#but here's what i got most of it that's true

[anpanman95]

now that I got he appreciation post out of the way I’ll yap about what I loved the most about this whole scene because was a fucking masterpiece.

1. He looks fucked out and I’m going insane. His heavy breathing was blasting through my headphones and, although that is something that usually annoys me during these scenes, it was done carefully and tastefully. It felt natural and real, not overplayed, not overkilled, but raw and perfectly genuine.

2. Anyone else devastated by the absolute adorableness of this moment? Just me? This was such a cute short thing that casts light into their relationship. They’re both actually very carefree people, always have been, even if Jack had a hard time coming back to his true self. This moment felt so intimate and relaxed. From trying to make the other submit, playfully and sensually, they both pause here and quickly take a breather to gauge each other and decide how is this going to happen before Jack takes the lead again. These are truly Jack and Joke.

3. Wall slamming. It’s one of the cliches I absolutely devour. Ever since episode 1 I knew they would be the kind to do this. I knew their NC would be like this. They want each other too much, they’re gonna take and take and take.

4. No awkward stripping. Just desperate. The moment characters strip have always felt so unnatural for me. This was done hastily and they stumble and it doesn’t look pretty because it shouldn’t. They have wanted each other for too long for them to wait another second in getting themselves naked. Joke is so desperate he struggles with taking Jack’s shirt off and he doesn’t care nor slows down. It adds on the realness of it all.

5. More wall slamming. Dear god I’m unwell. No further words.

6. He was stupid hot for this. They are possessed. As they should be. There’s tenderness and roughness at the same time in their movements and touches, casting light on the fact they love each other but are desperately hungry for each other’s body. They never let you forget that, not once.

7. Did you hear my screams? I was not expecting that. What I’ve seen happen many times on BL NC scenes, is that there is a high contrast done in between the couple when it comes to portraying desire. Usually it’s only one of them that is more vocal or physical about it, while the other takes it and follows. Yin and War have mentioned they don’t want their characters to stick to one dynamic, and it shows a lot in this whole scene. They both are perfectly capable of taking the lead, they both want to take the lead, they both want to submit. They are equals. And that’s always gonna be that way.

The power play, the switching, the rolling in the sheets, the CONSENT, the loving looks, the gentle touches, the rough touches, the pauses, the desperation, the desire.

they did it all. not one single thing missing.

they deserve nothing less than a standing ovation.

yinwar, you did it again

[philosophicalparadox]

Also to add: sometimes questions don’t get addressed. Or other parts of a conversation just naturally turn away from where they started to the point it’s too awkward to bring it back up, or there’s just no need to respond to it.

This is especially true of what I call “mediocre” (in the archaic sense of “average quality” ) questions, I.e. “do you remember how you got here?” To a patient in a hospital. Does the answer have meaning? Yes, in the right scene. But not every scene needs to focus on that, though literally any nurse is going to ask if you are unconscious upon arrival, or even if you faint while there. They also don’t particularly care about the answer, as long as you’re not obviously in distress about it.

Similarly, “are you okay?” Asked to a person who is obviously hurt or struggling needs no answer, as such; I certainly don’t tend to answer that question conventionally when the answer is itself obvious. Can it be answered, with meaning? Yes. Does it NEED an answer to feel realistic? No.

“How are you feeling?” I think can fall into this category too.

However these are different from the “flock call” questions, as I call them — the “I’m human, are you human? Oh you are!” Game, which is all social script, I.e. “how are you?” -> “I’m fine”. “How was school?” -> “it was good” etc. these are dictated by social expectations, not legitimate answers, so I don’t even really consider them questions tbh. Nonetheless, it can feel dreadfully awkward to answer those in the expected way sometimes, and for ND people in particular, we tend to have our own little way of answering those. So as a character building aspect of dialogue, they’re valuable.

Also — that body language point!!!!!! Body language IS A LANGUAGE. Entire conversations can be had with no words spoken at all, especially between people who know each other well or in intense confrontations.

And that carries into dialogue as well — sometimes what’s being said with words is Not what’s being said with body language, and that can really make a scene feel both dynamic and real!

The number of times I’ve seen my fiancé, for example, having a “pleasant” conversation with his uncle or mom, and unless you knew how to read his body language, you’d never assume by dialogue alone that he was being closed off or defensive. But nearly every time they have any kind of long talk, regardless of topic, he always crosses his arms, and leans backward, and stands up if he can, if he’s not already, and will, if they follow suit, put something between himself and them. He is the veritable picture of “please don’t talk to me” , buuuuuuut we live in a house of people who can’t read into that to save themselves, except ironically for lil old autistic me, because I had to learn that body language unintuitively lol. However, it’s a great example of that subtextual information being presented in conjunction with dialogue; if you only heard them speak on tape, you’d think they got along and had a wonderful relationship. But by observing the body language, the entire tone of even the most “nice” conversations shifts dramatically into a more questionable light.

But anyways, those are just my contributions! :)

Things Real People Do in Dialogue (For Your Next Story)

Okay, let’s be real—dialogue can make or break a scene. You want your characters to sound natural, like actual humans talking, not robots reading a script. So, how do you write dialogue that feels real without it turning into a mess of awkward pauses and “ums”? Here’s a little cheat sheet of what real people actually do when they talk (and you can totally steal these for your next story):

1. People Interrupt Each Other All the Time In real conversations, nobody waits for the perfect moment to speak. We interrupt, cut each other off, and finish each other's sentences. Throw in some overlaps or interruptions in your dialogue to make it feel more dynamic and less like a rehearsed play.

2. They Don’t Always Say What They Mean Real people are masters of dodging. They’ll say one thing but mean something totally different (hello, passive-aggressive banter). Or they’ll just avoid the question entirely. Let your characters be vague, sarcastic, or just plain evasive sometimes—it makes their conversations feel more layered.

3. People Trail Off... We don’t always finish our sentences. Sometimes we just... stop talking because we assume the other person gets what we’re trying to say. Use that in your dialogue! Let a sentence trail off into nothing. It adds realism and shows the comfort (or awkwardness) between characters.

4. Repeating Words Is Normal In real life, people repeat words when they’re excited, nervous, or trying to make a point. It’s not a sign of bad writing—it’s how we talk. Let your characters get a little repetitive now and then. It adds a rhythm to their speech that feels more genuine.

5. Fillers Are Your Friends People say "um," "uh," "like," "you know," all the time. Not every character needs to sound polished or poetic. Sprinkle in some filler words where it makes sense, especially if the character is nervous or thinking on their feet.

6. Not Everyone Speaks in Complete Sentences Sometimes, people just throw out fragments instead of complete sentences, especially when emotions are high. Short, choppy dialogue can convey tension or excitement. Instead of saying “I really think we need to talk about this,” try “We need to talk. Now.”

7. Body Language Is Part of the Conversation Real people don’t just communicate with words; they use facial expressions, gestures, and body language. When your characters are talking, think about what they’re doing—are they fidgeting? Smiling? Crossing their arms? Those little actions can add a lot of subtext to the dialogue without needing extra words.

8. Awkward Silences Are Golden People don’t talk non-stop. Sometimes, they stop mid-conversation to think, or because things just got weird. Don’t be afraid to add a beat of awkward silence, a long pause, or a meaningful look between characters. It can say more than words.

9. People Talk Over Themselves When They're Nervous When we’re anxious, we tend to talk too fast, go back to rephrase what we just said, or add unnecessary details. If your character’s nervous, let them ramble a bit or correct themselves. It’s a great way to show their internal state through dialogue.

10. Inside Jokes and Shared History Real people have history. Sometimes they reference something that happened off-page, or they share an inside joke only they get. This makes your dialogue feel lived-in and shows that your characters have a life beyond the scene. Throw in a callback to something earlier, or a joke only two characters understand.

11. No One Explains Everything People leave stuff out. We assume the person we’re talking to knows what we’re talking about, so we skip over background details. Instead of having your character explain everything for the reader’s benefit, let some things go unsaid. It’ll feel more natural—and trust your reader to keep up!

12. Characters Have Different Voices Real people don’t all talk the same way. Your characters shouldn’t either! Pay attention to their unique quirks—does one character use slang? Does another speak more formally? Maybe someone’s always cutting people off while another is super polite. Give them different voices and patterns of speech so their dialogue feels authentic to them.

13. People Change the Subject In real life, conversations don’t always stay on track. People get sidetracked, jump to random topics, or avoid certain subjects altogether. If your characters are uncomfortable or trying to dodge a question, let them awkwardly change the subject or ramble to fill the space.

14. Reactions Aren’t Always Immediate People don’t always respond right away. They pause, they think, they hesitate. Sometimes they don’t know what to say, and that delay can speak volumes. Give your characters a moment to process before they respond—it’ll make the conversation feel more natural.

Important note: Please don’t use all of these tips in one dialogue at once.

[cosmicalily]

"pilates princess" a changbin oneshot by @cosmicalily

author's note: i was talking to @thevampywolf this morning about how there's a proper lack of changbin fluff fics on tumblr atm and i decided to make it my mission of the day to change that! i absolutely love binnie, he's the silliest, sweetest guy and i was thinking of how to blend his gym obsession with his adorable personality, and a (very much so in love) pilates princess was born!!

Seo Changbin did not have time for girls.

According to his roommate, Han Jisung, his one and only true love was the gym, where he spent almost every spare second of his day. His diet consisted of protein powder, chicken breasts, green smoothies and instant ramen. He only drank cold brews with absolutely no sugar, because he couldn’t stand sweet things. 

He was pretty quiet and some would say intimidating. Didn’t say a lot, didn’t do a lot.

But now, watching you, he felt something different. He felt strange. He felt soft.

Changbin looked over at you curiously from the bench press, pausing to catch his breath for a moment as you stretched your body like a cat, toes pointed, shoulders straight.

Dressed in a pale pink sports bra with a matching long-sleeved ballet wrap and black leggings, to say you looked a little out of place in a predominantly male gym was an understatement. Your hair was pulled back with a ribbon, a sticker-decorated drink bottle by the side of your mat and an iced milky-green drink beside it.

You breathed slowly, stretching your arms forward and touching your toes before sitting straight, cocking your head at your one-man audience.

“Why are you watching me?” you wrinkled your nose in disgust, self-consciously placing a hand over your chest. “I’m here for the exact same reason as you, it’s not my fault the girls’ dorms don’t have a gym.”

Changbin flushed. “I’m sorry. It probably seemed creepy, fuck, it’s not, I promise. I’m just . . . curious. What were you doing? I’ve never seen anyone exercise like that. Everyone who comes in either beats the shit out of the boxing bag or lifts.”

“Pilates,” you smiled, looking less uncomfortable. “I got my instructing licence a bit ago, but the place I teach at is only open in the mornings. So if I’ve had an early class or lecture and want to work out in the afternoon, I have to come here. Trust me, I wouldn’t be here voluntarily. You guys are gross.”

He pouted. “I’m not. I’m cute.” 

“Yeah, sure you are, princess,” you chuckled, taking a sip from the green drink. You noticed him looking at it. “It’s matcha, do you want some?”

“Fuck no, my friend said that tastes like grass,” Changbin shook his head furiously.

You laughed at him, inching the cup closer to him. “C’mon, try a sip. You’ll like this one, it’s sweet. I always get vanilla in it since I can’t stand bitter drinks.”

He very cautiously leaned forward, looking at you carefully in case you recoiled when he pressed his lips on the straw. You didn’t, seeming less and less shy by the second, watching him eagerly as he swallowed.

“...and the verdict is?” you prompted.

“Where can I get my own?”

Jisung looked around Changbin’s room in shock, eyes comically wide as he took in his surroundings. Sure, it had been a week while he’d been staying with his parents, but surely Changbin’s life hadn’t changed so . . . drastically? Or had he somehow been invaded by some kind of pink fairy?

