of Billy Hargrove's.

One thing you couldn't stand was the way he was always touching you. One arm around your shoulders, one hand on yours or your arm.

It always seemed like something too intimate, like the way he called you "honey" all the time, but you thought maybe it was your problem.

"Yeah, bye." You placed the last rags covered in color stains in their appropriate drawer.

"And think about the party!" He yelled before walking out the door, leaving you alone in the classroom.

"I won't!"

Eddie lingered in front of art class, watching some students leave after the last bell of the day rang and wondering why he suddenly had no idea how to start a conversation.

The last one to leave the class was the boy he had seen you with the day before, the one Dustin said was Aaron and that he wasn't your boyfriend.

As he walked out of the classroom, his gaze briefly met Eddie's, who was leaning back against the wall thinking about what he could do or what he could talk about with you.

And that look, it was definitely not the look of the nice guy next door who brings you cake as soon as he moves next to your house and offers to mow your lawn.

It was Jason's same look, it was the look of everyone who looked at Eddie as if he were trash.

It was the look of everyone who was sure Eddie was the leader of a satanic cult that no one would want anything to do with.

It was the same look as everyone who referred to him as a "freak."

Just the thought of you spending your time with that guy made Eddie think he had no chance with you and that he'd better go home and try to get over you. As if it was possible.

Suddenly, Eddie found himself alone in the hallway and for a moment he thought that you too had left the classroom and that he, too immersed in his thoughts, hadn't even noticed.

But no, it wasn't possible, he always noticed you.

He reached the threshold of the door and finally saw you, intent on moving a canvas in the corner of the room, on your hands there were still some traces of color that not even the water had managed to sweep away.

"Need a hand?" Eddie asked, surprising even himself.

You whirled on him, probably startled by the sudden voice but when you saw him, you smiled and Eddie almost forgot how to breathe.

"No, it's okay. I'm done. What are you doing here?" You asked as you grabbed a book off a table and stuffed it into your bag, before slinging it over your shoulder and walking towards him.

What was he doing there?

He wanted to see you, he wanted to hear the sound of your laugh and talk to you about any topic that crossed your mind because he was undoubtedly in love with you but too cowardly to tell you.

"Henderson told me you were here and I thought I'd come by and say hi."

He hoped it didn't sound stupid.

"Well, hi." You laughed as you walked out of the classroom, closing the door behind you.

Eddie watched you take a few steps ahead of you in the hallway before you turned to him.

"Are you coming or not?"

"Yeah, sure." He hastened to catch up with you.

"Today I'm walking home. This morning I woke up earlier than usual and it was sunny so I didn't use my car. Would you like to... walk me home?"

Eddie glanced at you to meet your sincere, hopeful expression.

"I don't live very far from here, don't worry." You added.

"Yeah, yes. Of course." He answered quickly, already kicking himself for letting you think that he didn’t want to go with you. He would have wanted even if you lived on the other side of the world.

You felt good spending time with Eddie.

You didn't quite know what it was but you felt the same sensation you felt when you sat in front of a fireplace in winter with a blanket on your legs and a book in your hands.

It was a feeling of calm and tranquility. You felt like you were really being listened to when you talked about the things you liked, that you weren't judged and you simply felt safe when you were with him.

It wasn't the same feeling you had when you were with Aaron. It was not even close.

Before you rounded the corner in the hallway, Eddie heard voices talking to each other.

"Wait, um-" Eddie didn't know how to say it. "There's  someone. It's okay if you don't want to be seen with me."

It was like a reflex, a habit. No one wanted to be seen with him other than the Hellfire kids and his friends in his band.

His words hit you like a knife and your heart started bleeding for that sweet boy you barely knew.

All those years he'd spent being treated like he didn't deserve to, like no one would ever deserve, like a freak, had made him think that no one would want to be seen even to talk to him.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair for all of Hawkings to judge a person they didn't even know for who he really were.

"It's okay, Eddie." You you reassured him as you rounded the corner, finding two cheerleaders talking to each other.

And Eddie, hearing your simple words, for a moment really thought that everything was okay. That there was no social barrier to divide you, that you were really friends and that he had the possibility to become something more for you one day.

He also liked the way his name sounded when you said it.

As you walked down the hallway, Eddie suddenly felt your fingers brush his and when he realized it wasn't by mistake, your hand had already met his and you intertwined your fingers with his.

Strangely, Eddie didn't catch his breath or start sweating like he did whenever you were even near him.

He wasn't even nervous anymore. But he smiled.

He felt as if someone had lifted a weight off his chest and now he could breathe easier, as if with your hand in his everything could really be fine.

When you passed the cheerleaders your hand was still holding his, stready, secure, not letting go.

When you got out of school you kept talking all the way home and every time Eddie heard the sound of your laugh he wished he could record it so he could listen to it whenever he wanted as if it was his favorite song.

You only let go of his hand when you arrived in front of your house.

"And then I told my uncle that I'd found a job, but I actually sat on the sidewalk every day downtown and played my guitar with a hat on the ground hoping someone would leave me a dollar." Eddie finished, noting that he was talking to you about personal facts that few other people knew about.

"If I had known, I would have come and left you a few bucks, you know." You commented.

"I was twelve, Y/N. So you were ten. I don't think you had much money to waste at that time." He laughed.

"When I was a kid I had ice cream almost every day. I could have given you my ice cream money."

Eddie smiled. "Would you have given up your daily ice cream for me?"

"For you, that and more" You chuckled as you opened the gate to your house. "Thanks for walking me home." You added.

"Anytime, I like hanging out with you." Eddie still didn't understand where he had found all that courage.

One corner of your mouth curled up. "I like it too."

"See you at school, then?" He asked.

"See you at school, Eddie." You repead before disappearing behind the door of your house.

He stood there for a few more moments, even getting a glare from your neighbor watering the flowers in her garden.

When he said 1986 was going to be his year, maybe he'd been right.

Part 3

I thought I'd write a part 2 and stop but... I kinda like this. Maybe a little series will come out of this?

Who asked to be tagged in the second part will also be tagged in all the other parts so if you want to be removed, let me know <3

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat

Love you from afar tags: @capitanostella @enam3l @saramelaniemoon @ang3lb44by @einkitty @themorriganisamonster @esme-viridian @daisyridleyyyy @whenshelanded @eggo-segual @comfortcharactercraze @callmeyn @expiredcum21 @unholyyylita @squidscottjeans @twilight-love-nochu-main @idkatee

[heartbreakgrill]

happen: sleep token (vessel).

a/n: we pretend we don’t see my unfinished fics, okay? also we pretend we don’t see my spelling and grammar and plot mistakes in this, okay? okay. enjoy :)

"your paint is smeared."

vessel looked up from his piano, first meeting my eyes, then following where my finger pointed to.

"shit," his accent stuck out like a sore thumb, elongating the i in the cuss word.

vessel wiped a finger across the paint in an attempt to blend it in. it didn't do much.

"i think you might be making it worse," i commented with a smug smile.

vessel met my sneering gaze. he was unphased by the sarcasm on my tongue. he reached a blackened hand forward as he tried to rip the clipboard from my hands. i ducked out of his reach. the piano blocked him from me, but his arms were long enough that he managed to swipe a hand across my stack of papers.

i scoffed, stepping back a few feet, examining the black paint overtop my paperwork. "vess!"

"y/n!" he mocked my tone. he rounded the piano, coming to look down at the paper in my hands. "your paint is smeared, lovey."

i looked at up with an annoyed stare, "fuck off."

vess patted my bare shoulder, sending electrically shocked goosebumps down my clammy skin. i shifted my arms, hoping he wouldn't notice how i shivered under his touch.

"i'll go get some more paint, kay?" i offered with a deep breath.

vessel settled in front of his piano again. he nodded, pressing a few keys, "there's a tube in my dressing room."

"be right back."

i turned on my heel and headed for the stairs. i passed ii, who patted my head, and iv, who made some chirp about me owing him a shot- which just wasn't true.

i reached the dressing room soon enough. i'd been in here- in the other ones- numerous times. we often all hung out as a group between shows, in here or out on the town with various disguises on the boys. i still didn’t know who the guys were outside of those masks and strange nicknames. sam did, of course, because he’d been teching for the boys for years now. plus, they all had a brotherly relationship. they trust him.

for some reason, going in here by myself felt provocative. i kept my vision tunnelled, just in case they left something important out. they were men, after all-messy, sometimes careless, forgetful.

outside clothes, hoodies and sweatpants i recognized, sat strewn across the chairs and couches. their personal cellphones were sat with their things, different from the work phones they had been assigned. i had their work numbers, for professional conversations, for getting bullied by ii and iv in the groupchat. vessel and i talked, sometimes, about new coffee shops in new towns we'd be stopping by, movies we'd need to go see when we had a day off.

personal phone numbers were for the trusted.

i b-lined for vessel's paint and brushes, on the counter beside his phone. as i did, my eyes glossed over a wallet. it wasn’t one that i recognized. but, i knew that it was vessel's. or, whoever he really was. my fingers itched with a curiosity that i could not feed. it was none of my business who they were. if they wanted me to know, they'd tell me. they'd unmask themselves when we're chilling out on the tour bus.

if vessel trusted me, if he felt our silly conversations held any depth like i thought they did, he'd tell me who he was.

no matter that i'd known him for six months and hehad yet to do so. no matter that i thought we might have reached that point. no matter that sometimes, when he looked at me, there was a longing sat right behind his eyes, a wanting that made me feel entrusted, that made me feel like he understood what was bleeding off my skin.

no matter.

i grabbed the paint and headed back for the stage. vessel was sitting on the side of it now, talking to ii about something or the other. i handed the paint off to him. i went to go backstage, heel prepared to turn, when he spoke, "thanks, lovey."

ii followed vessel's gaze up to me. i stood overtop of them. ii's eyes raked up my bare legs, over the little black dress i wore. he met my eyes and nodded. "hey, gorgeous."

ii always enjoyed flirting with me. playfully, of course. vessel rolled his eyes at the usual quip. "here we go..."

"i am going to do my job. see ya later!"

ii reached up and grabbed my hand before i could leave. i jerked back to my spot, brows raised. ii shook my arm around, "go on, darling, give us a strut."

"you're ridiculous," i ripped my hand from his, though i chuckled slightly.

"tell her, vess," ii nudged his bandmate's shoulder with his elbow, "tell her how beautiful she is. she just doesn't believe me!"

i met vessel's eyes. he never joined the boys in their teasing, never flirted like ii did. he was always genuine, kind. our conversations were always full of depth, too. in fact, he never showed much interest in me besides those longing, full glances that i took to heart, that i let create a delusional fantasy land in my head. everytime i thought he might be, when we'd have these great conversations, he'd pull back. like was afraid, or he didn't fully trust me.

so, i shuddered when vessel's eyes drug down my body, over my exposed chest, the barely visible tops of my boobs, the curve of my waist, hugged tight by the dress, and the skin of my thighs and calves, right to the tips of my platform boots.

it was then that i realized today was going to be a very different day.

"you look..." vessel rolled his eyes back up my body, to my own flustered gaze, "good."

i couldn't get away fast enough. i thanked them both, stuttering slightly, before turning on my heel and racing towards backstage. i bumped into iv's shoulder and muttered a half-hearted apology.

i knew that they all were staring at me, analyzing my girlish behavior. i knew they'd talk about it.

and that was embarrassing as fuck.

when the show ended, i was determined to not be anywhere near any of the boys. i escaped to the bus sam, myself, and the other techies slept on. i changed into comfortable clothing and lay in my bunk, willing the blush on my cheeks to finally leave me alone.

this wasn’t supposed to happen. did i long for him to say something like that? duh!

did i actually want it to happen? no, bitch.

because that changed everything for me.

i just needed to hide out here for the night, will my anxiety and the fawn look in my eyes away. tomorrow, i could shift everything back to how it was. tomorrow, he’d probably act the same- passive, uninterested.

even if there was any weight to that entire interaction, it’s not like anything could even happen between us.

management made the band swear off girls for risk of privacy and in order to focus on their work. besides, i worked for the band. i helped run every single show they did. they were my boss’.

and there was that whole issue of him not trusting me. because it was so obvious that he didn’t.

i was letting my brain run around too much.

what snapped me back to reality was the commotion of everyone returning to the bus, excited chatter from the other men on the crew filling the once silent vehicle. sam's voice got closer as he and another techie approached their bunks, across and above from my own. i figured they’d just be grabbing something before everyone headed out to the bar.

but, of course- that wasn’t my luck.

"yoohoo," sam knocked a fist on wall, near my head, "is there a y/n in here?"

i huffed, "what do you want?" i knew they were here to berate me to come out with them. but that would mean seeing the boys- having to confront the issue that was vessel.

"get up, grandma," sam teased me for being in bed so soon, "we're going to the bar."

"i'm tired," i replied, a slight groan in my voice. please just go away.

"that's a load of bull," sam scoffed, "you literally said this morning that you wanted to go out tonight."

i went to reply, but more voices filled the bus, all too familiar ones that made my chest tight.

