#and i figured i'd just put this out there for anyone who wants it

[bigskydreaming]

So, been awhile! Apologies for that - took a step back from most social media sites for a few months because the accumulated stresses and everpresent urgency to most things I've been dealing with for the past five plus years finally caught up with me and I kinda just....crashed, and needed some time to get my head on straight. Or whatever the non-obvious-pun version of that might be for a Known Bisexual. Everything was getting to be too constantly 'stop and go' for me, if that makes sense.....like I'd TRY to be more present on here, TRY to work on things like my patreon and fic and meta and stuff like that because I've really wanted to get back to creating actual stuff that people enjoy instead of being like My Issues: The Latest Installment and the like, but then something else would crop up and kill my momentum before it even really got going and I'd have to duck away yet again, and rinse and repeat.

HENCE! I took a more dedicated, extended leave to try and get into a headspace and build a buffer that better lends itself to me getting back to the kinds of posting/writing conditions I've thrived under in the past. It took longer than I thought, but I've never been good at accurately estimating things lol. I've still been on twitter somewhat sporadically, since a huge part of why I hate that site is its format makes it all but impossible to really get to ranting at length...y'know, as I do, my tried and true time-suck method of procrastinating...and with everything going on in the world these days I didn't want to disconnect entirely even though I did need time to work through some shit. BUT I DIGRESS.

Point is, felt like I needed something more substantial than the optimistic-but-lacking-in-actual-energy-and-planning measures I've attempted in the past couple years in order to get on top of things and achieve a measure of consistency and stability again. Less shooting for the moon because I just WANT to be back to my older, happier/more content patterns, more....putting some actual time and thought into how I can realistically make that happen instead of just trying to will it into existence through sheer stubbornness. Because obviously, THAT always works.

ANYWAY. It'll still be a couple days before I get back to regular posting/reblogging patterns or much of any of that at all.....don't be confused if you see some blink and you miss them temporary posts from me over the next day or two. I'm testing out the formatting and layout of a bunch of posts and graphics made for my patreon and original fiction stuff, since the preview post function doesn't always work with read mores in a post and they're all gonna need that lol. If anyone's up for it, I am finalizing the price/reward tiers of my patreon and could use some thoughts on the different levels - I think I have them mostly figured out but wouldn't mind some additional perspectives on how I broke things down and if I'm missing some alternatives. Just message me directly if you'd like to weigh in or lend me your thoughts!

I've never wanted my tumblr to be all about fic or just original content or anything like that, so the patreon's meant to kinda keep all that separate beyond just generalized update announcements on here. The blog will remain just a regular multi-purpose smorgasboard of my reblogs and thoughts on other posts and meta about my various fandoms and all that jazz. The patreon discord will have spaces having to do with my various fanfics, but they'll never be exclusive to it in any way, and every fic update I make will still be on my blog same as always. I've been building masterlists of all my Dick Grayson meta and all my Teen Wolf meta, as well as headcanons and writing snippets/scenes that never got posted elsewhere because I didn't consider them full fics, and I'm starting a series of posts that lean directly into my tendencies to be an Overly Opinionated Asshole who - historically speaking - has never been, uh, shy, shall we say, about Having Thoughts about various fandom patterns or trends.

So....look out for the upcoming "Kalen Vs Fandoms" post series. What? It sounded catchy to me. First up:

"Fandoms' tendency to pick one character per fandom to have every other character introduce as the dumbest person they've ever met, but no its okay, they're actually really fond of them and universally defaulting to a judgmental or patronizing shot at their intelligence every single time they're the topic of conversation among other characters just naturally happens to be part of every single other character's love language - is this perhaps NOT as endearing or affectionate as fandoms tend to treat it as?" Aka "How many people can actually say they'd be comfortable with the idea of every single person in their family or friend group leading with "I genuinely think they're stupid but I love them anyway" each time they talk about them to someone else, and if you don't think that's a normal conversation starter for people to have about a loved one, why do so many fandoms attempt to treat it as such?"

.....the length of post title should not be taken as an indicator of how long each post is. If people want to draw their own conclusions about post length based solely on the fact that they're, well, by me.....I mean. That's totally your prerogative. Nothing I can do about that!

Post topics will run the gamut, if for no other reason than gamut is an amazing word that doesn't get used enough and I wanted to use it. From "Its totally valid to project onto characters and use fic as a way to work through various issues via that projection but how much does this have to do with how defensively people react to the slighest criticism of character choices in their fics as though personally attacked - discuss" to "Criticizing and condemning the writers of source material for specific things - to rave reviews from followers - only to then do the exact same specific things in your own fics - to rave reviews from followers - while claiming that the mere fact of being a fan not getting paid for writing those specific things somehow makes them less worthy of criticism.....are we all seeing the problem here."

There's a slight chance those titles are perhaps....somewhat unnecessarily asshole-coded, but like, in a whimsical way! I think. Whatever. I'm sure it'll be fine!

Will either rhyme OR reason be involved in the order of post topics? No. Not even a little bit. Next question.

Aside from "Kalen vs Fandoms" I've been putting a lot of thought into what other topics or content I can expound upon at length, to the possible interest of people. I'm good at writing and editing and analyzing narratives. Not claiming to be the best, just not trying to fish for compliments or anything. I think my analysis of narrative and character choices has generally been of interest in most fandoms I've been in, but when I'm IN a fandom, I do personally invest in favorite characters and stories that inevitably put me in opposition to takes from fans of other characters and stories within that fandom, and when that happens, the Horseman of Discourse inevitably follows and I....do the discourse. Look, I am who I am. I see the discourse, I engage with the discourse. Unless I don't care about the topic of discourse, in which case I don't, because that discourse doesn't matter. Obviously.

SO! In the interest of posting about narrative analysis and breakdowns of writing choices, character arcs and the like but WITHOUT engaging in The Discourse, I'll be making an easy-to-find post of fandoms or source material whose characters and narratives I'm familiar enough with TO have opinions or analysises of, but for whatever reason, the fandom has never clicked for me and I've never actually felt a desire to be part of it. Thus I'm not likely to be invested or compelled enough to follow up on anyone disagreeing with my personal thoughts or analysis or various character arcs or narratives, because its literally just like, my opinion man, presented for no other purpose than to potentially be of interest to anyone who might be interested in it. No actual follow up needed on my part because I'm not particularly chuffed if people have different takes, they're totally valid, mine don't exist for the purpose of being defended there, they just exist because Opinions, I Had Them, Here Look. Or Don't. Its Totally Whatever.

Because I don't feel as strongly about these pieces of media as I do fandoms I'm personally invested in, it is trickier to come up with a comprehensive list of ones I can weigh in on. So please feel free to hit up my inbox with any fandoms, narrative or character arcs you're curious about my take on, and I'll let you know if they're fandoms I consider myself a participant in, and thus not really right for this series, or if they're something I'm just not knowledgeable about.....but if they're not an actual fandom of mine and I AM familiar enough with them to have an analytical take or response, I'll add them to the masterlist/post as a potential topic.

This series will be called and tagged "Kalen Vs Writing Choices" (That I Personally Don't Like Or Think Could Be Better). The parenthetical part is there solely to be a disclaimer clarifying that my ego is not so great that I think that My Subjective Take on the writing choices made or not made is the only one that matters. I mean, I don't intend to include the disclaimer as part of the actual tag and will mostly leave it as y'know, like, something IMPLIED, but the disclaimer still exists and thus counts. That's totally how that works.

And that's how I've chosen to awkwardly segue into the final intended-of-three post series.....Dramatically Abrupt Tonal Shift Ahoy!

This next part will get long, but I would truly appreciate it if you gave it a read despite its length and even if - especially if - the next topic isn't one you typically look for my take on, or even avoid my take on, because I don't think I'm likely to ever express my thoughts on this matter any more genuinely or directly than this. Like I'm not trying to guilt anyone or anything like that, its more I'm just trying to say if you ever read ANY single post of mine when it comes to the next topic or pick a post to base your decision on whether or not TO wade into something I have to say on this subject, I would appreciate it if you made that this next part here, as I think it best conveys where I'm coming from when it comes to most any post I make along these lines.

So. The thing is....most people who've followed me long know that in the past I've frequently been extremely vocal on topics of rape, incest and abuse, specifically through the lens of being a male survivor. These absolutely are personal for me. This has led to me having a lot of Overly Opinionated Takes on these topics and how they're talked about, depicted and treated within fandom conversations, fics, and social media spheres and conversations at large. I've also pretty obviously not posted on these topics nearly as much in recent years as I once did - but not because I feel any less strongly about them.

And that's one hundred percent because it's frustrating as hell to see a very good portion of the posts I make about any OTHER topic in my usual fandoms go on to accumulate hundreds of notes....while NONE of my posts on these topics ever break out of my direct circle of mutuals. I don't say it to be egotistical - look how many notes I get on stuff - I say it because its literally objectively factual, and the disparity is dramatic, and the disparity is a PROBLEM. Especially given how much the topics of male rape and abuse - in SPECIFIC - tend to be, within most of my past fandoms.

This disparity has a very clear reason for existing too: people have never been shy about citing that they refrain from reblogging or referencing my posts on these topics because they feel like I act like I'm the only opinion that matters on them, the sole authority to be listened to here, that I use my status as a male rape survivor as a cudgel, to shut down opposing takes or points of view.

Which I would totally be fine with or understand if not for the fact that I've always gone out of my way to express that I don't want or expect my opinions on these matters to be taken as anything other than my personal opinions born of my personal experiences, which I cite because they're relevant. I don't think that survivors should have to disclose their status or personal history or details in order to have their opinion heard on these topics, but I deeply resent how often survivors making the choice TO disclose their personal history or relationship with these topics in order to directly unpack how that informs our perspective....is weaponized AGAINST us, in order to shut down and discredit OUR takes even while literally accusing us of only disclosing in order to do the exact same thing to others.

Something that I've posted about a LOT in the hopes of getting it spread throughout fandoms that regularly talk about male rape is for literal decades I've seen people harp on about how men can be raped too, believe male survivors, don't believe the myth that men can't be raped, etc. Which like, I appreciate the sentiment, but the thing I've tried to express for years is that in my personal experience, and those of a lot of other male survivors I've talked to - this is not really the biggest or even ONE of the biggest issues most male survivors face.

And the fact that for all that there are many survivors in fandom who have made the difficult choice to be open about their traumas and recoveries - which I ALWAYS respect, as that is never easy for any of us - a huge part of why I've always made a point to disclose my own history as a male survivor is because there just flat out aren't a lot of perspectives from MALE survivors in specific, being circulated in pretty much any of the fandom spaces I've ever been in over the past twenty years. I don't even slightly think I'm any more of an expert or authority on topics of rape or abuse - beyond how they pertain to my own personal experiences - than any other survivor. But as long as the topic of MALE rape and abuse in specific, how men are affected by these things, how society reacts to us and treats us in the aftermath....as long as these are the topics explicitly being discussed.....I do think my perspective as a male survivor is pretty fucking relevant, and admittedly, I tend to get pretty heated about pushing BACK against attempts to invalidate it or shout it down as though I somehow have LESS of a stake in or right to be heard in these particular conversations. And I get how this has at times come across as attempting to dominate a given conversation.

But like.....I'm also going to point back up to the part where I said earlier....I'm an Overly Opinionated Asshole. I say it somewhat deprecatingly, for the lulz, but also not. I'm very passionate about conversations and topics I feel strongly about and I don't make apologies for it. And for the most part....this has NEVER stopped people from reblogging or liking posts I make about pretty much any other topic....despite me not really coming across that differently in most of them, compared to how I come across in most of my past posts on topics of rape and abuse.

See....I'm in complete agreement with everyone who emphasizes that rape isn't a gendered issue. That it can and does happen to individuals of any gender or identity. But the reason why I've always found the focus on 'remember that men can be raped too' more performative than helpful is because for almost twenty years, I've been posting on these topics in various fandom spaces and trying to express that in my personal experience, something that REALLY deserves to be talked about more is the fact that rape is not gendered. But rape CULTURE very much IS.

Like it or not, we live in a very gendered society still. While yes, men can be raped too.....for a number of reasons - most of them born of sexism and misogyny in specific - the conditions, catalysts and reasons for men being raped are NOT interchangeable with those at work in instances of women being raped, as an example. Because the way society treats men and women in pretty much EVERY situation is different. Similarly, the way society REACTS to men and women disclosing they've been raped is different. And so on and so on.

So 'remember that men can be raped too' has some basis in societal claims that men can't be raped or that rape IS a gendered issue....but not as much as I think most people tend to believe. And twenty years after I first started searching out perspectives of other male survivors in online fandom spaces, beyond just real world physical support groups, I'm STILL hearing 'remember that men can be raped too' dominating all conversations about male survivors just as regularly and repetitiously as it was twenty years ago....as though the world has not changed at all, and the needle on this particular facet of male survivorhood hasn't changed an inch in the past two decades when no, actually, it very much has.

The reason why I feel so strongly about offering up my perspective as a male survivor in a relative absence of seeing other male survivors' perspectives circulated is I honestly believe the reason this is so consistently upheld as the biggest problem facing male survivors is its a carry-over from women attempting to be heard and believed when disclosing....which makes sense and is completely understandable....as long as there's a complete absence of male survivors offering up any perspective that's to the contrary.

But the fact that we live in a gendered society where rape culture, not rape itself, still very much IS gendered due to being a product of....living in a gendered society....means that the differences in how society treats and reacts to men and women affects every aspect of how society treats and reacts to men and women survivors. And that starts with disclosure itself. In my personal experience - and fully acknowledging that I don't speak for any other male survivor in this moment, and I absolutely do believe there are those who have experiences to the contrary, and that matters too - MY experience, which also matters, is that not once in the twenty years since I've started disclosing about my own rape, or the csa I experienced as a child - have I actually had an issue being believed.

With full acknowledgment of how unfair it is, how gross, the reality of living in a sexist, patriarchal society where male privilege very much exists, is that while men can be raped too, this traumatic thing that happened to us does not in any way actually invalidate or negate our male privilege. It doesn't turn it off for the duration of our experience or any time its relevant to our experiences going forward. We carry that privilege with us through our recoveries and the rest of our lives just as much as we did before it, because its an inalienable result of being in a society that allocates privilege solely on the basis of being born a man who identifies and presents as a cis man (with respect to trans individuals having another axis of experience that very much differentiates all matters pertaining to rape culture, in comparison to cis men, just as much as in the case of cis women, albeit in different ways).

And the gross unfortunate reality of our society is that it ALWAYS prioritizes believing men over women, in all matters......especially cis white men like myself.

So the simple fact is....even the act of disclosure - and the likelihood of being believed when voluntarily choosing to share the information that we've been raped - means that a cis white man like myself does not receive the same reaction as most women receive when attempting to share that same information. Society preconditions a lot of people to be more receptive to taking cis white men at their word, comparative to affording anyone else that basic respect.

Getting people to believe me when I say I was raped has never been the issue for me that other individuals face.

But that doesn't mean that my disclosure doesn't result in issues for me.

Because while being raped never invalidated or negated any of my cis white male privilege, neither did having cis white male privilege negate the possibility of me being raped - OR the fact that society ALSO preconditions people to be really fucking shitty about survivors.

(Hell, ANY kind of living victim....with this also being very relevant to abuse survivors, survivors of physical assault, etc. Much like people can be overflowing with empathy for unborn children who can't offer up any take to the contrary to whatever people want to say "in defense or support of unborn children," only to turn around and cease caring about most of those babies the second they're born, people tend to be just as overflowing with empathy for deceased victims of abuse, rape, assault and the like....who, y'know, also can't offer up any take to the contrary of whatever they say or claim about what they WOULD want, what they DO deserve, etc. Present those same people with a living child or a living victim who can and DOES have an opinion that doesn't match what those people feel it SHOULD be? Watch attitudes shift VERY quickly, as allllll that empathy hurriedly flushes down the drain as though it was never there).

But the point is, my cis white male privilege is always here regardless. But that doesn't mean rape culture isn't shitty enough that it can't find a way to circumvent even that in pursuit of discrediting/invalidating/ignoring survivors, just like that privilege can be circumvented in order to create the situation where a man is raped in the first place.

Its just....the gendered nature of rape culture means HOW those attempts to discredit/invalidate/ignore male survivors manifests.....doesn't look the same as when it leads to just outright disbelieving other survivors when they attempt to disclose.

And that is how I can be listened to and reblogged on most any other topic, no matter HOW I go about presenting myself in those posts or conversations - ironically in no small part BECAUSE of my cis white male privilege - while only getting crickets when I post on these topics, BECAUSE people only choose THOSE posts to make my presentation or level of intensity a dealbreaker, and thus their very reason for ignoring anything I have to say there. Not because they don't believe me, but because the WAY I say it is too aggressive, too biased, too emotional, too intense....its an attack on their autonomy, an attempt to override whatever they previously thought or believed about the subject and just force them to adhere to my take.

Because the thing about living in a sexist, patriarchal society is.....that IS a thing that cis white men often do, and a lot of society is structured to make it easier for us to achieve this in most instances, frankly. This just happens to be a rare exception, because for a lot of reasons that would make this post even longer - and that again, I've often posted about before - upholding and reinforcing rape culture on a society wide level supersedes the usual focus on accommodating INDIVIDUAL cis white men in having their opinions heard and circulated.

I'm trying to be as frank as possible here about the intersection of privilege and experiences of being a male survivor because I don't believe its to anyone's benefit to be disingenuous about it, and I do think that it doesn't actually supplant the fact that male survivors do have just as much right - and NEED - to be heard and listened to about our experiences with rape and perspective there, and have those ACKNOWLEDGED, as anyone else.

Its just....the existence of privilege and how that differentiates most experiences in a gendered society matters, and thus.....it needs to be part of the conversation rather than just treating all responses to rape and survivors as agendered, just because rape itself can and does happen to people of all genders.

There's actually a fair amount to get into when it comes to differences in a lot of mens' disclosures vs womens' in my experience, but just as an extension of what I'm talking about here, one of the specific elements in my experience is that men often don't have a problem being believed about having been raped or abused.....but one of the predominant responses is society is heavily preconditioned to view male rape and abuse survivors as almost inevitably feeling they need to exert a similar power over someone else in order to claim back their own feelings of pride and safety in their masculinity. Effectively.....most every male rape or abuse survivor I've ever talked with at length shares a similar experience of being believed when they disclose about being a survivor....but noting a clear and direct shift in how whomever they disclosed to interacts with them....with EVERY expression of anger or outrage - particularly in the matter of their rape or abuse - being viewed as evidence of us being ticking time bombs who are inevitably primed to explode and take out what happened to us on someone else.

There's being cautious around cis white men, for example, because we're cis white men, which I totally get and am not expressing an opinion on. I'm just saying even with that acknowledged, there is a SHIFT in how people interact with me after I've disclosed to them personally, in how they....scrutinize me, for lack of a better way of putting it, in very noticeable ways and areas. Like its consistent. And think about how its not totally true that media doesn't portray men as being capable of being raped or abused, typically. Think about how often you've seen procedurals where the backstory of the rapist or abuser of the week is specifically THAT they were a rape or abuse survivor themselves, usually in childhood. Its NOT that society doesn't believe or accept that men can be raped too. Its that society is primed to default to viewing the very act of men being raped as an indicator of the shift from them being a man to being a man who is likely to become a predator themselves.