A pale pink sports bra lay strewn on Changbin’s bed, accompanied by a pair of soft grey flared leggings and a drink bottle. There was a handbag too, with ribbons and cute fluffy keychains, all belongings that most certainly were not his. But there were slightly more permanent looking changes, too. A pink MyMelody sticker on Changbin’s previously pristine laptop. A little beaded bow charm on his duffle bag. Two polaroids pinned above his bed; one of a girl making a kissy face, another of her with Changbin, pinching his cheek as he beamed at her adoringly.

Did Seo Changbin have a girlfriend?

And why wasn’t she a black-donning, gym obsessed weirdo like he was?

“Oh hi, Ji, you’re back!” Changbin smiled wide, something that Jisung swore he had never seen in all his time being his roommate. Or at least, not for a very long time. But Changbin had a whole different air about him; his body, although still buff, didn’t seem as tense as it usually was. His brow wasn’t furrowed and there was colour in his cheeks. And, for the love of God, had he blow dried his hair?

Jisung smiled back. “Hey, Bin. What are you drinking? New protein powder?”

“It’s a vanilla matcha, you should try it,” he handed it to Jisung, who took a tentative sip then stared, open-mouthed in shock.

“That’s . . . sweet.”

“No shit,” Changbin laughed at him, thumping his friend on the back. “It’s good, right? Y/N introduced me to them.”

Jisung handed it back, still suspicious that the real Seo Changbin had been abducted and that the man in front of him was a secret twin. “Oh, nice. Is that her stuff in your room?”

“Sure is,” a sweet voice chuckled from behind Changbin. A petite girl flew through the door, wrapping her arms tight around Changbin’s waist. “I’m Y/N, Jisung. It’s nice to finally meet you! Binnie’s told me so much about you two.”

Jisung raised an eyebrow. “And you’re . . . ?”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Changbin said proudly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah, but he’s the babygirl. Everyone knows that,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “He’s a pilates princess now, Jisung, I’ve converted him. Surprised he wasn’t doing it earlier; it’s very him, you know.”

Jisung blinked slowly, taking in the sight in front of him.

“Seo Changbin? A princess?” he mumbled.

“Sure I am,” Changbin shrugged, and Jisung promptly fainted in shock.

[dashing-disaster]

Bad Beer and Naked Rodents

Thank you @xmidhel for beta reading!

also on AO3

“You know,” Sal drawls, twisting the cap off another beer and handing it over, “for someone with an above average IQ, you’re dense as fuck.”

Tommy glares but accepts the bottle without protest. It’s his third. He takes a long sip and shudders. Bud Light. Why did Sal have to be such a fucking stereotype? But he was too tired to complain. He was too tired to do much of anything right now.

“He’s not wrong,” Lucy said to his left and Tommy directed his glare towards her instead. Like Sal, she wasn’t impressed.

“What? You know it’s true. There you are, genuinely happy for the first time in…” she pauses to think, “for the first time since I met you, actually.”

“Ever” Tommy supplies miserably, sinking further into the couch cushions. Something pokes into his right kidney and he reaches underneath himself, pulling out a small doll with messy blue hair, a pink ruffled dress and a … horn?

“Unicorn Barbie,” Sal exclaims and snags the doll from his hand. “Thanks man, you just saved this household a lot of sweat and tears. Look, babe, he found her!”

“Uncle Tommy to the rescue,” Gina says dryly, without even looking up from her laptop where she’s furiously typing some email that’s probably important and Tommy feels a pang of guilt at intruding on her peace and quiet unannounced at 9pm on a week day, Lucy in tow. He’s unable to dwell on it, however, because Lucy pipes up again.

“Let’s circle back here for a moment, your life was going great, you were happy, your hair was even starting to look good-“

“Hey!”

“Don’t interrupt me, Thomas. My point is, you got scared of commitment for three seconds and tell Evan Buckley, Evan Buckley, to go off to frolic on Grindr? I’m sorry, but do you know how stupid that is? Do you have any idea what happens to guys like Evan Buckley on Grindr?”

“Say his name like that one more time and I swear to God.” It comes out with far more venom than intended and he cringes internally. Why does he have to be such a bitch? It’s a credit to their love for him that none of his friends even bat an eye.

They’re not gentle either, and Tommy’s kind of glad about it. He doesn’t deserve gentle. Not now, maybe not ever again.

“What happens to guys like him on Grindr,” Sal asks curiously and then frowns. “And what do you know about Grindr?”

“My cousin wanted to try it out but he’s super paranoid about technology stealing his data, man’s still got a Nokia. So we set up his profile on my phone. He decided it wasn’t for him 10 minutes in but I kept the app and sometimes I go window shopping when downtime gets too long.”

“Why am I not surprised in the slightest,” Tommy mutters into his beer. Lucy is undeterred.

“Anyway, Gabe’s no hag either and similarly baby-faced as Buck so every time I open the app they’re on him in minutes. Seriously, it’s like The Walking Dead and some of the messages I get are borderline illegal. And don’t get me started on the dick pics. They’re not even nice-looking dicks most of the time.”

“Is there such a thing as a nice-looking dick? I’ve always found they all look a little like mole-rats.”

Sal, who’s been fiddling with Unicorn Barbie’s hair in a futile attempt to get out some of the knots pauses and makes a pitiful little sound staring wide-eyed at his wife who’s still neither looking up from her screen, nor is she pausing her aggressive typing, and Tommy’s both impressed and a little scared of that level of multi-tasking.

“Don’t worry, bud, Gi loves your dick. You’ve got three little monsters to prove it.”

Sal shoots Lucy a look so dirty Tommy almost laughs.

“I love the man attached to it. It’s still a mole-rat, though.” A beat of silence, then Gina looks up from her laptop for the first time in two hours, finding her husband’s eyes across the coffee table. “I love mole-rats.”

Lucy snorts, but Sal looks so pleased even Tommy has to smile.

“Still, though,” Lucy picks up the previous topic again, “are we sure it’s a good idea to throw Buck into a world of mole-rats and creepy old dudes wanting him to call them ‘daddy’?”

Tommy decidedly does not look in Sal’s direction. He loves Lucy and Gina but this is a topic one only discusses with one’s very best of friends.

“A world of disappointment, more like. Buck’s had Tommy now, anything else will just be a let-down.” The dirty grin spreading on Sal’s face tells Tommy he’s about to be in trouble. And he’s right.

“We didn’t call my boy here Nine-Inch-Nail in high school for nothin’.”

“Okay, first of all, that is such a lie,” the grin goes impossibly wider, “and second, I am not 9 inches, okay?”

Three sets of eyes wander down to his crotch and if it wasn’t these exact three people, Tommy would be so uncomfortable right now. As it is, he simply huffs and shoves a throw pillow into his lap, crossing his arms like a petulant toddler.

“I’m 8.6.”

Silence.

Then all three of them burst out laughing. He tries to hold on to his petulance, but he only lasts about ten seconds before the corners of his mouth begin to twitch and he finds himself joining in against all odds.

“As I was saying,” Sal hiccups after they’ve all calmed down again, “Buck doesn’t need any other mens’ mole-rats. He only needs Tommy’s giant mole-rat.”

Tommy groans.

“God, I hate you.”

Half past midnight Gina pulls the plug and throws them out. Sal tries to offer him the guest room, but he declines. As much as he loves his best friend’s daughters, he doubts he’ll can be Fun Uncle Tommy in the morning and he hates disappointing them.

As they wait for their Uber to pull up, Tommy feels strong fingers wrap around his wrist and a moment later he’s pulled into a tight hug.

“Don’t fuck up your life like that, Tom, not again. You were finally so happy. And I like you happy. ” Sal’s voice is quiet next to his ear, but there’s a softness to it that is usually reserved for his daughters. Tommy feels his throat close up and he buries his face into Sal’s shoulder.

“I just don’t know how not to, Sallie,” he admits and hates how forlorn it sounds.

How forlorn he feels.

“You trust him. I know it’s the most terrifying thing to do, believe me I do. But you gotta.”

Sal pulls back to catch his eyes, but keeps hold of Tommy’s shoulders.

“This man is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Tom, and if you give up on what you have now, you will regret it for the rest of your life. But in order to keep it, you need to let him in and you need to trust him to know what he wants. It’s not your place to decide that for him.

And I know you want to let him set the pace, but you can only do that as long as you’re able to keep up. This relationship is about the both of you and if things are moving too fast, you have to tell him that. It’s not fair to either of you if you don’t.

And Tommy, you have to talk to him about your shit.”

Tommy opens his mouth to protest but Sal shuts him up with a shake of his head.

“No buts. Buck isn’t stupid. Do you really think he hasn’t clocked by now that you have trauma? I’m not saying you gotta tell him all of it at once. But you need to start somewhere.”

Sal pulls him back in roughly and presses a kiss to his temple.

 “I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. He wants to take care of your heart so badly. Let him. Let him love you. All of you.

And if it all goes to shit anyway, you know that I’ll be right here. I always will be.”

Tommy bursts into tears.

It’s 3am when he finally finds himself knocking at the same door he closed behind himself for what he thought would be the last time less than ten hours ago.

It’s telling that it takes Evan just under half a minute to open it. It’s more telling that his eyes are red-rimmed, and he’s still wearing the same clothes.

Evan’s terrible at hiding his emotions, doesn’t even try to most of the time. It’s one of the many things Tommy loves about him.

Right now, he seems to experience all of them at the same time.

Hope, when he opens the door. Relief, when his eyes fall on Tommy in the hallway.

Hurt, anger, fear, concern, fondness, and finally back to hope.

He’s silent. Waiting.

Tommy takes a breath.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

They look at each other, the insecurity and fear hanging between them like a cloud of vapor, so thick Tommy can almost taste it.

But there’s something else, too. Smaller, more fragile, and yet persistent like a moth chasing the light.

It’s the same thing Tommy’s seen in Evan’s eyes earlier.

Hope.

For a time, neither of them moves, as if they’re scared, that if they do it’ll spook and leave them alone in the dark again.

A minute passes. Two.

Somewhere in the building a baby begins to cry.

Evan steps aside.

[rafesfawn]

🪽🧺 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋

𝜗ৎ⋆｡˚ when rafe sees a precious little doll on the side of the road with a broke-down car, how can he resist out of the kindness of his heart offering her a ride? just a ride home, that's all...

or how trailerpark!angel!reader and rafe met!

warnings: use of the nickname pet & little one, reader! is eighteen-nineteen! bit of perv!rafe, barely proofread!

a/n: first time writing a rafe fic/blurb! im so excited, also this is based on this ask and thank you so much for sending something I really appreciated it and I hope u like it mwah! I would say you two meet in like early season 2 (right before the cross storyline) also for the format slight ib to others on here esp @rafesangelita (sorry for the tag!)

this was based off of this ask! which tysm i literally love requests and rafe and trailerpark!angel!reader is my new obsession <3

a small, meaningless kick was made to the tire while you huffed and groaned, putting two hands over your frustrated features as all you wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

“piece of shit,” you mumbled under your breath, kicking the tire once more, but immediately a whimper fell from your lips. the pain shot from your toe up to your spine. making you sniffle and tip-toe in pain. in your denim ruffle skirt, white socks, and pink converse, you sat down on the asphalt, on the side of the road, leaning against the side of your broken-down car.

she wasn’t the best car, but she surely got you around most of the time. most of the time. it was a little volkswagen beetle, light pink in color, covered in so many stickers some wondered if it was passing inspection. it wasn't.

sitting with your head against the car for what felt like hours (it was maybe ten minutes), but spending even that on the side of a main road in kildare island was torture. especially with the beating sun late august provided.

rafe was speeding down the road on the way to play golf and get drunk with topper and kelce. “ah shit, i don’t know, man.” he said into his phone, holding it up with one hand; his voice gruff and confident, topper on the other line. “you really think i won’t kick your ass today huh?” a smirk grew on his already smug expression.

letting out a short chuckle at toppers response, nothing anybody ever said meant more than a laugh to him. or that's what it used to be like anyway, his act wasn't together if anything, it was worse than it'd ever been. his father condemning him to disingenuous "discipline" to forget about the possible death of his golden daughter.