"what's going on? is y/n okay?" that thick british accent burst through whatever i was gonna say next. iv.

then, another spoke- ii, i was pretty certain. "what? what's happening? aren't you coming out, y/n?”

i shoved my head into my pillow, wanting to scream. the only downside of tour was this obvious lack of privacy. i appreciated that my presence was always wanted by just about anyone i worked with. but, god, can’t a girl daydream and regret her actions in peace?

i pulled open the curtains sheltering my bed, just a fraction, not even trying to mask my annoyed expression. ii, iv, and sam were squatted just outside my bunk. sam wore a cheeky grin, but the others had their outside masks on. i could read their energy well, though.

"i'm fine, guys," i waved them all off, cuddled up under my blankets, "i just wanna chill tonight."

"no! you can't! please! you have to go out with us! you promised last time you would! plus you owe me a shot!" iv whined, head tilted to the left. he really needed to find a new gimmick.

i rolled my eyes, "you're a baby."

"wow, y/n," ii set a comforting hand on iv's shoulder, gasping at my insult, "that's harsh. here i thought we were friends."

sam laughed in response, "yeah, y/n. that was really mean. you hurt iv's feelings." he, also, touched iv’s arm.

i met iv's eyes with pursed lips. his eyes read no signs of offense. we were all always so mean to each other and i knew they’d call me out if i ever took it too far. no, this- this was them bullying me back. trying to get me to come out. they’d probably, eventually, get on me about my flustered escape from earlier. ii nudged iv, and he began to fake cry, head dropped down into his hands.

i rolled my eyes again with an exasperated huff, "oh, my god. here we go."

the bus door swung open, then shut again, as the rest of the band made their way in. i didn't notice, too caught up in the boys' theatrics to get nervous that vessel was in my vicinity. he stood just out of sight, watching all of us.

iv sobbed, shoulders rocking. "i can't believe you'd say that, y/n!"

"whatever. im not coming out, freaks,” i went to shut the curtain, but sam pushed it open all the way.

i dropped my head to my pillow in annoyance. ii spoke now, egging on the situation further. i grew nervous he’d bring up earlier, "there's just one thing you can do to make this up to him."

"let me guess, it tastes like vodka and rhymes with hot?" i murmured as i pressed a stressed hand over my eyes.

ii pried my hands from my head. “actually- tastes like hennessy and rhymes with get the fuck out of bed!" he, then, reached into my bunk and tickled my sides.

i laughed this ugly, wheezing laugh, squirming away from ii's reach. iv's showcase of crying twisted into him falling back onto his ass, laughing with his head thrown back. sam held onto the bunk as he joined. i then heard vessel and iii's laughs, echoing from a bit down the hall. i tried to snap myself out of the situation, insecure by vessel's presence. but, ii just wouldn't stop tickling me.

luckily, he did, leaving my face red, tears spilling out of my eyes, and a newfound energy to get up from my bunk. i didn’t forget that vessel was standing there, watching. and, i knew, i’d have to face the reality of my embarrassment eventually. but, the boys drunk were usually pretty sweet.

"alright," i huffed and shoved the covers off of my body, "let's go, you freaks."

"you'll come?" ii offered me his hand, helping me off of the floor.

"yeah, i'll come," i released his hand, steadied on my feet. i shoved his shoulder as i walked towards the closet at the end of the hall. i pushed past sam and iv to get there. as i searched through my bag, trying to find my dress from earlier, i felt eyes still on me. all the boys had begun moving from the bus, going outside to smoke and wait on me. but, vessel was still there. lingering.

he waved at me as i looked down the hall towards him. my face flushed again and i gave an awkward smile. god, i was not helping the situation. if anything, i was making it worse, making him uncomfortable, ruining everything. he’d never trust me now.

i put back on my little black dress, tights to bear the cold, platform boots. my makeup was still in tact, though i had to clean up a few smudges made by my sweat from the show. i finally met everyone outside the bus, drawing eyes to my body as i bounded down the steps.

"still looking sexy, darling," ii flirted, cheekily, taking my hand and forcing me to do a little spin in front of everyone.

as i faced back to everyone, i pulled my hand from his and shoved him away from me again. "creep- let's go. you owe me a shot."

"um, i think it's the other way around," ii scoffed.

i began walking from the group, towards the bar down the street. i tossed a confused look over my shoulder, "that never happened. you're crazy."

i left behind a trail of laughing men, a stunned ii. they teased me- but i did back just as much.

it was just a five minute walk, and i kept my pace ahead of everyone because i was cold and wanted to get there quicker. i knew someone was watching me- again. i knew the feel of that stare. i knew it was vesel. so, i tried to stay just far enough ahead that he couldn't catch up. i don’t think i could keep up any meaningful conversation when my heart was still beating this quickly.

alas, the over 6' man fell in stride beside me, easily, hands shoved in the pockets of an alpha wolf sweatshirt. he adjusted his sunglasses, inhaling a chilly breath before saying, “why’d you run off earlier? before the show? did i- say something wrong?”

"no reason," i snapped a too-quick response, arms crossed over my chest. my cheeks were reddening again.

he tsked his tongue, “good. shame, though, i didn't get to enjoy this dress for as long as i would have liked to.” i couldn’t see his eyes- but i knew they flicked down over my body. i straightened up under the gaze.

what game was he playing?

maybe he just wanted to hook up. i knew it wasn’t anything serious for him, because it couldn’t be.

i could imagine he and the boys were horny. all the time they’d spent declaring celibacy on this tour must be getting to them. so, i convinced myself that’s what this was. but, i of course didn’t want that.

so, i couldn’t help but feel let down that i had gotten my hopes up. i had thought that maybe, just maybe, he wanted me like i wanted him. that, again, maybe, he trusted me like i wanted him to. like i trusted him.

i looked up at him, head tilted back from his height. i tried to read the air between us, hoping something else was there. but i knew he wore a cheeky grin beneath his mask. i frowned, slightly, a desperate disappointment laying just behind my eyes. my head shook just slightly, "don't."

vessel's shoulders fell. he nodded, just once, before silencing himself.

we walked to the bar in drowning silence. i wanted to stop, to turn to him and ask him a million questions. why didn’t he trust me? why didn’t he want me? why couldn’t we try?

why couldn’t we have met in another lifetime, where he didn’t feel the need to hide behind a mask? where he didn’t have to put his life on the line just to reveal himself to me?

not that would fix anything if he didn’t feel what i felt.

i needed a drink.

when we got to the bar, we got swept up in the excitement from our group, separated from each other. i was grateful for the space. it allowed me to breathe, allowed me to start getting wasted.

ii and iv shoved drink after drink into my hands. we pounded shots off of the wooden counter of the bar. we paid far too much for the shitty jukebox in the corner to play our favorite songs. ii even eventually drug me out to the make-shift dance floor, holding my free hand in his, guiding my hips with his other palm.

i clutched onto my vodka cran, following the rhythm ii was swinging in his hips. we danced to some usher song, sultry and silly. normally, i’d shove him away and cuss him out, make fun of him. but, the alcohol was starting to burn my throat, sending a soothingly loose feeling through my blood. i was relaxed.

the song slowed and we did with it. i rested my heavy body against his, chin on his shoulder. we danced in a circle. i could see vessel, sitting at the bar, burning a hole through ii's head with his eyes. he saw me looking at him and quickly looked away.

i just wanted to walk right up to him and kiss him, mask or no mask. i just wanted him. i didn’t care what he looked like. who he was. because i knew him- i knew him well. i knew when his favorite cat died, i knew that he dropped his sandwich in the first grade and cried on drive home. i knew he preferred tea over coffee, with two sugar cubes, and an exact glug of milk in it.

my mind was racing like crazy. i needed to ground myself or i’d do something i’d regret.

that’s when ii mumbled into my ear, “he wants you so badly.”

i jolted out of my own head space, pulling my chin back from ii’s shoulder to look up at him. “what?”

i was having trouble processing words.

“vess. he’s been pining after you for so long,” ii had a sense of urgency in his eyes. "and he think he's trying to see if he can shoot my head off with his eyes right now."

i peered over his shoulder. vessel was watching us again. he didn’t look away, though i knew he could see.

“fat chance,” i blurted out. “he keeps pushing me away…pining my ass. everytime we have, like, a really good conversations about, like, the stars or some shit, the next day he acts like he barely knows my name.”

ii was patient, just listening as i rambled, surely drunk now. i continued on, “i don’t know, dude. like, if he wanted me he would do something about it, yeah? he’d show me. he’d say something. he’d- he’d just do something. instead he just makes me feel crazy.”

i finished myself off with huff. i downed the rest of my drink and set it on a table close to us. both my fists leaned against ii’s shoulders. i was getting dizzy.

ii squeezed my hip in comfort. he waited a moment, for me to catch my breath, to respond. "it's difficult. being in our position. it's hard to tell who's getting close just to catch a peak. forcing everyone we care about to sign mountains of paperwork just to really know us. to trust that we can stay hidden, though the entire world is just itching to unmask us. i know you know that. i know you understand it. that’s part of the reason why we all get along with you so well. the pressures gone. we can be ourselves- no matter what our names are, what we look like. cause you just don’t care.

“i don’t!” i agreed, punching my fist lazily against ii’s shoulder. “i don’t care who you guys are! because you’re still the same to me. and i trust you. and i love you guys. and i just- but just, why can’t he want me?”

he chuckled, “oh, darling. he does. you know he does. and you know the risk, you know the worry. you push it away because it’s not going to be easy. put your pretty little head to rest. just…let it happen as it happens.”

“i think i’m too drunk to really understand this right now, babe,” i droned on, eyes squinted as if i could understand him better with a blurred gaze.

ii tapped my nose sweetly. he stepped back, glancing over to vessel. “just let it.”

i met vessel’s gaze- invisible to me, but so obvious from the burn on my skin. he stood from his seat, hesitant, yet somehow determined.

i felt my body pulled towards him. we met in the middle. some stupid country song was playing. the bad was emptying. our friends were loud. my breath smelled of alcohol. vessel seemed exhausted.

but, for some reason, this was the night that it would happen.

vessel held out a hand, skin pale yet still stained from the paint. i took it. he waited a moment, as if awaiting my consent. then he guided us to the backdoor of the bar. we were out in an alley, alone.

“i’m sorry, lovey,” he said, once he was settled on his heels in front of me.

i clutched his hand like an anchor. “for what?” my brows furrowed.

he brushed a thumb across my knuckles, “that it’s like this. i…i wish i could love you under different circumstances.”

the word passed by without a second thought, so easily spoken from his lips. i barely noticed it. “it’s okay…it’s-its not your fault, vess.”

“no, it’s just,” he ran his other hand overtop his hat, covering his hair just perfectly. “it’s just that i need you to know that. how i feel about you..” now he danced around the word, “because i need you to know that…but…i can’t go forward with any of it. i can’t follow through with it. and i’m so sorry. i just…can’t.”

i slid my hand up to his cheek. he nearly crumbled under my touch. my fingers touched the edge of his sunglasses. he didn’t move. he didn’t try to stop me as i slid the glasses off his nose. i knew those eyes well- i was grateful to see them, even in this dark lighting. i could read him better, i could see his soul.

“i’ll sign whatever you want me to sign.”

the words lingered between us as he processed them. then, he denied them, “lovey…i-“

“i’ll sign a million nda’s. i’ll sign away my life. i’ll- i’ll delete all of my social media. and i’ll wear a mask, too. i’ll step into the darkness with you, vess. i’d do it. i want to do it.”

“lovey, please, i can’t-“

“i can. if you can’t, i can. i can for the both of us.”

vessel dropped his chin, looking away from me. “i can’t ask you to do that for me. beside, you- you don’t even know what i look like. i’m- i’m probably not what you’d want. you can’t love someone you think is ugly. i don’t know, lovey.”

“i do know, vess,” i quickly replied. “i know. i know you. i know your soul. it doesn’t matter to me what you look like, or who you are. cause i know your heart. and that’s all that matters to me. besides, i can’t go on hiding- knowing that we love each other. i just can’t. i won’t allow it.”

vessel met my eyes again. he removed his hand from my own. his hand hung by his thigh, clenching into a fist. it shook. i was worried he’d walk away.

but, after his hesitation softened, he reached his hands up to his face. he tugged the medical mask off of his ears, revealing his familiar lips and smile to me. his nose was new, a feature i’d never seen. but, it was just a nose.

he took off his hat, too, revealing his entire complexion to me. i grinned in response, barely even getting a good luck at him because i really didn’t care.

“that changed nothing for me,” i grasped at his hands. “i feel the same. i feel- the same. maybe better, knowing that you trust me. but- the same. i still want you- i need you, vess…please. i know you need me, too. i’ve always seen it in your eyes. just…take a chance. come out of the darkness…for me. please.”

vessel slid his hands up my arms, slowly, brushing my hair over my shoulders as he passed. his fingertips tickled my neck, the lobes of my ears, until he cupped my cheeks. i leaned into his touch, eyes alight with abounding adoration. he tilted his head down, brilliantly colored eyes boring into my own.

and then he kissed me.

[newtthetranswriter]

Hihi saw your post about wanting request so thought I'd send one!!!

How about a drabbles of Finral, Zora, Klaus, and Nozel would react to someone flirting with them in front of their s/o /someone putting their s/o down to make themselves look better??