Rape appears all the time in regards to male survivors in media. Its just it usually just appears in the context of men who arent presented AS survivors, but rather as predators or aggressors themselves, and their past victimization treated as a catalyst rather than a trauma. This is not to excuse any such character or depiction of course, its simply to emphasize that the very angle from which male survivorhood is approached in most contexts is different from that of other survivors. Just like the angle from which their survivorhood is approached is different from that of male survivors. And thus the issue most men have with disclosing in my experience is NOT that we're afraid we won't be believed....its that we're afraid once we disclose, we'll be viewed as inherently more dangerous because our victimization primes us to be that much more likely to inflict ourselves on others in some attempt to reclaim our masculinity.

And its categorically NOT about any group of survivors having it better or worse than others, which is why I LOATHE people saying variations of 'you wouldn't say that about this if it happened to a woman' because anyone attempting to pit male survivors against other survivors en masse is NOT doing so for my benefit or with my endorsement. The point is just that each way society and rape culture interacts with a different group of survivors presents different problems and issues that need addressing, and aren't interchangeable.

There is a REASON why the subject of Dick Grayson's anger - usually in the context of things that have happened to him - is so important to me, specifically in terms of ensuring that its treated as something he's allowed to have....rather than an indicator that he's going to messily explode his life in a way that impacts everyone around him negatively.

Now.....if you've never considered that aspect of rape vs rape culture and how it can differently affect and shape the experiences and recovery of cis male survivors versus trans male survivors and nonbinary survivors and survivors who identify as women.....I ask that you consider what else my perspective might be able to add to actually productive, meaningful conversations about rape, rape culture and survivorhood, that you never would have thought TO think about before, without male survivors bringing it up based on it having played a role in personal experiences.

And then I just ask that you please think about the implications of someone known for being a vocal presence in certain fandoms, with a fairly sizable number of posts widely circulating throughout them......never having posts about male rape and survivorhood circulated to any noticeable degree, despite writing DOZENS of them, in all kinds of different moods, ways and intensity levels.....and all of them while active in fandoms where male rape is regularly discussed or focused on due to certain characters or storylines......and ask yourselves if it maybe seems a little off for the disparity to be THAT large. Again: I have written DOZENS of posts on this topic. All with less than twenty notes. I'll be composing a masterlist of them in the near future as well, but for now I'm just saying. Please just think about that.

While I'm going to make an effort to be more deliberate in how I approach this topic in posts going forward, tonally and in terms of word choice, I do have a right to be just as passionate about it as any other topic, and it is FUCKED UP to think that my personal experiences here should be pointed to as the very REASON I should need to be LESS passionate than I am anywhere else, in order to be heard or listened to. Still. I am not actually trying to override anyone else's viewpoint, present myself as some kind of ultimate authority, or shut down other survivors in any way....I'm just trying to uphold the relevancy and importance of adding my own perspective to the conversation.

I don't want to be the only voice listened to here. But as long as my voice is relevant, and I don't see or hear a lot of other voices speaking from a similar standpoint, I would like to be a RESOURCE on topics of male survivorhood, rape and recovery, from that particular standpoint. And even if and when other male survivors might perchance add their own perspectives with experiences and takes contrary to mine....I welcome that! Because mine is not the only one, cis white male survivors are no more a monolith than anyone else, and none of that will in any way actually invalidate my own perspective or experiences or render them no longer relevant at all.

Being a resource on a topic that has always been everpresent in most fandoms I've gravitated to - which has often been a reason FOR me gravitating to those fandoms in specific.....that has always been my ONLY goal with these kinds of posts. NOT an authority.

So, having my posts - which for all my willingness to write them, has never been easy for me and probably never will - reframed in such a negative way, dismissed and even weaponized against me - has over the years demoralized me and made it harder to find the energy TO tackle these topics, as much as I'd like to. But I do feel that I've found a second wind when it comes to this and think I'm ready to wade back into being Overly Opinionated on these topics as well.

So that's the third of the three post series I'll be starting, "Kalen vs Topics of Rape, Rape Culture and Survivorhood As Perceived Through A Singular Personalized Cis White Male Lens, Presented By (and With) My Middle Finger At Any Attempts to Subvert Or Undermine My Thoughts On Them By Reframing Them As Me Trying To Gatekeep Male Survivorhood No Matter How Many Times I Use The Words IN MY EXPERIENCE or IN MY OPINION, Which I Do A Lot, Because This Has Been Happening For A Very Long Time, And I Am Tired, But Still Very Opinionated, And Still Very Here, So Bite Me I Guess."

.....I'm still workshopping that one's title. Its a process.

ANYWAY. At the moment, I'm aiming to make one post of each once a month, and if I do more than that great, but not trying to pressure myself to do any more than that at the moment in the interests of Realism. We'll play it by ear. If I have more free time or energy than expected, maybe I'll do more. Its not like I have a shortage of Very Opinionated Opinions, after all. You've met me.

BUT I DIGRESS.

So in the interest of not making this long ass post any fucking longer, not that anyone really expected otherwise from my first post back in months, like could I REALLY even claim to ACTUALLY be back if all I had to show for it was some weak little lackluster drabble that wasn't even 3,000 words? Methinks the fuck not -

Well, have an abrupt and anticlimactic finish that comes out of nowhere despite giving myself literally 4,900 words to build to something appropriately profound or meaningful or whatthefuckever. Y'know. Your standard Kalen Classic. The abrupt and anticlimactic wrap up I mean, not the profound and deeply meaningful one. Eh. You get it.

Did ya miss me? I missed you!

PS - I was Informed that we are almost to the end of Tommy T's Tenure, is it almost safe to come back to Nightwing comics? Does anyone know when his last issue is? Have we planned the party yet? Who's on balloons, we definitely need balloons.

[sciderman]

(Idk if someone asked this already) since we’re on the topic of gender

sci what is gender to you and how do you see it in you and how you express it in your art?? (Just a young queer artist who wants some light shined upon them 🥺)

i 'unno ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[gideonisms]

what am I even going to do when I graduate? wait a few years and then get another degree? am I going to like have a party for this. Who would I even invite

[fingertipsmp3]

Girl help I don't understand my homework

[ao3commentoftheday]

any advice about how to deal with posting a fic and getting radio silence? I know ppl aren’t owed engagement ofc, but I feel embarrassed at having spent so long on something no one cares about, and although I liked thinking about the characters and fandom before (and was considering writing more about them), now I can’t think about it without feeling that overpowering embarrassment 😭 part of me wants to delete the fic, but that would mean having to open ao3 and look at it again LMAO

sorry for the venting, I know this is probably a me problem, but has anyone else felt this, and if so, is there any way to make this pervasive shame go away??

*hugs* This is a very painful thing to experience and there isn't really any way to make it just go away, unfortunately. However, you can reflect on it a bit, when you're ready to.

Writing and posting are separate activities. If you've enjoyed writing the story but you haven't enjoyed posting it to the Archive, you can always continue writing just for yourself. This may or may not be something you'd enjoy - you know better than I do whether some of your enjoyment came from the anticipation of a reaction to your work.

Try to analyze where your embarrassment is coming from. Is it worrying that your story was poorly written? A lack of a reaction doesn't mean that the story is bad. Being unpopular doesn't mean it's bad, either. If your story is good to you, then it's a good story.

Is your embarrassment from feeling like you were "caught trying." Is it a cringe at the idea that you put effort into something that someone else doesn't (appear to) find valuable?

Is it actually embarrassment at all? Are you feeling a different kind of hurt instead? Did you hope that someone in particular would read your story and now you feel ignored? Did you hope to be embraced by your community and now you feel shunned?

These are difficult questions that I'm asking and you might not want to think about them right now. That's okay. You don't need to if you don't want to. You can definitely delete the fic and pretend it never happened. Or you can log out of that AO3 account and create a new one and never look back. Maybe you just need to take a week or a month off for a hiatus of sorts and when the ache isn't as bad, you'll be able to face it all again.

When I felt this way, it was because I felt like I'd put something into my community and that I'd been ignored. But since that time, I've found one person who gives me all of the community support I used to get from an entire fandom, and now when I post something on AO3 I don't actually need a response anymore. I get all of the fun and excitement and validation etc from my conversations and RP threads with my best friend.

Once you've got a little distance from the pain of this moment, try to figure out what it is that you were hoping to get and then figure out how you can get it. Maybe it's through posting fic to AO3, but maybe it's not.

Let's see what others can suggest. This is not something you're experiencing alone, anon. So very many of your fellow fan writers have experienced this too ❤️

[hareofhrair]

I wanted to put this one the previous post but it was long and this is a tangent but- In regards to the hypothetical "If House was my doctor I'd just tell him everything. Rip to all his other patients but I'm different."

The whole point of the show is that you wouldn't. Like a major theme of the show is about how the various shames and stigmas and habitual dishonesties that plague our societies both metaphorically and literally kill us. "Everybody lies" isn't just a cynical catchphrase, it's the shows thesis. Because of how we operate as a society, everyone feels compelled to suppress and hide things and that inevitably leads to suffering.

And there are plenty of episodes where this is obvious, ie "I cheated on my partner and gave them an STD." But there's also much more of "This little girl went through early puberty and because of the way our society stigmatizes women's bodies her single father never discussed puberty with her and she was so afraid and ashamed of her new pubic hair that she tried to shave it without telling anyone and mutilated herself, leading everyone to think she'd been abused and throwing off the whole case until House figured out her hormones were going crazy because she'd been exposed to her father's low T medicine, which he hid because of how our society regards masculinity, which he started taking because he began dating a younger woman (because of shame stemming from our society's unrealistic expectations wrt sex in relationships) which he was hiding from his kids, because of shame regarding our societies toxic views on monogamy."

A particular episode stands out as a really good example. S06E15 "Private Lives," which aired in 2010 but was fairly prescient about where social media was heading. The patient was a blogger who documented literally every moment of every day for her followers. She made it very clear she left *nothing* out, from her and her boyfriend's sex life to, eventually, asking for feedback from her followers on whether to get her heart valve replaced with one from a pig or a "vegan" plastic one. She handed the whole blog over to House as soon as he took the case and the team poured through the whole thing. Surely this is proof you're wrong about everybody lying, the team says to House. She's give us her whole life and you still can't find out what's wrong! Spoiler, it turned out the crucial symptom that allowed House to put it all together? Was the one thing she *didn't* include in the blog- Her bowel movements. Shame and stigma around talking about *poop* nearly killed this woman. It was also a detail that should have been picked up immediately by a normal doctor, who would have asked about her bowel movements as part of the standard checklist of diagnostic questions. But this woman was so confident that she'd laid out every relevant detail of her life in her blog, she wouldn't answer those questions, obfuscating what she was actually ashamed of underneath a pile of curated, rationalized, narritivized junk she could pretend was proof of a lack of shame and not simply a skill at creative writing.

When I say "I'd just tell House everything" is ridiculous, I don't just mean "well, because of the way the show works, you HAVE to be hiding SOMETHING." I mean literally, you- because you are a human being- are ashamed of *something.* And because you are a human being, the more info you try to give House the more deeply you will bury whatever it is you're actually ashamed of. And, because of the way the show works, that *will* end up being the key to what's making you sick.

[writersdrug]

Thinking about Simon with a goth! gf, and introducing his team to you.

Warnings: cursing, very slight nsfw, pda

Typed this up on my lunch break, not thoroughly proofread, ending is meh but it's been rotting in my brain so I had to push it out. Feel free to send me asks about this headcannon, I'd love to write more about it! <3

Simon insists on dragging his team to the nearest pub after a particularly rough day, offering to buy then a round of whiskey. They are all reluctant at first, complaining about aching backs and heads, and Price saying that the missus was expecting him.

Then Simon mumbles something about how his girl would've loved to meet them.

"Yer wha' now?"

"My girl."

Suddenly, Gaz's headache is gone. "Must've just been dehydrated, I suppose." Soap's back feels much better, after being able to sit in the car for just- five minutes, now. And Price? Apparently, the missus was at a dinner raffle for her charity- thing, and he'd just now remembered.

So, drinks and a quick bite at the pub you worked at. It was settled.

Simon leads them in shortly after parking the truck. The other three quickly scan the room for anyone who stands out. As Simon brings them to a booth in the back, they all take a seat, heads on a swivel for some pretty thing to come bouncing over and latch herself onto him.

"Gonna hit the head." Simon says. "I'll put our drinks in- she'll bring 'em over, she'll be done with 'er shift soon."

As he leaves, Soap, Gaz, and Price all sit there in a few moments of observatory silence. It's much harder to sample the crowd, they realize, since there's apparently no dress code for the servers. Johnny eyes each person like a hawk, until he sees a potential pick.

"Tha' one." He says, nodding towards a busty, long-legged blonde. Price and Gaz follow his line of sight to her as she leans against the bar, playing with her hair and laughing at something her friend says. Her bootcut jeans and frilly top accentuate her curves, and it's obvious that every man in her vicinity is ogling. "Twenty on 'er. Seems like he'd be into swimsuit models, eh?"

Gaz humms, scrunching his nose disapprovingly. "Nah, mate- too simple."

"Feck is simple 'bout 'er?"

"I mean for Simon." Gaz corrects Soap. "Don't think he'd want someone so... ditzy- no offense to her." He adds. "I think he wants a girl who can hold her own, in the physical and the figurative sense. Someone..." he narrows his eyes, searching through the crowd of people. "Like her."

He discretely points to a woman across the bar. She's playing darts with a few people, and hits the bullseye perfectly just as Soap and Price look her way. Her tank top and cargo pants show how defined, yet lean her muscles are. She looks like she could last a few decent minutes in a brawl. "I bet on her."

"Well I'll raise ye forty - I ken LT wants someone more... passive."

"Forty it is, then. I'd love to have you pay my bill tonight."

"If I may..." Price chimes in, leaning against the back of the booth with a smug look, arms folded over his chest, "I'd love to get in on this little game o' yours, and walk away with eighty pounds t'night - because you're both wrong."

Soap smirks. "And how's tha', Cap?"

Price smooths his fingers over his mutton chops. "Well, for starters, I'm a bit ashamed o' you boys. Neither of those girls actually work here, do they? Mm?"

Gaz groans, letting his head drop against the wall behind him. It takes Soap another moment, but then he remembers Simon saying this was where you worked. The whole point of them going to this specific pub was because you'd already be here, on the clock.

"Shite..." he mumbles.

"Alright, sir." Gaz says defeatedly. "Lay it on us."

Price leans his elbows on the table and points his finger straight ahead; Gaz and Soap both follow it to the bar, where a sweet-looking girl is punching orders into a server tablet. She has long, silky, red hair, and a petite frame. She smiles so kindly at every patron who speaks to her, and when she makes their drinks, she is quick with it, still engaging in conversation as she shakes the mixer with a powerful arm. Despite the crowd, she seems to be managing fine on her own.

"Her." Price says, tucking his hand back onto the table. "Y' see that face? The way she talks to 'em all? How she's soft and tough at the same time? Imagine that birdie tucked under his wing, eh?"

Soap and Gaz can imagine it. She's a cute little thing, a social butterfly, it seems - the perfect polar opposite to Simon that just might be the perfect fit.

"And I know he's got a thing for redheads." Price adds.

"Piss off, how d'ye ken tha'?" Soap grumbles.

Price shrugs. "Call it intuition."

Simon comes around the corner, carrying several glasses of neat whiskey. "Sorry-" he says, setting a glass in front of Price, and handing out the others as he sits down on the end of the booth. "She's on 'er way now."

"No worries." Price says, trying to hide his smirk. "Didn't know y' were into redheads, Simon."

Simon pauses, looking down at the table in confusion - then he chuckles. "Yeah, s'pose I am. How did y' know? Did she come by already?"

Price laughs. "No, son. We were just sayin'-"

"Hey baby!"

You turn the corner and lean down, squealing as you throw your arms around Simon's neck and kiss him. The other three look on with shock, and Soap is about ready to throw this random woman off of Simon, until he holds you just as tightly and kisses you back.

Price's smirk falls right onto the table when he realizes that he is just as wrong as the other two.

You're Simon's bird. Simon's raven. Black, styled hair, with black lipstick that is currently smudging Simon's chin. You have a choker - no, several chokers, wrapped around your neck, as well as a tiny corked bottle filled with red liquid that makes Soap and Gaz nervous, dangling from a chain. Long, black-painted fingernails, with small spiderwebs decorating the tips, caressing his face and the back of his neck. Your arms and legs are covered with torn fishnets and small tattoos, and you're wearing a black number with a corset, paired with studded Doc Martin's.

You finally pull away and look at the rest of them. "Sorry- nice to finally meet the lot of you." You say, shaking each one of their hands. Your eyes are striking, with full, dark lashes, eyeliner, and red contacts. Gages and a bull ring, too. Soap feels a shiver run up his spine when he looks at you head on, and Gaz hasn't picked his jaw up off the floor since you came around.

"Erm-" Price clears his throat, "pardon us- call me John. This is Kyle, and Johnny." He gestures to the other two, still watching you with a mix of curiosity and awe.

"I've heard so much about you. It's good to put names to the face." You say with a smile, shaking the other two's hands. Gaz manages to smile a bit, but Soap has the same shocked expression plastered onto his face.

Simon has a love-drunk, black-smudged smile on his lips as you sit down in his lap. "She's been wantin' t' meet you all for a while, now. Sorry I kept 'er a secret."

"To be fair, I'm usually hard to find." You say, grabbing a napkin and wiping the lipstick off Simon's face. "I'm either here, at class, or roaming around and people-watching... at night, of course. People are more interesting when it's dark out." You traced a fingernail along his jugular as he stared up at you.

"John 'ere knew you were a redhead."

"How?! Oh my god- are my roots showing?"

"Nah, luvie, he's just observant. 'S our job." Simon places a kiss to your forehead. You smiled, leaning into the kiss.

"Oh, kitchen's about to close. You wanna split a burger, Si?"

"Sure, get what you like."

"'S no onions ok?"

"Fine w' me - chips?"

"You know it." You giggle, making a show of squishing his cheek and biting it. You turn to the rest of his team with a smile. "You boys hungry?"

Price is the first one to speak, taking a heavy breath in, causing Soap and Gaz to finally snap out of their trance. "Erm- whatever you get, we'll do the same. On us tonight."

"Oooh, you sure?" You asked, raising your eyebrows. Simon looked at Price curiously.

"You positive, cap?"

Price nodded. "Lost a bet."

Simon looks even more concerned. You pat his shoulder and stand up. "I'll go punch it in, be right back." You give him a peck on the cheek, and begin to walk away - Simon's attention returns to you as he hooks a finger in the chain choker around your neck and tugs you back.

Soap, Gaz, and Price all watch, stupefied, as you land back in Simon's lap with a giggle. He grabs your chin between his thick fingers and kisses you on the lips, shamelessly letting his tongue slide past your teeth and squeezing your thigh. You laugh into the kiss, letting him devour you for a moment, before tapping his cheek and breaking away.