"the fuck?" he mutters into the mic, his voice laced with confusion. as he sees up ahead on the road, a pink car broken down, with the most precious thing sitting against it. a pout on the angels soft lips and the most defeated look in her eye. aw, you just fell right into my lap, didn't you? little angel.

your eyes glued on the pavement, your entertainment of watching a little ladybug try to make it to safety in the distance, was shortly interrupted.

a nice black truck coming into view it came to such a short stop it almost took your breath away, the breaks slightly screeching at the haste. a tire replaced the spot the ladybug once was.

you stood brushing the dirt and gravel off the backsides of your pale thighs, left bare by the short fabric of your skirt.

the man stepped out of the truck. he was tall, and the sleeves of his polo looked like they were about to burst at the seams, not able to contain the biceps beneath. his features strong and statue-like, his deep sea eyes hidden behind the curtain bangs that hung over his forehead. a grin that seemed too genuine, too good to be true.

you removed your heart-shaped sunglasses, placing them on top of your head to see him more clearly. your possible savior, but he was anything but.

he stepped a bit closer, seeing the state of her already pretty beaten car, "having some car trouble?" rafe asked as if he wasn't stating the obvious.

you pretended he wasn't either as you nodded, the frown only slight now but still on your lips as your eyes remained looking up into his.

"aw.. poor thing we can't have that, what happened?" his voice, a mockery of sympathy. as he inspected the piece of shit car she loved so much. his care coming from a place of ownership, of burning ache or want.

still, in slight shock, you hadn't answered him, following behind him as he reopened the hood like he owned the car. not even realizing you'd been rude and not replied till he spoke again. "little one, i can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong." a heady mix of gentle and firm that made your mouth go dry and your head dizzy.

"oh- it's been on her last limb for like ever, i guess she finally called it quits... right on my way home." you said with a little sad laugh that rafe wanted to bottle the sound of and listen to on repeat. "and I really need to get home," you added fiddling with your fingers in front of you.

a sweet girl all out of options, rafe was so glad he was here to provide her with his help. "tell you what, I'll take you home and come back and fix this thing up for you, huh?" he offered, there goes his saturday plans he presumed. it'd be worth it. he told himself he'd make it worth it, with those shy eyes and the expression you carried like a lost puppy. you'd owe him he'd make sure to get something in return.

just like he figured, you shook your head. never wanting to accept such a grand favor. "I can't ask you to do that, I mean, I don't even know your name." nerves, curiosity, and a glint of something else tinged in your voice, so many wonders in that head as soon as his truck came to a stop for you. why? the only question running through your mind.

"It's rafe, can I help you out now?" his genuine grin turned almost smug at his own remark, brushing that bangs out his face, the effort pointless as they immediately fell back again.

you paused. picking at the already chipped white nail polish on your sore fingertips, a larger-rougher hand covered your own, stopping your movements with that firm gentleness he carried around her. you looked up at him, he was so much closer. the scent of some cologne that probably could pay your rent, and a tinge of smokey wood filled your senses.

"pet?" he questioned with an expecting tilt of his head, calling you that like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your body and mouth responding before giving another second for your brain or anxiety to think it over, you nodded. "can you please give me a ride home?" you hesitantly asked, it felt weird. getting help, and even asking for it felt foreign, he offered it so graciously like it was nothing.

looking down upon her, his grin turned genuine once again, his eyes seemed almost proud it was a soothing balm to her nervous heart. a rosy hue to her cheeks as his palm covered the side of her neck, making a few pats to the flesh before leading her to his truck.

you'd owe him. something he was sure you were ready for.

[eimearkuopio]

Also I know a lot of my students who are non-native English speakers definitely used AI for the first draft of their work, and some of them then didn't do enough editing/refining for it to no longer count as cheating. They're legit allowed to use AI in a limited capacity! But they have to tell us how much they used it and they still need to submit something that is of a better quality than "whatever the AI spewed out" to get a good grade. It's not racist to point out that in the UK, many of the ESL students aren't white! They're not Americans from non-English-speaking households, they're kids from other countries who know that a UK degree will give them a greater social cachet when they go home; and that's true, but the students who got their degrees pre-COVID had to do far more work much more limited tools, and I know most of our students are fucked up after COVID, but I've heard horror stories of Engineering* students who can't do the maths that they need to do in order to build things that will not collapse and kill people, so there's really only so far we can give people a by based on the aftermath of COVID. Especially if they think they can build a career on whatever nonsense chatgpt spews out.

AI is the new version of the electric calculator. It's disrupting our existing paradigm, and to insist nobody ever uses it would be foolish and doing a disservice to our students who will have access to AI in their careers. But we need to come up with new assessment methods, and I can tell you from the inside that we are working our asses off to try to do that properly in a way that assesses student ability meaningfully and in a way that is consistent with current technology. It will take time. But you wouldn't believe how much some academics genuinely care about doing their job properly. In my case, I care about it so much that when colleagues' fuck-ups made it impossible for me to do my job properly, it resulted in a full-on psychotic break. I'm the canary in the coal mine. AI is one of the many many toxic issues that nearly killed me this summer. Here's hoping we can learn enough from what I went through for it to have been worth it. 😞

*not going to say which uni I heard this story at but it wasn't about anyone I've had any interaction with and it was admittedly third hand

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 11

Pairings: Bucky x Reader (eventually lololol)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Angst, stupid people, dramaaaaa

A/N: I aint ready for peace yet 😇🫶🏻

Masterpost

NYU 4th Year

The late afternoon sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon as you exited your lecture hall, your bag slung over your shoulder and your mind already racing with thoughts of your looming paper. The quad was buzzing with students heading off to their weekend plans, and you were lost in your thoughts when you spotted Natasha leaning casually against a lamppost, her red hair catching the golden light.

“There she is,” Nat called, waving you over with a grin. “What took you so long? I’ve been standing here for ages.”

“Class ran late,” you said, rolling your eyes as you walked up to her. “Professor decided to drop a surprise reading quiz on us.”

Natasha scoffed, falling into step beside you. “Reading quizzes on a Friday should be illegal. Anyway, there’s a party tonight at Walker’s place. You coming?”

You hesitated, already feeling the weight of your weekend workload. “I don’t know, Nat. I’ve got that big paper due next week, and I’m kind of behind. I was planning to get a head start tonight.”

Natasha groaned, clasping her hands together in an exaggerated plea. “Come on, please? Wanda already bailed on me, and I really want to see this guy who’s going to be there. I can’t get stuck with the boys by myself—they’ll ruin my whole vibe.”

You sighed, torn between responsibility and the infectious energy of your best friend. “Fine,” you said reluctantly. “But I’m starting my introduction before we leave. No arguments.”

“Scout’s honor,” Natasha said, raising three fingers in a mock salute.

You gave her a pointed look. “You weren’t even a Girl Scout.”

She grinned, undeterred. “True, but I can feel it. In another life, I was definitely a spy.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you parted ways. “Yeah, sure, Nat.”

By the time you got back to your dorm, Natasha was already busy texting, her phone lighting up with each rapid-fire message. You could tell by the sly smile on her face that she was talking to her crush. The thing about Natasha was that she always knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it. She was a spitfire, sharp-tongued and unapologetically confident, but underneath all that fire, she was a hopeless romantic. Most guys your age weren’t ready for someone like her, but that never stopped her from trying.

You sat at your desk and opened your laptop, determined to at least get your introduction done before the night derailed into party chaos. The words flowed easily, and by the time you finished your intro and even managed to start your first paragraph, you felt a small sense of accomplishment.

Alright you texted Natasha, I’m done for now. Let’s get ready.

Within seconds, your phone buzzed with her reply: Finally!!! Be there in 5.

True to her word, Natasha burst into your room moments later, her arms loaded with a makeup bag and a pair of heels. You both commandeered Wanda’s bed, laying out a mess of possible outfits, debating the merits of each one as you tried to find the perfect look.

You finally settled on a sleek black mini-dress that hugged your figure in all the right places, paired with short heels and of course your signature neckless: your locket. Natasha went for a bold red jumpsuit with a plunging neckline and sky-high heels.

Standing side by side in front of the mirror, Natasha let out a low whistle. “Damn, we’re hot.”

You giggled, adjusting the strap of your dress. “We clean up nice.”

Natasha’s eyes drifted to the delicate gold locket resting against your collarbone, and she smiled. “That locket… you’ve been wearing it forever. I’ve never seen you without it.”

You glanced down, your fingers lightly brushing over the familiar weight of the locket. “Yeah, it’s kind of a family thing, my mom gave it to be before she passed"

Natasha, smiled sadly her curiosity piqued. “You never did tell me what’s inside.”

You held the locket, fidgeting it between your fingers. “On one side, there’s a quote about love that my great-great-great-grandmother supposedly wrote. My grandma told me everyone who’s had this locket would place a photo of the man they loved on the other side—so they’d always be close to their heart."

Natasha’s eyes softened. “Your whole family sounds like a bunch of hopeless romantics.”

You laughed. “Apparently. Guess it runs in the blood.”

Natasha smirked, leaning in. “So… who’s in yours?”

You hesitated, your fingers lingering on the locket before closing it. “No one,” you said, offering a small smile. “I don’t really have anyone to put in there right now.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Mhm, sure. No one at all?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not everyone is as quick to fall head over heels as you, Nat.”

“Hey,” she said, placing a hand over her heart dramatically, “I just know what I want.”

“And what you deserve,” you added with a grin.

Natasha nodded approvingly. “Exactly.”

With that, you both grabbed your bags and made your way out of the dorm, ready to take on the night. Natasha’s phone buzzed again, and she couldn’t hide the excitement on her face as she typed back.

You glanced at her, smiling softly. “Texting your mystery man?”

“Maybe,” she said with a wink. “Tonight’s going to be fun—you’ll see.”

The crisp night air buzzed with the energy of the weekend as you and Natasha made your way down the crowded street, laughter and music spilling out from houses along the way. The distant thump of bass grew louder with every step, and soon you were standing in front of John Walker’s house, its windows glowing and the porch already packed with students.

Natasha looped her arm through yours as you approached the door, her heels clicking against the pavement. “You know,” she said, her voice light but teasing, “I always thought you might have Bucky’s picture in that locket.”

You stumbled slightly, your eyes snapping to hers. “What?”

She smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, don’t act so surprised. You two have been inseparable since kindergarten. Best friends, sure, but there’s always been… something.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but she didn’t give you the chance. “I mean, hey, no judgment. I’m just saying I’m a little surprised he’s not in there.”

You were about to respond, to come up with some half-hearted deflection, but before you could, Natasha grinned and yanked you toward the door. “No time for heart-to-hearts now. Let’s find the boys.”

The moment you stepped inside, the heat and noise hit you like a wave. The living room was packed, bodies swaying to the beat of the music as red solo cups were passed around. You caught a glimpse of a makeshift beer pong table in the corner, surrounded by a cheering crowd. The scent of cheap alcohol and sweat mingled in the air, and someone had already spilled something sticky on the floor.

Natasha scanned the room with a practiced eye, her grip still firm on your arm. “There they are,” she said, nodding toward the far side of the room where Steve and Bucky were leaning against a wall, talking. Steve had his usual easy smile, but Bucky’s eyes flicked across the room, as if he was keeping tabs on everything and everyone.

Natasha released your arm and nudged you forward with a sly grin. “Go on. I’ll catch up with you in a minute.” Before you could protest, she disappeared into the crowd, already hunting down her mystery man.

You took a deep breath and weaved your way through the throng of people, your heart picking up speed as you got closer to them. Bucky’s head turned slightly, and when his eyes landed on you, a slow smile spread across his face. He nudged Steve, who looked up and gave you a warm wave.

Here’s a revised version with smoother transitions and more natural dialogue flow:

“Well, well,” Bucky’s voice cut through the noise as you and Natasha finally reached him and Steve. He leaned casually against the wall, a lopsided grin on his face. “Look who decided to show up.”

Steve chuckled, raising his cup in a mock toast. “Didn’t think we’d see you tonight. Thought you had some big paper to write?”