Lots of love and hope ya get more request! ʕ•̀ω•́ʔ✧

Parings & Word counts: Finral x Reader 957 words, Zora x Reader 882 words, Klaus x Reader 985 words, Nozel x Reader 690 words

Warning: Bullying, mentions of alcohol, if I missed anything please let me know

A/n: Hello, thank you so much for requesting. I enjoyed writing this especially because there is not enough love for the Black Clover men out there. I went with a gender neutral reader as you didn’t specify so I hope that’s fine. I also kind of split the prompts, Finral and Kalus are reacting to someone putting down their s/o and Zora and Nozel are someone flirting with them in front of their s/o. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and remember to hydrate or diedrate. 

Finral:

    Finral may have a history of being a playboy but that all changed. After you agreed to go out with him, he flipped his script real fast. The only person he had eyes for was you, going as far as telling Langris he was no longer interested in Lady Finesse and wishes them both well. Having you as a partner was like a dream come true for him, you didn’t care that he was the disgraced son of the Vaude family, or that his magic was only good for support. You just wanted him to be happy and You helped him feel more confident in himself and his abilities.

  For the first time in his life finral actually felt secure in a relationship and would do everything in his power to keep the relationship healthy. So, imagine his shock when he notices you shying away from his affection while out on a date. Normally he could hold your hand, kiss your cheeks or hold you to his side as you walk through the markets of Kikka, but for some reason you pulled away every time he tried to show affection. 

  “Hey, Y/n is everything okay? You normally don’t mind holding hands and stuff.” He asked quietly, sounding almost scared that he did something wrong or misunderstood what you were comfortable with.

  Before you could respond another voice Finral did not recognize, started to speak. “Well if it isn’t Y/n, when you said you were joining the Magic Knights I thought you'd at least try but I guess the Black Bulls are probably the only squad willing to take a weakass mage like yourself.” Turning his attention to the person who so rudely interrupted his date, the spacial mage could quickly tell this was some pompous noble. What he couldn’t tell though was how they knew you and why they were being rude.

  “Excuse me, who are you?” Finral asked, his tone showing he was not pleased at all with how this person was acting.

  Scoff in offense the noble spoke again. “Don’t take that tone with me. I’ll have you know, I’m Claire Elric, you know the family of mages who specialize in Alchemy magic.” The snob, Claire identified herself. “And I was talking with an old friend. I suggest you mind your own business but then again judging from your robe you’re also a Black Bull so you probably don’t understand respect.” Claire stated matter of factly. 

  Rolling his eyes, Finral spoke again. “It was a rhetorical question, you could be the king’s kid for all I care, it doesn't give you the right to talk down to people for no reason.” He started not having the patience for assholes. “Y/n is a powerful mage, and works hard everyday to help our squad get better. Not only that but they are extremely kind and caring, so I suggest you treat them with respect.”

  Having been silently watching from behind Finral since Claire first spoke, you couldn’t hide the shock on your face. Finral was never the confrontational type, but here he is defending you from one of your life long bullies. Being behind him though you could also tell from the look on her face that Claire was ready to snap, and it would probably be best to leave before stuff goes south. “Finral, we should just go. It’s not a big deal, she’s right anyway the Bulls are the only squad that would take a mage like me.” You said gently pulling at his sleeve trying to get him to drop it and go. 

  Sadly your pleas were left unanswered as Finral was not going to stand for someone convincing his lovely partner they were less than perfect. “No Y/n, we aren’t leaving just yet. Not until this ass realizes that it’s not a bad thing you are part of the Black Bulls.” He said looking over at you before turning back to the now scowling noble. “Like I said before Y/n is a valuable member of our Squad and any other Squad would be lucky to have them. But Judging from your lack of any squad robe, you weren’t even good enough for any, so instead of spending your time looking down on others who have done more than you, maybe you should try being a better person.” 

   Claire’s scowl went from mildly upset to pissed real fast. Before she could even think to respond Finral quickly used his magic to open a small portal at the noble’s feet and watched as she fell through it. You looked at him shocked before speaking. “One, thank you for standing up for me. Claire has been a bully since we were young. And two, where the hell did you send her?” You were grateful she was gone but you hoped it wasn’t going to lead to problems for you later.

  “Oh I just sent her to the farthest place I could without using too much mana. Don’t worry she’ll be fine though it may take her a while to get back, I hear Hage is a few days walk from castle town.” He said with a smirk. “And I’ll alway defend you, no one should talk down to you for any reason. I mean it, you are an amazing and valuable member of the Black Bulls. I know I for one would be lost without you.” With that Finral pulled you into his side, placing a kiss on your forehead before continuing throughout the market. You would probably get a complaint later about Finral stranding a noble in the forsaken realm, in a few days but hey that’s nothing new for the Black Bulls, plus Yami will probably find it funny.

Zora:

   Finding time for the two of you to go and enjoy yourselves while being part of the Black Bulls is a hassle. Hell even days off aren’t off limits from chaos as Asta proved when he went to Nean and had a run in with The Eye of the Midnight Sun. So the moment Captain Yami even started to say it was time for everyone to have a day off, you and Zora were out of the hideout and without a second thought.

   You guys made your way to a village where hopefully none of the crazier members of the squad would end up and made sure you weren’t followed. Peace and quiet in the misfit squad were hard to come by so you weren’t risking it. Making your way to the local pub, you and Zora sat at a small table only big enough for two and as far from the crowd that had gathered. Planning to enjoy a nice lunch before walking the town and just being together.

   Unfortunately maybe the pub was not the best idea for a lunch date. You guys had agreed on it because it would be cheaper than one of the cafes or restaurants around the village. What you hadn’t factored in was the numerous drunkards who either just started their day of drinking or were still there after their night of drinking. In all honesty it took longer than one would expect for one of these drunks to cause a problem but hey it still happened. 

  You had been mid-sentence about how you hid Magna’s flan the other day and blamed Luck, just to cause some trouble, when some drunk lady stumbled over to your table. “Ex-cuse me, but could I of-ffer you a drink?” The lady said eye one Zora’s shirtless torso, completely ignoring you and the fact Zora could not look less interested in her.

  “No. Anyway, Y/n next time we should go a step further instead of just hiding Magna’s food we should -” Zora started plotting how to mess with the resident idiots after turning down the drunk. Only to get halfway through his thought before Drunky spoke again.

  “Come o-on handsome, I’m ssure I can give you a great time.” She slurred as she tried to get his attention. Zora just rolled his eyes and tried to ignore her. “Don’t be like thaat, I just want to ssee whatss behind that mask.” The Drunk was clearly to far down the drain to realize she had zero chance.

  Being totally done with the lady you decided to take it on yourself to get her to leave. “Hey drunky, he’s not interested. Also we are kinda in the middle of a date and I would appreciate it if you left my boyfriend alone.” You said, making it clear you did not want to deal with her while still being somewhat polite. The lady just scoffed at you before turning back to Zora.

  “I know I can give you bett-tter time then this buzz kill.” She said now leaning on the table. You were trying to hide your frustration, when the drunk did something that made the normally calm mage across from you let out his own frustration. While trying to seduce him by running her fingers along his jaw, the lady had the nerve to try and pull his mask from his face.

  Standing probably faster than you’ve seen him move in while, Zora completely loses his cool. “Do not touch me and definitely do not touch my mask. We tried to be polite but you leave me no choice. No one would want anything to do with a hopeless drunk who has nothing better to do than interrupt a couple on the first date they’ve had in months, and then touch one of them without permission after being told twice to leave.” The whole time he spoke he had the lady’s wrist in his hand, not a tight enough grasp to break it or leave lasting damage but it was clear from his white knuckles there would likely be a bruise.

  Deciding it’s probably best for Zora to not catch an assault charge for possibly injuring a civilian on day off, you step in. Resting a hand on his shoulder you spoke up. “Hey, let's just go back to the hideout. I know we wanted peace and quiet but that clearly isn’t gonna happen here.” Zora thought for a second before dropping the lady’s wrist and wrapped his arm over your shoulders leading you out of the pub ignoring the eyes of the few patrons who weren’t unconscious.

  “Sorry our date got ruined by that lady.” You apologized hoping to ease some of the tension clear on Zora’s face.

  He just shook his head. “Not your fault. I think we should just accept the madness we deal with. I mean where’s the fun in life if someone isn’t being crazy.” Zora made a valid point.

  Chuckling as you made your way back to the Black Bulls’ base. “You’re right, if we wanted quite we probably shouldn’t have joined the Black Bulls of all squads.” You laughed as you reached the hideout and were greeted with the tell tale yelling from Magna and Luck fighting over who knows what this time.

Klaus: 

  Being at the Golden Dawn’s base was intimidating to begin with, now add not being a member of the top squad and it feels like even breathing wrong could get you yelled at. Luckily you were only there to get your boyfriend for the date you had planned, it was rare that you got the same days off so you liked to take advantage of it whenever you could. Normally, Klaus would either meet you at the date location or come get you from your base, but for some reason he had requested you meet at the Golden Dawn’s headquarters.

  You had been greeted at the door by Mimosa who said Klaus was just finishing up a quick meeting with the Captain and then he’d be ready to go. While waiting Mimosa offered to sit and chat so you didn’t feel so out of place, your Black robe standing out in the sea of golden ones. Accepting the offer you and Mimosa sat by a window enjoying some tea while chatting about recent missions and laughing at some stories of Klaus making a fool of himself over Asta. 

  Completely engrossed in Mimosa’s story about how concerned Klaus was when they found Asta passed out in the cave near Nean, you failed to notice the green haired mage approaching the two of you. “Yes, he really said he was only worried because if Asta was hurt then you would be upset and he didn’t want to see you cry.” Mimosa said holding in laughter also not noticing her Squadmate approaching.

   “When did we start letting the riff raff lounge around our base?” Letoile said, as she looked at you with what could only be described as disgust.

   “I’m sorry, what do you mean by that Letoile?” Mimosa asked, confused why her squadmate would say something like that.

   The compass mage scoffed. “I mean, when was it okay for a Black Bull to just hang around the Golden Dawn’s base, shouldn’t they be with the other commoners and criminals?” Every word that came out hurt, sure you had heard it all before, the Black Bulls weren’t exactly the most respected squad, but this time it felt personal.

  Mimosa watched as the color drained from your face, she could tell you were debating leaving even before Klaus was ready to go. “Y/n has every right to be here. They may not be a member of this squad but they are still a Magic Knight. Besides they’re waiting on Klaus, it’s not like they’re trying to move in.” The royal tried to defend you, but it seemed her words only gave the other woman more fuel for her fire.

  “Oh that’s right, you’re Klaus’s charity case. The little commoner who barely managed to help save him in that dungeon. I don’t know how you convinced a noble like him to go out with you but he could do so much better. I mean he’s surrounded by powerful mages everyday and he picked a weak peasant like you. You probably used some forbidden spell to get his attention, huh?” Letoile said with a pointed look, clearly enjoying the clear turmoil on your face. She paused trying to think of more insults, hoping to find the one to get you to run off. 

  Unfortunately for her, it was at that moment a certain purple eyed mage decided to clear his throat. Everyone froze, Klaus may be calm and collected most of the time but when he’s upset it can get scary. “I don’t know what you think you gain from being rude to my partner, Letoile but I suggest you apologize and then leave them alone.” He said voice never changed from his usual calm and strict tone.  The green haired mage mumbled a quick apology and quickly ran off. Klaus then turned to Mimosa. “Thank you Mimosa for keeping them company while I was busy, and for standing up for them as well.” The red head nodded and quickly bid farewell before giving you to space.

  “So how much of the interaction did you see?” You asked quietly as Klaus moved to help you stand from the table you were sitting at.

  “The whole time, I heard you laughing about Mimosa’s retelling of what happened in Nean and was going to join you before she said much else when I saw Letoile approach. I wanted to see what she wanted.” He explained with a slight frown. “I’m sorry I should have stepped in sooner, I was curious to see how other members of the squad would react to you when I wasn’t present.” It was clear from his tone that he was truly sorry for the things his team mate said.

  Resting a hand on his arm you spoke up. “It’s fine Klaus, sure what she said hurt but having you and Mimosa stand up for me means a lot. In all honesty I’ve heard worse, I’m a Black Bull after all.” Hearing you laugh at your last comment brought a smile to his face. 

 “Are you sure you’re okay, you looked close to crying or running?” He asked as he pointed out how clear it was you had been uncomfortable.

  “Yes I’m fine. I can’t say what she said didn’t hurt but knowing how much you truly support me and seeing how much you’ve changed since meeting me and Asta, I know everything she said was out of jealousy.” You answered, now enjoying the look of slight confusion on his face.

  “Jealousy? What do you mean?” Klaus was truly perplexed.

  “Yeah, She’s just jealous I got the best guy and I didn’t even have to try.” You said, finishing the statement placing a kiss to the steel mage’s cheek. Klaus at a loss for words, his face bright red from the kiss, just held your hand and guided you out of the base towards the originally planned date.

Nozel:

   To put simply Nozel is clueless when it comes to people flirting with him. To even start dating you had to straight up say you liked him and wanted to go on a date. That being said he is the most thoughtful man ever in a relationship. Believing that his partner deserves the world and all of his focus. So when a random member of his squad started flirting with him, he had no idea. 