"I got fifteen minutes to put everyone's order in, Si."

"That's plenty of time, dove."

"Yeah, but then kitchen will get mad for doing it last minute, and I don't want-"

He chuckles, gently shoving out off of his lap and smacking your rump through your skirt. "You're fine, go on."

You smile, then disappear behind the booth, boots thudding against the hardwood floors.

Simon looks back at the three of them - Soap is staring between you and him, a blush covering his face. Gaz immediately turns to look at the wall, scratching his chin, and Price is gazing into his whiskey, though there's a lingering surprise in his eyes.

"So- what bet?" Simon asks, adjusting his hips; Soap notices his hand reaching down to palm at the fabric over his groin. "I don' remember bettin' nothin'."

"We weren't bettin' on ye pullin' her out ye pockets, LT." Soap comments, trying to avoid Simon's eyes. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out forty pounds, slapping it onto the table.

"It makes sense..." Gaz, chimes in. "With your whole skeleton look, she fits you."

Simon slowly smiles, understanding what they had bet on. "Oh... I see. Lemme guess - you thought I's with someone more... simple? Lile that blonde at the bar, is tha' right?"

"Tha's what I said!!" Soap exclaims, dropping his fist to the table. "You got te give me credit fer pointin' t' a swimsuit model first, aye?"

"Oh- because every bloke on earth is shallow enough to care about swimsuit models." Gaz scoffs. "I at least picked someone who didn't look so bloody helpless." He gestures to the girl playing darts with her friends. "You don't even know if the other girl's a model."

"Well, one can imagine..."

"Feel as though I's the closest..." Price mutters under his breath, making the other two glare at him.

"Ye were not."

"Get off your high horse, cap-"

"Well- try this." Simon leans on his forearms with a smug look on his face. "My bird? She's a model, and she's a black-belt in Judo, and-" he looks at Price- "she's a natural redhead."

They all look between Simon and you, as you stand behind the bar and punch their orders in, laughing with the other redhead. Their eyes would drop onto the table if they were any wider.

"You sly dog-" Gas comments with a chuckle.

"I don' believe ye." Soap says, crossing his arms. "Wha' kind o' model?"

"Lingerie."

Price chokes on his whiskey.

"Bullshit." Soap snaps. "Pictures or ye lyin'."

"Nah." Simon sighs, leaning back in his seat and daking a sip of his whiskey. "Not the ones I have, at least. But pick up the last "Bloodletting" magazine, and she's there."

They all sit there, a bit dumbfounded, watching you walk back to the booth. How on earth did someone like Simon land someone like you?

Simon's full of surprises, even in his personal life.

[ellemj]

Needs & Wants - Sex Pollen Trope Pt. 10 (FINAL PART)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

*Read parts 1-9 first for the full effect!*

Summary: Everything is out in the open between you and Bucky now, but there are two rules for your new secret relationship.

Warnings: unprotected sex, teasing, possessive!Bucky (hehehe), maybe fluff (?), profanity, use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 2.2k

Author's Note: We've finally reached the end. I think I'll miss this version of Bucky and reader but I'm pretty excited about the work that I'm planning on putting out here next. Hopefully everyone's okay with the conclusion of this, I didn't want to have anyone riding off into the sunset or anything, but I also didn't want to have a horribly sad ending, so this felt right. You guys should totally let me know in the comments what kind of things you'd like to see from me soon! I don't know if I'll take specific requests anytime soon, but I'd love to at least find out what might get you all excited. Thanks for the umpteenth time to @littlemiss-yeehaw for being the best cheerleader and warnings-writer out there. She also draws some unbelievable shots of Bucky based on scenes in these fics.

           

In the shower, on the hotel bed, in the chair by the window, hell, even on the floor when the two of you rolled off of the bed in the heat of the moment. You’d successfully christened every surface of your hotel room before the clock ever struck midnight. You hadn’t meant to go at it like horny teenagers who found themselves home alone for the first time, but that’s what happened. It’s like you were both thinking about how this may not continue once you get back to the compound tomorrow morning, so you fit as much as you could all in one night.

            Now, you’re laying side by side in bed. Your most recent tryst involved you on your hands and knees with Bucky doing all of the right things behind you, and it thoroughly winded you both. You listen as your collective breaths fill the air, the two of you each coming down from your post-orgasmic highs.

            “Do you think Dr. Raynor will figure this out?” You ask softly, raising a hand and wiping a bit of sweat from your brow. Bucky laughs and turns his head to look at you. He still can’t get past how pretty you look after doing such dirty, animalistic things with him. Even without the super soldier serum decreasing his refractory period to mere minutes, he thinks he’d be recovered and ready for round five just from looking at you like this.

            “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

            “It’s on my mind, yeah.” You admit. You’re probably more worried about it than you should be, but deep down, Bucky’s worried too.

            “So, how do you want to handle it?” Bucky asks, fully rolling onto his side to face you.

            “Maybe we just wait and see what she has to say after observing tonight’s mission and then go from there. I don’t want to say anything first and give her anything to use against us.” He’s listening to your words, honestly, he is. He doesn’t think he could ever miss a word you say. But he can’t stop himself from reaching over and running his fingertips along your flushed cheek. You turn to look at him and he lets his fingers ghost over your lips and down the column of your throat until he reaches the notch between your collarbones. His eyes linger there for a moment. Something’s missing.

            “You never gave me my dog tags back.” He whispers. You’re not wearing them, and neither is he. So, where are they?

            “Yeah, I wasn’t sure when to give them back.”

            “Bullshit, you wanted to keep them.” Bucky teases. You push his hand away from your neck at the accusation, but can’t stop the smile that’s creeping over your features. Fuck, he’s so into you. He closes the distance between the two of you and places his body carefully over yours under the covers, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Even just kissing you sets off fireworks inside of him.

            “They’re sitting on my nightstand, back in the compound.” You tell him, hoping it doesn’t make you sound too obsessed. You had planned to give them back all week, but avoiding him made that a little difficult, so instead you left them sitting beside your bed. It was sort of comforting to see his name every night before you fell asleep, and every morning when you woke up.

            “Keep them.” He insists, pressing another kiss to your soft, soft lips. You get lost in the moment, focusing on the feeling of his tongue working against yours, his scent enveloping you in the most consuming way, and his weight keeping you pinned to the mattress. You could stay like this forever.

            This, of course, is when Bucky’s phone would ring. He groans in annoyance as he breaks the kiss and touches his forehead to yours, looking down into your eyes.

            “Tell me not to answer it.” He pleads. You purse your lips, knowing it’s probably someone from the team calling with some kind of update or new order. Bucky groans again before rolling off of you and snatching his phone off of the bedside table. He answers it and puts it on speaker, confirming that it’s someone from the team.

            “Hey, sorry to call so late. The threat has been neutralized so you guys can head back now and get some sleep, we’ll debrief in the morning.” Sam sounds tired but calm, so it must have been more of a nuisance situation than a major threat. Bucky closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with his vibranium hand.

            “Sounds good, we’ll be back soon.” He grumbles. You can tell he’s annoyed that you won’t be staying the night here. When he hangs up the call, he lets out a deep sigh before sitting up on the side of the bed, with the covers gathering around his waist. Without thinking, you crawl up behind him and wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him from behind. He stiffens as if he didn’t expect your touch, but that just makes you lean into him more, resting your chin on his shoulder. You feel him slowly relax and having that effect on him warms you to the center of your being

            “We’re going to go home, get some rest, and debrief in the morning like this was any other mission.” You say, attempting to be reassuring.

            “That’s what you want? To pretend like this was any other mission?” He questions, running his hands over where your arms are wrapped around his abs.

            “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant we don’t have to run in and tell everyone that something might be going on between us.”

            “Might?” He chuckles. You feel his abs shake beneath your hands as the melodious sound leaves his lips. You never heard him laugh much before, and you didn’t expect to like it as much as you do.

            “Hey, I told you that I fell for you, and you said fuck, I’m cumming. How am I supposed to know you feel the same way?” You tease, letting go of him and laying back on the bed, drawing the covers up over your naked body. He turns a bit to face you and starts pulling the covers away from you slowly.

            “Y/n…” He says your name with so much genuine feeling that it sends tingles throughout your body. Has he always said your name like that and you just never noticed before? Yes. “I made you wear my dog tags while I fucked you.” What the hell does that have to do with what you just said? He can see the confusion on your face and it brings a smile to his. He slides back under the covers next to you and begins peppering kisses across your shoulder and collarbone.

            “Bucky…” Fuck, if you start saying his name again there’s no way either of you will make it back to the compound tonight. He quickly makes his way up to your face, attaching his lips to yours for a moment and then tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away. It’s the nicest way anyone has ever shut you up.

            “I wanted to be able to pretend like you were mine. I fell way before you did.” He whispers against your lips. Holy shit. He feels the same way. Bucky Barnes feels the same way about you as you feel about him.

            You know that you have orders to head back to the compound, and neither of you are the type to disobey orders from above, but how are you supposed to pack up and head out after finding out that you have feelings for each other? You can’t stand the thought of traveling back to the compound tonight knowing that you’ll have to put on a show and pretend like nothing happened here. So, why not delay a bit and take what you want one more time?

            That very rational thinking is what inspires you to slide your hand between the two of you and wrap your fist around Bucky’s already-hardening cock. He sucks in a breath at the feeling of your small, soft hand wrapping tightly around him, and he wonders how he went so long without having you this way. You’ve been right across the hall from him all of this time. You’ve been going on missions with him for the last two months, giving each other shit nearly every waking moment, and completely missing what had been there the whole time. Love. He won’t say it out loud yet, he doesn’t want to scare you off, but that’s what it is. He’s sure of it. He loves you. He may not say it but he can damn well express it.

            That’s how Bucky finds himself, for the fifth time tonight, guiding the tip of his cock inside of your perfect cunt. He’s done this enough times now that he knows as soon as he bottoms out inside of you, you’ll tense up and scrunch your eyes closed, trying your hardest to adjust to his size. He watches as you do just that, and then he feels your entire body relax beneath him and he knows you’re ready. He pulls one of your legs up and over his hip as he begins fucking you into the mattress. When your eyes flutter open to meet his, he has to go completely still inside you so he won’t cum right then and there. You laugh to yourself. You know what eye contact does to him and you love it.

            “What’s the matter, James? Keep going.” You taunt, wiggling your hips and forcing his cock to slide into you another inch. He’s only halfway inside of you. He breathes out a slow, calming breath before leaning down and nuzzling his face into your neck, letting his cock sink into you slower than it ever has before.

            “You like rushing me, don’t you?” He asks, giving your cunt gentle thrusts. A soft hum leaves your lips at the pleasure that’s beginning to build in your lower stomach. You’re so focused on the feeling that you don’t even acknowledge his question. “Don’t rush me tonight.” He buries himself to the hilt before stilling once more, drawing a whine from your lips. “We’re making love, not fucking, sweetheart.”

---

            A few hours later that same morning, a very uneventful debrief took place in the conference room at the compound. You and Bucky turned in your mission reports, leaving out the details of what happened in the hotel room, and then you were dismissed to have a few hours of freedom before having to meet with Dr. Raynor.

            Everyone probably assumed that the two of you went off to your respective rooms upstairs, but it took little convincing to get Bucky to sneak over into yours. When he stepped inside and shut the door behind him, the first thing he noticed was his dog tags, right where you said they were.

You kick your shoes off by the door and walk over to sit on one of the small gray chairs that you have off to the side of the room, feeling surprisingly nervous that Bucky Barnes is seeing your room for the first time. Nervous. After everything the two of you have done this week? You’re ridiculous. You watch him as he crosses the room and scoops the dog tags off of your nightstand. He stares at them in his palm for a moment, and for a second you worry that he might pocket them. However, when he turns to you with a soft smile and a mischievous glint in his eye, your fears are assuaged.

“Do you have any rules? For this thing that we’ve got going on?” Bucky asks, taking the free chair across from you and setting the dog tags flat on the coffee table that separates the two of you. You tilt your head to the side, studying him closely. You see what he’s doing. The first night, while under the influence of that chemical, you gave him one rule: no kissing. He returned with his own rule: wear his dog tags while he fucks you.

“I have one. We keep this a secret, just between us, for as long as we can.” You respond, letting your eyes trail over his physique. He’s sitting in your chair the same way he sat in the chair in the hotel room last night. The man knows how to demand attention without saying a damn word. You watch as his licks his bottom lip and then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together in front of him.

“Fine. It’s a secret.” He agrees, his gaze briefly lingering on your neck. “But I have one rule too.” He reaches out with his flesh hand and begins sliding the dog tags across the table toward you. “You’ll never take these off again.”

BONUS CHAPTER

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[keerysfreckles]

hiii!!!! lando and best friend reader and shes gotten into one of those sad days because shes thinking of how shes never dated anyone or had her first kiss or anything. and he offers to take her out on a date as friends and thats when he realizes hes in love with her (shes been in love with him this whole time). but they dont really say anything, but they just get increasingly more affectionate as best friends as the days go by. and everyone around them can see theyre so in love with each other - 🍒anon

loveless — LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, slight swearing

a/n: lando p5 in japan HE WAS SO CLOSE TO BEING ON PODIUM

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n loved her small apartment in monaco. she loved it so much in fact that she's convinced her best friend that she's fine staying in day after day.

however if you got to know y/n, you'd learn this is out of the ordinary for the girl. usually she'd be out partying with lando, or hanging around the other members of the f1 grid. not sulking in her bathrobe and pajamas for three days in a row.

on the fourth day she recieved multiple texts from her best friend, lando norris, asking if she wanted to go out for drinks with him and a couple of friends.

y/n groaned, after reading the messages more than once. she really didn't have the energy to go out. not since her almost date last week didn't go as planned.

she met a rather attractive uni student on tinder, and they talked for a few days to get to know each other. less than a week later they planned to have dinner at a nice monegasque restaurant.

long story short, said tinder date never showed up, and never texted y/n the next morning explaining himself.

before the 'date' y/n didn't really believe in love. so of course, this screwed up with her perception of it even more.

lando was informed about the date, and was happy for y/n. he knew her history of falling in love was bleak, and he just wanted to be happy for her. so seeing his best friend wrapped up in three colorful blankets in her messy bedroom put a damper in his mood.

"what did i tell you about laying in the dark?" lando's voice surprises y/n. she jumps, before pausing her netflix show on her laptop.

"lan? what are you doing here?" she sits up, her eyes adjusting to the light lando just turned on.

lando sits on the edge of the bed, moving the laptop away from y/n, causing her to sit up as well.

"well you never answered my texts about going out tonight, so i figured i'd come here. plus you gave me that apartment key years ago."

y/n sighs. she knows she doesn't have the energy to go out tonight. "do i have to?"

lando sends y/n a sympathetic look. "maybe it could get your mind off that douche who stood you up last week. he obviously missed out on getting to know a great girl."

y/n's heart warmed at lando's words. he always knew how to cheer her up after she fell down.

y/n lets out a groan and falls back onto her pillows, her blankets encasing her once again.

"what if i never fall in love?" y/n thinks out loud. "or never go on a proper date? or mever even have my first kiss?"

lando's eyebrows furrow, "you've never had your first kiss?"

y/n takes the opportunity to kick his thigh, "yes shitbird, you know this." she lets out a small chuckle as he groans from the attack.

lando recalls her words again, "wait you've never been on a date either?"

y/n shakes her head, "nope."

"so that's why you're so beat up about this one not working out. i get it now," lando stands and walks towards y/n's opened closet door.

y/n sits up again, "lando what are you doing? i told you i don't feel like going out tonight."

lando ignores her for a moment as he continues sifting through her closet. his eyes and hands stop on a light purple dress.

"you still have this?" he holds it at an angle so y/n can see from her bed.

she nods, "of course. i've never gotten rid of any birthday present from you."

lando silently takes it off the hanger and throws it on the bed, making y/n confused.

"you and i are going out tonight," lando says confidently. "i'm taking you on a proper date. i'll text pierre, charles and carlos that i'll go out with them some other time."

y/n stares at him dumbfounded. she can't believe lando is taking her out on a date.

"when you say a proper date, what exactly does that entail?" y/n wonders, now removing her blankets from her body.

lando starts looking through y/n's very impressive shoe collection. "a very nice drive to an expensive restaurant, possinly with a candle lit dinner. you and i enjoying the best monegasque food we can. and maybe end the date with a classic near-the-front-door kiss."

y/n's taken back by his words again. she can't believe what she's hearing.

lando places a pair of white heels beside the dress on the bed, and leans forward slightly. "i'll be waiting in your living room, okay?" and with that, he kisses her forehead. the motion's been done a million times, but this time however felt different for the both of them.

y/n stares at her now closed bedroom door, and chuckles in disbelief while picking up the dress. maybe this was the push she needed to get out there again. party with her friends, and maybe go on more dates.

so she did as lando told. she was quick to brush through her hair, and change into the dress and heels. she styled it with silver jewelry and made sure to grab her small handled clutch before leaving her room.

lando stands from the couch. "now i think you look much better in this, than being covered in blankets."

y/n blushes at his words.

"do you have an idea of where we're going?" she locks her apartment door behind her, before lando leads her down the stairs with his hand on her lower back.

—

lando was starstuck.

during the ride to the restaurant, all the way up until they got the bill. (of course being the gentleman he is, he paid.)

he could barely take his eyes off y/n. he saw them shimmer as she spoke about her new job starting this month. he noticed how excited she got when he parked outside her favorite fancier restaurant.

now he was holding her heels for her, after giving her his jacket once the midnight air hit her skin. they were walking along the streets of monaco, planning on doing a little wrap around the block to get back to lando's car.

as the duo was talking and walking, they're arms kept brushing against each others. y/n couldn't help but giggle almost everytime, thanks to the white wine slowly making it's way in her system from dinner.

lando thought it was the best sound in the world.

on the way back to y/n's apartment, lando contemplated resting his hand over her thigh. she sat towards him, angling her body, so in theory he easily could hold onto her leg. however he refrained, but his heartbeat sped up when he felt y/n grab his right hand. she played with his fingers, and ending up enclosing her hand in his. he hummed at the feeling.

"so, we've done almost everything on my list to get you to have a perfect date," lando speaks as the pair stops right in front of y/n's door.

"what are we missing?" y/n asks, forgetting what he had stated earlier in the evening.

lando smiles down at the girl, his pupils dilating. "in order for you to have a perfect date, we have to have a near-the-front-door kiss."

y/n instantly blushes. she's thought about kissing lando before, but never thought any of her daydreams would become a reality.

lando steps forward and places his unoccupied hand on her pink cheek. he runs his thumb over the skin, and notices her pupils becoming wider.