“I did,” you replied, crossing your arms with a smirk. “But Natasha here wouldn’t take no for an answer. Said it was a life-or-death situation.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Natasha, relentless? Shocking.”

“She’s practically a force of nature,” you said, glancing around. “So, drinks?”

Steve drained the last of his beer and set his cup down with a satisfied sigh. “You two go ahead. I’m gonna head over to the keg and see if I can beat my personal record tonight.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Best of luck, Stevie.”

Steve winked as he stepped away. “Now that you’re here, I don’t need it.”

As he disappeared into the crowd, you and Bucky stood there in a comfortable silence for a moment, the bass of the music thumping around you. Then, Bucky gave you one of his signature half-smiles, the kind that always made your heart skip a beat. “Come on,” he said, reaching for your hand and pulling you toward the drink table.

His touch was brief but enough to send a spark up your arm. You followed without protest, a small smile tugging at your lips. When you reached the table, he handed you a drink, his fingers brushing against yours—a fleeting, seemingly innocent moment that left your cheeks warm.

“Thanks,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze as you lifted the cup to your lips.

Bucky leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe. But before you could think of a response, Natasha appeared from behind you, clapping her hands together, cutting through the moment.

“Alright, people,” she announced, her tone playful. “What’s the plan? Beer pong? Dancing? Or do we just stand here and look devastatingly cool?”

Bucky smirked, his eyes still on you. “I think we’ve already nailed the last one.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “How about we find Steve before he gets himself into trouble?”

Bucky raised his cup in agreement. “Solid plan.”

With that, the three of you moved back into the crowd, weaving through the crush of people and the haze of music. Even as the party buzzed around you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Bucky’s lingering gaze—or the way your locket, pressed against your chest, seemed to grow heavier with every step.

"There he is!" Natasha beamed, stopping "Buck you go watch him, me and my girl are gonna dance for a bit!" Before either of you could respond, Natasha was already pulling you away, you turned around glancing over your shoulder briefly to see Bucky's blue eyes smiling at you as he gave you a single wave.

The music thumped loudly in your ears, the bass vibrating through the floor as you swayed with Natasha in the middle of the crowded living room. The alcohol buzzed warmly in your veins, and for a moment, you let yourself forget about everything—about the paper, about the tension that always seemed to linger whenever Bucky was around.

You and Nat were giggling, holding onto each other as you moved to the beat. It was freeing, exhilarating even, until your gaze drifted across the room and landed on him.

Bucky was leaning casually against the wall, his signature smirk firmly in place as he talked to a blonde. She was laughing at something he said, her hand lightly resting on his arm. They were close—too close. Her hair glinted under the dim party lights, and the way she leaned in, hanging on his every word, made your stomach drop.

Your world stopped for a second. The music faded into the background, replaced by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You blinked, trying to shake it off, telling yourself it didn’t matter, but the familiar ache settled in your chest anyway.

You tore your eyes away, grabbing your red solo cup and downing the rest of its contents in one go. The burn of the cheap liquor didn’t help, but it gave you something to focus on. You crushed the cup in your hand and let it drop to the floor, the plastic crumpling beneath your heel as you forced yourself to keep dancing.

“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath, plastering a fake smile on your face.

Natasha laughed beside you, her movements loose and carefree. She slurred slightly, her words barely audible over the music. “Hey! You… you took your necklace off!”

You frowned, reaching up to touch your neck instinctively. “No, I didn’t.”

“Then where is it?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she swayed in place.

Your hand moved frantically over your collarbone, panic setting in as your fingers found only bare skin. Your locket was gone. “Shit,” you whispered, your eyes wide as you started scanning the floor beneath your feet. “Nat, it’s gone!”

Her hands immediately went to your shoulders, steadying you. “Don’t panic,” she said, her voice slurring but her tone trying to stay calm. “It… it can’t be far.”

But it was too late. The panic clawed its way up your throat, and tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. The music was too loud, the crowd too thick. You dropped to your knees, your hands scrambling over the sticky floor as you searched desperately for the locket.

“Excuse me! Sorry!” you mumbled, trying to push past people, but it was no use. The sea of feet around you made it impossible to see anything.

You backed up, bumping into someone behind you. A pair of hands immediately settled on your waist, steadying you. “Hey, you okay?” the guy asked, but you shoved him off without even looking, your vision blurring with tears.

Natasha was back at your side in an instant, her hands on your shoulders again, her mouth moving, but you couldn’t hear her. The world felt like it was spinning too fast, and all you could think about was the locket—your family heirloom. The one your mother had given you before she passed away. The one that had been passed down for generations. And now it was gone, lost in the chaos of some stupid party.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you stumbled backward, your breathing coming in short, panicked gasps. You didn’t even realize someone was pulling you out of the house until the cool night air hit your skin.

“Hey, hey,” that same guy's voice said, low and urgent. You blinked through the haze of your tears, and your heart twisted painfully when you saw who it was.

Bucky.

He had his hands on your arms, guiding you away from the crowd, his eyes filled with concern. “Come on, you’re okay,” he murmured, leading you to a quieter spot on the porch. “Breathe, alright? Just breathe.”

You tried to speak, but the words got caught in your throat. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, your vision still blurry from the tears.

“Look at me,” Bucky said softly, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

His words, his presence, grounded you just enough to pull in a shaky breath. “It’s gone, Buck,” you finally managed, your voice breaking. “The locket… my mom’s locket. It’s gone.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he glanced back toward the house. “Okay,” he said, his voice calm but determined. “We’re gonna find it.”

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “There’s too many people. It’s probably already stepped on or—or lost for good.”

“Hey,” Bucky said firmly, his hands tightening slightly on your arms. “We’ll find it. I promise.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was unwavering determination. His eyes softened, and he gently wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Wait here,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’m going back in.”

“No, Buck—”

“I’ll find it,” he interrupted, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “Just stay here.”

Before you could protest, he turned and disappeared back into the house, leaving you alone on the porch, the night air chilling your skin. You sank onto the steps, your hands trembling as you clutched at your knees, praying silently that he was right.

The minutes felt like hours as you sat on the porch, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every time the door opened, you looked up, hoping to see Bucky stepping out with your locket in hand. But each time, it was just another person stumbling out into the night, oblivious to your panic.

Finally, the door opened again, and Bucky emerged. His expression was serious, his steps purposeful, but his hands were empty.

Your heart sank, the last bit of hope slipping away. He walked over and crouched in front of you, his eyes meeting yours with a steady calm.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice firm but laced with regret. “I checked everywhere I could. Asked everyone. It’s just… not there.”

You nodded slowly, your throat tightening as you tried to process his words. The locket—your mother’s locket—was gone. A family heirloom, passed down through generations, lost in the chaos of a party. You tried to speak, but all that came out was a shaky breath.

“It’s gone,” you finally whispered, the words feeling heavy and final.

Bucky’s hand rested lightly on your knee, grounding you. “I know how much it meant to you,” he said, his voice steady. “And I’m sorry we couldn’t find it tonight. But we’ll figure something out. I’m not giving up.”

You shook your head, blinking back the tears that blurred your vision. “It was the only thing I had left of her,” you said, your voice breaking. “And now it’s just… gone.”

Bucky’s fingers gently squeezed your knee. “I get it,” he said quietly. “It’s not just a thing. It’s her.”

You nodded, wiping at your cheeks, but the tears kept coming. “It feels like I let her down,” you whispered, your hands trembling in your lap. “I should’ve been more careful.”

Bucky shifted, sitting beside you on the step. His shoulder brushed yours, and he looked out at the street, his voice calm and certain. “Hey, your okay, its gonna be okay”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to absorb his words. “How can you say that? Its gone,” .

“I know,” he said, his tone understanding. “But your mom wouldn’t want you to carry that weight. That locket—it was important, sure, but it doesn’t change the connection you had with her. You’ve got all those memories, all those stories. She’s still with you.”

His words settled over you, comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. You leaned into his shoulder, letting out a quiet sigh. “Thanks, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice still thick with emotion. “For always being there.”

His arm came around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Always,” he said simply.

For a while, you just sat there, the distant hum of the party fading into the background. The ache of losing the locket still lingered, but Bucky’s steady presence eased it, bit by bit. He didn’t try to fix everything, didn’t offer hollow reassurances. He just stayed—solid, dependable, exactly what you needed.

You broke the silence, your voice soft and hesitant. “What about that girl…?”

Bucky didn’t let you finish. “Forget about her,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I have my best girl right here” his eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something unspoken between you, something heavy and meaningful.

Eventually, you sat up, brushing the last of the tears from your cheeks. You gave him a small, wry smile. “Guess I owe you one,” you said quietly.

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You don’t owe me anything,” he replied. Then, with a playful glint in his eye, he added, “Except maybe a rematch at beer pong.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound a little shaky but genuine. “Deal,” you said, the weight on your chest feeling just a little lighter.

Now

Sam takes a deep breath as he reaches the door to your shared apartment, bracing himself. He isn’t entirely sure what he’s walking into, but he knows Bucky isn’t handling things well. He knocks firmly and waits, listening for any movement inside.

After a long pause, the door creaks open. Bucky stands there, looking like absolute hell. His hair’s a mess, his eyes bloodshot, and he’s still in yesterday’s clothes, rumpled and wrinkled.

“Sam?” Bucky’s voice is hoarse, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah, man,” Sam says, leaning against the doorframe. “I came to check on you. Can I come in?”

Bucky steps aside, muttering, “Yeah… sure. Guess you uh probably know everything already.”

Sam walks in, his eyes immediately catching the shattered lamp on the floor, pieces scattered across the living room. “I know her side, but there's two sides to every coin” The air feels heavy, tense. He turns to Bucky, his voice steady. “She’s at Steve and my place. She’s safe if you're wondering.”

Bucky winces, looking away as his shoulders slump. “Good… that’s good.” He lets out a bitter chuckle, running a hand over his face. “Guess you’re here to tell me what a screw-up I am, huh?”

Sam shakes his head, exasperated. “Bucky, I’m not here to kick you when you’re down. I’m here because we’re friends. And friends don’t abandon each other, even when one of them is making dumbass choices.”

Bucky scoffs, dropping onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. “Yeah, well… I deserve it.”

Sam takes the chair across from him, studying Bucky’s hunched figure. “You look like hell, man. Want to tell me what happened, your version?”

Bucky hesitates, his voice low and broken. “I don’t know. She was just standing there, looking at me like… like she was just disgusted at being in my presence ...and it hurt, i said sorry for the bar comment, but then we started to hash things out, I got so damn scared. So I did the only thing I know how to do—I pushed her away. Told her to leave.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, his tone sharp. “So you let her walk out? Alone? At night?”

Bucky’s face twists with guilt, and he nods. “Yeah, I know, i went after her but she was gone, that's no excuse i know, i put her in danger Sam, i can't believe it….And now she probably hates me.” He chuckles bitterly. “Hell, maybe she should, i do.”

“Don’t give me that self-pity crap,” Sam snaps. “She’s hurt, sure. But you know damn well she doesn’t hate you.”

Bucky exhales shakily. “Maybe she should. All I ever do is screw things up. I push her away because… because I’m too scared to admit how I feel. And now? I don’t even know if I can fix it.”

Sam leans forward, his voice firm. “You’ve got two choices, Buck. Sit here and wallow, or get off your ass and do something about it.”

Bucky finally meets his gaze, his voice barely a whisper. “What do I even say?”

Sam nods toward the shattered lamp. “Start by picking up the pieces. Then tell her the truth.”

Bucky swallows hard. “What if… what if it’s too late?”

Sam’s voice softens. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take, you cant just throw away the friendship you two have, i dont even know my friends from kindergarten, i couldnt tell you the slightest thing about em now….but you’ll never know unless you try.”

Bucky hesitates, then leans back, his gaze distant. “I’ve tried, Sam. More times than I can count.”

Sam frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky’s voice grows quieter, tinged with frustration. “I’ve been trying to tell her for years—little things here and there. Dropping hints, pushing the boundaries, trying to get her to see me the way I see her. But every damn time, she pulls back, like she’s scared of what’s on the other side of those walls she’s built.”