   The first couple of times you had been out either on missions or just running a few errands, so you weren’t there to tell him this girl wasn’t just being kind to him but in fact trying to seduce him. Sure his younger siblings had been around and tried to tell him after the girl had left that she was flirting with him, but he only has eyes for you and in his eyes it’s clear he’s off limits, so surely Solid and Nebra are seeing things.

  He only realizes that his siblings were right when the same girl came up and started flirting with him, while at a feast the Silver Eagles were holding for some reason. You and Nozel were sitting together having a conversation about how he should try being nicer to Noelle, when little miss heart eyes popped up.

   “Hello Captain Nozel. How’s your day going?” The girl asked clearly unfazed by the glare both the captain and you gave her at the interruption. After hearing the quick fine breathed out by the now eerily calm Captain, she kept speaking. “That’s good to hear, I spent the day training and was thinking maybe you could give me some pointers on how to be more effective in combat?” She asked, twirling her hair and trying to act cute. 

  Nozel being clueless, and just annoyed that his conversation was interrupted by idle chatter mumbled a sure and turned to go back to his previous discussion. “Wow Captain, you are probably the best Captain there is, being willing to train even the lowest members of your squad. I can’t wait to learn from such an amazing mage.” The silver haired Captain just nodded and made to look back at you. “Do you do this for all your squad mates or am I just that special to you Nozel?” The girl went from subtle flirting to not trying to hide real quick.

  “Honey I hate to break it to you, but Nozel is like this with everyone. He stopped listening to your squeaky ass voice the second you interrupted our conversation.” You said being done with the girl’s clear lack of care for those around her. “Besides take it from the person he’s dating, flirting will get you nowhere. Now if you don’t mind Me and my boyfriend here are gonna leave and if I hear even a suggestion that you’ve been flirting with him again you will wish you never looked in his direction.” With that you stood up, Nozel following without protest because he just wanted some peace.

  “She wasn’t flirting with me was she?” He asked as you exited the dining hall making your way to your room at the Silver Eagles Base. 

  You couldn’t help but laugh at how clueless he could be. “Nozel honey, it was so painfully obvious to everyone she’s been flirting with you. Hell your siblings have told me previously that she’s done it and those two are so absorbed in their own delusions of greatness I’m shocked they noticed before you.” He just stared at you perplexed as he really thought, his siblings were fucking with him. Thinking for a moment he just nodded in acceptance entering your shared room ready to call it a night. “You know, for a Magic Knight Captain, you are really clueless sometimes. I’m sure even Fuegolen could have been able to tell she was flirting and that man can’t understand sarcasm.” 

   Hearing the mention of his rival Nozel glared at you as he undid the braid at the front of his hair. “Not funny.” He said full of seriousness, but from the slight smile he knew you were only joking.

[professional-yapper]

Attention

Aonung x Omaticaya! Reader

Summary: Aonung doesn't understand why you won't pay him any attention

Warnings: Aonung, reader's kind of mean if you squint, favouritism towards Rotxo (not a warning more of a given), mention of Aonung getting threatened and punched, reader being violent, Aonung being delusional and irrational and entitled, Aonung getting the fuck bit out of him, hes in the wars today, penis in hole sex

"Forest brat!"

You groan internally, gritting your teeth, not looking up from the top you're making for yourself. Aonung. Probably coming to harass your sibling again, like he didn't learn his lesson the first time.

The memory of his stunned face after you punched him square in the nose warms your heart.

He should've known better. Right from the get-go, you made it clear you weren't going to tolerate any shit from him.

And yet here he was, somewhere behind you, calling you forest brat like you hadn't threatened to carve your name into his chest so his family would know who killed him.

"That's not my name, fish boy," you reply serenely, not turning around, threading another pearl onto your top. "What are you doing here, anyway? Did your daddy make you come apologise for being a jerk?"

"Maybe I'd actually apologise if you weren't so mean to me," Aonung pointed out, sitting down beside you with a bump and stretching out in the sand like he owned the place. Well... you guessed he kind of did. Or his parents did, anyway.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you drawled sarcastically, keeping your eyes on your work. "Maybe I wouldn't be mean to you if you hadn't bullied my siblings and I from the day we set foot on this stupid reef."

"I don't bully you," he countered.

"Because you're scared of me."

"No, I am not!"

"Aren't you?" you asked, glancing at him, mouth curving into a sharp smile.

"Shut up," he huffed, rolling onto his back and covering his face.

A few minutes passed, the only sound being the clink of the pearls against each other as your top formed slowly under your patient hands and the sigh of the sea.

"What's that?" Aonung began, right as you said, "So why are you here?"

You stared at each other for a moment before you rolled your eyes. "I'll go first. Why are you here if not to apologise, Aonung?"

"Bored."

"Oh, I didn't realise my only purpose in life was to entertain you."

"Would it kill you to be nicer to me?" he whined. "You're nice to Rotxo."

"Rotxo doesn't harass my siblings because they don't look like he thinks they should."

Aonung gives you a look, and you relent with a sigh, recalling how Rotxo had been the first to point out your tails. "Well, he realised the error of his ways, anyhow. You haven't." You poked his forehead for good measure.

He caught your hand in his, looking up at you with something of a smirk, like he enjoyed getting under your skin. "If I did realise the error of my ways?..."

You ignore how warmth sparks in your chest at his touch. "I still wouldn't give you the time of day. You're not appealing to me as a person, regardless of whether you're a bully or not," you reply calmly.

He groans and lets his head flop back on the sand, letting go of your hand. "You're killing me, forest brat."

"One can only hope. And why are you so desperate to be around me, anyway?"

"I'm not. I said I was bored, and you never pay me any attention."

"Oh," you grin, glancing down at him, poking him in the ribs. "You're jealous of Rotxo."

"Not just him," Aonung corrected but didn't deny it.

A flush began in your cheeks at how shamelessly open he was with you. You knew your siblings thought Aonung was whipped for you and that was the only reason he'd stopped bullying them, though you still thought he would at the drop of a hat, and even Rotxo and Tsireya had implied Aonung had a thing for you.

And here he was, lying in the sand close to you, whining that you didn't pay him enough attention. Unbelievable.

"You're so incredibly entitled, Aonung," you said severely. "Where do you get the nerve to even talk to me?"

Aonung's mouth curved into a lopsided grin. "Comes naturally."

You rolled your eyes. "So why is my attention so valuable to you?"

Aonung shifted, looking deliberately anywhere but at you. "I said it's not. I'm just bored."

"Can't you bother Rotxo or any of your dumb friends?"

"I wanna be here with you."

You blinked at the bold statement, staring at his face for any signs of insincerity. "What an odd thing to say," you managed finally, your heart rate picking up the longer you gazed at him.

"Is it?" he hummed, rolling onto his side, resting his chin in his hand as he looked up at you, ears angled forward playfully. Then his eyes strayed to the half-made top in your lap. "That's pretty. You'll have to model it for me when you're finished," he said lazily, touching it lightly with his fingertips.

You sucked in a breath, turning your flushed face away as his fingertips grazed your thigh. Accidentally, surely. "Not fucking likely. I still hate your guts."

"Yeah?" he mused, eyes focused on the top. "I like that."

"Great Mother," you cursed, pushing his head away. "Quit acting like that."

"Like what?" he said, looking rather pleased with himself, tail wagging a little across the sand behind him.

"Like you're drunk," you scoff at him, rolling yourself away. Trying to, at least.

He's fast for someone who's been acting drunk for the past few minutes. He rolls with you and then he's on top of you, pressing you back into the sand, forearms either side of your head and knee nudging between your thighs. "I'm stone cold sober," he chuckled in your face, eyes flashing, fangs curving over his bottom lip as he smiled.

For once, you have nothing to say, staring up at him, chest heaving and slick pooling between your thighs even as you try to ignore it.

"You look good beneath me," he commented, gazing down at you. "Should be like this more often."

"Aonung," you breathe, hating how wobbly and desperate your voice sounds. "What are you-"

"This," he cut you off. "This is what I'm doing." His mouth presses against yours, tongue sliding between your lips- lips that are slack with surprise, though not entirely opposed to your current situation, given the heat building in your stomach.

You moan, arms sliding around his neck, arching into him as he licks into your mouth, practically devouring you like a starving man. "So fuckin' beautiful," he sighed, nipping at your bottom lip playfully.

"Shut up," you hissed bashfully, turning your face away.

"Oh, yeah, now you're getting defensive?" he teased, pressing his knee against your loincloth. "Think I can't feel how wet you are for me? Soaking right through your loincloth just from a little kissing." He laughed a little then pressed a warm kiss to the corner of your mouth, looking at you with an expression that makes your stomach twist. "Still hate me now?"

"Decidedly," you sigh, pressing up against him as he slides an arm around the back of your shoulders, holding you against him as he begins to lay wet kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

"Oh, yeah, I believe that," he murmured, grazing his fangs along your collarbone as you whined. "Come on, beautiful, give it a rest."

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"You not fighting me every step of the way and letting me fuck you like we both want?" he grunted, shifting himself to pull off your loincloth and his. "I think that'd be great."

"Tough-" you began, then choked on air as his stiff cock nudged at your hole, making your hips buck up into him.

He hissed at the contact, pressing his face to your neck and holding himself still for a painfully long moment, both of you shivering.

You couldn't believe this.

You were mere seconds away from getting absolutely rawed on the beach by the Metkayina prince. Out in the open, where anyone could see. And you didn't even care, which was probably the worst part. Or maybe the worst part was that you wanted him so fucking bad, even if he was a bully and a dick and a great big whiny baby to boot.

Then he pulled back a little, looking at you intently, tracing your face with his fingers in a gesture that was so tender it hurt. "You want this?" he breathed.

"Yes," you replied raggedly, and slowly, painfully slowly, he slid into you, one hand tracing down the back of your leg to hook it over his hip, allowing him to reach a depth inside you that made you see stars.

You whined, throwing away your dignity in favour of pleasure.

"Fuck," he grunted against your jaw, rubbing his cheek against yours- scenting you, you realised, and the realisation that he was fucking claiming you made you lock your leg tighter around him without thinking, arching into him impossibly, trying to bury him so deep inside you he wouldn't be able to pull out. "Fuck, you're so good, so tight, fuck-"

"Aonung," you whimpered, ignoring how pathetic that sounded as your nails gouged red lines into the backs of his shoulders.

"You markin' me up?" he huffed, pulling back slowly before beginning to thrust, long, slow, deep strokes that punched the air from your lungs and reached every sweet spot inside you and then some. "Want everyone to know, huh?"

"Shut up," you whined, throwing your head back.

"Shut me up," was his only response before he took matters into his own hands and kissed you again, slower this time, gentler. "Great Mother, you're so good, gonna make me come already-"

He took his time, despite your best efforts to get him to fuck you harder, fucking into you slow and sweet, bringing you towards an orgasm as slowly as he could, kissing along your shoulders and collarbones, holding you so tight your body was practically molded to his.

"Ao- Aonung-" you choked, clutching at him as the familiar sensation approached. "I'm go- I'm gonna come, fuck-" Your legs locked around his hips, making it near impossible for him to thrust, but he managed.

"Yeah, me too, beautiful, I got you-" he gasped against your throat, hips stuttering against yours, cock pulsing inside of you almost painfully.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you moaned shrilly, fangs glancing at his shoulder before you sunk them in properly, vision whiting out as you came the hardest you've ever come in your fucking life.

"Oh, fuck," Aonung whimpered, thrusting one last time and burying himself as deep inside you as he could, head falling limp against yours as you clenched around him, his seed coating your walls in pulses.

You both remained in that position for a long while, until your post-sex-hazy brain cleared enough to register the taste of blood on your tongue, and the warm blood trickling down your chin.

You immediately released him, jerking your head backwards, body stiffening in fright. "Shit, Ao-"

Aonung just whined at the loss and the way you clenched around him anew, still entirely lost in pleasure. "Quit moving, I can't come again, I'll die," he groaned against you.

"No, idiot," you said, touching his shoulder tentatively. He hissed as your fingers came into contact with the savage bite, ears flattening. "Your shoulder."

Aonung, grizzling and whining like a little kid, twisted his head to try and see. "'S hot," he concluded, shrugging and trying to kiss you, the movement making his cock twitch inside you again.

"It could get infected!" you insisted, holding back a moan.

"Oh, shut up about it and let me hold what's mine" he grunted, shifting backwards, slipping out of you, then flopping down on the sand on his back and pulling you down with him, tucking you into his side.

"Oh, I'm yours now?" you said, immediately distracted, trying not to smile like an idiot.

He squinted at you. "You reek of me and currently have my come so deep inside of you it's practically in your guts. Yeah, I think you're mine."

"Fuck, you're vulgar," you sighed, curling into him and resting your head on his chest.

"You'll live."

This was not meant to be a smut like at all @wjehfshs heres more dumb himbo Aonung I hope it's ok 😭

[in1-nutshell]

One more before I forget... a delinquent senior in high school Buddy who secretly has a heart of gold, who would defend the kids. They have the mentality of 'You mess with them, you mess with me.' However, it's mostly Jack's and maybe Raf's(?) bullies. And would go against Megatron with only a spiked bat for the kids and for team Prime too. For this scenario, I'd imagine while defending one of the kids against their bullies. They get into a really serious fight with them and practically send the bully to the hospital. So how would the tfp team Prime react to learning this on the drive from school to the base?