"so what do you say?" lando almost whispers, the rasp in his voice becoming evident.

y/n looks between his eyes, and can't come up with a complete sentence as her mind falls blank.

silently y/n stands on her tip toes and grabs lando's face between her hands. she brings him down to her to connect their lips.

his taste like chocolate, from the slice of cake he ordered for dessert. hers taste like sugar and cinnamon from the cocktail she had at the end of the night.

lando brings his other hand around to y/n's back. she can't help but smile against his lips at the feeling of his arm around her. in the hundreds of times she's pictured kissing her best friend, it never ended like this.

the two finally pulled away, both of their cheeks blushed and pupils wide.

they both let out a rather large breath, and in the span of three seconds, y/n's opening her apartment door with lando following right on her tail. before they can fully step inside, lando's lips meet hers again, and lando definitely plans on spending the night.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (17/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: That's definitely not the goodbye you wanted.

Warnings: angst, jealousy, swear words

Word Count: 3.3k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: sorry for this shitty chapter and sorry for keeping you waiting! feedback is appreciated! love ya.

It's not long before Charles falls asleep next to you. 

You hear his soft breathing, the way the bedspread rustles as he slides his arm under the pillow and bends his right knee. Apparently he's lying on his stomach, snuggled tightly in the warmth of the bed you'll share for the second and last time. 

That Charles has grown so close to your heart in exactly three days is something you would never have thought was possible in your life.

After Raphael cheated on you and your friends let you down, you vowed to take better care of yourself and your heart and never let anyone into your life so easily again. You resigned yourself to the fact that you would spend the next time alone until you could put your trust in someone again. And that had been perfectly fine with you, as long as it had kept further pain at bay.  

But the brunette Monegasque, without making any particular effort, has walked into your life as if God personally had opened the gates for him, and has taken up residence with you as if he were a virus that is taking you over completely. 

You turn away from him, but you can still feel the warmth of his body through the many layers of fabric that lie between you. 

The fact that he will spend the next few days in Italy is a good start to building the wall that will keep your heart from great harm. It will create some distance between you, buy you more time in which to figure out your feelings. And if it really comes down to you feeling more than simple friendship for your roommate, you'll still have plenty of time to think of some way to handle the situation. 

You're about to press your face into your pillow so it can stop the whirlwind of thoughts in your head when your cell phone lights up. 

Lando: Did you know that the Eiffel Tower is about six inches taller in the summer than in the winter?

Confused, but grinning, you glance at the screen. It's the middle of the night - why is he sending you such a strange message at this late hour?

You cast a glance over your shoulder to make sure Charles is actually asleep before releasing the key lock, lowering your phone's brightness to its lowest setting, and starting to type. 

You: Didn't know that. Why is that?

The "seen" with the little checkmark appears directly under your sent message, and a few moments later the typical three dots that appear when a reply is composed flash. 

Lando: Due to thermal expansion, meaning the iron heats up, the particles gain kinetic energy and take up more space.

You have to smile, even suppress a giggle. 

You: You googled that for sure. 

Lando: You got me. I didn't know the best way to start a conversation. 

You: I'd say the middle of the night is generally not a good time to start a conversation. What if I had already been asleep?

Lando: Then you would have woken up confused for sure and blocked me right after the message. 

You: Then you're lucky I'm still awake. 

Lando: I'm definitely lucky. 

Behind you, Charles moves a little, but doesn't seem to wake up. You feel him scoot a tiny bit closer to you, as if he realizes you're still awake. 

Lando: Have you ever been to Paris?

You: Unfortunately not. I'd like to go there sometime, though. And you?

Lando: I've been there before. Maybe we can go there together? Then I can show you the most beautiful places. 

You have to grin. Straightforward guy he is. 

You: Do you really think I would just travel to Paris with a semi stranger?

Lando: You're right about that. But that can easily be changed. You and me, tomorrow, dinner at 8?

You feel Charles rest his hand on your bedspread. It's like he subconsciously realizes you're about to go out with one of his friends. He exhales deeply, but doesn't move any further. 

You: That was very smooth, Mr. Norris. 

Lando: So is that a yes?

Without giving it much thought, you answer the Brit with a "Yes, I'd love to," whereupon he responds with a "Great. I'll get back to you tomorrow. Don't stay up too late and sleep well" back. You press the key lock on your phone and put it back next to your pillow. 

Time you do have. Charles isn't around, and you don't have a job to go to every day, so your days are as free as the beach in winter. And for sure it will do you good to spend time with someone other than the Monegasque. Lando is nice and friendly and funny. And since the two of you don't live together, and the level at which you're getting to know each other is much more superficial than the one Charles and you are on right now, you shouldn't be in danger of taking him to your heart as quickly as your roommate.

Who by now has moved so close to you that you can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck. It's steady, coming in waves and brushing your skin like a warm summer breeze. For sure he is sleeping well, maybe even having a nice dream. He doesn't even know yet that it's the last time he'll sleep next to you.

You close your eyes, almost press your eyelids together and force yourself to fall asleep. With the ulterior motive that the person who is dearest to you right now is exactly the one with whom you will soon have to keep the most distance.

-

Something rustles. 

The sound is close, but not so close that it could find its origin right next to your ear. It also sounds muffled, as if there is a thick piece of soft cotton between the sound and your eardrum, so you can't really hear what exactly is making that sound. 

You press your face a little deeper into the pillow. 

The rustling becomes louder. 

Tired and with your eyes closed, you pull the blanket higher to your chin to cling to sleep. And for a brief moment it works, your mind slips back into a gentle slumber - until you hear a loud, unmistakable rumble. 

Annoyed and above all confused, you open your eyes. Your cell phone reads 6:15 a.m. Who's making that kind of noise at this hour?

You sit up abruptly, as if you've been electrocuted, and the covers fall into your lap. Charles.

For sure he is packing up the last things before he wants to wake you up. To say goodbye to you. You're surprised you didn't hear his alarm clock. For sure he only rang it once briefly before your roommate turned it off so it wouldn't wake you up. Very kind and considerate. 

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and slip into fuzzy socks so your feet don't freeze. As you tie your hair so it doesn't look like you've touched an electrical socket, you hear keys jingle. 

Charles wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to you, would he?

Hesitantly, you go to the door of the room and open it slowly to make sure he's still there. And indeed, he hasn't left the apartment yet. 

But he has shouldered his travel bag, his feet are in shoes, and the apartment door is open, as if he is about to take the first step out. When he hears you, he turns around. 

Confused and still slightly sleepy, you stand in the doorway. You point your finger at the large bag. "Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?" you ask him, rubbing the heels of your hands over your eyes. Damn, it's definitely too early to be awake. 

Your roommate steps unsteadily from one foot to the other. "I didn't mean to wake you." In his free hand, he holds his key. 

You screw up your face. "But you wanted to say goodbye." You cross your arms in front of your chest. "You said you'd set an alarm so you could get up on time and we could say goodbye properly."

The situation is strange. You're standing in the doorway to the room where Charles shared a bed with you, as he stands on the threshold that separates this apartment from the rest of the world. It feels like he's trying to escape from what's happening inside these four walls. Like he can't wait to leave and leave you here. 

He doesn't even want to say goodbye to you. 

"I know, but-" he begins, but doesn't seem to know how to finish the sentence, which is why he just falls silent. His gaze wanders from your face to the room behind you before he lowers it to his shoes. He swallows once before looking at you again. "Can we talk about this another time?" he asks quietly. "I have to go."

What happened in the last few hours you were asleep? Did you do something to make him want to run away from here? To want to flee from you? The way he's standing there, he seems like he can't wait to finally leave the apartment. As if he had to quickly put as many kilometers as possible between you. 

The fact that he doesn't want to talk to you about it unsettles you more than you'd like to admit.

When you were with Raphael, there were many arguments, after which you both went to bed without clearing up the situation or talking things out. That oppressive, stomach-churning feeling was so devastating and caused such nausea in you that you told yourself that you will never again let an argument or difficult situation just stand.

You don't want to go to bed angry. And you don't want anyone to go to bed angry and mad at you either. 

"Did I do something?" you ask, letting your arms, which were crossed just a moment ago, fall to your sides. As a sign that you're ready to face whatever may follow. "Talk to me, please, Charles."

Of course, neither of you would go to sleep now. But the very thought that you won't see each other again for another four days, and thus parting, leaves a bitter taste on your tongue. Which you naturally want to get rid of as quickly as possible. 

Demonstratively, he glances at his wristwatch. "I don't have time. Let's talk about it another time."

"It's 6:25. I thought you didn't have to leave until 7?"

He clenches his teeth. "I want to drive now." He's visibly tense, his hand almost tightening around the key. Charles doesn't want to drive. He wants to run. From you. And you don't know why. 

Somewhere inside you, a small crack is opening up, uncomfortable, pressing on the pit of your stomach. Your discomfort worsens with each passing moment. 

"What have I done?" you try again to get him to talk. You cross the room until you're standing in front of him. "Whatever it was - I'm sorry. I don't know what it is that I could have done that upset you so much. But I don't want you to leave now and be mad at me when we won't see each other again for another four days. Let's talk about it. Please."

It's almost pathetic how desperate you sound. Your voice trembles like it's going to break at any moment, and you can feel tears gathering in your eyes. You try to blink them away. 

There have been countless situations like this with Raphael. It was always you who wanted to solve an argument. The one who tried harder. Who sacrificed more. And it has brought nothing. 

Even though you two have only known each other for a few days, this argument is much worse. Because you don't know what you have done, and therefore you can't change anything. You can't find a solution here. 

Charles doesn't seem to care that you are on the verge of crying. His gaze is hard and cold as he looks down at you. He looks at you as if you were a stranger just standing in his apartment.

As you reach out to him, he takes the last step over the threshold. The small crack inside you grows larger, now seems to have reached your heart, forming a great chasm. The wall that has been built so far has been of no use. It is completely useless. 

"If you really want to talk to someone, why don't you talk to Lando?" His tone is icy and his gaze sprays venom. 

Lando?

Charles seems to have picked up on your confused look. Annoyed, he rolls his eyes, which stings you further. "Now don't act like that. He texted me in the middle of the night asking what culinary cuisine you prefer for your dinner tonight." He raises an eyebrow. "And here I thought you'd already had an extensive conversation about it. What was it again? Canned soup and BigMac?"

Your discomfort gives way to an even more rotten feeling. Anger spreads through you like a wildfire you can't stop it. How dare he?

"What are you trying to say?" you ask calmly, even though everything is burning inside you. Charles interfering in this matter when he has no right to do so makes your anger spill over, but you know better than to take it out on him directly. You pull yourself together. Even though you'd like to strangle him, you don't want you two to fight. 

"Come on, Y/N." His smile is spiteful and ugly - even though he's the most beautiful man on the planet. "We both know he's just trying to fuck you. So what's the point of dinner? It's just a waste of money."

Excuse me?

"What do you mean?"

He seems to think for a moment, as if he were struggling with himself to say the next words. "After all, what Raphael did to you doesn't seem to bother you much if you're going to date someone new right away. And you said yourself yesterday that you weren't going to meet anyone on this couch." He extends his free arm and waves it in a semicircle in front of him. "Let's do it, then. Monaco is full of rich men. Then you don't exactly have to hook up with one who's my friend."

Never in your entire life have you wanted to smack someone so badly as Charles at this moment. 

He knows what Raphael did to you. And he also knows why your ex cheated on you. The fact that he now assumes that you would just jump into bed with Lando like that upsets you so much that you're at a loss for words. 

You don't recognize him. The Charles who lets you stay with him for free, who makes you laugh, and who is so close to you at times that you have to consider how to protect your heart, has dropped off the face of the earth. 

Opposite you is a mean and ruthless man you can't get away from fast enough. His words hit you harder than any blow could, and the tears in your eyes no longer originate in discomfort, but in pure rage. 

You don't care what you did to make him act this way. You don't care what exactly happened between you that caused this argument to degenerate like this. And you don't care if you go to bed tonight mad at him. 

This argument is different than the one over his phone call with Raphael or the one at dinner with his friends. It's too close, too personal, and for Charles to think of you that way, after everything you've told him about yourself, chokes your throat and makes your heart shatter into a thousand pieces. 

"You can have the apartment," you say emotionlessly. Your fire is extinguished, your anger is suffocated. The only thing left is a dull feeling of grief. 

How could you think Charles would be any different? That he would actually be a friend to you? You even showed him your favorite place. That wasn't even twelve hours ago. 

"When you come back, I'll be gone." Your gaze is fixed on Charles, letting him know how serious you are. Something flashes in his eyes, but whatever it is - you don't care. "I hate you."

Without waiting for an answer, you close the apartment door. As you turn around, you feel like an intruder in your own home. 

Which, theoretically, isn't even your home. It's Charles' home, it's his apartment. He's just been nice and let you stay with him. And he didn't do that because he saw a friend in you, but because he felt sorry for you, as you must now realize. 

Did this "good deed" make him feel better? Did he let you stay here to prove to himself what a good guy he is after everything with Annika? Is he really that selfish? 

Who exactly is Charles Leclerc?

You would like to leave the apartment immediately, because there is nothing that doesn't make you remember Charles. The couch reminds you of the evening when you drank wine and watched Cars. The kitchen table is where you eat pain au chocolat and croissants. The bathroom is where you grin at each other in the mirror as you brush your teeth. Charles is everywhere. 

He's especially in the dark bedroom, too, when you return to lie down in bed. His sheets are still where you found them when you woke up, and his smell is all over the room, making it hard for you to breathe. 

Pulling your own blanket up to your chin, you lie there staring at the ceiling, racking your brain as to where exactly you took a wrong turn. But for the life of you, you can't think of anything. 

You turn on your side and take a deep breath. Charles' smell hits your nose and only now, surrounded by darkness and silence, do you allow yourself to cry. Tears roll down your skin and one sob after another escapes your sore throat, which feels as if it has been laced shut. Your body shakes like it's electrified and somewhere inside you think your heart has stopped beating. 

The person you trusted the most has let you down. Your closest friend has dropped you without explaining himself to you. 

But that's not what hurts so indescribably. 

It hurts so much because it's Charles. The Charles you saw as your best friend after only a few days. The Charles who didn't judge you. 

You slide to the other side of the bed and slip under Charles' covers so that you are now completely enveloped in his smell. You feel so close to him, even though he's so far away, and even though the warmth feels like a hug, you feel lonely. You cling to that hug that isn't a hug, because that's the closest thing you have left of him. 

Tomorrow you would look for another apartment, maybe even move away from Monaco. And then you would pack your things and leave, just like you promised Charles. And you wouldn't break that promise - that deal, the way he broke his. 

Not long ago, you didn't want to share the bed with him anymore, braced yourself for it to be the last time you'd be this close. You wanted to build the wall that would protect, should protect your heart. 

But it's no use building a wall when your heart hasn't been yours for a while.

next part

[shallyouobeyme]

Map

Platonic!Yandere!Damian x reader (GN)

Summary: Damian and you have to work on a project together and he realizes how you seem to be invisible to everyone else - how you want to be invisible - and something in him makes him want, no need, to figure out why...

! Minors Do Not Interact !

TW: Domestic abuse (not shown directly), planned kidnapping, Dark content, yandere, This is all fiction, I do not condone this

Day 4 of my Yandere Writetober, Tomorrow word is 'Golden' so if you have any ideas lemme know

People did not think Damian was sentimental, most of all his family. If a person had an idea of who Damian was, but wasn’t close to him or hasn’t personally met him then they could probably still assume that in private he might be a bit more emotional than in public. This person would be wrong though. Sure, in private Damian might be a little more open and showed a few more emotions, but most of those were rage, pettiness and sarcasm. Damian was a lot of things, but definitely not sentimental. At least not usual. And then you came into his life. 

From the moment he was born, Damian had a map of how exactly his life would be played out. Then he was brought to his family and the map changed. From wanting to become the next head of the League of Assassins, he now wanted to become the next Batman. He wanted to step up once his father needed to step down and take his rightful place as the head of the family. Alone.

Everyone and everything else that was a hindrance in that way - be it his age, school, villains, friends or even his own family - was just an obstacle on the map of his life. He thought you'd be just the same, a Problem to be taken care of and to leave behind. Just another annoying child in his class - which Bruce insisted he attend - that weren't fit for the reality of life he faced every single day. It was just typical that he had to be stuck with you working on a project for a class in which he had a grade to make up, because of too many absences. He didn't bother to question why you had to do the project, he just wanted to get it over with.

"I'll be doing the project - I doubt you could help anyways - and you can just put your name on it as well, then I don't have to bother with you," Damian sneered to you once class was disbanded, already more than done with you and with the situation. You seemed to turn into yourself and he recognized how shy and intimidated you were and if he had been just a tad more empathetic he'd feel bad. Damian rolled his eyes and turned to leave when your hand tugged on his uniform's blazer.

"Uhm... I-I'm sorry, but-but I'd really like to-to work on the project together, I-I really need this grade," you stuttered, your head lowered in shame, even though you had no real reason to be ashamed. Damian wanted to make a snide comment about how the project was definitely better off if he was doing it on his own, but something about how small and fragile you looked kept him from doing so.

That was the first detour from the life on his map. That moment of emotion that no one witnessed, not even you because of how your head was held down. And it was only the beginning. He scoffed at your request, but it wasn't truly malicious like before.

"Fine, but we'll do it at your place today after school, no discussion," Damian stated and left no room for arguments, turning around and leaving the room, not hearing your small sound of protest.

During the rest of the school day, Damian couldn't help but watch you from the corner of his eyes, he saw how you were hidden in your uniform, seemingly wanting to merge with the backdrop of the classroom, how you kept completely to yourself and seemingly managed to become completely invisible to anyone but him and some of your teachers.

So after school, he had to keep his eyes peeled open to see you come out since you really seemed to disappear between all the other students. He went over to you and told you to lead the way home, not bothering to offer to have Alfred drive the two of you since, for reasons he didn't understand himself, he wanted to spend the time with you alone. Detour number two.

The way to your home was spent in silence, Damian looking around sceptically and you turned into yourself like you always seemed to be. The route to your home took you out of the more or less safe and high-income neighbourhood of Gotham Academy to the less secure area not that different from the region around Crime Alley. He wondered how your parents were able to afford your tuition for Gotham Academy, but he knew that you were rather good in school so he figured you were on a scholarship.

When you finally arrived at a rundown apartment complex you brought him to a flat on the fifth story, carefully opening the door as if you were afraid of making any sound.

"I'm sorry if it's a bit messy," you mumbled vaguely in his direction as you carefully opened the door and Damian realized it was the first thing he had seen you say since you had asked him to let you work on the project as well. Then you lead him into the apartment and everything somewhat fell into place.

To say it was a bit messy was an understatement. There were empty bottles of beer, vodka, wine and all other kinds of alcoholic beverages, Damian even caught sight of some less legal substances, but he decided not to mention them aloud, already seeing based on the darkening colour of your face and the way you tried to avoid looking anywhere near him that you were highly ashamed and emberassed. Detour number three.

He saw how you looked through the open doors into the other - not cleaner - rooms and he could hear your relieved sigh when there was no one else in there with the two of you. Then you lead him into your room if one could call it a room, which had a size just barely big enough for a measly small bed, a box usually meant for laundry filled with your clothes and a small desk that looked like you had taken it from the side of the road. There was no chair or even a stool.

Damian noticed Jason's influence - much to his anger - when his first thought was that 'Harry Potter would feel bad for you'. His next thought was that you didn't deserve to live like that, that you deserved better. Detour number four brought him right off of the road like never before.