Sam watches him, his expression thoughtful. “And you think she doesn’t feel the same?”

Bucky lets out a hollow laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. But how the hell am I supposed to keep putting myself out there when she won’t meet me halfway? Why does it always have to be me to make the first move? Why can’t she give me a sign? Something, anything that lets me know I’m not imagining this?” Bucky’s voice cracks, and he rakes a hand through his hair, his frustration spilling out. “It’s like every time I try to get closer, she pulls back. And then I’m stuck wondering if I’m just some idiot chasing after something that was never there.”

Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re scared, she’s scared—it’s a mess, man. But sitting here, letting the fear eat away at you, isn’t gonna solve anything. You want her to meet you halfway? Maybe she’s been waiting for you to show her it’s safe to.”

Bucky shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “I’ve shown her, Sam. Hell, I’ve been there for her through everything. I’ve tried to coax her out of those walls, but every time I think I’m making progress, she shuts me down. And now? Now she’s out there, going on dates with other guys. What am I supposed to think?”

Sam tilts his head, his gaze steady. “You ever think maybe she’s just as scared as you are? That she’s waiting for you to stop hinting and just say it outright?”

Bucky’s fists clench, his frustration boiling over. “Why does it have to be me? Why can’t she take the damn risk for once? I’m not the only one in this.”

Sam exhales, leaning back. “You’re right, it’s a two-way street. But you’ve got to ask yourself—if she’s scared, just like you, who’s gonna be brave enough to break the cycle?”

Bucky stands, pacing the room. His voice drops, low and pained. “What if I put everything out there, and she doesn’t feel the same? I don’t think I could handle that.”

Sam’s gaze follows him, his tone firm but empathetic. “Or what if she’s been feeling the same this whole time, but she’s been too scared to lose you? What if she’s been waiting for you to say what she can’t?”

Bucky stops, his hands on his hips, his head bowed. “I can’t lose her, Sam. Not as a friend, not as… whatever this is. She’s everything. And if I’m wrong—if I tell her how I feel and she walks away—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Sam stands, crossing the room to face Bucky. “Buck, you’re already losing her by doing nothing. This limbo you’re both stuck in? It’s tearing you apart. You’ve got to take the leap, man. Because if you don’t, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

Bucky swallows hard, his eyes clouded with doubt. “And if I crash and burn?”

Sam gives him a small, encouraging smile. “Then you’ll get back up. And you’ll know you tried. But if you don’t take that chance, you’ll always wonder what could’ve been.”

Bucky lets out a shaky breath, his hands still clenched at his sides. “I’ve never been good at this—at saying what I feel. And now, with everything so screwed up…”

“Then stop overthinking it,” Sam says. “Tell her the truth. Not hints, not half-measures. The whole thing.”

Bucky looks at him, his expression caught between fear and hope. “What if she’s already made up her mind? What if she’s moving on?”

Sam shakes his head. “You don’t know that. And you won’t unless you ask. But hiding behind ‘what ifs’ isn’t gonna get you anywhere.”

Bucky stares at the shattered lamp, his mind racing. Finally, he lets out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Alright,” he says quietly. “I’ll talk to her. But if this blows up in my face, you’re buying me drinks for the next decade.”

Sam smirks, clapping him on the shoulder. “Deal. Now get yourself together, man. You’ve got work to do.”

Bucky nods, though the weight of what lies ahead presses heavily on him. As Sam heads for the door, he glances back. “Just remember, Buck—she’s not the only one with walls. You’ve got a few of your own.”

Wanda clapped her hands together, her tone light. “Okay, enough brooding. How about some brunch? I’m starving.”

Natasha perked up at that, crossing her arms. “I could go for some pancakes. What about the farmers market?”

You sighed, your head falling back against the couch. “I’m down for food, but we can’t go to the farmers market.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her tone edging toward irritation. “Why not?”

“Because we can’t go there without Bucky,” you said simply, your voice flat but firm.

Natasha groaned, throwing her hands up. “God, why does everything have to come back to Bucky? He’s not exactly the Farmers Market King. We can survive one trip without him.”

You sat up, your eyes flashing. “Stop it, Nat. Just stop. Look, we’ve all messed up before. Bucky’s not some random guy who screwed up—he’s Bucky, its him. He’s been there for me through everything. We can’t just hate on him because we got in a fight.”

Natasha scoffed, her voice sharp. “I can hate on him just fine. He’s an asshole, and I’m tired of watching him drag you through this endless cycle of misery.”

Your hands clenched at your sides as you stood up, your voice snapping like a whip. “And I’m tired of you acting like it’s so black and white! He’s not perfect, but none of us are. You think I haven’t made mistakes? You think I haven’t hurt him too?”

Natasha stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “You’re always defending him! No matter what he does, you jump in to shield him, like he’s some wounded puppy. When are you gonna wake up and realize he’s not worth it?”

“He’s not worth it?” you said, your voice trembling with anger. “You don’t get it, Nat. He’s not just some guy who broke my heart. He’s my best friend! You don’t throw someone like that away because they messed up once, or twice, or even a hundred times. He’s Bucky, for god’s sake!”

The room went silent, the weight of your words hanging between you. Natasha stared at you, her jaw tightening before she shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “Fine,” she said coldly. “Do whatever you want. But don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart again.”

With that, you turned on your heel and stormed off into Steve’s room. Natasha grabbed her bag as she headed for the door. Before she left, she glanced at Wanda and Steve, her voice sharp. “All I do is try to help, but if she wants to keep sticking up for his dumb ass, that’s on her, leave me out of it next time.”

The door slammed behind her, leaving an uncomfortable silence in her wake.

Wanda and Steve exchanged glances, both looking a little shell-shocked. Finally, Wanda sighed, brushing her hair back. “I’ll go after Nat,” she said quietly. She turned to Steve, her brow raised. “You got her?”

Steve nodded, giving Wanda a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’ve got her.”

Once Wanda left, Steve turned to. Steve hesitated for a moment before following. He knocked gently on the door. “Hey… you okay?”

There was no answer at first, just the sound of you pacing. Finally, your voice came through, quieter but still tense. “I’m fine, Steve. Just… need a minute.”

Steve leaned against the doorframe, his voice soft. “Take all the time you need. I’m here, I’ll always be right here…”

[warpedpuppeteer]

It would be great if they talk about how Buck thought his relationship woes would be "fixed" because he finally figured himself out as bi and that was the answer he was always looking for but that was only just one part of the journey.

Buck's problem with relationships is that he's always taking cues from his partners and course correcting by making unhinged proposals (like moving in) whenever he gets something wrong or thinks he can "prove" his love (or prove he can fall in love with them in the future).

He's never fully himself in any of his relationships. He's always playing the part of what his partners need (service top buck truthers this one's for you). Being an emotional pillar for Abby or a protector for Ali for example.

Even in his first relationship with a man, instead of exploring and having fun, Buck was operating in the assumption that he needed to be a long-time partner material and that it's just like any other relationships he's been in. Hence, the invite to move in with him.

And to be fair to Buck, gender really doesn't matter to him because it's like...okay it's a little bit different but it's still the same in that it's a relationship and it's someone he's interested in. So really, for him, his sexuality isn't where his issues lie.

In all his previous relationships, it's been more about him changing than being himself. He stepped in with Abby, he compromised with Taylor, he was philosophical/spiritual with Natalia, he was discovering a new aspect of his identity with Tommy etc.

And Buck is fantastic in that he's always willing to learn things about himself. He was always capable of being all of this for someone but he just needed time and experience to bring these sides out of him.

Now this would be great except...all his previous partners reacted adversely to these changes. He got too emotionally attached to Abby when she really only wanted the part of Buck that was fun and flirty. Ali liked Buck being strong & protective until she realized that he would risk his own life in being a protector even for strangers.

Taylor liked that Buck was thrilling and exciting until she realized that he had morals he won't compromise on. Natalia was so very interested in Buck's experience with death until Buck was more focused on living. Tommy liked that Buck was newly bi and curious but stepped back once he realized that Buck was taking this very seriously.

Instead of embracing all the changes Buck was going through, his partners almost wanted the Buck they fell for originally. Kind of like...they fell in love with the IDEA of Buck rather than Buck himself.

So Buck actually needs someone who knows him as Buck in his entirety. Someone who likes Buck as he is but also likes him even as he changes and grows. Someone who Buck shows his true self to instead of adapting to his partner's needs.

Take me as I am, flaws and all. Take me as I am, and as I will be.

Not only does he need to realize that he doesn't have to shove his own needs/wants into the background but also that he needs a partner who will not expect anything more from him than he can give. When he does realize this, that's when Buck is truly free of the hamster wheel.

Of course, i can go on about who exactly is the perfect partner for Buck but instead, here are a few quotes that's very important in showing who it is :)

"you're the guy who likes to fix things"

"just do what you always do, talk to him"

"you think you're expendable but you're wrong"

"now am i allowed to ask how you are?"

"once he knows that you're an idiot, he'd love you, like we all do!"

"there's nobody in this world i trust with my son more than you"

"i forgive you...just don't do it again"

And the most damning of them all:

"you don't have to be anything for anybody"

[hunter470]

My 9-1-1 RANT

Ok, I don’t normally do these types of posts, but I can’t move on until I get some things out. These are just my thoughts about the latest episodes of 9-1-1 as well as overall comments on the Buck/Tommy relationship. These opinions are mine and are based on the countless hours of TV I’ve watched in my 54 years on this planet, as well as my knowledge of writing and how Hollywood operates. I’m not confirming that any of this is true or are the real intentions of anyone involved with the show. Just my opinions. So, you can agree with me or not. I’m not trying to persuade anyone in any way. Also, I’m not going to get into endless arguments about my opinions but feel free to comment if you want, I just don’t promise I’ll reply. 

Ok, here we go. Sorry it’s so long. Like I said earlier, I just needed to get it out. So many wasted opportunities.

If you think TM cares what the fans want, you’re seriously kidding yourself. If he did, Buddie would have been canon a long time ago. The only thing he cares about is ratings and his vision for the show, which can change at a moment’s notice with no rhyme or reason as we’ve seen. 

Although I loved Buck and Tommy together, I knew the show wouldn’t do their story justice. So, no matter what TM or OS have said, the bi story was only to garner publicity, draw in new viewers, and increase ratings especially with the show moving to a new network. There was no altruistic reason behind it so don’t kid yourself. They knew there was an audience for the story because of all the Buddie shippers. Just remember, it’s called show business, not show friends for a reason.

Do you think OS really cares about bi representation? Based on his latest comments and non-apology it’s obvious he only cares about getting the stories that garner him the most screen time and press. Seriously, read his latest interviews. He’s excited to get to have fun now. So, congrats OS, Buck gets to F around. Just shows how most, if not all, actors are ego driven no matter what they say. Sorry not sorry.

TM has commented that he doesn’t owe anyone anything. In fact, I recall him saying to Buddie fans if they don’t like it, read fanfiction. If that didn’t clue you in, then you weren’t reading the room. Kinda reminds me of another show runner…for those who watched H50 you know who I’m talking about. That’s why I don’t get heavily invested in these shows. I’ll watch but I never expect anything I like to last…especially if it has to do with gay relationships.

It says a lot that the show remained completely silent about the bullying and death threats Lou received just for playing a role he was happy to play. Again, they really didn’t care because they knew he wasn’t going to be there after episode six. What a great message for all the bullies…just keep bullying and you’ll get what you want. 

Again, reread OS’s interviews. He was doing the Hollywood double speak. Says just enough to keep you hooked with hope to get you to watch even when he knew all along it wasn’t lasting. It really was as clear as day if you go back and read what he said. 

Also, if you thought Buck was going to get into a meaningful long-term relationship, then you didn’t watch the video from the You Tuber “Call Me Chato” that TM posted on his Facebook. The video was all about characters and how they should always stay fundamentally the same with minimal development - I’m paraphrasing. However, Buck is the golden retriever, heart so big it gets broken, character who will remain on a hamster wheel and unlucky in love because that’s who he is. If he changes too much it shifts the dynamic, which only happens if the show was ending. 