Buddy is ready to attack anything that looks at the kids the wrong way.

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy protecting the Kids from bullies with Bulkhead, Ultra Magnus, and Bumblebee

SFW, Platonic, Mentions of injury and fights (nothing detailed), Human reader

TFP

Buddy looked like a heartless person.

They had a resting scowl on their face.

But they were one of the sweetest people the kids and Bots knew.

When Buddy found out that the kids went to the same school, Buddy made sure to look out for them.

They insisted on walking each one of them to class.

Jack coming out of class looking both ways in the hallway.

“Hmm—”--Jack

Buddy tapping his shoulder.

“Ready?”--Buddy

“Ack!”--Jack

Miko coming out of her class, sticking close to the wall.

No Buddy in sight.

Buddy looking over her shoulder.

“Who you looking for?”--Buddy

“AHH! How are you so quiet? And how did you even get here so fast? Isn’t your class on the other side of the school?”--Miko

“I have long legs.”--Buddy

Raf coming out of his class.

Buddy waiting for him by the wall.

“You ready for that test?”--Buddy

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”--Raf

Buddy just wanted to look after their friends, especially since they knew there were some awful people in the school.

The day of the incident was one to remember.

Vince had come up with the dumbest stunt yet.

After school Vince and some of his goons had managed to corner Jack.

“Hey Darby.”--Vince

“Vince? What—what are you doing with your… friends?”--Jack

The group slowly formed a semi-circle around Jack and Vince.

“What happened at lunch? You trying to start something? Huh, Dirt bag?”--Vince

“No—I mean—why would I? You tripped over your own foot—”--Jack

Vince punches Jack in the stomach causing him to fall on his knees wheezing.

“Don’t lie to me Darby! You stuck out your foot and made me trip!”--Vince

“I –wheeze—didn’t—”--Jack

Vince kicked him in the gut again.

“HEY!”--Buddy

The group looking at Buddy, Miko, and Raf behind them.

Buddy walking forward with Miko and Raf trailing behind them.

Buddy is standing between Jack and Vince, while Raf is helping Jack up and Miko is eyeing everyone around them.

“I’m only going to tell you this one-time Vince. Back. Off. Don’t come near my friends or me ever. Got that?”--Buddy

“Please. You think that this is going to work? Just come here and talk. I think its time to finally teach these losers a lesson, right fellas?”--Vince

One of the boy’s grabs Raf by the back of the shirt while another two grab Miko.

The ones who grabbed Miko threw her to the ground and started a few kicks to her sides.

Raf has just held tightly by his wrist trying to surpass the little cries from the pain.

Jack tries to help but gets slugged across the face.

“Guys! Vince, let them--”--Buddy

Vince spits in Buddy’s face as one of his goon’s slams Buddy in the back with a baseball bat, making them fall to the floor.

“Buddy!”—Jack, Miko, and Raf

Buddy shakingly got up with a large cut on their forehead and looked at the offender dead in the eyes with their split knuckles.

The goon tried to hit them again, but this time Buddy managed to grab the bat, twisted it from his hold making him let go.

Now Buddy had the bat and they saw red.

Maybe it was because of the blood slowly dribbling down or it was the pure anger they felt.

Buddy was delivering blows to all of them like they were candy on Halloween.

Did they see a tooth fly?

Yes.

Did they care?

No.

The group eventually had enough and ran away.

Buddy was mostly dizzy from the punches and kicks.

Jack, with his slightly bruised face, helped Buddy sit down.

Miko with a busted lip and split knuckles sat down next to Buddy making sure they didn’t close their eyes.

Raf, with some bruising around his wrists, managed to produce some tissues for them.

Buddy with a smile on their beaten face.

One hand still gripping the bat.

“That… that was something.”--Buddy

“We should call the hos—”--Jack

“No hospital.”--Buddy

“What?”--Jack

“Are you insane?! You look like you got beaten up by a monster truck! You need help! We all need some help!”—Miko

“Miko, we can get in trouble with the cops, which leads to them snooping around which can be bad for the bot’s cover. We can’t go.”--Buddy

“As much as I hate it, Buddy’s got a point. None of us need cops on us. How else are our guardians going to get us? We can’t keep asking Fowler for favors like this.”—Jack

“Finally, someone is making…”—Buddy

Buddy shaking their head a bit, blinking hard.

“Buddy?”--Raf

“Head hurts a lot… Maybe having your Mom look at this thick skull isn’t a bad idea…”--Buddy

“You look really bad.”--Raf

“It looks worse than what it is—hold up—okay we’re good.”--Buddy

“What was that?”--Miko

“The world was spinning for a second, but we’re good now.”—Buddy

“Felt that. Literally.”--Miko

“…”—Jack and Raf

“Now to the million dollar question.”--Buddy

“What is that?”--Jack

“How are we going to explain this to the bots?”--Buddy

“…”--Everyone

“Welp… I guess house arrest it is. Good thing I have some Uno cards with me.”--Buddy

Bulkhead

Bulkhead was sent to go get the kids after a rather late mission.

Since he had the most space to have all the kids ride comfortably, he went ahead.

He knew that it was late, so he went slightly above the speed limit.

The first thing he saw was the kids sitting and huddling close together.

This sent warning flags to his mind.

The kids didn’t huddle this close to each other unless something happened, or it was cold, and it wasn’t cold.

He nearly blows his cover when he sees the bruises and blood.

“Miko?! Buddy?! Jack?! Raf?! What in the name of—”Bulkhead

“Shh! Bulkhead someone might hear you!”--Miko

“But what happened?!”--Bulkhead

Jack and Raf helped Buddy into the back seat.

“Shouldn’t you guys go to a hospital?”--Bulkhead

“And…And risk your cover being blown? I don’t… don’t think so big guy.”--Buddy

“But—”--Bulkhead

“Everything we need is at the base in the med kits.”--Buddy

“And my Mom should be at the base by now.”--Jack

“How do you know this?”--Bulkhead

“…She left with Fowler…”--Jack

“If my chest wasn’t hurting too much, I would be laughing so hard right now…”--Buddy

Concerning car noises intensifies by a tenfold.

“Bulk, you okay—Woah!”--Miko

Bulkhead starts speeding to the base well above the speed limit because screw the law the kids are hurt bad.

Bulkhead comms in the base to get the med bay and the human med kits ready. When he is asked further, he just tells them that everyone isn’t looking too good right now.

Was his message cryptic and most likely sent panic to everyone listening?

Yes.

Did he care at the moment?

Not entirely, especially as he is splitting his attention between the injured kids and the road ahead of them.

When Bulkhead gets to the base, he is almost yelling for someone, anyone to help the kids out of the car.

Blame the yelling on the panic, Buddy and Miko looked like they were going to fall asleep.

There is a lot of audial gasps when the kids are taken out of him.

So far none of the kids have said anything. The beatings and adrenaline were wearing off and no one had the energy right now to recall all the events.

Buddy still hasn’t let go of the bat.

Since Raf and Jack were the two that were the least injured they had the task of telling them what happened.

Bulkhead had never had the sudden urge to squash a human than in that moment.

A little while later…

Jack, Miko and Raf are sleeping in their respective med slabs.

Buddy is awake shuffling some Uno cards the best they can with their bandaged hands.

Bulkhead comes into the med bay as quietly as he can.

“Buddy?”--Bulkhead

“Hmm? Oh Bulkhead.”--Buddy

Bulkhead walking a little bit closer to the group.

“How you holding up?”--Bulkhead

“Eh… Got a big pounding in my head and some bandages, but other wise good. You should have seen the other guys.”—Buddy

“Yeah… Raf said they ran away after you went ‘whack a mole’ on them.”--Bulkhead

“Ha! That’s one way to put it.”--Buddy

“Hehe… Thank you.”--Bulkhead

“Thank you?”--Buddy

“For protecting them.”--Bulkhead

“Bulkhead… they got hurt. I didn’t protect them…If I had tried—”--Buddy

“I’m going to stop you right there.”--Bulkhead

“Huh?”--Buddy

“From what Jack and Raf told us, you did everything possible to try and protect them. You went to fight for your friends. I could mistake you for potential Wrecker material.”--Bulkhead

“Ha… don’t let Ratchet hear you say that now.”--Buddy

“Yeah… but my point still stands. You’re a good kid Buddy and you protecting them just proves it even more.”--Bulkhead

Buddy trying to hold in some tears.

“Do you need Ratchet? Does something hurt?”--Bulkhead

“No—I mean I don’t feel good—but… just thanks… I needed to hear that.”--Buddy

Bulkhead gently stroking Buddy’s cheek from the tears.

“No problem, Buddy. Sleep, will ya? You’ll end up looking like those ‘raccoons’ if you don’t.”--Bulkhead

Buddy nods letting their eyes shut softly.

Ultra Magnus

Magnus is one of the bots helping get everyone out of Bulkhead.

He is the one who gets Buddy out.

In all his years holding injured soldiers, his servos shook more holding Buddy’s beaten body.

They were holding a bat in one of their hands.

“Bulkhead! What—”--Magnus

Buddy gently patted his digit.

“Hey Mags… how’s it going?”--Buddy

“Ratchet!”--Magnus

Buddy trying to soothe Magnus.

“It’s okay Mags… everything’s okay.”--Buddy

Concern truck noises intensifies.

Magnus quickly passed Buddy to Ratchet and June.

Jack and Raf retold the whole story.

Magnus was furious at the dirty fighting.

He goes off to the supplies closet to reorganize it, something to keep his mind off of the incident for a bit.

At least till he cools down.

Afterwards, Magnus is hypervigilant of the children after they are all patched up.

Magnus sits on a crate by Buddy’s side as they retell a bit of the story to him.

His servos clench hearing the boy who nearly decked them with a baseball bat.

“I don’t even know where that thing came from. It was like it came out of nowhere.”--Buddy

“Hmm…”--Magnus

Magnus is glaring with hatred at the bat.

Buddy takes notice and gently pats Magnus’s digit in reassurance.

Magnus and Buddy give each other a smile of understanding before Buddy tries to explain the game of Uno to him.

Bumblebee

Bumblebee feels the world stops the second Bulkhead is telling them to get the kids out.

He rushes over to get Raf out, gently cradling him in his servos.

“Beep bep bop?! (Raf what happened?!)--Bumblebee

Bumblebee gently turned Raf’s wrist to see more of the injury.

Immediately stops after hearing Raf take a sharp intake.

A quick little flashback to when Raf had gotten exposed to dark energon.

“Beep! Beep! Beep! (Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!)”--Bumblebee

“Its okay Bee, it just stings a bit.”--Raf

Bumblebee cradles him a bit closer.

Concern Beeping noises intensifies.

Bumblebee feels his spark drop seeing the rest come out of the car, especially Buddy holding on to a bat.

He is slightly hovering by the med bay with the other listening to the story.

He had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting the meathead once and that was enough for him.

He wants justice for the kids.

For Buddy.

He doesn’t leave the kids out of his sight for a while.

Ratchet walking into the med bay.

Bumblebee sitting on a corner of Buddy’s med slab, watching intensely at the human’s sleep.

Ratchet comes over gently placing a servo on his shoulder.

“They’re safe now Bumblebee.”--Ratchet

“Boop bop… bep beep boop bep bop? (I know… but it doesn’t hurt to have an extra set of optics watching them?).”--Bumblebee

“It doesn’t but you need to recharge.”--Ratchet

“Beep—(But--)”--Bumblebee

“They’ll still be here when you wake up. I will personally let you know when they wake up, as long as you go recharge.”--Ratchet

Bumblebee taking one last look at the kids, whispering a gentle ‘Thank you” towards Buddy, and leaves to recharge.

[theabigailthorn]

Surely with how popular you are you would have had a few cancelling attempts, but you're drama free. How? I thought you'd be target number 1 with TERFs.

So the thing is, people on the internet have and do try to wreck my life! But it's true that I get less of it than a lot of other women, and I often ask myself (and them) this same question. I think it comes down to a few factors. In no particular order:

I'm white and thin

I don't post selfies very often

The Philosophy Tube Jutsu: I never use my platform to say anything bad about individuals, so I don't make enemies

I'm British

I don't put my pronouns or the word 'trans' in my bio. I mention it if it it's relevant but to a casual troll looking for someone to go after there are more obvious targets

My brand: in terms of online content, my brand is 'Educational and Compassionate.' I try to be even-handed and listen to all sides and never be angry, and people are maybe a bit reluctant to get mad at someone who does that? In terms of acting, my brand right now is 'I'm Trying Hard and I'm On My Way Up!' which I guess people like?

I have a posh accent

I don't make online content about video games

I'm pretty enough that men like looking at me but not so hot it makes them angry

I transitioned in private before I came out publicly. I knew that when I did I'd get a lot of backlash, so I pre-emptively muted LOADS of words in my comments section and wove a kind of digital safety net

I'm so busy that I often miss whatever the discourse du jour is and don't get involved. As a wise woman once said, 'Do Not Tweet.'