"Uhm... You-You can sit on the bed if that's okay, I'll-I'll sit on the floor, then we can work on the project," you spoke hesitantly and shuffled to sit on what little space was left on the floor, but was stopped when Damian pulled you to sit beside him on the bed.

"There's enough space here for both of us," he argued and turned to you. "But- uhm- we don't have any space for the project then."

You were right, he supposed, as he saw that both of you sitting on the bed were basically taking up all the mattress had to offer. He sighed and decided that he was already neck deep into whatever was happening so he might as well see where it was going.

"Then we won't do the project today," he stated in the same tone that left nothing up for discussion and you seemed almost relieved, "We can work on it tomorrow after school in the library."

"O-Okay, I'm sorry it's so-" You stopped in your tracks, seemingly on the verge of tears, and then gave it another go, "-I'm sorry you came here for nothing, I can lead you to the door."

"I'm not leaving yet," Damian said much to your surprise as he saw the shock displayed on your face, "first I want you to tell me what is going on here." He tried to tell himself that it was just his vigilante persona shining through, but deep inside he knew it was you that made him so curious about this situation.

"What do you mean?" you squeaked, obviously - but badly - trying to hide something. Damian let his instincts lead him as he quickly took your hand and pulled up your sleeve, he had been noticing how you were playing with it every time you were scared or ashamed. He wasn't all too surprised to see blue, purple, green and yellow splotches littered over the area, some bruises new, some old. You tried to pull your hand away, but Damian's grip stayed strong.

He pulled your hand even closer to him as he inspected the arm and asked: "Did your parents do that to you?" He looked up at your face and saw tears welling up in your eyes. It made you look even more fragile and delicate than he already thought you looked like throughout the day, but it also made this rage well up inside of Damian. How dare these people make you cry, how dare they hurt you. He wanted to rip them apart, wanted to make sure nothing and no one ever hurt you again.

"Tell me the truth, I will help you, I promise," Damian encouraged you and received a weak nod from you as your tears started to flow down your face in streaks. "Okay, give me a second, I'll be right back, don't worry." Damian used his blazer's sleeve to gently wipe away some of the tears - something that his family would believe to be a lie if you had told him about it - and got up to leave the room to call Alfred to come pick him and you up.

He told Alfred that he'd be inviting a friend for a sleepover, hanging up on a too-stunned-to-speak Alfred who was surely already on his way to inform Bruce of this new development, he didn't bother to tell him that he planned for it to be a more... permanent... sleepover.

You needed him, you needed him to protect you, to care for you, to make sure you never again had a reason to cry. You were such a pure, fragile soul, one that didn't deserve to be left alone in this cruel world, he was sure that once his father had met you he'd understand. He'd feel the same way. You'd be safe with them, they'd become your family, the family you deserved and needed.

And if Bruce didn't agree if Bruce told him that he was crazy, that he couldn't just take you away from your life, no matter how bad it was, and take over your entire existence... well, he had already become ready to derail his entire plan, had become ready to redraw the entire map of his life just for him to have you along, so he might as well return to his roots because he was sure his mother would be more than happy to take you in as long as it made Damian return...

[narcissistshandler]

Can you write a yandere Sae x male reader smut where reader is flirty with others and makes Sae jealous and bratty? So then reader fucks the brattiness out of him.

𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗢𝗡 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗣𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 male reader x sae itoshi

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 light yandere!sae, light violent thoughts (not between sae and the reader), brat!sae, amab!reader, dom!reader, sae calls the reader sir, public, fingering (sae receiving), spanking (sae receiving), some swearing and insults, jealous!reader&sae, voyuer, non-consensual voyeurism

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 nothing to say, just that this was supposed to be much, much shorter (I'll edit this later, so ignore any errors for now)

“'This is so high I can't reach it, can you help me?'” Sae's voice loaded with poisonous sarcasm filled the distance purposely placed between you two. His beautiful green eyes were darkened with a shadow that could alert anyone but you and his arms were crossed in front of his chest, confronting you, mocking you... demanding an explanation.

You held back a sigh as you reached out with one hand to grab Sae's arm and finally close the distance between you. Sae stepped back, avoiding the touch.

“She needed help and I helped, no big deal,” you explained for what felt like the twentieth time since it happened. Maybe it was.

“She was flirting with you,” Sae pressed, his anger an icy, sharp thing. “And you flirted back,” it was an accusation that if was intended to anger you, so it succeeded.

Your temple throbbed with the onset of a headache and you brought your hand back to press against the spot, genuinely trying to understand what part of your interaction with the unknown woman had been seen as 'flirting' by your boyfriend.

The poor woman, who looked barely younger than you, who was kind, gave you a toothy smile and who seemed to follow you down the supermarket aisles for a while before she worked up the courage to ask you for help, wasn't flirting with you by God. And you promptly helped her and then let her engage you in a suspiciously long conversation about how the woman was single and preparing a party to celebrate her new status, believing it would be too rude to cut her off.

Until the figure of Sae, who was completely ignored by the woman, despite standing right next to you, began to analyze the woman from top to bottom, in that way as if pondering how she would react if he put his hands around her neck or broke her fingers - fingers that she continued to touch your arm with - or how easy it would be to find out her address and then... That's when his eyes darkened and you finally ended that conversation.

It wasn't flirting, you thought. You were just being nice, trying to get to know the new neighborhood.

“Don't be childish, Sae,” you said, knowing it was the last thing that would make him calm down.

“Childish?” Sae repeated, his voice rising in tone, seeming not to remember that you two were standing in the middle of a supermarket aisle, or maybe he just didn't care. He wanted to embarrass you, you realized. “You shouldn't have even paid attention when she spoke to you!”

“That's not how the real world works.”

You continued, elbow resting against the shopping cart:

“I moved to the furthest house from the city that we found, don't think that just because I agreed now I'm also going to stop making friends or chatting around. You act like a spoiled child when he receives a new gift, just before breaking it.”

Sae's face turned to stone.

“I'd rather break you than let someone else have you,” he said, as if it were the most normal and passionate thing to admit.

This conversation wouldn't go anywhere, you knew, so instead of standing there and arguing with Sae, you sighed deeply and started pushing the cart. Even without turning back, you knew that Sae was following you, still keeping that pathetic distance between you. Sae's feelings towards you weren't normal, even though most of the time your relationship was as normal as any other. But you saw his darkness, you discovered that all the accidental encounters you had with him and all the familiarities between your and his tastes and hobbies had been faked and yet, you chose to stay.

“You can't just end the conversation at will,” Sae said, without even coming into your line of sight, still stuck on the previous topic. He was angry, so you should be angry too, that's how his reasoning worked. “You know I hate it when you turn your back on me.”

That's it. You snapped.

The cart slid on its wheels a few inches as you let go in favor of turning to face Sae. There, in his eyes, was defiance. And when your hand grabbed the back of his neck, nails digging into the skin beneath the curls of his hair, you saw something else stir there, fear.

“Shut your mouth up,” it was an order.

“What else would you do if I wasn't there? You already let her touch you and rub against you, what was the next step? Fuck her right there in the middle of the market while I was at home or participating in a match?” He stirred faced with the sudden order. Sae was like a wild animal, trying to shift your grip while making the accusation, testing your dominance, testing how far he could go, how hard he could bite you. “You're no better than a whore who can't keep the dick in the pants-”

The anger was heavy and immediate, falling like a stone into your stomach.

“Shut. Up.”

That shut Sae up, but you knew it wasn't enough, that in a few minutes, hours or even a few days later he would bring up the subject again. He needed to be put in his place.

With a firm hand grabbing the back of his head, your other hand fell to Sae's belt, but then, seeing the look of panic that filled his face, a thought crossed your mind and you pulled your hand away. Sae, however, didn't have time to relax before the order came:

“Unbutton your pants.”

“We are in public,” he said, the voice that had once been so loud and commanding now quiet. You both knew how famous Sae was and that even in this small town someone could recognize him. That would end his career.

“I gave you an order, didn't I?”

Sae's hands went down to his pants, the green eyes searching around the empty aisle as his trembling fingers released the button and lowered the zipper. Despite the fear and anxiety on his pretty face, it didn't take a command for him to fit his thumbs into the band of the pants and push them down, as well as his underwear. Obedience under the anxiety and embarrassment, the anger still there even when he asked please. Sae knew how to move his pieces, but you knew how to move him.

Standing in the middle of a supermarket aisle, with his lower body naked, his softening penis hanging between his long, slender legs, Sae was embarrassed. The same embarrassment he wanted to make you feel when he started an argument with you and told you all those poisonous and sharp things.

“[n-name],” he muttered, eyes still roaming around. “Let's go home... ple-please.”

You ignored his whining, that just sounded anxious, not genuine. “Turn around. The faster you comply the faster you can put your pants on and stop someone from seeing your naked ass.”

Sae looked once more for invading looks before obeying. He pressed his hands against the shelf in front of him, his small, round ass facing you.

Your hand fell to one of his pale cheeks. The sound of the slap echoed around. Sae seemed to bite back a grunt.

“I don't need to tell you how bad you were, do I? You know that.” A second slap, in the same place where the previous one had landed. “You chose to irritate me, you chose to insinuate that I would cheat on you with the first person who appear in front of me.” Slap. Slap. Slap. A hard and fast sequence of your hand connecting with his soft ass cheek. “Do you think I'm afraid of you?” you inquired, your tone full of mockery, treating Sae exactly as he was: a spoiled brat.

No response other than grunts and bitten moans came, the hyperawareness of being in public seeming for the first time to do the magic of preventing him from trying to answer you. Sae's slender body seemed to try to run away from the hits, pulling away from your hand, but he didn't get very far between your body and the supermarket shelf. The shirt pooled around his waist, the dark color contrasting with the pink that bloomed on Sae's pale ass.

Your hand rubbed the soft flesh, feeling the skin burn beneath yours. Your fingers dug into his ass, without care or gentleness. And when you squeezed harder, you could see the place between those round, firm cheeks glisten with moisture.

Your laughter sounded like bells under the noise of footsteps, wheels and movement of the supermarket. “Is that why you're all angry and upset and talking to me like that? Because you want to be fucked?”

Sae's ears burned. “Don't treat me like a-” He was interrupted by your index finger pressing against his soft, lubricated hole, previously prepared for you before left the house that afternoon.

“Like what? A whore?” You punctuated the mocking question with your finger plunging inside him hard. “You better lower your tone if you don't want anyone to see us.”

His hole was already relaxed, opening easily to the intrusion, the walls wet and tense just from the current situation. You pulled your finger back and pressed two in, stretching them inside him. Sae made a small whimpering sound in response, his pink cock now hard between his legs, dripping pre-cum onto his own pants, like the pathetic little thing he was.

Sae was muttering something under his breath, a jumble of words and phrases, among which you could make out a 'who do you think you are', but which shortly afterwards turned into a 's-sir... please' when your fingers curled inside him and rubbed against his prostate, eliciting a twitch in his cock.

Your own cock was hard between your legs, pulsing and demanding release, but you knew this wasn't the time or the place, it was pure luck that so far no one had walked in this aisle, and that there was no security camera nearby. Deep down you wished someone would see him, and recognize the famous player now being fingered in public like a cheap whore. And that selfish desire flared up when a small, shocked sound reached your ears.

A third finger sank inside Sae as you recognized the woman Sae accused of hitting on you standing right there at the entrance to the aisle, shocked eyes darting from you to Sae, still completely oblivious to the new spectator as he struggled to be silent while your fingers fucked him the way he loved: hard and deep.

“We have company,” you warned Sae. It took a whole few seconds for him to understand your words and move his face, trying to understand what you were talking about. As soon as his eyes met the woman's, his hole suddenly became tense and tight around your fingers.

“This little pig,” he muttered under his slightly panting breath. There was no shame in any inch of him though - shoulders still high, lips pursed, body still willing under your touch -, it was something different, it was pride. A phantom feeling of being better than most people, but especially better than that unknown woman who had tried to hit on you.

The woman didn't move, feet still on the floor, eyes going from Sae to you, then back to Sae. She seemed to be finally putting the pieces together, regretting offering you her phone number right in front of your boyfriend. But there was also desire beneath it all. She looked at Sae like most people did, as if she was mesmerized by his beauty.

Sae however was jealous and possessive and all he saw there was her wishing she was in his place; have your fingers inside her. “I-I want you to make me cum, sir,” Sae asked, sweet and obedient when faced with a 'rival' and dark and petty at the same time. “So she knows she can't have you. You are mine. You can only touch me this way.”

He was a spoiled brat. But his words made your dick get even harder and you pressed your hips against his ass so he could feel your hardness, to let him know that only he made you hard and hot like that. You thrust your fingers with recovered strength and speed into and out of him, eliciting the most beautiful moans and sighs from Sae's mouth, calling him 'mine', 'good boy' and 'pretty whore' while rubbing your digits against the sweet walls, attacking his prostate.

The display of passion and eroticism could have lasted minutes or hours, until Sae's legs contracted and his hole tightened, erratic hips rocking back against your fingers and when you pressed your pinky against the wet, supple rim, Sae came. Clear liquid splashed from the pink head of his cock, hitting his pants, which had fallen to his ankles, and the supermarket floor. The wetness of the lube covering his hole as if Sae had produced lube on his own, just for you.

Sae's eyes, however, were not on the spectator when he came and neither were yours. You only had eyes for Sae, especially when you saw him feeling pleasure. And Sae only had eyes for you.

Just as the tremors of orgasm shook Sae's legs, however, and his hole began to convulse around your fingers, you leaned in to place a kiss on the side of his neck, feeling the salt of his sweat and the bitter of the perfume - your eyes went briefly to the woman standing a little distance, who faced with reality blushed and ran away, but not before you saw wetness dripping from beneath her skirt.

“I think she had a little too much fun with our show,” you said to Sae, fingers moving in and out of him again with delicious slowness. “But she can't have you.”

“Ah- she can't have you too,” Sae said back, almost daring you to say otherwise, the wobbly legs forcing him to lean on the shelf.

Maybe that was why Sae never scared you, you were starting to understand. You were a lot like him in some ways. You rubbed his ass where the impact of the slaps had already softened from red to light pink to match his cute hole.

“No. She can not.”

[wongyuuu]

lens of ice | yjh | one

pairing: jeonghan x f!reader genre: figure skater jeonghan, light angst, a little fluff, smut in the next part word count: 12k summary: jeonghan has only one chance left to make it to the olympics. as he embarks on this decisive journey, you, a documentarist, are set to follow him as he seeks the ultimate glory. warnings: jeonghan is kind of reckless with his body a/n: i've been writing this one for so long now and though it's not finished yet, i decided to post half of it, as a way to motivate myself to finish it. i really wanna thank @ressonancee first for giving me idea and second for helping me through all of this and putting up my crazy ass mind 💓

part one | part two (final)

The light buzzing of the fluorescent lights made him uncomfortable, it was like a premonition of what was to come. Something bad, he was sure.

Jeonghan was many things in his life, stubborn perhaps being the most obvious one, but dumb wasn't one then. He knew that his ankle was fucked up, that he was probably the cause of it. Too many hours of training, never giving himself enough time to heal before he got the ice again. He didn't know exactly how bad it was, that was for the doctor in front of him to say, but Jeonghan knew that nothing good would come out of the man's mouth.

"It's worse than I thought," the man said with a sigh, taking off his glasses "It's not just your ankle anymore, it's also your knee. And, I could be wrong, but considering the way you're walking, I'd say that you're right ankle also started to bother you"

Jeonghan hung his head. He was an athlete and he knew that he was being reckless, beyond actually. He should have gone to his coach the second he felt a sharp pain in his ankle. But he just went home, took an ice bath, and kept the whole thing to himself. Even on the following days, when the pain didn't go away at all, he still chose to keep his mouth shut and go to practice every day. And his coach, unaware of his condition, kept pushing him during practice. 

Not that he needed anyone to be harsh on him, Jeonghan did all of that on his own. But having someone else do that for him as well brought out a different desire for perfection. One that came from a dark place to show someone else that he was good, to prove people wrong.

"Can I still compete?" was all he asked, it was the only thing that mattered to him "Can I make it to the Olympics? It's the last one for me, after this I retire"

The look on the doctor's face wasn't reassuring, Jeonghan knew that his next words wouldn't be the ones he wanted. He wasn't about to hear what he needed.

"If, and only if, you have surgery, take physical therapy seriously, and rest as we instruct you, there might be a possibility. Small, but it exists" 

"When can I have the surgery?"

You stared at your computer screen, a hand on your forehead as you read the email your boss sent you. You sat at your desk, not really knowing what to do.

"Seungkwan!" you called without looking up "Did you get this email too?"

Just to make sure that you weren't crazy, you read it once again. The third time in less than five minutes. No matter how many times you read it, it didn't change.

"Yeah. I'm excited but scared…"

That was enough to get your attention.

"Why?" 

Closing your laptop, you stood up moving closer to Seungkwan. Unlike you, who read the email many times, Seungkwan had already started his research. Not that he really needed to, everyone at the office knew that he was a huge fan of figure skating. So of course he would know all about Yoon Jeonghan.

The nation's pride and joy in figure skating, at least in the make category.

"Why scared? I thought everyone loved him"

It was impossible to look away from the picture Seungkwan had open on his computer. Jeonghan's face really was something else, as if he had been carved in marble by some ancient Greek artist. From his dark hair covering his eyes, giving him almost a mysterious vibe, to the way his lips were slightly crooked into a smile. You had to give it to him, the man was absolutely stunning. No wonder he left a trail of fans everywhere he went.

"He isn't the biggest enthusiast when it comes to the press. He barely gives interviews so I guess doing a documentary about him won't be easy"

Seungkwan kept scrolling, reading the latest news on Jeonghan. But the truth was that there wasn't any. His social media was also rarely updated, the last post was from months before.

"Well, good luck to you"

"What do you mean? You're the one in charge"

You just shook your head. The problem was Jeonghan honestly, you barely knew anything about him, though Seungkwan's words didn't help the case. The thing was that you barely knew anything at all about sports, in general, much less about figure skating. Lack of knowledge was an easy fix. The real issue was the fact that a documentary on a sport was way too different from what you usually did.

"I'm not doing this one. I have other projects I want to work on. Plus, this is too sudden. They want us to start tomorrow, Seungkwan. Do you really think that it's possible to have anything done by tomorrow?" he shook his head and you nodded in agreement "Precisely, so I'm sure that if we talk with Jihoon…"

"Nothing will change" 

A curse left your lips at the sudden voice behind you. Turning around you faced the small man. Jihoon had his arms crossed over his chest and the look in his eyes that told you that no matter what he wouldn't let you off the hook. Still, you had to try.

"Jihoon, I'm not your sports person. And it's too soon. I don't anything about Jeonghan or figure skating"

Jihoon simply shook his head at you.

"They want a different approach than the average sports documentary, so I recommended you. I'm sending Seungkwan with you because I know this isn't your area of expertise, though I highly suggest you do some sort of research" he turned around to leave with a wave of his hand then turned around for a second, as if remembering something "Hansol will be your camera and sound guy. They asked for a small crew"

With a salute Jihoon left.