If you thought the writers would do justice to a bisexual story, then you haven’t been watching the show closely. There’s been minimal Buck/Tommy relationship development on screen. Taylor got more. Viewers were lucky to get crumbs in the limited screen time Buck and Tommy got. Then, a breakup out of left field? One minute Buck is saying Tommy is it for him and he wants him to move in, and then it’s over? If he truly felt deeply for Tommy, why not fight to keep him? Why give up so easily and let him walk away? What’s the point? Also, to end it on a terrible stereotype is yet another clue. Horrible writing and another sign that TM and OS had zero investment in the relationship. The whole break up was rushed and made no sense. Essentially, it was just used to draw people in and to get Buck single and sleeping around again because that’s who he is. I for one won’t care for any of Buck’s future relationships. I mean, why would I when they never last. 

Also, writers that give you a 66-year-old police sergeant and a 10 y/o boy landing a heavily damaged plane on an active freeway in LA with no prior training, and sorry playing video game flight simulators is not training, is some Sharknado level writing, which is not a compliment. Oh, and that whole story was truly the shows “jumping the shark” moment. If you don’t know what the term “jumping the shark” means, look it up and try to tell me I’m wrong. 

Not having Tommy involved in the three part premier episodes, other than a few minutes at a birthday party, was so obvious as to the show’s intent. I mean, the fake captain from Hotshots got more screen time. 

They claim they wanted someone for Buck that was connected to him and the 118 and then you don’t use the character at all. You wanted Buck off the hamster wheel? What a crock! Such a wasted opportunity.

Since it’s been confirmed episode 6 was filmed before 5, Tim’s just playing god with peoples’ feelings and crushing their hearts at this point. I mean, how do you have such a great episode (5) and a wonderful speech by Josh (6) just to break them up? Plus, having Tommy break up after six months? That man was all in, which was obvious in episode 5.

Guess it shouldn’t be a surprise that’s how TM would handle things after that horrible Tarlos breakup. At least on Lone Star we knew Rafa (Carlos) was a main cast member so there was hope. Lou was a guest star so it seems kinda final based on his interviews. Again, what was the point? They could have had Buck's bi revelation be with a random character. So, building up the Buck/Tommy relationship just to take it away was to inflict the most pain. Good job. 

Do I think the show will make Buddie canon? Who knows…one thing I do know is I wouldn’t trust them if they did. Also, even if Tommy somehow returns, I don’t trust TM with anything related to this story. Sure, hope he’s happy with ruining the show for so many people. Again, like another show runner I mentioned in item 4 above. Honestly, I can’t believe the Buddie fans have stayed for so long. That’s commitment, I guess. 

Do I think Lou should go back to 9-1-1? Hell no! He was screwed over by both TM and OS. Prove it to me otherwise. However, it’s up to him and of course, he loves acting so I wouldn’t blame him.

Finally, even though I’ve watched the show since the beginning, it no longer brings me joy. There are too many other TV shows to stick with one I no longer enjoy. So yes, I’m announcing my departure, and I don’t give an F what OS, you, or anyone else thinks about it. Not that any of this matters any way…

[mrsq8geek]

I think about this every now and then so here's what I got on this:

Social constructs often are based on things that are either unchangable or very difficult to change. The 24 hour system is a social construct but it's based on something measurable and that varies so little that, for most intents and purposes, it's practically static. Kind of related. Another example: Farming, hunting, or fishing have similar cultures across the world, because we all gotta eat so we learn what exists in the world and how to turn it into food. Fried ball of dough across the world! Seafaring culture shanties (and also work songs) my beloved.

Uncertainty and risk associated with change. People generally agree that the four-day work-week would be better for... well, most things, including productivity, than five days, given how much the world has changed. But even with so many companies and sometimes countries coming out of trials with positive results, it's a slow change, often because a lot of decision-makers would rather stick with what they know, or maybe they want to proceed with a change, but don't know which option to go with. Take this and bog it down with all the details of humanity. The potential loss of the tried-and-true usefulness/benefits of the existing system can easily outweigh the cost and risk of changing to something new.

The inherent tension between standardization and specialization. ISO is a boon. Forcing the peoples you conquer to adopt your way of life has resulted in countless losses, some of which have not been recovered, and others which we're now paying for. Also, I'll use any excuse to bring up this episode of 99% Invisible. Different cultures live in different material realities, which creates different specialized social constructs suited to that place, which inevitably clashes with whoever the superior culture at the time thinks is Best, and so on as we trend towards globalized homogeneity.

You can't have it all. There will come a time where you will have to choose one social construct and its associated consequences over another. And what you value as important will affect that greatly: after you after happiness? Meaning? Contentment? What if you're after compliance with your group? Socioeconomic power? Sometimes there will be social consensus that you did the Right Thing and sometimes not, what then?

That being said, I definitely get the knee-jerk reaction to think "social construct = fake = bad" because when someone says "x is a social construct", it's often in the context of how that construct can change, and that's a threat. For some people, it's as simple as "change is hard and scary", but you might end up having a nice conversation after that. Other times, it'll be "you want to change something that I personally benefit from" and that's more difficult to pick apart.

Personally, I'm not a fan of "most work happens in the morning", the choice of jobs available in the afternoon/evening is very limited and I'm always struggling. Someone convince morning people that night owls are important, too!

man. People get so upset when you call things social constructs. Thinking that if you say something is a social construct that means it's fake and unnatural, and following that, that that means it’s bad. Something being a social construct means that it’s socially constructed. That’s it.

Money is a social construct. Weekends are a social construct. Vegetables are a social construct.

That doesn’t mean it’s okay if my paycheck is withheld or my rent is late. Doesn’t mean I don’t luxuriate in sleeping in on Saturday. Doesn’t mean the nutrients in tomatoes or spinach aren’t good for you.

What it means is that the way we think about things is socially constructed, and could be constructed a different way. Why do we base our society around money? What does value mean outside of money? What is “value”? The way we construct it isn’t the only possible way.

Why is a week a cycle of seven days, and five of those days are for working and two of those days are for resting? Could we organize our time differently? Should we? What would that look like? Other cultures don’t/didn’t have seven-day weeks with a five on-two off cycle. It’s not inevitable. It’s historically and culturally specific.

“Fruit” has a scientific definition but “vegetable” does not. Many parts of plants are culinarily defined as vegetables. Fruits (eggplant, avocado, tomato), stems (celery, asparagus), leaves (kale, lettuce), roots (carrots, potatoes, turnips)… all of these are culturally categorized as vegetables. And nutrition advice is based on this cultural categorization. Is a mushroom a vegetable? It’s not even a plant! Why do we categorize it this way? Why isn’t wheat or oats considered vegetables, but corn is, except when it isn’t? Could we categorize our plant-based food other ways?

Calling these social constructs doesn’t mean they’re bad or unimportant. It just calls attention to the fact that they aren’t inevitable. That they could be constructed in different ways, and that is worth thinking about, and thinking about the value we get in constructing things the way we do.

Gender is a social construct.

Romance is a social construct.

They are based on feelings, desires, and experiences, but how we name and categorize and express and act on them are fully culturally constructed. Other cultures do and have constructed these concepts in other ways. You can like the way we do it now. You can find it stifling. But the way we do it now is not the only, inevitable, inherent, real way. It could be done other ways, organized and categorized and conceptualized in other ways. And that’s not a bad thing either.

[novvabee]

The Boys in the Band

AN: I got carried away with this one, but here is the second part to the band au

word count: 2.8k

cw: language? there is nothing really bad about this one.

Since your first show, you had been quite busy. You had opened for a couple bands at The Common Room, you booked a few nights at the popular club, The Hog’s Head, and managed to snag a spot in another festival. You had become popular very quickly amongst the girls, gays, theys, and young people in the city. Each gig you noted more and more fans, crowds growing, singing so loud and dancing so hard. 

This is what you always dreamed of, performing and making people happy. You lived for the drama and theatrics of it all, dressing up on stage and singing your heart out. The girls felt the same electricity, the same passion as you. That made your bond as a group that much stronger.

Not to mention, you were all good friends. Lily had mentioned to you that she and Mary had been messing around and found out they actually sounded really good together. Then they asked Marlene if she would play drums, which she said yes to in a heartbeat. And then Lily realized they needed a front woman, someone who could sing and bring the most energy. She thought of you, your bold and fierce attitude, your flirty and fun personality. And that is how you started.

The four of you wrote all the music you performed; the fun and girly songs by Mary, the campy over-the-top songs about women by Marlene, the sad and slow ballads by yourself, and the thought provoking and experimental ones by Lily.

Mary had the upbeat, girly, pop songs down. Her personality just flowed with inspiration for them, so those were the types of songs that you mostly sang and performed. You weren’t complaining, her songs were half the fun.

Marlene was full of something you all liked to tease her about; lesbian angst. But all that angst made for great songs to perform and were usually the crowd favorites.

Lily was slightly different, she was full of thoughts and ideas about the world, and her medium to get them out of her brain and into the world, was through music and lyrics. She wrote a lot of songs for women, for rights for all and for political change. If you had to pick, you would say hers were by far your favorites. She didn’t write often, but when she did, she had a message, something to say. You loved that about her.

Your songs were all ballads and sad. The girls teased you about that too, saying you shouldn’t let a man make you cry. It wasn’t exactly your fault, you had just gotten out of a long term relationship, and were drawing inspiration from all the confusing, mixed feelings that came with that. 

You had been dating this boy, Matthew, for about a year and a half, but everything seemed to take a turn for the worse a couple months ago. Your once sweet and charming boyfriend had turned into this cold, vacant man right in front of you. You two argued all the time, about small things as well as very important, serious things. He started accusing you of sneaking around, hiding things from him, cheating on him. None of it was true, and you tried to tell him that, but he wouldn’t listen to reason.

So you had enough. You told him that if you two couldn’t work things out, you didn’t know if you could continue on. He said nothing, just agreed with you. He didn’t try to mend the broken relationship, didn't try to fight either for you or with you. You would’ve taken either, but he just walked away.

As much as you tell yourself you’re doing so much better, that you have moved on and don’t care about him anymore, that isn’t exactly true.

You leaned into the band to distract yourself, putting everything you had in it so that you wouldn’t be left with those feelings. You’re just glad you had your friends, your girls who not only could help you through it, but also help you see this band through. They ignited you.

You felt that way even just sitting on the floor of Mary’s apartment. The space was cute and cozy. You girls were sprawled out over fluffy rugs, a plush couch, and two oversized bean bags. 

Mary was nodding her head along to a beat that only she could hear, writing down what you could only guess were new lyrics. Lily was strumming a tune she had been working on for over a week. You and Marlene were talking about what to wear for your upcoming show. 

“I think you'd look good in that pink leotard with the matching cowgirl boots.” Marlene recommended.

“The pink tassels or the pink heart?” you asked.

She thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “The tassels, that way you can wear the boots and maybe a cowboy hat,” she paused looking at the other two, “maybe we can try out Pink Pony?”

Excited, you clapped your hands together. You had been dying to perform this new song in front of a crowd and this was the perfect opportunity. You were playing at The Common Room again, but this time it was only you. Unlike every other performance you had, this time there were no openers, and no one else after you. You got a whole set for yourselves and the whole night to perform and party with fans.

The night was going to be nothing short of magical.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

James followed Remus and Sirius into the stage door of The Common Room.

All three boys wanted to come and see the performance that The Pixies were giving tonight. They had gained a lot of traction recently, seemingly overnight.

James didn’t feel at all jealous or threatened, they were doing just as well themselves, and they made entirely different music. He was more curious as to the fact that this band came out of nowhere.

The Marauders were used to competition revolving around the music world. They had been doing this for a while now, they understood the fight to fill spots and book sets. This band was just another contender now.

James was more frequently used to The Snakes stealing their gigs or spots in festivals, but now even they were pushed aside for this new band. The Snakes was led by Sirius’s little brother Regulus, another person on the list James hadn’t spoken to in a while. James knew that Regulus was a grudge holder, hell, he was related to Sirius, so he shouldn’t be surprised that Regulus cut all contact.