I deliberately dress and present myself as 'classy' in public-facing stuff

Most of my content is scripted, so by default it attracts people who like to sit down and listen

Philosophy Tube is literally all about critical thinking and not taking things at face value. So if a typical Philosophy Tube Subscriber sees a post that says 'I saw Abigail Thorn kicking a puppy down the street!' they're more likely to stop and think, 'What's the evidence for this?' This means that when there are hate campaigns and lies spread about me (and there are, from time to time) my core audience sees through it and sticks around

I have very good mods! Big shout out to all the lovely people on r/philosophytube and all the people who moderate my livestream chats!

I have a social media manager who can look out for hate and pre-emptively guard against it

I don't hitch my brand to other people. I sometimes do little collabs or appear at events with other creators but for the most part I fly solo. That means if another creator blows up or posts something awful I minimise my chances of cancellation-by-association. I'm friends with lots of creators but for the most part I keep it behind the scenes (Learned this one the hard way!)

I'm not a sex worker. Those people get hate like you wouldn't believe - the sex workers I know are the toughest folks I've ever met!

I'm not very fun to bully! I do get death threats and hate campaigns and people make fake porn of me and libel me and all that stuff - literally every day - I just never talk about it publicly so trolls don't get the satisfaction of seeing me get upset. I just mute and block and move on silently. When I have to talk to a lawyer or the police about someone causing a problem, I handle it behind the scenes

Platform size. When TERFs in British media go after someone they tend to pick on people smaller than them, cause they're bullies.

I built my platform slowly, so I've had time to adjust and get used to how it impacts my life

People have tried to cancel me in the past and it's blown up in their faces, e.g. the Trump Transition Tweet Incident and the B*ck A*gel Affair.

To be absolutely clear, a LOT of this is luck and privilege. I'm not trying to blame the victims of online harassment: yes, some of these factors are things I choose to do but not everyone is able to make those choices. It's also the unwinnable game of respectability politics: yes I might get less hate because of the way I dress or whatever, but fundamentally that won't protect me if I get arrested and sent to a men's prison. These things aren't a substitute for a more just distribution of power. There's also this final possible factor:

It just hasn't happened yet.

[acciocriativity]

-> When they reject you…

... but it wasn't a confession (WOOSAN version)

Genre: angst-ish, bittersweet endings, unrequited love (hard to say from each side tho)

Tags/ Warnings: angsty; bittersweet endings; implied bullying in San's part not done by him; implied body shame in San's part not done by him; San's a coward and don't do anything about it; i don't even now what to say about wooyoung's part, that's a warning?

WC: 1,4 k

N/A: I said that I'd make more of these and here they are (after 8 whole months, I'm so sorry). I didn't forget about the lovely people that loved the MATZ version, this is for you guys!

Please reblog my work if you enjoyed it, it helps to reach other people <3

MATZ Version

Ateez Masterlist

JEONG WOOYOUNG (정우영)

You heard the soft buzz of your phone on your beside table, yet the only thing you did was turn around and adjust the thick blanket under your chin. It was getting cold by the minute and a simple thought crossed your mind before you closed your eyes once again, maybe you should see him one last time.

If anyone told you a week ago that you’d be ignoring Wooyoung’s calls, you wouldn’t believe it, but here you are. You could’ve just block him for once and for all, but a little sick part within you liked to hear the proof of his neediness and desperation. Every call were the solid evidence that it wasn’t all in your head, in fact, he was the once who always seemed to cling to you.

The silence filled the room for barely five seconds, then the phone started ringing again.

You wish you could say you slept well that night, knowing that he wouldn’t leave any voicemails, that little prideful jerk. Instead, the same scene appeared over and over in your mind.

You still could feel his hands around your waist. He made it all so casual, natural and comfortable, like it was supposed to be that way between friends. However, you knew he only ever called you late at night, sometimes just to talk when he couldn’t fall asleep, others to beg you to come pick him up and somewhere in between those moments, he made you believe you were special to him. How special or in what way was a work in progress, you were unsure if his actions should worry you, if maybe it was more than friendly, until he made it all clear a week ago.

It was his birthday, so you did everything you could to make a memorable night, even baked the giant birthday cake yourself. Sometime after the loud music turned into background noise, he found you by the kitchen, then asked you to wait upstairs for him. His room was the only one locked in the entire house, so he left you with the key after sending one of his cheeky little winks your way. You still remember how giddy you felt, because you just received the perfect opportunity to give him that one watch he was thinking about buying it for months now.

The whole day you couldn’t really get a hold of him, something you can not blame Wooyoung of all people for, still, it was dangerously close to midnight. Was it too much to ask for some time with you best friend on his birthday? No, no it wasn’t. You weren’t asking for anything much than a simple conversation and a little bit of appreciation, something you were yet to hear from him. So you waited as much as your patience allowed.

Bu he didn’t show up.

And you knew exactly where he was, most likely having the time of his life surrounded by all your mutual friends, and you did love that about him. You’d always say that he was like your personal ray of sunshine, people like him would always have the spotlight and you also knew he enjoyed that very much. How can you wish something else for him on his day? You wish he had all the fun in the world and maybe share a bit with you as well.

So after waiting for fifteen minutes, you decided that you gave him enough grace already. Wooyoung could get lost in the moment sometimes, so you decided you were going to remind him in the pettiest way you could think of.

But none of that mattered when you laid eyes on him, standing at the bottom of the stairs. He held close one of your mutual closest friend, closer then you remembered them together before. They both were in a small circle by the wall, laughing at something he whispered. Were they a thing now? How did you not know? But there was a larger question taking all the space in your head. Is this how you look like beside him? You were used to the closeness, you enjoyed the intimacy, it could easily be you there right now.

Yet, it wasn’t you and it won’t be.

So why the hell can’t he accept that and deal with the consequences of his own actions? You were giving him what he asked for, space.

Still, he’s calling again.

CHOI SAN (최산)

The moment your existence intertwined with San’s back in college, it felt like people’s perception of you changed all of a sudden. You were nobody to most, then became somebody to him and as a consequence, someone to his friends and acquaintances. It would be fascinating to watch if it wasn’t your own life and if it wasn’t so freaking depressing. A frequent comment you’d hear was ‘how odd the two of you look next to each other’, and there was nothing you could do against a sly remark like that, specially when it comes from his so called friends, and you knew San always took that as a light joke about your differences in personalities.

You don’t remember how it happened, one day you sat beside him at the very back of a class you, so desperately, wanted to skip but couldn’t, the other day you both were attached to the hip. And how could you not? Never in you life you thought you’d describe a man as sweet, not with you at least, but there he was, every day, proving you wrong.

To be in the vicinity as someone like him was a once in a lifetime kind of experience, but to be his friend was another thing entirely. San was one of those people that can make you feel at the top of the world when he pays attention to you, the kind of person that truly seeks connection with those around him and when someone talks, he listens with all his body.

You tried to keep those pros in your mind, but more often than not you caught yourself pondering if it was still worth the headache after all those years, like right now.

You promised yourself you’d come to this stupid five-year college reunion, because otherwise San’d whine about it for a whole month, like you not coming would make him lonely somehow, like that was even a possibility.

Then, it started.

It always does one way or another.

This time was a “innocent joke” about how you glued yourself to San back in the day. They all laughed including yourself, you did not want to make a scene, you never do.

Then there was the stares at the two of you sitting beside each other. That was the funniest part for them, the simple thought that you could still have some hope for something to happen between the two of you to this day and age was hysterical. You could tell since the very start of your friendship what those people thought about you and what your place should be.

Maybe if you ever felt anything towards San in that way, it’d hurt you deeply, but you didn’t and still don’t, so it just pisses you off to no end. However, you don’t have the courage to bring it up and perhaps you should’ve done then, but now you barely see any of them, so what is it one more day?

“You’re good?”, he leaned towards you and his hands caressed your lower arm like it was second nature to him.

You nodded, then whispered as you grabbed your purse, “I’ll be back in a minute”.

It was a long walk to the nearest bathroom, outside of the gymnasium, long enough to calm yourself down and to think clearly.

All the while San was downing a drink after the other, laughing at something he barely heard from across the big table of 9 he was in. Red in the face, coughing like crazy in the middle of the chaos, he did not see you walking up to him.

“What?”, he asked the third time, leaning in to hear his friend better.

“Just admit it already, do you like her, don’t you?”

It took him a few seconds to figure it out what that was about, then a flash of you came into his mind and the recognition on his face was clear to them all. He sobered up quick and sat upright, putting his body weight on top of the table.

You don’t hear what the answer was and you don’t need to. Their laughter, his laughter, echoed in between the song change.

So maybe he wasn’t that innocent after all.

Taglist: @h3arteyes4mingi

[suugarbabe]

My LOVE, you brilliant beautiful minded human. I have another Enzo idea if youre up for it.

Ravenclaw!reader who is Theo's (any of the boys really) relative (i was think twin or sister in the year below but whatever you fancy really) who they're super protective of because we're smaller than them. And we're in a relationship with Enzo, which Theo isnt thrilled about but at least its someone he trusts.

Anyway, Ravenclaw x Slytherin match has just finished and on the way to the change rooms someone (probs Pucey) slaps reader on the ass and says something gross. Draco grabs Theo because "i will NOT have you benched for the rest of the season" but they forget Enzo who wacks him with his broom and beating him before turning to Draco and telling him he can shove quiditch up his ass.

Or something like that 🩶🩶

mmm love love

Your family was shocked when you got sorted in Ravenclaw. When Theo can been called up first, everyone knew he would be in Slytherin. When you, his twin, were called right after him and that sorting hat stalled slightly, the room became silent. When it shouted Ravenclaw, you thought you were doomed.

Thankfully, there's no bond like a twin bond, and regardless of your house Theo had you close by his side, which included his group of friends. So when you and Enzo started dating each other, Theo shouldn't have been surprised. However he was furious like a protective brother was.

Theo had made both you and Enzo sit on the common room couches as he gave you a 'stern talking to', which was really just an over-protective brother speech, giving the typical "I'll kill you if you hurt her Lorenzo" lines to which you rolled your eyes and Enzo just smiled, promising to protect you fiercely.

Luckily, being not only Enzo's girlfriend but Theo's sister meant that no one, ever, touched you, bothered you, bullied you; nothing. You were essentially protected on all sides at all times. You never really had to watch out for anyone, because someone was always watching over you.

So after the quidditch semi-finals, when you went to meet Enzo after the game by the locker rooms, you weren't expecting the events that transpired.

You had your back to the entrance, talking with Pansy while you both waited for the boys, when you heard the whining slime of Adrian Pucey.

"Two birds with one stone, you're not both waiting for me are you?" You scoffed, not even giving him the satisfaction of turning around. "Oi, fuck off you right prick," Pansy raised her hand, middle finger on display.

Upon hearing the commotion one of the other team members used their wand to open the curtain of the tent, just in time to see Pucey grab a handful of your ass and say, "I bet you'd like that wouldn't you, a good night on riding my prick would give you a fucking attitude change there, Nott."

Immediately Theo was on his feet, only to be grabbed by Draco, "No way, not here, I will not have you benched for the cup next week. We'll take care of him after that, you here me?"

Theo opened his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by the sound of bone cracking. In his haste to calm down your brother, both guys had forgotten about Enzo.

They both turned in time to see Enzo lift his broom up once more, swinging it down against Pucey's ribs before throwing it aside and swinging his fists. Theo and Draco let Enzo get a few good blows before running and pulling him off, Enzo still shouting at him, "You're a fuckin' dead man, Pucey! Dead! You hear me? Lucky I had my broom in my hand and not my wand or I'd Avada your bloody arse for touchin my girl!"

You knew it meant there was probably something toxic deep down inside you, but Merlin did that whole scene just turn you on. You couldn't help but walk right over to Enzo and pull him in to a harsh kiss, ignoring the protests and gags from Draco and your brother.

"C'mon, Enzie, let's go clean up your hands, hmm?"

[anxious-witch]

Okay, absolutely not a diss at the original post about Edwin's attraction to men being treated as punishment because all the men that have feelings for him hurt him and Charles, who he loves not feeling the same. It's a valid analysis and I absolutely see what op meant but but I wanted to expand on it in a more hopeful way, because I do feel like the show is, at it's core, a hopeful one, but I also didn't wanna like. Derail the post with this in a reblog so here is a separate one.

Yes, Simon sacrified him to a demon, the Cat King trapped him and consequently left him vulnerable to danger there and Monty betrayed him, but have they not also helped him face who he is? Regardless of if you think of them as villians or not, they showed him things he wanted. If Edwin left Port Townsend as soon as they were done with the case, he would have remained more or less unchanged, but would that truly have left him better off?

Moreso, Edwin changed them. Cat King realized at the end that he cannot keep Edwin unless Edwin wants to stay. That loneliness is not cured by forcing one to stay by your side, but rather by sharing a companionship. Monty realized that even if Edwin did not love him the same way, he cared for him and if circumstances were different, their friendship could have blossomed into something else too. He showed Monty that he can have thoughts and feelings outside of Esther. Hell, even if the Cat King didn't show up, it seemed like Monty was going to give up his plan to betray Edwin. Because he loved him, in the best way he knew how, in that moment. Simon by forgiving him, and letting him finally accept himself so he can move on, and Edwin realized being gay doesn't have to be a punishment. He said so himself. That the one thing that keeps them in hell, in true hell is them thinking it's a punishment.