"Fuck"

You couldn't take your eyes away from the crutches under Jeonghan's arms and the orthopedic boot around his left leg. There was not a single article that pointed to surgery. There were plenty about his constant injuries though. Seungkwan had the same look on his face, of pure shock. 

"Are you okay?" you asked once he made himself comfortable on the couch.

Jeonghan sat sideways on the couch, his leg propped up over cushions. The position looked weird but he didn't seem to mind.

"Ah, this" he pointed at his leg nonchalantly, as if it was the most normal thing "Yeah, it's okay. Had to get the surgery done in order to make it to the next Olympic"

Nodding, you looked around. His apartment wasn't as big as you had expected. In fact, the three of you stood closely together in the living room, a bit too small for all the gear Hansol said he needed.

"Put your things down, let's talk. I don't know how this is going to work"

Me neither, you wanted to say but kept your mouth shut. Thankfully, Seungkwan was there to help you.

"Before we start any real interview or conversation, I think we have to tell you that this was very last minute for us. We only heard about this documentary yesterday, in the middle of the afternoon" he used his kindest voice, his voice laced with concern and a hit of fear, maybe "yn is in charge, she's the documentarist, she'll be asking the questions and dictating the overall direction that we're going to take with the documentary. I'm Seungkwan and that's Hansol. This is the smallest crew he could assemble"

Seungkwan was giving too many explanations, you felt. But he also wasn't wrong. What he did was normal, he was just introducing the crew. Maybe you were a little irritated by the way you were tossed into this job, without someone giving you enough time to prepare. Sixteen hours were barely enough.

"I assume my… reputation has gotten to you," Jeonghan said, a small smile on his lips.

A reputation he had indeed. Jeonghan was known for not liking the press and journalists. He avoided them at all costs and once, on one occasion, was seen being rude. And honestly, you had to give him a pass for it. Pushing the camera away from his face, almost delicately, could barely be considered rude at such a moment. There were way too many cameras around, all of them on his face, trying to get some sort of pronouncement on why he had not made it to the podium. 

And that had been years before but people still remembered him by that one moment. But what exactly did they expect? He underperformed, came in fourth place, and injured himself in the process. Was anyone expecting a happy and bright Jeonghan? 

"You can be comfortable around me. A conversation like this is fine. I just don't like being swarmed" 

Though his words were inviting, his face told a whole different story. He clearly didn't want this documentary.

"All of our interactions will be recorded," you told him, not leaving room for arguments on his end "These first few minutes aren't, out of courtesy and so that we can set our goals. I need to know if you're uncomfortable with anything, or something that you don't want to be filmed, either right now or before we turn the cameras on. Once we start, we won't stop"

Jeonghan adjusted his position on the couch, his eyes never leaving you. It was like he was measuring your every move. He didn't like your tone, and how aggressive you were towards him. 

"I know this was last minute and I apologize for that. This is going to be my last run and, as much as I hate to admit, I'm a bit sensitive to it.

With furrowed eyebrows, you nodded. Jeonghan knew that you didn't believe him or that you cared about his reasons. He knew that the sole reason you were there was because someone made you. 

"Will you need to film my family?" 

"Yes, usually film family members to get a complete idea of someone's life" 

Turning around you nodded at Hansol, telling him to start setting up. With a shake of his head, Seungkwan moved to help him.

"I don't want my family to know the extent of my injuries. So if you only want them for context, to know about me as a child, that's fine. But they can't know anything about this" Jeonghan pointed at his leg "I've been hiding this for a very long time and I'd like to keep it that way"

You dropped your bag on the couch, eyes tired and mind filled with one too many thoughts. The day had been easier than you expected, far more so. 

Based on Seungkwan's words you had expected to fight with Jeonghan in a way. It was a documentary so you needed him to talk and talk he did. There was no question unanswered or dodged, all of his answers were precise and consistent. All of it had sounded fake like he had rehearsed them a million times.

Even if you thought that your question had been good, and had caught him off guard, Jeonghan seemed to be fully prepared for it. He didn't hesitate for a second. 

In the few hours you spent around him, you finally managed to understand the fascination most people had with him. He was handsome, yes, but that was just the very basic and surface level of him. Beyonce that he was also good with his words. It was hard to tell that he was lying because he talked with conviction. After just one interview you were sure that if one day Jeonghan decided to tell you that your mom wasn’t actually your mother, you’d somehow believe him.

And the man knew all of it. He was aware of his beauty and charm, of what it did to normal people, and he used it in his favor. Jeonghan knew that most people couldn’t resist a handsome talented man. And that was a part he was all too willing to fill.

“Yeah,” you answered your phone, not bothering to see who it was, certain that it was just Jihoon.

“How was it today?” he sounded just as tired as you felt and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was okay.

“Fine”

“Just fine?”

You turned on your back, facing the ceiling, or at least whatever you could see with the lights turned off - not a whole lot, to be honest.

“He lied through his teeth today. There was no manager, and no coach around, though I do remember him saying someone would come. The person never showed up” you sighed “Seungkwan hates and Vernon probably thinks I’m a crazy bitch. So yeah, just fine”

Jihoon laughed on the other side of the line and you felt the little butterflies in your stomach come to life. You rolled your eyes at yourself. How pathetic it was of you, to have a crush on your boss. How very much bland of you.

Growing up, like a lot of girls that were influenced by way too much TV, you had wanted the be the odd one out. The I’m one of the guys kind of girl, or the one who refused to wear any kind of makeup or even come close to the pink because that was just girly for you. And now there you were, in love with the color pink, finding excuses to wear pretty dresses, and having a crush on your boss.

Teenage you would throw eggs at your head if she had the chance.

“Okay, but how was Jeonghan?” Jihoon pressed even further.

You sighed and closed your eyes, covering over face with your hand.

“He was polite, answered all of my questions, had a pleasant smile the entire time, and only asked for a bathroom break while we were there. Offered us food and drinks. He was fine” you said again, emphasizing the fine.

You could picture Jihoon, nodding his head and looking at the floor, probably thinking of what to ask next.

“Why would Seungkwan hate you? And why would Vernon think you’re a bitch?”

“Seungkwan thinks I went too hard on Jeonghan and Vernon just trusts Seungkwan’s judgment and goes with it”

Jihoon laughed again and you heard him moving around.

“Classic yn, going at someone while she’s angry. At least your anger was sort of directed to the right person”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you sat up.

You liked to think that you didn’t act that way all the time. In your mind, most of the time, you were able to hide your anger and just play nice like your mother had taught you to be. Jihoon’s words told a completely different story.

“Have some rest, there’s still a lot of work to do. Tomorrow you’re going with him to rehab, right?” Jihoon paused for a second and you heard a female voice in the back, you couldn’t make out what she said but you were sure of who it belonged to “I have to go. We’ll talk next week”

The line was disconnected and leaned back on the couch again. The problem of having a crush on your boss was also the fact that he had a long-time girlfriend and soon he was supposed to be marrying her.

You groaned, wondering if you had gone far enough that there was no going back from this crush.

You sat across from Jeonghan once again, the position exactly the same as the first day. But this time you chose to be less irritable.

The other day you were frustrated because you had to give up other projects to be able to accompany Jeonghan and that, thinking rationally, had nothing to do with him. He asked for a specific documentary filmmaker profile and you were chosen by the studio. Maybe it was more your fault than his. But it was also a no-return kind of situation. The job was assigned to you and there was nothing you could do to change it. So the least you could do was do your best and pray that it didn’t take a turn for the worse.

And, if anything, the conversation with Jihoon helped you focus on work. It wouldn't be the first time you were doing something you didn't want to do and it certainly wouldn't be the last. So you decided that the best thing to do was just work, showing your professional side that had been left aside before.

Jeonghan looked at you the same way, eyes serious as if he was ready for a new attack.

"Thank you," he said to Vernon, who had just placed the microphone inside his jacket, so that he could pick up the sound well, but it was not visible to the camera.

You turned to Seungkwan and Vernon, waiting for confirmation from the two that you could begin. You received a wave from each of them after they checked that the cameras were on and recording.

You took a deep breath and turned to Jeonghan.

"I wanted to apologize for yesterday," you said "I wasn't fair to you. I was irritated by things that had nothing to do with you, but I somehow decided that they did"

Everyone in Jeonghan's living room seemed to hold their breath, you included. You didn't know what to expect from Jeonghan, not really. You had been anything but ungracious with him, in a way that to most people meant that any door between you two had closed.

Jeonghan decided, at that moment, that he had two options: a) he could let the previous day dictate how all interactions between the two of you from then on would be, and it would be many months of a bad relationship that would bring no benefit to anyone involved in it; or b) he could accept your apology, which seemed sincere enough, and let go of the discomfort he felt.

Option b was actually the only possible choice.

“Okay” he finally smiled “my reputation isn’t the best, either way”

Seungkwan and Vernon breathed a sigh of relief. It was as if a huge gray cloud had moved away and the weather was beginning to clear.

“No, your reputation had no influence. I was the one who lost my hand because of my problems and for that, I apologize” you said and you were sincere in your words “But Jeonghan, I need you to stop seeing me as your enemy. I need you to be honest with me.”

You hoped Jeonghan could understand what you were saying.

“You think I wasn’t honest?” he tilted his head as if analyzing you.

“In the same way that you don't want your reputation to affect the way I see you, I need you to not let the way you see other journalists affect the way you see me. I want to tell your story, however you want it told, but I need you to be honest with me.”

You hoped Jeonghan could understand what you were saying.

He was silent for a minute, his eyes fixed on his hands. His hair covered his face, so it was hard to get an idea of what was going through his head.

You looked at Seungkwan, seeking confirmation that you hadn’t been rude. He seemed to be as lost as you were, but the small smile he gave you was enough to make your restless heart rest for a second.

“What if I say something and regret it later?”

It was the first time Jeonghan looked insecure and it was a strange sight, but much more realistic than the other version of him.

“We can edit it, it’s not a problem. I said that because I was angry” you said apologetically once again.

“Can we throw it all away and start again?”

Jeonghan smiled and you had no choice but to smile along with him.

“Let’s start with what’s happening now,” you said, folding your legs under your body, notebook open to a blank page and a pen ready to take notes “You underwent surgery not long ago, right? Why?"

Jeonghan took a deep breath, eyes closed for a second before placing all his attention on you. His gaze was almost too intense. You had to force yourself not to look anywhere but at him.

“A few years ago I fell during training and twisted my ankle. At the time, it wasn't a big deal and if I had stayed quiet for a few weeks, and did everything right, I wouldn't have had any problems. But I couldn't do it, I was preparing for a competition. I didn't tell anyone about the problem and just endured the pain. When I participated in the competition I fell again and that only made the situation worse. Today I have a problem with my ligament and tendon.”

With every word that left his mouth, you felt like a lump was forming in your throat, and with every second it was getting bigger.

Unlike the day before, it didn't seem like Jeonghan was lying, but you didn't know if you wanted the truth he was sharing. Even if it was a lie, a character he had created, the version of Jeonghan from before was a little brighter, a little more present in the moment. The version of him that was in front of you, that you imagined to be the closest to reality, was almost sad, detached from everything.

“Because I forced my right knee a lot, trying to compensate for the lack of my left one, I developed a problem with that one too”

“You’ve never talked about your injuries before, right?” he nodded “Why talk now?”

He was silent again, his lower lip caught between his teeth. That was a great question, one that not even Jeonghan himself knew exactly how to answer.

“I'm not sure, to be honest” he laughed a little. Instead of looking directly at the camera, his eyes were focused on you “Someone came up with the idea at some point and it didn't seem like a bad one, but I think it will only work if I make it to the Olympics.”

“Is that the ultimate goal then, to get to the Olympics?”

He shook his head, that fearless, confident look you had only seen in photos finally making itself known.

“No, the ultimate goal is to win”

As promised, Jeonghan waited for you, Seungkwan, and Vernon outside the clinic. He was nowhere to be seen, really, but the car his assistant informed you of was parked right in front of the door.

You were the first one to exit your own car, while Seungkwan and Vernon prepared the camera to follow along. You could only assume he was the manager. Terribly young for a manager, sure, but a manager nonetheless.

“I assume you’re in” he extended a hand to you “I’m Joshua”

“Hi”

The exchange of words with Joshua was quick, no more than half a dozen. You didn't have much to talk about with him and he wasn't your priority, at least not at the moment. Later, at some other time, talking to him would be great. He had introduced himself as a friend/manager of Jeonghan. Having his point of view would be great and could contribute a lot, but your eyes couldn't leave Jeonghan.

His hair was tied back, but a cap covered much of his face. He had barely said hi to you or the other two. It wasn't a big surprise. While it was true that made up to a certain extent, you didn't expect him to simply welcome you with open arms, but his reaction was strange - or as strange as the reaction of a person you knew little, or nothing, could be.

“Can we film it?” You asked.

Jeonghan stopped and turned towards you. He had forgotten that you and your team would attend his first physical therapy session, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Since the last time you saw each other, Jeonghan spent hours on end watching documentaries made by you and they all had one thing in common: they were almost like video logs. You followed everyone around documenting every tiny aspect of their lives. All those people told their stories and didn't seem afraid of having their lives exposed. And perhaps for people who didn't lead lives where they had been exposed too much, sincerity came easily.

For Jeonghan, that was never the case.

Being treated as the future, a promise of the sport, had brought a lot of harm and situations that neither he, nor anyone else, had the option to deal with or even, perhaps, ignore.

Cameras were pointed at him, rumors spread and suddenly he wasn't just Yoon Jeonghan, the boy who started skating because it would annoy his little sister. He became someone from whom people expected something.

As much as he could, Jeonghan tried to live up to all of those expectations, realistic or not. He tried to be as perfect as possible, on the ice and off of it. And it only took one day of silence, a few rude unanswered questions, and one bad performance — which had no real effect — for everything to collapse.

“You said you would film anything and everything.”

You grimaced, clearly regretful and maybe even a little embarrassed. It wasn't his intention, but he found your reaction funny anyway.

In your place, Jeonghan would have done much worse.

“Do you think it’s important?”

You nodded, perhaps more forcefully than necessary. Jeonghan laughed, he wanted to hold your head to make sure it was still in the right place.

“The documentary is about your return, so filming you here is important. I asked because it's your first session. I heard it can be painful.”

“It will probably be uncomfortable” he couldn’t deny that “Let’s do it like this, you can record it, if in the end you think it’s bad or that it doesn’t fit, we won’t use it

You quietly followed Jeonghan and Joshua out of the clinic, Seungkwan and Vernon trailing behind you talking in hushed tones. It was no surprise that they were talking. Truth was rehab had been brutal. You knew that it could get hard for Jeonghan, that it could be painful but nothing really prepared you for what you saw. And if it was hard for you to watch him go through that, it was unimaginable to understand how it was for him.

Throughout the entire session, Jeonghan looked in pain, his grunts and the scowl on his face growing with each passing second and new movement. Midway through you told Seungkwan and Vernon to stop filming. You had seen enough and you had more than what you needed for the documentary. 

You would only film his rehab again when he was no longer in such pain, you decided. Out of the many things you learned about Jeonghan was that showing his weaknesses wasn’t something he was too fond of or even comfortable with the idea of it. So there was no real reason to keep recording and you couldn’t stand it either. 

While you watched his face contort in pain, you felt something inside your chest tighten. 

It had never been a real issue before with you. You had always managed to separate your personal emotions from the things you felt while working. More often than not you told stories that were hard to listen to, took someone’s suffering, and put it on the TV for the entire world to see in hopes that maybe a part of their lives would be changed. You had always been able to detach yourself from that. 

However while inside with Jeonghan, such a thing was not possible. You felt your throat constrict and your eyes grow wet and for a short while, you couldn’t breathe either. It made no sense really. Why did it hurt to see this man, you knew nothing about, in pain to the point you wanted to cry? Why did it sadden you so much that he was limping harder than before?

You wanted to approach him, ask if he was okay, if it had been too much. But it was out of line, it was one that you knew you shouldn’t cross. There was this itch though, in the back of your mind, begging you to just ask, to just take a step closer to him. 

It happened so suddenly that you didn’t even see it happening. One second it was just the five of you in the parking lot, in the next there were reporters with mics and cameras pointed at Jeonghan. You noticed how Jeonghan raised his shoulders at the same time he lowered his head. He couldn’t see in front of himself, you were certain. 

Joshua put an arm around Jeonghan’s shoulder while he used the other one to keep them away from him. Not that it was of any use. One of the cameras was directly under his face as if trying to get an expression, anything at all, that could show his discomfort with the situation. From somewhere behind you there were flashes. 

"Do you believe your injury was a result of your own carelessness?"  someone asked. 

You felt your blood run cold for a second and you froze in place, Seungkwan and Vernon behind you. 

"Do you think your skating career is over after such devastating injuries?" someone followed. 

"Did you regret pushing yourself so hard during training, knowing it led to your injury?" 

"How did it feel to watch other skaters progress while you were stuck in rehab?" 

"Are you worried that your injury will define your career more than your achievements on the ice?" 

The questions got progressively worse and you wanted to scream at them to just shut up, and stop. How could they just ambush someone like that with those questions? It made no sense at all. And though you knew that it would cause more harm than good you wished Jeonghan would tell them all to fuck off.

Instead, he kept his head low and just slowly walked to his car while ignoring everyone around him, all the careless words being thrown at him. 

You tried to take a step forward but were held back by Seungkwan, who gripped the strap of your purse. He didn’t say a word, just shook his head. 

“They can’t just do that to him” you almost cried

“If you say anything, it might only make matters worse,” Hansol said, his voice sad. 

That sudden need to protect Jeonghan felt weird but oddly natural as well. Weird because you knew that you shouldn’t, because you hardly knew the guy. Natural because it felt as if you had always done that like it was just second nature to you. 

“He is used to this,” Seungkwan said, still not letting go of your purse. 

“He shouldn’t be! They are barely treating him like a human!”

By the time you turned around, Jeonghan was already inside the car leaving the parking lot. 

The clock on the top of your phone screen told you that it was 4:37 am. You hadn't even realized that you had spent so many hours still awake. 

As soon as you got home from the rehab with Jeonghan, you took a quick shower, ate the leftovers from the night before, and started to look up Jeonghan’s performances.

The man was a celebrity amongst athletes since he was a child. He was always seen as a promise of the sport. He was good from the start. Performing moves that he was still too young to do, entering competitions boys his age never really competed in and somehow managing to either come up to the podium or even winning some of them.

Everything was displayed online. Yearly competitions, practices, and small moments of his life.

Jeonghan's entire life, at least the sports part, was exposed on the internet for anyone, from anywhere in the world, to see. And it wasn't just the competitions, having videos of that part seemed completely normal and expected.

What was scary was all the other content. Some photos of him in school uniform, not one where he was actually looking at the camera, but ones that were clearly taken in secret. Another one from when he seemed to have simply gone out for coffee with Joshua.

You knew he had fans, that he was liked wherever he went, and that he was always followed, but that seemed a bit much.

In reality, watching videos of the competitions was like a gateway to everything that came after.