He fucked up, he knew he did. But he still wasn’t ready to think about it.

Slipping through the crowd and continuing to follow as best he could, all three boys ended up in the back of the already packed room. 

“Holy shit,” Sirius began, “there are so many people. How much were tickets?” He asked Remus.

Remus answered with a head shake. “Don’t know, Lily told me to come in through the back door so we wouldn’t have to pay.”

James’s stomach sunk, maybe he shouldn’t have come. Lily didn’t even invite him, he just tagged along with Remus. But, she had to have known that would happen, right? The boys didn’t do anything or go anywhere without each other.

“Oh my god! Hi,” came a voice from a girl to his right. “You’re The Marauders right? I love you guys. I’ve been to, like, a bunch of shows.” James recognized this girl. She was always front row or close enough, always giving Sirius a look that showed she wanted to fuck him, or at least become a groupie. “Could I get a pic?” she asked.

Sirius smirked. “Course you can sweetheart.” he said while she handed her phone to someone she was with. She stood between Remus and Sirius for the photo, then thanked the boys, obviously wanting the interaction to continue. 

James did not. He would look like such an asshole taking pictures with fans at Lily’s show.

The thought was cut short when the house lights dimmed and the stage turned a hazy pink color. James lost every thought in his head when you came out on stage.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Walking out onto the stage, you were met by a wall of sound, cheers and screams. Your nerves and butterflies instantly fluttered away. This is where you were meant to be, up here on this stage, in front of a crowd, making music. You had dreamed of this since you were a little girl.

You pranced yourself out in a cowboy hat and high heel boots, a matching sparkly and intricately tasseled leotard to top it all off. Your ass may be out, but that was the fun of it, the aesthetic. Especially for the new song you had prepared for the night. 

“Hello my friends.” you said, the cheers and screams somehow getting even louder. “We are The Pixies,” you introduced, “and we are here to give you the night of your life.”

You looked around the crowd to see so many faces enhanced with intricate and beautiful makeup looks, so many fans copying looks from your previous performances, so many bodies in bright colors. So many people who felt confident in what they were wearing and how they looked. 

“We’re gonna start off with a new one if that’s ok with you.” You announced you got an astounding amount of cheers, noting many phones launch into the air to record this new one. “This song is a fun one but more importantly,” you paused, the whole crowd hanging on your breath, “it is about what my mother thinks I am doing with my life. Here is Pink Pony Club!”

The girls started playing the intro and you walked to the front of the stage, sitting down, legs dangling off.

I know you wanted me to stay

But I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in LA

And I heard that there's a special place

Where boys and girls can all be queens every single day

You stood, walking back to center stage.

I'm having wicked dreams of leaving Tennessee

Hear Santa Monica, I swear it's calling me

Won't make my mama proud, it's gonna cause a scene

She sees her baby girl, I know she's gonna scream

You whipped around to the audience

God, what have you done?

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

You started dancing and jumping around stage, Lily and Mary joining you, smiles plastered on their faces

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

The audience had settled into the performance, had gotten into the groove of the song, and joined in the dancing and the fun.

I'm up and jaws are on the floor

Lovers in the bathroom and a line outside the door

Blacklights and a mirrored disco ball

Every night's another reason why I left it all

I thank my wicked dreams a year from Tennessee

Oh, Santa Monica, you've been too good to me

Won't make my mama proud, it's gonna cause a scene

She sees her baby girl, I know she's gonna scream

God, what have you done?

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

The crowd was going crazy, right along with you, until you slowed down and the girls played quieter for the bridge.

Don't think I've left you all behind

Still love you and Tennessee

You're always on my mind

And mama, every Saturday

I can hear your southern drawl a thousand miles away, saying

God, what have you done?

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

You jumped up and danced like crazy, the crowd joining in, loving this new song. Some picked up on the lyrics and were singing them back to you, the feeling indescribable.

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing

I'm gonna keep on dancing

You kept dancing as Lily and Mary played the outro, out of breath and so happy. Once the song was finished, the whole building was filled with cheering. You looked to Mary, then over to Lily, they looked just as ecstatic, you could imagine Marlene felt the same. 

“Thank you, thank you!” you said into the mic. “Well, if you like that Common Room, we’re just getting started.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

James had never seen a concert, a band like yours. There was no way to describe it, you were just, stars already. 

The rest of the concert was filled with just as much fun, joy as the first song. The dancing and singing and laughing was indescribable. 

The boys waited after the concert, waited until the last of the fans trickled out, then they made their way backstage. Walking down the halls and to the dressing room that had a piece of paper with the word “Pixies” in bold letters, Remus knocked on the door. 

The giggling and sounds of excitement were radiating from the room, loudly even with the door shut.

They waited for a moment before the door pulled open, revealing Mary. The smile dropped from her face for a moment before she put another one in its place, this one though, was more of an uncomfortable grimace more than anything. “Hey! I didn’t know you guys were here.” Mary said, opening the door to let the boys slide through. She hugged each of them on their way in.

James made eye contact with Lily who was on the couch with Marlene. She didn’t break away. He quickly looked over to Marlene and smiled. “We wanted to come and say great show!” he said, directed at them all, but not being able to look away from Marlene, who just smirked, knowing the situation and that James was incredibly uncomfortable right now.

“Thanks.” Marlene replied smoothly. 

Sirius noted the tension and decided to break it. “Where is she?” he asked.

All eyes went to him as Mary asked “Y/N?”

He looked at her and rolled his eyes, “No, the queen.” he said sarcastically.

“Are you going to try to sleep with her?” Mary asked, not holding back.

“What, no!” Sirius denied as if it wasn’t exactly something Sirius would do. “I just want to meet her. ‘Know thy enemy’ and all that.”

Lily scoffed. “She’ll be out in a minute, I think she's taking off her makeup.”

And as if right on que, you waltzed right out of the connected bathroom and into the dressing room. Smiling, you looked at the boys standing across from the couch. 

“Here she is!” Mary ushered you over, chipper and still energized from the performance. “This is Y/N, Y/N these are the boys in The Marauders.”

Your smile grew. “The Marauders? You guys were amazing at the festival.”

Sirius smiled back at you, charming as ever. “‘I'm Sirius.” you looked to the next boy, who was glancing at a fuming Lily.

“Uh, I’m James.” He smiled, seeming to come back to reality and out of whatever thought he was lost in. 

You looked at the final boy, tall and leaning against the wall. “And you’re Remus, right?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah we met a while back, lovely to see you again.”

“Lovely to see you! And it is lovely to finally meet you two.” you said to the newly acquainted Sirius and James, they nodded and smiled politely. There was a noticeable tension between everyone in the room, was there really that much of a rivalry?

“I think the boys were just heading out,” Mary said to the three boys standing in front of her. “Isn't that right?”

Sirius huffed and led the other two out throwing a “See you all soon.” over his shoulder as Mary escorted and followed them out into the hallway, shutting the door beyond her.

“That was… strange.” you said to Lily and Marlene. They just looked at each other and laughed, rolling their eyes. You didn’t understand.

“They're idiots.” Marlene supplied.

“They're boys.” Lily corrected.

Taglist 💌:  @adharalikethestar @mayuwolfstar @ieatboysalive @maraudereestauderelb @bugg06 @slytherinambitious (yell at me if I forgot anyone)

[glorioustidalwavedefendor]

To people who are like:

"dON'T wHISH tHE cONSEQUENCES oF tHEIR oWN fREE wILL aND cHOIC eON pEOPLE wHO:

Voted for Trump

Deliberately decided not to vote at all (thereby voting for trump, since if you don't vote you are still registered so you are supporting who ever has the most votes simply by existing)

Voted third party (In a two party system votig third party is a voice for the strongets party in this case Trump)"

I have to say

a) Thought crimes don't exist, anyone is allowed to wish anything on anyone

b) Those voters wanted to inflict the consequences of their own free desicions on everyone else, with horrible results, it is only fair to want them to suffer as well after all: Ignorantia juris non excusat

c) They will never help to undo what they have wrought, they already showed their true face, and their true face is that they either can not be arsed to do enough research to understand what they are voting for OR they do understand but have decided: “Vulnerable people should die for my ideology”

Look at all those blogs that told you they would not do damage control

Where are they now?

Are they helping?

Are they sharing resources and tips?

NO

They are being defensive that no one is gratefull about their sacrifice

They are pissed that peope are angry at them

Besides

Activism is not cold-calling.

SO why should you care about peopel that have already shown that they will not listen to you?

-> Someone pointed out that no one who has already decided how to vote wil chnage that opinio becasue of a stranger on the internet True But then why expect that stranger to show compassion and kindness? Go one stranger, laugh! You earned it!

Keep your comfort for people who did not bring this on to themslefes

They need it more

They will suffer just as much if not more, but they didn't even get whtathey wanted

Also

Also

One thing that I think is a fantastic way to prepare to help is to either begin or continue learning a language that you don't know. I am working hard on my Spanish because I live in California and there are a ton of Spanish speakers here who I might be able to help. Is it directly aiding anyone right at this second that I'm practicing conjugation? No. But it might help someone who is being harassed by a cop, or who is unhoused and needs help, or who is being abused by an employer at some point in the future, and I can get myself ready to help. Learn how to use naloxone and pick up up an inhaler; you might not need it now, but it'll make you ready to help someone who does need it. Order free covid tests every chance you get, even if you don't need them, because then you can give them out to people who do need them. Plan B has a multi-year shelf life. Pick some up so that you've got some on hand if someone needs it.

Also

Also

(Also, you can get 4 months of over the counter birth control (progestin-only pill form) at Costco for $50. Or 3 months on Amazon for about $45.)

Trump voters on tiktok are EXTREMELY mad about the following:

They just found out what tariffs are

They just found out what denaturalization is

They (particularly black and Hispanic trump voters) just found out that other trump voters are racist

Leftists and liberals don't want to be their friends (they are furious about this)

Leftists keep telling them they hope they get what they voted for (they are really mad about this too)

[yanderefarm]

I know requests are closed but 1. I need to write this down before it falls from my skull and 2. I just want to offer you this general concept for the brain worms not as a request.

Achilles is well and happy to be tortured, yes, but what if despite that(or more likely because he knows he'll get beat more) he is very resistant to being feminized. Gotta make him a pretty princess but he hisses and yells that he is a man and you can't change him. But no, no, it's not changing him, it's revealing his true self; a pretty little pet who is so obedient and feminine.

-🪼

god i love this idea so much. i love forced fem so much!!!

idk why achilles just makes me wanna go hard even when i shouldn't.

cw;; blood, nsft, torture, forced fem, non con undressing, humiliation

i really like nonsexual forced fem like i feel like if it was for sex they could at least justify it in their mind but forcing them to wear something around the house or out in public is so much worse. they can't justify it and they can tell themselves over and over it's for you but when you're not even looking at them it doesn't feel like it's for you anymore.

achilles got out of the bath and stared blankly at the lacey panties and pretty skirt you laid out for him. this wasn't right he was sure you had set out another suit for him. he raised his voice just enough to call for you but it seemed you weren't listening. he wrapped a towel around his waist and picked up the clothing. he came to find you in the living room. you were with a friend. it was one of your work friends who knew about your relationship with achilles but that did nothing for his embarrassment.

"why aren't you dressed yet?"

"i... i couldn't find my clothes."

"chilles i can literally see them in your hands."

his eyes darted away. you let out a heavy sigh and stood up. achilles instinctively flinched as you approached him but you didn't care instead you ripped his clothes from his hands.

"I'm sorry about him. he clearly isn't getting it through his head." you grabbed the corner of his towel and before achilles could open his mouth you ripped it off exposing his lower body to the open air.

"god you're so embarrassing." you didn't even sound amused just annoyed. "now get your clothes on."

achilles turned to leave, his face burning red, but you grabbed his arm firmly. you pulled him back to the middle of the room with an annoyed look on your face.