And Charles? Charles who went to Hell for Edwin, who defied the story so ancient and powerful and got Edwin out of Hell? No matter if they end up as endgame or not, have they not already proven this is not a tragedy? This is not a punishment? If he didn't love Edwin, he would have never turned back, but he did. If it was a punishment, Edwin would have been taken again. But instead, they got out and they stayed together.

What I am trying to say is, yes, there is pain and there is hurt, but which relationship doesn't have that? Who didn't have a friend, a lover, a parent, hurt them in one way or another? That doesn't mean there was no love there, simply that that love needs more adjusting. And they all changed and began adjusting to fit a new situations and relationships they found themselves in. And I feel like, if this was a straight story, it would be exactly that.

Yes, Edwin still has a long way to go and I sincerely hope he gets his happy ending, whichever love interest he ends up choosing, but I don't think even know, this is the story of someone being tortured for being queer. It's a story of a bunch of people learning how to be who they truly are, and making mistakes all the while. But that's okay. Because they grow from it. And isn't that beautiful, in it's own way?

Simon, the bully who actually fancies the MC, Cat King, an older, more experienced guy who sees something special in the MC for the first time, Monty, the first, sweet romance that everyone wants but that doesn't end the way you expected. And of course, the best friend that has been "the one" this whol time. Those are all pretty common romance trope. We just rarely see them all together, and with some tweaking, but I'd say they make them more hopeful because that.

That's why I don't see "Love is a punishment for not having been strong enough to remain alone." as true for this particular media. Because it isn't-it's a learning experience that changes you. Perhaps not always pleasant, but we all must grow. Not even ghosts can stay unchanged.

[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

I've already brought this up in this post, but I absolutely believe Hu ended up telling David what her secret was and why it made her so uncomfortable (presumably because she more than likely has the hopeless child secret)

Hu: I have to be the one to give everyone guidance. That's the only thing I can do. If no one relies on me, then I won't be useful anymore. Hu: You knew how I felt, and yet you... You... Hu: You toyed with my heart!

Like, let's really analyze this dialogue for a second. Why would Hu say that David knew how she felt, why she acts the way she does, unless she told David herself? David is not a mind-reader, he can barely handle the things going on in his own mind. So the only way I can see David knowing about this is if Hu told him herself. Throughout all of Chapter 2, David is constantly pressuring others to tell their secrets. Especially in CH2-6. And that is made especially apparent with how he handles Nico's forced-coming out

David: I know this isn't the ideal time for me to do this, but... David: Nico, do you know what your secret is? Nico: [Sniff] Hu: He's clearly upset. Don't bother him with your questions. David: Part of me thinks that this conflict between Ace and Nico stems from the position of power Ace holds over Nico for keeping his secret. David: If that secret was exposed, then Ace would no longer have that edge over him. David: Nico, can you reveal your secret to everyone? Nico: W-What? Nico: I...I don't want to. David: I know it's difficult to reveal a secret that mortifies you, but aren't all of our secrets going to be revealed in 2 days anyway? I don't think it matters much if you do it now or later. Nico: ... David: Unless you're thinking that the secrets won't be revealed at all? Nico, don't tell me that you-- Nico: Okay, fine!!

David: So then, revealing your secret was a good thing, right? That way, you won't have to be misgendered anymore. Nico: ... Nico: I wasn't ready. David: This is definitely an improvement. It's good for everyone to be open with their secrets.

Nico: Hey I don't think I was in any way shape or form ready to have this part of my identity that I've been ostracized and bullied for for my entire life to not only be outed in front of my classmates but to what is presumably international TV David: K, so anyway :)

He even does this specifically to Hu later in this scene

David: Hu? Hu: I'm sorry, but my secret is something that makes me uncomfortable. David: Even though it will be revealed by MonoTV anyway? Hu: Perhaps it's not an admirable thing to do, but I'd rather put it off for as long as possible. I apologize.

I also have no doubt that David and Hu had some time alone. Teruko left the Relaxation Room, and considering the fact that Nico was planning a murder and also...is reasonably pissed at David

Nico: But David is really suspicious. He's always been really pushy on getting people to reveal their secrets. Nico: And he can do that only because he revealed his own secret first. That way, he doesn't look like a hypocrite. Nico: But if he lied about his secret, then he can just pretend he's in the right. And then other people will follow his lead because it's "good" to share secrets. Nico: And, um, I'm not just saying this because I'm mad at David. Really.

(they say after basically recounting word-for-word what happened to them)

I don't doubt they would've left at some point soon after Teruko given their personality.

Which would leave David and Hu alone to have a conversation about her secret, to which Hu would most likely fall victim to the same pressure Nico did, and reveal what secret she got.

You only took on your talent to distract form your incessant need to harm yourself for fun.

I bring up this frame in particular, by the way, because I find the difference in how she talks about not sharing her secret very interesting. In the Relaxation Room scene, she describes the act of not sharing her secret as "not an admirable thing to do". Here, she straight up calls it "selfish". It's almost as if someone implanted that seed in her brain to pressure her, wonder who that could be.

Along with this, she would also probably explain why she felt so uncomfortable sharing her secret as that was also something David tried pressuring her to explain, which would lead to her talking about her experiences and reasoning for why she is the way she is, which as we have commonly theorized, is most likely in line with the secret Veronika received

You were quite the hopeless child. Dying once wasn't enough, so you attempted suicide three times.

Which David would put together based on the secret appearing on the board. And that's why he taunts her over it.

David: And in spite of how easily you'll spill other secrets for the sake of "peace," you're still too much of a coward to admit your own. Hu: I...that's not what... David: What's wrong, "Julia"? Go ahead and share your secret. It can't be *that* bad, can it? Or is it worse than mine? Worse than Nico's? David: Or could it be that you're actually not as noble and strong of a person as you make yourself out to be?

He is the only person in the room who not only knows what secret Hu received, but knows why she won't say it out loud. He knows her secret and he is hanging it over her fucking head like a carrot. He knows how she feels, and even still, he toyed with her heart.

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER TEN: RABBIT

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, implied child abuse, self harm, fatphobia, body dysmorphia

This is chronologically the tenth chapter in the series.

Read beneath the cut...

Napalm is the slow fire of waking from a terrible dream, blind, gasping, burnt. The pain, though delusive, is made actual by the action of nerves.

Only a hand at your shoulder, vigorous in its attentions, hauls you up from the putrescence of slumber into the light-dark of four in the morning. You find Hannibal's shape through lashes gummed with sleep's adhesive.

His face is as impassive as a star, but his hair, ever coiffed, is displaced from the friction of his pillow.

“You were screaming,” he says, as you sit, stunned, in his arms. “What were you dreaming about? Do you remember?”

“No,” you say, although the scenes remain briefly in your vision, doubling like silk screen prints upon the walls.

Hannibal fills up a glass with fresh water and bids you to drink, his eyes pensive, unconvinced.

Only the notion that he may suggest you share his bed or else intrude upon yours impels you to honesty.

“I dreamt that I was trapped in one of the Silicone Lover’s dolls. That he was trying to squeeze me inside, and I wouldn’t fit. He said, ‘You’ve gotten so big since I last saw you. I’d better do something about that.’

“Then he started cutting me up with kitchen scissors, and I couldn’t stop him.”

You pause, choking on a breath, a verbal stagger.

Dr Lecter offers you the water again, which you take in both hands and drain to its end.

“Take your time,” says Hannibal. “When you’re ready, go on.”

Lying will fail you before the all-seeing eye, so it is with a flat honesty that you say, “It wasn’t what the Lover did in my dream that scared me. It was what he said to me. Because he was right.”

You reach down to pull the quilt up across your stomach, which Hannibal, with a subtle gesture, prevents.

“To agree with such a statement there must be some basis of comparison for you,” he says. “You knew the person standing in as the Lover in your dream. Can you name him?”

Hannibal could guess it, from the little you’ve told him of your unclean past, but if memory conjures the name from the gully of silence he does not say so.

Instead, he comments, “I think it’s unwise for you to sleep again until your mind is settled. Perhaps we may take advantage of the hour to continue your therapy, in an informal fashion.”

He sits in a chair by your bed, producing a notepad and pen from a pocket of his dressing gown.

You see that he will not move.

"What if I don’t talk?” you ask, softly. “What if I say I'd rather take the punishment?"

Hannibal's slender lips upturn.

"I wouldn't be inclined to take such a claim seriously.”

In sullen defeat you flounce back against the pillows.

Dr Lecter takes his cue.

“I’m curious about the friendships you’ve formed throughout your life. Have there been any notable examples?”

“Not many,” you answer, looking at the raw edges of your fingernails. “I was kind of the weird kid. It was like looking through a dusty museum window at everybody passing by, not really knowing how to get out there and talk to people. Like I was too old and too young at the same time.

“I got bullied, kind of. Nothing worth talking about. Just dumb kid stuff.”

“Even persecution of a childish nature bears painful resonance in later life,” Hannibal comments. “Moreover, isolation from one's peers may disrupt development in those vital years.”

You think of dolorous hours patrolling a fallow playground alone, three hundred children staring through you with adult hostility.

“I did make one friend,” you say. “First year of high school. Amy Glass. She was a weird kid, too.”

Hannibal scratches deftly on his notepad.

"Describe how you met."

Closing your eyes, you find your way back through the forests of the past to a corridor whose tiled floor squeaks under your shoes. You smell textbook paper and saccharine body spray. The sweat of young bodies, and the stale cafeteria fare you’d never tasted throughout your time there.

“Between classes Amy would sit in a window listening to music, or reading,” you say. “Stephen King, usually. Sometimes Anne Rice. She seemed to be up there all the time. I don’t think she was getting shit from the other kids or anything; she just preferred hanging out on her own.

“I wished I was like that, not caring. I wished I was her, period.”

“In what way?” asks Dr Lecter, and in the hallway of your mind a slender figure appears, brown of skin and eyes, blue hair cut roughly to the chin, its roots seeping in atop it like a stain.

Amy.

“A lot of ways,” you say. “Before I really knew her, it was about how she looked. She had piercings— ears, lip, nose, eyebrow. Teachers would tell her to take them out, then the second she was out of their eye-line she’d put them right back in. And even back then she had these awful stick and poke tattoos of bats and crosses she covered up with band aids for classes.

“She did all of them herself with a safety pin. God knows how she didn’t get an infection or anything.

“Then there was the fact I knew we liked some of the same music because of the patches on her bag, and her t-shirts and stuff. Nothing you’d approve of,” you add, as interest touches the face of your listener. “Jesus, I can’t even imagine playing stuff like that in this house. Anyway, I didn’t want to just be like, ‘hey, you like that band, too’. It would have been too weird. Stalkery, maybe?”

“Music isn’t such a terrible way to form a connection,” says Hannibal, amused. “I was once approached in friendship through a shared taste in cheese.”

Picturing his restrained derision you cannot help but laugh.

“Oh, god,” you say. “What were they thinking?”

“It was a naive assumption of commonalities. Besides, my commitment to professionalism would never have allowed us to be as close as he would have hoped.”

You give a little start of affront.

“You’ve made friends with other clients.”

Dr Lecter’s smile remains.

“Only with those whom I feel my presence benefits.”

“Benefits you, you mean,” you say, pettishly. “Whoever it was, you just didn’t like him that much. That’s why you turned him down. Or maybe he was too like you.”

Without appearing offended, Hannibal turns a page in his notebook.

“I'm unconcerned with debating my personal relationships, little one. Let’s return to Amy. Who initiated the friendship between you?”

“Amy,” you say. “It was after this councillor was trying to get something out of me, and I didn’t want to talk. I walked out that room feeling so... heavy, and grimy, and embarrassed. Then there was Amy, heading to the same office I just walked out of. She looked at me, scrunched her face up, and said, ‘Wish me luck.’ Next time I saw her I made the same face back and asked, ‘how was it?’

“‘The worst, just like always,’ she said. ‘Where’d she get her certificate, anyway? Clown school?’

“I burst out laughing. ‘She’s so bad, right?’

“And that was it. Friends. We went everywhere together. Amy really liked me. I don’t know why. I think maybe she thought I was sort of mysterious and interesting rather than just depressed, probably because I didn’t want to talk about what was going on with me.

“She told me everything about her. How her dad didn’t believe in mental health issues even though he was just like she was, and how her mom just ignored everything, hoping it’d just... go away. But I didn’t tell Amy even one little thing about me, really. Not one.”

Guilt you’ve never truly confronted falls like a petal from a late summer bloom, cloying the dark with its flavour.

“Did Amy ever indicate that she’d recognised your particular illness?” prompts Hannibal, and you shrug glumly.

“A couple of times. I ignored every hint. Changed the subject. Acted like it wasn’t a thing when it obviously was. I knew that she knew. That was the dynamic. She was softer, around me. She got it. She got me.”

Suddenly your breath feels very high in your chest, catching on a rib.

“I can’t help but notice your use of the past tense,” says Dr Lecter. “Might I assume that you are no longer friends?”