You knew very little about Jeonghan, only what you had read about in all the articles that you found and all of them had one thing in common: Jeonghan was a huge diva, who thought he was superior to everyone. But after seeing how he had been treated that day, as soon as he got out of rehab, you knew it wasn't like that. It was as if they had appeared out of nowhere, one second the parking lot was empty and the next it was full of journalists, shouting things and asking questions that to many would seem harmless, but were clearly intended to hurt.

Instead of watching more competition videos, not that there were many you hadn't watched yet, you decided to look for the famous video of him treating journalists badly.

You had never found one so easily on the internet. You just typed "Jeonghan and journalists" into the search bar and it was the first video to appear.

It was a scene very similar to the previous day. Jeonghan was in the parking lot, walking towards the guy when he was surrounded by several journalists.

"You didn't get the podium today, are you disappointed?" one of them asked and that was the most harmless question he got. “Did you really try hard or did you think you would get a high score because you were the favorite?” “Why did you fall in such a simple jump?” “Don't you think it was an amateur's performance?”

You didn't want to keep listening to all those meaningless questions, but you couldn't take your eyes off Jeonghan. He still had short hair at the time, even covering his eyebrows. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were hard, and his gaze was focused straight ahead, as he walked slowly to his car. Joshua tried as best he could to control the journalists with their microphones and cameras, but he was just one man against many. Finally, after what felt like ages, two security guards appeared, pushing the journalists away as they began shouting profanities in Jeonghan's direction.

Could those people even consider themselves journalists? Real journalists, who took their work seriously?

There is a very fine line between being a journalist who asks incisive questions and one who is completely disrespectful to the athlete. And those people were anything but professional.

It was no surprise that after that Jeonghan refused to give interviews.

That whole situation happened years before, at the beginning of the previous Olympic cycle, but even so, it was still a moment that haunted him. People remembered him as just that guy, someone who refused to answer simple questions. But what exactly did these people expect? That he was all smiles when he failed to reach the podium, even though he was the favorite in the competition? That he smiles when he hurts?

Finally, you managed to understand why he acted that way, and why his answers were so polite and direct. Jeonghan didn't want to leave room for interpretation. Not that he had much of a choice. People only see what they want to see, but that didn't mean he couldn't try.

Jeonghan couldn’t take his eyes away from your back, he followed your every move. You stood next to Joshua, talking to him quietly, his friend showing you something on his phone. He felt something scratch at his neck. This new and unknown feeling. 

It was unusual for Jeonghan, to want to have someone’s undivided attention. It was usually the other way around and he was never willing to do it, with anyone. And then there you were and suddenly he didn’t like that you were talking with Joshua. 

It wasn’t like you seemed to be having fun either. You moved around with intention, your eyes always focused, your words and questions firm and straight to the point. Jeonghan couldn’t help but wonder if it was always like that with you. If your professional persona always took over who you were in other moments. 

His curiosity was huge but his courage to ask was very little. 

“She may seem like it, but she won’t bite your head off if you talk with her,” someone said on his left.

Seungkwan stood at his side, his hands clasped in front of him while he rocked on his heels. 

“I think she will,” Jeonghan said. 

Seungkwan took his reply as an invitation to sit. 

“You know, in the office, people call her the ice queen” he too looked in your direction, at your serious expression "She’s like that most of the time”

Jeonghan looked at Seungkwan expectantly, he knew there was a but coming soon. All he needed to do was wait long enough. 

“She didn’t want to take this job, our boss forced her to. She’s more into storytelling, real people, with real issues”

“Am I not a real person?”

The offense in Jeonghan’s voice made Seungkwan almost fall off his chair. He didn’t intend for his words to sound like that.

“Of course you are” he laughed nervously while trying to explain it as best as he could “If it were up to her, she would focus this documentary on you, on how you started skating, why, what attracted you to it, how it affected the rest of your life. But your team doesn’t want that, I think. We were told that you already gave many interviews on the matter so there’s no point in talking about it again. They want us to focus on your recovery and then you make it to the Olympics. She’s trying to figure out how to do that in a way that makes someone watch it”

Jeonghan nodded, feeling guilty. It had been his request to not the documentary so focused on the past and more on what was happening in the moment

“She also doesn’t like sports and hated the idea of the job, but that's beside the point”

Both of them laughed, eyes still on your back now that you talked with Vernon, giving him new instructions.

“I’ll make sure that she gets to do the kind of documentary she thinks is best”

Seungkwan stood up, a big smile on his lips.

“Who could have known that the ice queen and the ice prince aren’t actually that cold”

After months of just rehab, it’s finally time for Jeonghan to get back on the ice and it pained you a little to admit that you were looking forward to it. The videos you watched could only take you so far, you wanted to actually see the real thing. Him, in action.

Of course, you know that he wasn’t going to be able to do a third of the things he did on those videos. But you wanted to see him in his element, how he would behave when he was finally around the thing he loved the most in the world — his words, not yours. 

The one thing you were able to learn from Jeonghan was the fact that he indeed loved what he did. Like most people, sometimes he hated it. It was the thing he was most passionate about, yes, but it was also his job, so there were days when he just hated and the mere idea of leaving the house was too much. 

It was too hard to be a professional athlete, it demanded way too much of him. Of anyone, really. Sometimes he wanted to be like everyone else and just not put everything he was into it. But if he did that, he lost one single day, he was scared that he could lose an entire year and maybe that year turned into two and then he could lose his chance to go to the Olympics. 

And he only had one change left. 

So, instead of focusing on much he didn’t want to do, Jeonghan decided to focus on the fact that there was only a year ahead of him and he would be able to do whatever he wanted and have as many down days as he wanted. 

He didn’t know what he wanted to do and what would be the after for him but it gave him something to look forward to. 

“Are you nervous?” you asked him.

Jeonghan was someone who was mostly quiet. You noticed that once he started to feel more comfortable he was one to start the conversation and even crack a few jokes here and there. Seungkwan had been the first person he kind of opened up to, which had left you a hint of jealousy. You wanted to be one he talked with mostly because it was your job but also just because. 

However, he had been especially quiet that day. The three of you went to meet him at his apartment. The idea was that you’d follow him the entire day, from the moment he woke up, to when he went to the doctor to get the final clear and then finally to the ring. 

He had talked very little, his eyes always focused somewhere else. It was clear that his mind was traveling somewhere far, far away. So you left him be, quietly watching him just move around. A silent shooting day, you told yourself  In the end, however, you had a job and he needed to do the talking.

“It’s been too long,” he said, his eyes never really leaving the ice “I don’t know if I can still do it”

You laughed, causing him to finally look at you, eyes wide on his face. He tried to look serious but the corners of his lips were turned slightly up.

“You just don’t feel confident, but you didn’t forget it” you looked at his ankle, it was still weird to see him without any sort of protection around it “How’s your ankle?”

He just shook his head and in that moment you chose to believe that he was said It doesn’t bother me anymore. 

Through the interviews, you found out that Jeonghan is the kind of person to suffer in silence. It was clear from all of his previous injuries, how he competed while in pain and only ever said anything when it was almost too late.

“Do you think I can still do it?”

There was something in his voice like he was almost on the verge of breaking. He sounded vulnerable in a way that was entirely too new, in a way you wanted to push Vernon and his camera away because that was a part of him you knew he didn’t want the world to see. 

Instead, you reached for his arm, patting it a couple of times, hoping that your touch, as ungraceful and awkward as it was, was able to soothe him, even if it was just for a moment. 

“I was watching some of your competitions last night, again, you know? And that guy? He’s still in there, I’m sure of it, I’ve seen him”

You weren’t just saying that to cheer him up, your words were true. You had seen that version of him, little glimpses here and there. He was in the way his eyes suddenly changed and it was like he owned the entire room, in the way he suddenly turned confident, in the way he was charming in a way that was almost sickening but all too enchanting either way. 

Whether or not he believed it himself, Yoon Jeonghan was a force to be reckoned with.

"What kind of kid were you?" you asked, looking up at Jeonghan. 

He sat opposite to you, bent down to tie the laces on his skates. His hair covered his face, you were sure that he couldn't see much, but he didn't seem bothered by it in the least. Maybe he had just gotten used to it. 

Four months had gone by since you started to follow Jeonghan and even before that, he had kept his hair long. And you hated to admit that he looked good, too good even.

"What kind do you think I was?" He smirked at you for a second before going back to his skates.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn't help but smile. 

"This is not how it works. I ask the questions here"

Jeonghan leaned back on his seat, giving you his full attention. His smirk did something to your insides. It felt tight and loose at the same time, like wild butterflies running around on your skin. 

"Come on, humor me"

You pretended to be in deep thought, Jeonghan as a child had been something you thought about for a long time now. Even though he was very serious most of the time there were these small moments where he looked like a kid ready to do something he wasn't supposed to.

"I can only think of you as a troublemaker” you smiled, closing your notes knowing well that you’d make no progress at all with the filming “I’ve seen pictures of you and a child and although you looked very cute, I’m sure you were a handful to your mother”

Jeonghan laughed, throwing his head back and in that moment he looked so carefree.

Even since the start of the documentary Jeonghan had used his most serious expressions, a frown always taking over his beautiful features. But he had been back on the ice for a few days already and in those days he had looked the happiest you had seen him yet.

Of course, he still hasn’t practiced the way he wanted or the way he used to. He still needed to take things slowly: fewer hours, less power in the movements. But it was undeniable that he was a completely different person.

It wasn’t that he had been in a bad mood every single day but there was just something about him in his element, of him doing something he was obviously passionate about, that was so enchanting that it became impossible to look away from him.

“Where did you see those pictures?”

“You do know that I had to google you because I had no idea who you were, right?”

One thing you managed to learn about Jeonghan is the fact that, if in the right mood, he is a trickster and most of all, a flit. You weren’t even sure that he was aware of what he was doing, it seemed like second nature to him.

He put a hand over his chest, faking being in pain. His face contorted and a pout on his lips.

“I thought we were getting to know each other”.

Seungkwan coughed by your side, finally making you remember that there were people around you and that the entire interaction between you and Jeonghan was being recorded.

There was something about Jeonghan that always seemed to make you forget where you were, that maybe there were people around you. You could only suppose that it was the charm of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, who knew how to sweet talk someone.

And Jeonghan knew what he was doing, what kind of words or looks could get a reaction from a woman.

Most of the time while around Jeonghan you had to remind your heart to be calm and quiet. Being around him was a temporary arrangement, as soon as the Olympics started said arrangement would be done and you’d have to go back to your normal life. One that didn’t include Yoon Jeonghan. And you also knew that there wasn’t space for you in his life.

“We’re going to set up the cameras around the ice,” Seungkwan said awkwardly while dragging Verno by the hand.

You watched as the two walked away from you, whispering in secrecy. You could only imagine the kind of things that they were saying. If you knew Seungkwan at all, you were certain that it couldn’t be any good.

“Jeonghan, I ask questions and you answer them. And while one could say that I’m getting to know you, I don’t think it would be possible to say the same thing about me”

Jeongahn's smile was defiant when he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You have a no-bullshit policy, which I should have known, from the start, but I wasn’t expecting someone like you. Although you try really hard to pretend that you’re not, your eyes are kind and you quietly take care of those around you, me included sometimes. You got worried when I was in pain in rehab and when Vernon got hurt it seemed as if you were angry, but you were concerned about him and after that, you asked to have another staff with you so that he wouldn’t need to carry so many things on his own. You and Seungkwan bicker a lot but when he isn’t around for a day you are quieter and your questions have been more direct. That doesn’t make you a lousy documentarist, please don’t think that I’m saying that, you take your job very seriously. I’m saying that you put people above your job. I’m guessing that’s why you wanted to become a documentarist, to begin with, to tell stories”

You stared at him, mouth open wondering just how he had come up with all of that and why he had managed to hit everything right on the stop. Especially the reason why you became a documentarist. It seemed very obvious, yes, but it wasn’t something that you had said.

In fact, your personal life was something that very few people knew. You weren’t one to share your thoughts and what was on your mind with people. Seungkwan was a good friend, but he was a work friend so your personal life was just that, personal. Not that you had someone to share it with, either way.

The apartment was empty when you left and it was in the exact same way and you got back. You were on your own, with no parents, no siblings and most of your friends had given up on you somewhere along the way.

For the longest time, you put your job first. It came before anything and anyone. You were building your career and name at the time so it was hard not to put it first. It was your dream, one that your friends supported at first but were displeased when you decided to put it first.

You had thought that if you made it big on your job if you got hired by a big production company, you’d be able to find the happiness that you had searched for a long time. And while some of it was true, your career was on the right path and you did something you loved, you didn’t have a lot more beyond that going one.

It was become just you and your job.

Was it sad? Yes, but it was also the life you chose.

“Just because I don’t know details of your life, doesn’t mean that I don’t watch you, yn”

You watched as Jeonghan fell for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It didn't make sense, not really. At least not for you. And from the looks of it, for him too.

He was frustrated and completely angry. All those people looking at him, expectations high, waiting for something. He wasn't sure what. For him to fail? To see if he still could do it?

Everything was possible and impossible at the same time.

He couldn't stop his eyes from going after you every time you fell. Somehow, your reaction was the only one that mattered to him. The first few times your face was completely emotionless, as if you were staring at a blank wall. Then Jeonghan fell once again, and again, and again. He stopped counting at 10, but he knew it was much more than that actually. But your gaze, which was fixed on him, became more worried as the minutes passed and he hated being the cause of it.

Somehow, since he met you, only two things were on Jeonghan's mind: skating and you.

He didn't know how, he didn't know why, but you had taken over his every thought. It was as if you had walked through an imaginary door and entered his mind and decided that it was a great place to be.

Even on days when you didn't see each other because there was no recording, he was tempted to talk to you. And on one of those days, he just succumbed to the temptation of picking up the phone and calling you.

“Jeonghan, is everything okay?” was the first thing you said.

He hated that worry was the first emotion he awakened in you. He hated that the first thing you said wasn't "hello" like a normal person. But at the same time, the concern made him feel somehow welcomed. It could, of course, be all in his head, and what he saw as concern for himself was actually concern for the documentary.

"I just wanted to talk," he admitted.

Maybe it was because he had gotten used to talking to you, maybe it was because you offered zero judgment for the way he thought or reacted. Or maybe it was because it was you. Whatever it was, Jeonghan felt comfortable talking to you.

Telling the truth, about everything, was not difficult, in fact, it became something very easy. It was because of you, he knew.

"I realized I don't know anything about you"

You laughed and he listened as you moved through what he imagined to be his apartment.

"That's because I interview you and not the other way around"

He sat on the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him as he supported the rest of his weight on his arms stretched behind him.

"Do you think it's so bad that I know anything about you?"

You remained silent for a few seconds, seeming to think about the idea. It wasn't bad, not at all.

At several moments you found yourself with your cell phone in your hand, ready to send a message or call him. You weren’t sure what, but there was something about Jeonghan that just made you want to tell him everything.

"What do you want to know?" you said with a sigh.

"Whatever you want to share"

The great truth is that very little happened in your life. You lived alone, worked every day, and came home alone. Your last boyfriend, or even a fling, was over a year before. Your friends, if you could call them that, were all from work. Your life was quite still and dull. Even if you wanted to talk about work. Jeonghan was your job. There wasn't much to talk about.

"I don't think I have much to tell" you knew that what you were about to say wasn't the happiest topic in the world, but it was what you had to offer "My mother passed away when I was nineteen, since then I've been alone"

You could still clearly remember the day your father left. There wasn't a fight. He never packed his bag and left. One day he was there when you woke up, he gave you breakfast and took you to school, like he did on most days. But it was his job to pick you up and he never showed up. Your mother showed up instead, her eyes swollen as she did her smile to smile at you and explain to the teacher why she was so late. When you finally got home she said "Now it's just you and me. Daddy had to leave"

For months, years even, you waited for him to come back. You thought one day he would just appear in front of you. You were disappointed when it was your mother who showed up to pick you up when he didn't come to his birthdays when you called the number he had left with his mother and he never answered.

You waited until you turned 18 to go after him. You only had a name, but with that alone, a person can find everything on the internet. You found him in another state, working at a real estate agency. You sat down in front of him and talked for about half an hour. You made up a story about going to college and needing a place to live. You said your name and your mother's name several times, surname and everything, and at no point did he seem to connect one thing to the other. Until the last second, when you said you would think about renting the studio he had suggested, and he walked you to the door. He said, "I left for a reason, don't come back here."

You couldn't believe what you had heard. You couldn't understand why he left and why he never came back. But at that moment you decided that if he didn't want you, you didn't need him. Your mother had worked so hard to make sure you had everything you needed.

Exactly one year later, your mother died in a bizarre car accident. It was like being 7 years old again and losing another person, only in a much more painful way.

"You don’t have any siblings?" Jeonghan's voice on the other end brought you back "Relatives?"

You shook her head, even though you knew he couldn't see you.

"I was an only child, so no siblings. My mom was an orphan so relatives either. My father left when I was a child"

You and Jeonghan spent the whole night on the phone, talking about everything and nothing. From trivial things to more personal matters. His delight upon learning that you didn’t have a boyfriend didn’t go unnoticed. 

Calls and messages became commonplace between the two of you. Your heart raced every time a new message arrived and it was hard to hide your disappointment when you realized it wasn't from him. On days when you didn't see each other, you would stare at your phone, waiting for it to ring, waiting for him to call.

So you hoped he understood when you shook your head in his direction, a request written on your face. That's enough for today, you can try more tomorrow, you hoped he would understand.

Instead of trying one more time after he fell once again, he skated to the edge of the ice. His face was red from the effort, and his chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm trying to force air back into his lungs.

"I want everyone out," he said, his voice broken.

Seungkwan and Vernon didn't even question it, they simply started putting away the equipment. Jihoon, who had shown up unexpectedly to "supervise" didn't seem to understand what was going on, but turned to help Vernon.

Jeonghan's coach was the only one who approached him, his hand on the athlete's shoulder.

"Go home, rest. Tomorrow we try again"

Jeonghan shook his head. He would only get out of there after managing to make the damn jump, even if he had to stay the whole night.

"Just half an hour more, but I want to be alone"

The coach clearly didn't like the idea, but he knew it was stupid to try and make Jeonghan change his mind.

You turned to him, looking at his face, trying to figure out if he was in pain or if he was just being a big blockhead. Without giving yourself the luxury of thinking about what you were doing, you placed your hand over Jeonghan's and squeezed for a second. You hoped he understood what you meant.

"You have to rest"

You knew everyone was watching, that despite saying they were leaving they weren't actually moving. Jeonghan didn't seem to care and for a moment you decided not to care either.

“Stay,” he said softly, so only you could hear him “please.”

Some strands of hair were stuck to Jeonghan's face, you wanted to get them out of his face, but caution spoke louder. You looked over your shoulder and everyone was still looking at the two of you, but as soon as they noticed your gaze they started moving again. Seungkwan shouted “We’re leaving” and seconds later the door slammed.

Finally, you were alone.

“You have to rest,” you said again.