“We grew apart after school,” you mutter. “I think she would have liked it if I stayed in touch, but then sometimes I wonder if that’s just wishful thinking, and maybe she didn’t care all that much when we drifted apart and stopping talking.

“I have her on Facebook. That’s all, really. She was never a social media person anyway, but still. I could have tried harder. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

Hannibal allows the silence between you to ferment before he speaks again.

“Looking back, what do you think prevented you from maintaining contact?”

“I felt like after school was over she’d find other friends, and I’d just end up being left behind. So I got out of there before I had to see it happen.”

"You abandoned a friendship on the basis of a prophecy that might never have come to fruition."

"It would have,” you insist. “All my life I've had senses about things. Like, if I get a feeling something will or won't happen, I'm always right. Like I was right about you."

Swanlike, Dr Lecter’s hands move across his notebook, tactfully punctuating a note.

"It's common for sufferers of complex post-traumatic stress disorder to misinterpret their hypervigilance as psychic premonition. A heightened awareness of your surroundings and the behaviours of people in your vicinity develops in order to predict danger before it occurs. Pattern recognition is more mathematical than clairvoyant."

"What about my dreams?" you ask, sharply. “Are they math, too?”

"You've had other nightmares?” asks Hannibal, and leans forward, poised to digest you answer.

Canny, you hoard the matter like a serpent its glittering lair.

Hannibal accepts his defeat with grace.

Gathering up his notebook and the empty glass, he says, "That's enough therapy for now, particularly so early in the morning. I'll make you some tea, and you may return to sleep. Peacefully, this time, I hope."

*

Later, there is a meal that sits, sinking in a bath of bronze on Dr Lecter’s dining table, so much of it that you’re gorged merely from the arithmetic of its makeup.

“Arroz de Cabidela,” says Hannibal, as he pulls out his own chair. “A Portuguese dish made with rice, chicken, or rabbit cooked in its own blood. Today I’ve chosen rabbit. Have you ever eaten it before?”

It occurs to you that he expects you to be disturbed by the notion, but you are not. Meat is meat, all of it equally cruel. That life must end for the furthering of your existence has driven you to veganism many a time.

Little chance of sustaining such a diet now that you sleep in the devil’s slaughterhouse.

“No,” you say. “I’ve never tried rabbit. I heard it’s really... gamey.”

Your palate is scarcely educated enough to comprehend the statement. Still, it is apparently accurate, for Hannibal makes a low hum of agreement.

“It has similarities to poultry, in flavour, though it’s rather lean and dry. The blood stew adds a richness you’ll find complimentary, however.”

The scent is certainly inviting, but you are so committed to rejecting whatever is served to you that you feel lightheaded, succumbing to the altitude of starving heights.

“Couldn’t you have given me a smaller portion?” you ask, piteously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s so... much.”

Hannibal glances from your plate to his own, his visage neutral.

“I’ve served you a great deal less than I’ve given myself,” he says. “That said, I’m sure we can settle our differences. I’m not unyielding, if I can see some effort is being made.”

You look him in the eye, hoping you appear more bold than frightened.

“Dr Lecter, you make me all these courses, and they’re crazy even for a normal person. I feel like you do it on purpose. And afterwards my stomach hurts.”

“That’s normal, after a period of fasting. Your body will adjust. Now, please eat.”

You don’t. The cut on your plate makes you think of the Lover’s dolls, how even at your slightest you wouldn’t have fit into such a shell. How, changed as you must be through Hannibal’s cooking, you would ooze over every edge.

“I could use the feeding tube, if you’re unwilling,” says Dr Lecter, rising from his chair to stand at your back. “It would be relatively easy for me to administer. But I’d hate to sour an otherwise pleasant meal with brute force.”

He cups your throat in his smooth hand, and you envision how lovingly he’d coil about you in restraint, guiding the pipe down through you as you choked and flinched in his grasp.

“I’ll eat a quarter,” you say. “That’s it. Then... then nothing else until tomorrow. I won’t sneak out of bed, and I won’t do anything that breaks the rules. Please, Dr Lecter. Uh... Daddy?”

Your confusion between roles endears you to him, as does your breathless, eager willingness to beg.

“Should I allow you to barter?” Hannibal muses, still caressing the wand of your stiff neck. “It’s a symptom of your illness, after all.”

“Just let me choose how much and I’ll try anything you offer me.”

Dr Lecter releases a small breath of laughter.

“I wouldn’t like you to eat your words, little one.”

Gnashing your teeth, you say, “I won’t. I can do it. Please let me. You’re supposed to dote on me, aren’t you?”

You feel Hannibal’s lips against your hair in a kiss of paternal indulgence.

“Always so spirited,” he says. “Very well. I cannot deny my little beauty her request.”

What beauty does he refer to? You’ve only recognised it in the mine shafts of furthest hunger, mistaking a shadow for some precious stone.

Yet clearly you are not so low quality as you believe if both men have fucked you so freely over other women, whom they could conceivably draw into the net of the house.

Then again, there is no accounting for the tastes of madmen, and mad they both are, even Hannibal in his gelid divinity.

From the topiary of his language and flippant games you are beginning to see that you interest him in your very opposition to his being. Were you to succumb completely you would not be so worthy: all men bow to Hannibal, after all, seduced and deceived until they’d lick his fingers like lambs for the milk of his approval.

You, like Will, resist and evade enough of his passes to set yourself apart from the flock.

You may yet throw a halter over the head of the horned man, if only in as much as he allows himself to be reigned.

Quartering your meal as neatly as you're able, you glance up at Dr Lecter, afraid that, by some caprice, he’ll break his code and force you to eat down to the bare plate. But he merely stands by, retaining his honour, and as you look at him you picture his mild hands breaking the neck of the rabbit to drain as though for a ritual of blood.

*

Frequently through your days with Hannibal he immerses himself in hobbies and work about the house, cultivating a necessary solitude after the long hours of ingesting others’ anxious thoughts.

He reads, or writes music, sketches, telephones his friends and past lovers—of whom there are many—or else sets his pen to journals, having seen you safe to your locked room, where he need not prepare for misdemeanour.

In this way your residence in Hannibal’s home does not impede upon his individual pursuits, but rather compliments them, an accent of his sempiturnal glamour.

You are, after all, but one of his many pastimes. It is indulgence, then, when he insists on attending your evening bath.

As he kneels beside the tub to dampen a washcloth his intentions surface, another infringement upon the flesh.

“I don’t need you to help me,” you mumble, arms taut across your chest. “I’m not your baby.”

“Your inner child wails for the tenderness your illness has long obstructed,” says Hannibal, calmly. “Your independence would have you die like an infant abandoned to the forest. Let me carry you, at least in this small act of service.”

You look at him with eyes as dull as old blades and picture the futility of your struggle, his lithe arms holding you, kicking and airless, beneath the foam.

“Don’t you have your own daughter you can do all this with?” you ask; you’ve not yet needled him on his familial relations, and feel yourself more than entitled to know.

Hannibal begins to work the flannel over your naked form, paying no heed to your twitching affront.

“Abigail would have served the role admirably,” he says. “But it wasn’t to be. As for my own children, I have none.”

The revelation passes you without surprise. It’s only possible to imagine him having elegant, adult offspring, absent of the soiling indignities of rearing an infant.

“So you took me away for you and Will to raise,” you say. “Guessing he doesn’t have kids, either.”

The washcloth folds beneath the water, and you gaze studiously at the opposite wall so as not to think about the hand behind the fabric, how it has touched you in other ways, pleasantly, horridly.

“Will is also childless,” says Dr Lecter. “He has never known family, as you have. His mother left him when he was only an infant, and his father was a distant figure, though present. Now it seems that they’re estranged from one another. One can only imagine the loneliness Will has known in his life. Perhaps, with your assistance, this will change.”

Cloth, skin, hands, touch. Gentle and beguiling their trap, to distract from the permanence of this suggested triptych as fingers play against you underwater.

Unsteadily, you ask, “Is Will your boyfriend?”

Hannibal turns you an indecipherable look.

“Do you perceive our relationship to be romantic?”

A strange question, considering the violation with which you were inducted to their company. But not once did either man kiss or grasp the other— a technicality, certainly, yet one, it seems, that holds weight.

“Yes,” you say. “For you, anyway. I don’t know about Will. I know he thinks highly of you. He just sees me as something that’s in the way.”

You kick a foot testily, splashing water over the rim of the bath.

“What are you in the way of?” asks Hannibal, as he begins to lather your hair.

“Not sure. Your friendship, I guess.”

“Do you believe him when he implies that you're only an obstacle to him?”

Water pours over your head, and you close your eyes, enduring the sensation.

“He told me I’m unwanted,” you say.

“When you attempted to kill him?”

Fear bowls over you with a black suddenness.

“He told you?”

“I came to my own conclusions. You weren't quiet, either of you, that night."

You look at Hannibal, at the stag man of your dreams, and taste something like dirt, something like blood, at the back of your mouth.

“Had you seriously injured him or succeeded in your bid to end his life I would have been forced to conclude our treatment,” he says. “But you did not. I’m thankful to have been provided with a truth I hadn’t yet drawn from you: I know that you are not a killer, at least not at this present moment.”

In a strengthless whisper, you ask, “What do you mean?”

Hannibal draws a comb through your hair, unmoved by the conversation.

“As time changes the continents, people come apart through circumstance into new being. That shift may one day lead to the birth of murder’s country.”

A thought stings you like the cold: Will and Hannibal want you to be capable of killing, if not of them, then someone of lesser consequence, the hereditary illness emerging in the child.

That is the secret under this house, the whisper in the walls, its present haunting.

“I hope that never happens,” you mumble. “Never. No matter what you do.

“And yet the whetting of your blood thirst didn’t begin with Will and I,” says Dr Lecter, mildly. “Until you admit your liking of its flavour you will remain unsatisfied, little one.”

You do not ask how he knows you’ve thought of killing, once before, which you yourself had forgotten; having been in your home, the chill sanctum of your childhood bedroom, he may have learned, of you, a myriad, his interrogation merely a practice in contextualising his findings.

“I’d rather starve,” you say, at last, and sink your chin beneath the water.

Dr Lecter takes a razor from a nearby cabinet and begins to shave you with slow precision. He does not ask if you wish for it, only glides the razor across your underarms, groin, and each leg until you run silken beneath his hands.

That done, Hannibal rises, brushing unseen dust from his knees.

“I’ll bring you some fresh clothes,” he says, and leaves the room, a ghost departing the stage.

You look at the razor, entrapped in its plastic guard on the rim of the bath.

Had you a pair of scissors you might have cut the metal free to make a weapon, or else an escape into realms unknown to the living. Though its edge is still wickedness manifest, it would take a great deal of pressure to pursue death by this angle, though it would not be impossible.

It is not death you want to meet, however, but another, nameless coward.

You take the blade to your arm, and the pain is like eating, a sin that sates the freak of misery.

The bathwater turns like a devil’s baptism, and though they are but shallow cuts you feel suddenly faint. Lying back, you lay your arm against the porcelain, thinking murky thoughts of your mistake.

Hannibal returns carrying a muted lilac dress and pale stockings, stilling at the sight of you, of the water, red as autumn mud.

He sets down the clothing and kneels beside you again.

“Let me see.”

You let him take your arm and touch the crude little gashes softly.

“Shower, quickly. Then I’ll treat your wounds. Fortunately, they aren’t so deep.”

How gentle he is with you, this beast dressed as a man in his pressed shirt and waistcoat, guiding your numb form about with a soothing authority. You’d once yearned to be handled like this, to be absolved and set free of any and all expectation. That it comes from him is like being spit in the eye by the Fates, one after the other.

Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos: what have you done to so offend them?

It’s only after having bandaged your forearm and settled you, dummy-like, upon his bed, that Hannibal speaks again.

“What motivated you to do this?”

“You know.”

“Elaborate.”

You lie, face down, in the pillows. The cotton smells like him.

“To feel better,” you say. “Amy said it helped her, sometimes. Cleared her head.”

The mattress tilts slightly as Dr Lecter sits down beside you.

“You mirror her pain to feel closer to love lost. Has it helped you?”

“No. I feel stupid. I feel—”

Restless, you turn onto your side and feel a tear, compelled by gravity, mark your jaw.

“I feel like a kid,” you say. “It’s humiliating. I hate that I always feel this way. Don’t make me live like this.”

Dr Lecter presses a tissue into your hand, as much to save his bedclothes as to comfort you.

“Fighting the expression of necessary emotions will only stunt them further, little one. Will and I would dearly like to see you flourish. Amy would surely wish that for you, too.”

Cradling your wounded arm to your chest, you flick the used tissue to the floor with the other.

“Screw you,” you say. “Both of you. That’s what Amy would tell me to say to you, Dad.”

Hannibal stares at the tissue, and you sense the inward twitch of his irritation as he bends to pick it up from the ground.

“Your parents called again, this afternoon,” he says, offhandedly. “I informed them that you were struggling with your treatment. I advised that we continue your residence here a month longer than previously agreed.”

He casts you a pitying look, and you’re reminded of the futility of going to war with Hannibal Lecter.

“It seems that I made the prudent choice,” he says. “Don’t you agree?”