You took advantage of the fact that no one else was there and removed the strands of hair stuck to his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. Jeonghan sighed, his eyes closing as he leaned towards you. Just that little touch wasn't enough.

“I need to get it right”

"If you stop now and rest you will know what you are doing wrong"

A half smile shined on Jeonghan's face as he leaned further into the barrier, his face just inches away from his.

"My ego loves it when you say I'm doing something wrong”

You pushed him back, needing a little bit more space to yourself. He was too close, you could feel his breath on your nose and cheeks. It was suddenly as if the world was made of Yoon Jeonghan, it was just him and no one else. 

“I’m sure your ego will be just fine”

Instead of pulling your hand back, you allowed it to stay in his chest. Jeonghan smiled for a second before pressing his hand over yours. 

“Just another 30 minutes” he repeated what he said to his coach “I promise I’ll stop in precisely 30 minutes”

You nodded with a sigh. There was nothing you could do to stop him. Something told you that even if you threatened him to leave he would stay and practice, he would stay on the ice for far more than just 30 minutes if you weren’t around. 

So you sat down and waited for him. And he fell time and time again, his face growing displeased with himself at each passing second, each time he jumped but didn't manage to land. 

Jeonghan had done that same jump countless times before with ease as if one's body would simply perform such movements. To him, it always seemed as easy as walking. You had seen it in all of his videos, almost in trance by him. 

“If you’re not done in twenty-one minutes” you pretended to look at your imaginary watch “I’m taking you out of there by force”

Jeonghan threw his head back, laughing. 

“Remember when you said that you never skated before?” Jeonghan asked after finally being able to breathe properly again.

You weren’t too sure how, but he had stopped after 30 minutes. A big smile on his face after he managed to land the jump after so many tries. After getting it right once, he didn’t get it wrong again. It was like something clicked inside his brain as if he had found the last missing piece of the puzzle.

Of all the things you said to Jeonghan, from the most personal to the most trivial, that was, by far, the only one you regretted. You had told him over the phone but he looked horrified, it was easy to imagine the wide eyes on his face.

But him standing there, in front of you, with a smile that could only be seen on the face of a mischievous child, said much more than any words he could utter.

“No,” you said, shaking your head, already moving back.

You had learned several peculiarities about Jeonghan in all the months you spent by his side, and one of the most glaring was the look in his eyes when he was about to do something he shouldn't.

“You have to try, at least once” his lips were a mixture of a smile and a pout “You will have the best teacher in the world”

You saw it and shook your head again.

“I can’t trust a teacher who spent the day falling” you pointed to the rink behind him.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You didn't know if your words would offend him, you hoped he knew it wasn't your intention. But you also knew that hell was paved with good intentions. Jeonghan was silent for a minute, his face serious, his eyes not leaving yours for an entire minute.

Then he smiled, his nose wrinkling a little as he laughed, loudly. It didn't take long for you to join him.

“You’re evil,” he said, trying to control himself, but failing “This way you’re going to break my heart”

“I think there are few things in this world that can break your heart.”

You would definitely be one of them, Jeonghan wanted to say, but he held his tongue in his mouth. He knew he couldn't say that, he knew that any word said wrongly could simply ruin everything he had built so far. If he could even say he built something. He liked to think so.

From the first time you spoke, Jeonghan knew there was no going back, at least for him. He had never done anything like that. He had never called someone in the middle of the night simply because he wanted to hear someone's voice. And in this case, it wasn't just someone's voice, it was your voice that he wanted to hear.

With each passing sentence, Jeonghan found himself falling more in love with you and he wasn't able to say why. Maybe he could blame it on your eyes, always so focused, but somehow when they turned to him, they seemed so sweet and sincere. Or your voice, which gave orders and asked incisive questions, but as soon as the cameras were turned off it became gentle and almost shy. Maybe it was the fact that you seemed like a lioness when you were working, never giving space for unfounded questions, but you were shy when it was just the two of you alone.

He liked this version of you, who was right in front of him, who seemed completely comfortable with him, to the point of making jokes — something that until that moment you hadn't done yet.

“We always have extra pairs in the back, I'm sure one of them is your size” he had made sure you would, with Seungkwan's help of course “And then we try it, what do you think?”

Even though you were shaking your head, you went to the closet where you knew the skates were stored.

With your knees bent and shaking, you stepped onto the ice and immediately regretted giving in to Jeonghan's will. You didn't know how he had managed it, but in the closet, there was a brand new pair of skates, your size. Jeonghan had smiled as he bent down to tie your shoelaces,

“I’m going to fall flat on my face,” you said as you grabbed the bars.

Jeonghan held your face in his hands, your eyes fixed on his.

“I won’t let you fall”

The way the words left his lips made your heart skip a beat, or maybe several of them. You could feel it on the back of your throat and you could swear that your hands shook a little as you accepted the hand Jeonghan had extended to you. 

You wished it could just stop. Not for your heart to stop beating altogether but for it to stop reacting to Jeonghan. Everything changed after that first call and you weren’t too sure of where it was. He had, someway, somehow, become a pivotal point of you. His voice, his eyes. The way tingles started to run down through your body the moment his skin came in touch with yours. How, despite all odds, he made you feel safe in a way you weren’t too sure you had ever experienced before.

When he said that he wasn’t going to you fall, you believed him so you held his hands — strong enough that you were sure were hurting him but he didn't seem to mind — and allowed Jeonghan to pull you into the rink. 

“Don't move your feet” he said, voice ever so sweet but with a slight hint of teasing “I know it's probably hard, but let me take control here”

Forcing out all of the remaining air inside your lungs, you did as he asked. Instead of keeping your focus on the ice under your feet, you kept them in Jeonghan's face. A mistake, of course. 

His eyes were too intense if you could say that. You didn't want to understand what was happening. Perhaps for the first time since you met Jeonghan, you didn't want to understand what it could mean. You were scared. What, exactly, you weren’t sure.

“I didn’t even have to ask you to look at me,” he said and you laughed a little, automatically looking away “Keep looking at me”

The whole experience of skating for the first time, or being guided, was not being registered by your brain. All you could see, think, feel, was Jeonghan, as if he had become a central point of everything.

“I think we should stop here”

You hoped your voice was loud enough and judging by the look on Jeonghan's face, it was. The smile fell from his lips and it was as if a small light in his eyes had gone out.

You hated that you were the one causing that reaction in him, but you knew it was best to stop everything before it went too far.

"I thought that…"

“We can’t blur the lines that much” you shook your head.

You didn't know exactly who you were trying to convince, him or you. You also weren't sure you had to convince yourself of anything. It was as if your brain had split in two. One part, probably the loudest, wanted you to just let things happen. You knew you weren't doing anything wrong, you weren't doing anything much really. What you did outside of your working hours and who you did it with was your problem and no one else's.

But the other part, one that spoke softly and that should have had much less strength, said it was dangerous, but also didn't offer much reason to be dangerous.

Yet somehow, that was the side you chose to listen to.

"Why?" He asked forcing his feet to the ground, making the two of you stand in the center of the rink. “What line are we blurring?”

You shook your head, hands clinging to his waist as you felt your feet begin to slide.

“I don’t know” you whispered in response “We are working”

Jeonghan leaned forward and pressed his lips to your cheek. With a sigh, he let his forehead fall onto your shoulder and closed his eyes.

You didn't know exactly where your skepticism came from, but you were also sure it wasn't completely unfounded. But truth be told, you wanted to blur that line and any others that might appear along the way.

“Go on a date with me,” he said “If you still feel that way, there’s nothing we can do. Just don’t… don’t stop something that hasn’t even started yet”

taglist: @wonwooz1, @ryuwonieebae, @sobun1est, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @belladaises, @mhlsymlysn, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld, @aaniag, @k-drama-adict, @maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @yeeyoop0206, @tomodachiii, @sofix-hc7, @scarlet789, @moonlightgrleric, @r6njunlv, @mixling-blog, @cinnamongirl127, @haowonbins, @valgracia, @slut4donghyuck, @manutuankim, @shuabby1994, @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan, @plumings, @shuasdrafts, @aaasia111, @dreamsbloomout

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[canmom]

So a little over a month ago I was reached out to by @peterkats, a gay refugee currently living in a camp with a small group of other gay and trans refugees.

Peter has, to put it mildly, had a fucking time of it. In his home country, Uganda, his partner was murdered for being trans. He stayed for some time in Kakuma refugee camp in Kenya with a group of gay and trans people (pictured above), but violence from police forced them to move, and they're currently in a refugee camp run by the UNHCR. (I've been asked not to explicitly name the country but you can probably figure it out.)

Unfortunately this has not in any way been a reprieve. They've managed to flee right into an impending famine, and if that's not enough, they're still facing violence from police and other refugees, and general indifference from the UNHCR medical staff - who are also facing supply shortages. But it's not completely hopeless. When Peter contacted me, he needed money for food - I sent him some via an intermediary and he was able to get quite a bit (the exchange rate seems to be favourable). With help, things can be quite different.

We've stayed in touch since then, talking about our respective lives, the lgbtq situation in different countries, even videogames and music. He's a really sweet guy, despite it all still trying to find a place he can live free. For real, I would not survive any of this shit.

Recently a couple of people in Peter's group have caught malaria. They are currently sleeping on bare mats without mosquito nets. There seems to be some confusion about the exchange rates but as far as I have been able to gather, about €150 (~20,000ssp) gets a mattress and €10(~1000ssp) a malaria net. The UNHCR have not been able to provide any medication except paracetamol, and it's raining which promotes mosquito activity, so this is kind of an emergency.

I would very much prefer if the new friend I've made doesn't die of starvation or malaria. Unfortunately, I do not have the money to support Peter and his group alone. I've sent him money for one mattress (via PayPal for expediency, it won't show up on GFM), and I would be immensely grateful if you would be able to contribute a bit to getting them another (which would be just about enough to keep six people safe from mosquitoes if sleeping three to a mattress).

Beyond that, these guys are prohibited from working so they would definitely benefit from food money. And if anyone has an idea for a long term plan to get them somewhere safer where they're less likely to get bashed, I am sure Peter would appreciate hearing about it. We talked a bit about the UK asylum process but getting everyone here would be very difficult (passports, flights etc.).

But still like, I can only do so much on my own, and I want to give these guys a fighting chance. So if you could pass this around and donate if you can spare a bit? I'd be insanely grateful.

[cherrifire]

Please share your thoughts on the other 5 cutie marks, I'd love to hear!

Hi everypony! I got like 20 asks for the Dogwarts cutie mark lore so I'm here to speak my truth!

Before we start, I would like to write a quick reminder that a pony's cutie mark is not always their "special talent", but can also represent who they are, their personalities, and a possible destiny. Different cutie marks have different meanings and interpretations, but they're not just about representing what you're good at.

That being said, let's start with the cutie mark design I'm proudest of!

Ren's Cutie Mark

Ren's cutie mark is of a sunrise and looks pretty simple at first glance but there was a lot of thought that went into this one.

First of all, I bet you're wondering why a sunrise? Well, in the show, it is pretty typical for unicorns with great magical abilities to have one relating to space (examples being Twilight Sparkle, Sunset Shimmer, Starlight Glimmer, and Sunburst). And I figured since I wanted Ren to fall into a similar position of potentially becoming an alicorn, I gave him a cutie mark following the same trend. And I chose a sunrise to reflect the way Ren seems to glow when he enters a room. The way he carries himself is very warm and bright it just catches your eye in a similar way the sun would.

Also, Ren wears sunglasses. So a sun-themed cutie mark seemed appropriate.

Additionally, there are a couple of smaller details I want to point out too. Like the sun rays, if you look at them for a moment you'll see they're shaped like little crowns! I of course had to put a crown in thanks to how much Ren likes to play royalty, so I snuck it in there. And then the red spots underneath could both be interpreted as the sun reflected over water or blood. (But of course, this is a kid show AU so there wouldn't be any blood in Ren's destiny, just a fun reference to the red king and his whole thing about blood dyeing the snow red)

Martyn's Cutie Mark

I explained this one in an earlier ask but I thought I'd explain it again here for anyone who didn't see it!

Martyn's cutie mark is of a chopped log and a small stick.

This one is mostly a play on the name "Littlewood" but has other meanings too. As a character, Martyn tends to travel and explore quite a bit. In the Life Series specifically, he is usually the last one to find a permanent base and even then doesn't spend a lot of time in one place. Always on the move. Additionally, he's more of a wild card compared to other characters, always trying to be as unpredictable as possible.

The smaller detail here is the little swirl on top of the log is the same as the one on his Minecraft skin's shirt.

BigB's Cutie Mark

Cookies! Cookies! Cookies! BigB's cutie mark is of 3 cookies where one is trying to eat the others. There are also a few sprinkles there made to look like action lines.

We all know BigB loves cookies so of course I had to give him a cutie mark with cookies in it. For this one, I decided to follow the cutie mark trend of "symbol/item important to the pony duplicated 3 times" (examples being Fluttershy, Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie) but I added a bit more creativity to it with the top on trying to eat the others to represent just how tasty they are 😋

Additionally, rather than the first cookie trying to eat the others, you could interpret it as opening its mouth to talk. Because BigB can not keep a secret to save his life! In Double Life when he started "secret soulmates" with Grian, he didn't last a day without opening his mouth. He told Ren about it immediately because he felt bad for keeping things from him.

Also worth quickly mentioning: People pointed out in my original post that they don't think BigB would be the element of honesty because of his behaviour in Secret Life. But that's just Secret Life. I think Secret Life to BigB was like that episode of My Little Pony where Discord makes the main 6 act the opposite of their true element. BigB was just going through a weird phase of telling very obvious lies because a book told him to.

Skizz's Cutie Mark

Skizz's cutie mark is of a lightning bolt from a couple storm clouds hitting the ground.

I think this is the cutie mark with the least thought put into it, unfortunately. There was still though just not as much as the others. The big thing I thought was fun was I made the lightning bolt shaped like an "S" to stand for Skizzleman. But other than that, this cutie mark sort of has the same meaning as Rainbow Dash's cutie mark. Quick like lightning, loud, bold, dangerous, and powerful.

Impulse's Cutie Mark

Impulse's cutie mark is of a lit-up lightbulb.

I absolutely crowded this cutie mark with the letter i. If you look closely, there are 6 of them. Impulse's design also has an i-shaped pattern on the belly if you look closely enough. But that's more of a fun easter egg and doesn't exactly reflect Impulse as a character.

There are a couple of reasons I chose a lightbulb for Impulse, the first and probably most obvious is that he's a redstone guy! He's a technical guy who likes to work smarter, not harder. So I figured the My Little Pony equivalent would be a light bulb/electricity. The second reason for the lightbulb is that it's usually used as a visual representation when characters have that "eureka!" moment in cartoons. When someone has a brilliant idea a little lightbulb turns on above their head. So since Impulse is the ideas guy, I figured a lightbulb would work for his cutie mark.

Etho's Cutie Mark

Etho's cutie mark is of a snowflake with a missing branch.

I promise there is more to this cutie mark than just "Canada is cold" even if that's part of the reason I wanted to give him a winter-themed cutie mark. While it is fun to make a nod to Etho being Canadian, I thought a winter-themed cutie mark would be fun to represent how he sometimes presents himself. Cold and a bit mysterious. I think deep down once you get to know him, those attributes melt away, but for people who have never met him, he may be intimidating that way.

I'll be honest, I don't watch a lot of Etho content, but I do have a few friends who identify as Etho girlies so I did my research. I was told in his Minecraft Let's Play World, that he has a snowflake build somewhere. I believe they said it was an iron golem farm? (Please correct me if I'm wrong) but I thought that was perfect for the cutie mark. And if you're wondering why there's a branch missing, it's because one of my friends said he was incapable of finishing builds sometimes so I thought that would be fun to include.

-=+=-

Alright. Rant over. To celebrate, here are a few pony doodles so I can put this post in my art tag.

[onceuponapuffin]

Ineffable Bureaucracy and Ineffable Husbands

So, especially in the early days after the release of S2, I saw and heard a lot of people comparing these two as if they were the same. There were fan comics and fanart and fanfiction that included dialogue that was something along the lines of "why are they so healthy after only a few years and we aren't?" or "why do THEY get a happy ending and we don't?" And I mean, I haven't seen any of that in a while so maybe people have come to this conclusion on their own, but just in case, I wanted to point out

That they are fundamentally different. They are not the same.

And the reason why comes down to this conversation from 2x3:

So, hold this conversation in your brain while we go through this.

First of all, we have our Ineffable Bureaucracy, Gabriel and Beelzebub.

So these are the ones who, figuratively speaking, were born in a castle.

Gabriel was the Supreme Archangel for however many millenia, and Beelzebub was the Grand Duke of Hell for the same, roughly speaking. They are equals in positions of power.

So, when they fall in love, you have two supernatural authorities who have lived their existences believing that they can reasonably expect to have and keep whatever they want. After all, that's exactly what their lives have been (with the one exception being Beelzebub's Fall) - they want something, they get it, they keep it, and no one tells them no.

The biggest risk is to Gabriel. If Heaven were to find out, he would Fall. I can imagine Beelzebub being a bit concerned, but "Oh no," Gabriel probably figured "I Fall to Hell, and straight into your arms!" And I could see Beelzebub with a little smirk saying "I'd look after you, babe," in response.

The only time Gabriel actually worries is when he finds out that there's another punishment that he didn't realize was a possibility.

Falling to Hell is one thing, but having his memories erased is an actual threat, and possibly the first time he's ever been told no. This is when we see him panic, and leave Heaven in a mess, storing his memories away to keep them safe from the Metatron. We find out later that he was on his way to Hell anyway and just forgot halfway there and got lost.

And so, we have two beings who were always told they were Good Enough, who approached each other knowing they were able to have whatever they wanted, and were therefore able to communicate and fall in love in a healthy way. They didn't need to tip toe or hide, because they had no reason to believe anyone would ever tell them no until someone did. Their risk, because of their positions of authority, wasn't nearly as great as Aziraphale and Crowley's risk.

So now we come to our Precious Ineffable Husbands

Crowley and Aziraphale start off in much lower positions on the Celestial Food Chain. We know that they have to be very careful about their relationship to avoid the repercussions. They can't mention The Arrangement out loud, they can't put their feelings for each other into words. It has been made clear to them that they are always being watched, and anything they have can be taken away from them on a whim.

So how can they communicate safely when they've spent millenia living on eggshells and tightropes? Of course they won't, and of course it's going to be much harder for them to believe they can once they finally are safe. I definitely believe that they will get there (for my own wellbeing I have to believe that their love is stronger than anything), but they will need to fight tooth and nail in a way that Gabriel and Beelzebub didn't. All because they aren't figures of authority.

It might honestly be another good argument for Crowley taking the Grand Duke of Hell job (even though I reeeeaaaally don't want him to). It would put them in the same position as Gabriel and Beelzebub, and might give them the footing to actually escape the system (even though I think it's more likely that they're going to dismantle and/or repair the system in s3, but that's my own opinion).

These two pairs aren't mirrors of each other. Rather, they illustrate the problems with inequity that Crowley was pointing out in Edinburgh. And if S2 showed us that, I'm hoping S3 will show us possible solutions for it.