"i don't trust you not to wear what i gave you. put it on right here."

achilles swallowed hard, he couldn't bring himself to raise his head because the overwhelming embarrassment was too much.

"you-you have my clothes, sir."

"mhm. so ask nicely for them."

"may i please have my cloth-"

you huffed in annoyance, indicating he'd done it wrong but you didn't raise your hand to strike him. like you were so disappointed in him that he wasn't worth hitting. that hurt worse than the actual pain would have.

his breath hitched as he opened his mouth again to try and correct himself but you cut him off. "what should I hand you first?"

"th-the under-"

you huffed again.

"my-my panties... please hand me my panties,sir." it was the most humiliating way he could think to phrase it and it seemed to please you as you handed him the thin lacey garment.

achilles closed his eyes tight trying to pretend he wasn't getting dressed in front of another person. there was no pretending away that his cock had gotten hard even as he pulled the lace over it. you helped him out, fixing his leaking member into the slightly too tight underwear.

when he finally opens his eyes again you're holding up the skirt. underwear is one thing but that skirt is too much.

"please- i.. i don't want to."

you roll your eyes at that.

"do i have to put it on you" you sound so disappointed.

"i don't want to... I'm not a woman."

"why are you being so difficult? you're usually so well behaved." you look at your guest and then back to him with a scowl.

"oh. do you think he'll help you? do you think if you throw a little fit, act like I'm forcing you, he's going to help you? do you think he'll save you? do you need to be saved now, achilles?" every word you say is filled with venom. you must know exactly how much your words are getting to him, the way they make him feel guilty and disgusting. you even manage to look hurt behind all that anger in your eyes.

"no i- i- please.... i just don't want to b-"

"could you go wait in the car... im sorry about this." you let out a deep sigh. your friend leaves the room so it's just you and achilles.

as soon as you both hear the front door shut achilles attempts to open his mouth only for you to punch him in the stomach as hard as you can. you watch him crumple to the floor in pain as one of his wounds reopens. you kick him onto his back so you can climb over top of him. you sit on his chest with the skirt in your hands and all achilles can do is kick and flail.

"you stupid fucking girl. you embarrass me in front of my guest. you tell me-" you elbow him in another wound making him howl in pain, his legs straightening enough for you to shove them down. "you tell me no? and now, you're fucking fighting me."

you elbow him one more time to get him to give up his struggling. his body goes limp as he sobs underneath you. you make sure to pull his legs in the most painful way as you start forcing his skirt onto his body.

"you are a pretty girl. you're my pretty girl. and no amount of throwing fits or asking others to save you is going to change that. do you get that?" you yank his skirt up over his legs.

you notice that the wound you'd been elbowing has reopened and he's bleeding all over his shirt. he knows he's in so much trouble but all he can do is sob.

"im not a girl.." you hear him mutter through tears.

"you don't get to decide that. you don't get to decide anything." you slowly pick yourself off of him.

"I'll clean you up and change you since you're such a big baby. and when i get back from hanging out with my friends you're fucking in for it. maybe while I'm gone you can come up with how you're going to apologize."

achilles just laid there, bleeding and sobbing. everytime he tried to close his eyes he would feel a breeze over his legs and fresh tears would flow from his eyes. the humiliation of being forced to be your pretty girl was one thing but knowing how angry you were at him, how much he'd disappointed you hurt worse. he didn't want to be a girl he didn't want you to be angry at him and yet here he was. the old wound soaking his shirt and giving him a stabbing pain everytime he let out his shakey sobbing breaths seemed like a fitting punishment. of course that was for you to decide, not him.

you cleaned up his wound and changed his shirt in silence. when you pulled out the pink bedazzled shirt you gave him a look, daring him to say something but he didn't. you were clearly still angry at him but you treated him just as gently as you always did. he couldn't help but lean into your touch as you cleaned up his face.

"'m sorry..." his voice was small and weak.

you let out a heavy sigh before you picked him up with ease and brought him over to the couch.

"... i know you're sorry, sweet girl." he flinched at your words. "you were very bad, though. so when I get home you're losing all rights to boy mode. no more suits, no more he/him, no more achilles. I'll pick you out a pretty girl name."

he whimpered softly as his chest got tight.

"do you understand?"

"y-yes sir..."

"now say I'm a good girl."

"I'm... I'm..." he struggled to say it, his breathing ragged, but when he looked in your eyes he could still see the disappointment from before. "I'm a good girl."

"yes you are." you leaned in and kissed his forehead. "be a good, princess."

[witchthewriter]

𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 🐦‍⬛

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I've added Victor into this, but I want to have a conversation about if he can be a romantic partner - or he will always be platonic?

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

You're still in Fromville, not having escaped yet but making the best of it.

𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒅 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Domesticity to Boyd is so much different in this town compared to the 'real' world.

・For example, he would be awake before you, no matter the day just so he could surprise you with your favourite drink and a pastry each morning.

・The chores would be split 50/50, with Boyd usually picking up any slack (he doesn't mind at all)

・He loves doing the laundry, folding your clothes with so much care.

・But here... his actions to show his love are limited and it kinda pisses him off

・But you constantly remind him of all the good he's done here and how he keeps everyone together.

・You celebrate every win, even the small ones.

・Boyd is big on DIY, and loves fixing up things for you. Anything you ask - you want a different type of curtain, or you want part of the window patched up - he does NOT let you do it. That is HIS job.

・Massaging his shoulders at night, feeling how taught he is. This town is so hard on him. It constantly makes you wonder, why him?

・You do have one rule though: last one in bed has to make it!

・Boyd seems like the type of person to keep everything about himself to himself. But that isn't true. He likes telling you things, he enjoys opening up to you.

・One really important factor in your relationship is the challenges of town and its mysteries.

・Many people in town were basically betting how long you two would together.

・But what they didn't know, was that the horrors STRENGTHENED your bond. It made you both rely on each other so deeply.

・Having a partner means so much to him.

・Boyd loves you so much. He would never burden you with what he knows, but he loves when you have random conversations.

・It makes things feel just a bit more normal. It gives him hope.

𝑲𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒚 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Mornings and nights are especially special to you both

・Slow, careful, mindful, warm and cosy.

・Touching each other in some way - hugging each other from behind, pinkies entwined, cheek kisses, forehead kisses, rubbing noses together - if anyone else saw you too they would gag (ITS CALLED LOVE)

・Kenny LOVES tucking you in at night.

"You comfy now?" As he wedges the blanket under the side of your body.

"Yes Kenny! Now get in bed you loser!" You answer laughing.

"Okay, okay, I'm just looking after the most important person in my life thank you very much."

・You love listening to him; to his stories about his childhood up until he came to town.

・One of Kenny's favourite things is when you read to him. Even if you don't have a book in front of you, he just wants you to recount as much as you can from books you have read.

・Might be kind of painful, but you two like talking about how life would be like together outside of this hell.

・Owning two cats, two dogs, maybe some fish.

・Whenever you hear the creatures screeching, you automatically cling to Kenny, you can't help it. You HATE the noises.

・But you always feel safe around Kenny. Always.

"I've got you. I swear to god I'll never let anything happen to you."

𝑱𝒂𝒅𝒆 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Every morning he gives you a kiss on the head and 'tip toes' out of the room, trying not to disturb you.

・You usually yell at him to get back in bed

"My looooooove, I have important business to attend to!"

・The bed is pressed up against the wall, and Jade says if someone/something were to enter the room, he would be the first thing they see

・From then he starts his daily ritual of figuring out how to get the hell home

・Jade teaches you A LOT of stuff. And you're always surprised by how well he does at teaching. He's patient (only with you but you don't know that), and takes his time to teach in ways you'll understand (once again, only for you...)

・He is like a walking computer at times. Really good with dates and great with measurements.

・But one thing he is terrible about is the fact that he's a repeat offender blanket stealer. Absolute criminal.

・No matter how much you tug and pull, or wrap yourself in it, Jade somehow unravels you in his sleep and takes the blanket.

・When you both wake up, you've practically snuggled underneath him...

"Babe, what are you doing?"

"You stole the blanket again and I got cold," you reply muffled beneath him. He's very warm.

"Oh god, sorry! We ah, we should probably get more blankets then... god why didn't you wake me?"

"Wake you? Ever since we got our own place, you've slept like you've never done so in your life!"

・It was quiet before he replied, and then he wrapped his arms around you.

"That's because I haven't sleep properly before I met you."

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒍 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Your relationship with Randall is one that surprises you. Constantly.

・People don't see him the way you do. At times they start to though.

・But only you get to see his true soft side. The side that moves the hair from your face, kisses your forehead, nudges his nose against your own.

・You are the ONLY person to make him laugh.

・He knows so much about you - the way you like your clothes folded or hung up. He knows which books are your favourite, which song you could listen to on replay.

・Music is a big thing to Randall, and the fact that he can't just randomly play something on his phone gets him really down.

・So one night you guys make a list of every song you like, when you heard it and what it made you feel

・Making each other guess who you were before arriving in hell.

"Hmm... you were ... a ... farmhand on a ranch..."

"What the fuck Y/N."

"What? Were you?"

"Oh yeah sure, you hit the nail straight on the head sweetcheeks," and then he rolled his eyes.

・You laugh, loving when he gets 'annoyed' (you know he can never really be annoyed with you right?)

・You know each other's favourite tv shows, colours, smells, literature and so on. You whisper to each other through the night, trying to take your mind off of the screeching coming from outside.

𝑬𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒔 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Always the last to get up, sometimes he wakes before you but he'll still lay in bed, watching you sleep. Sometimes blowing air on your face when it's been a few hours and he gets bored

・Leaving sweet notes in unexpected places, they range from:

'hey baby, went down to do some work in the greenhouse, love you xx' to 'yo sexy honey see you tonight ;)'

・And you keep every single one of them. You have a sort of time capsule thing underneath the bed in one of your bags. Just small photos, letters written to each other, etc.

・Side note - Ellis is a cheeky man who loves to rile you up. Push your buttons. Make you red in the face.

・But he knows when enough is enough; he's extremely intune with your moods and doesn't have to ask when the days get too much.

・LOVES MAKING UP RANDOM SONGS ABOUT YOU, they are terrible but they make you laugh

・CONSTANTLY setting up spontaneous things for you guys to do. Seeing a smile on your face is the best thing he has ever seen.

・Literally puppy love.

・You guys seem to be able to talk to each other mind to mind. Glances from across the room are easily read by one another.

𝑽𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

PSA: As I said above, I'm not sure if Victor can be a romantic partner - I would love everyone's thoughts on it and maybe we can come to some kind of agreement??? Anyway, read this how you like ⟡☾⚝☽⟡

・Home...this town is the only home that Victor had ever truly known.

・How could you show him that the way he'd been living was not normal? That he should be able to feel safe, he should have gone to school - maybe even his drawing could have evolved into something astonishing

・So, in little ways you introduce this life to him

・He can't remember his birthday (so you help him choose one) and the two of you, along with Ethan, Tabitha and Julie celebrate

・...home decor projects are mostly just Victor's drawings. The really scary ones, you ask to be put away and he obliges <3

・Victor is used to living with other being, but not sleeping in the same room as another person.

・You would also need to get used to his blatant honesty. It isn't like he's trying to hurt you but he can just be brutally honest.

・Picnics in your room where you scavenge whatever food you can and talk about the funniest things you've seen people do

"I saw Jim ... trip over today," Victor says in a hushed voice, a cookie halfway to his mouth.

You burst out laughing, even snorting as you imagine the uppity Jim Matthews take a tumble.

"God, I wish I saw that."

・At first Victor didn't want another friend. He didn't want to get close to someone, he knew something would happen to you. You'd be taken away from him.

・But you swore to him that you would always be there for him.

・In town, and when everyone leaves. You've told him that you can be his home, his family.

[soo0hee]

In the Middle of the Night...

Pairing — Yoon Jeonghan x afab!Reader

Summary — One year after the snap your life finally is going back to normal again and with insomnia and nightmares plagueing your sleep, you do things you usually wouldn't. Thankfully a little spider is ready to swoop in...

Genre — angst, a hint of fluff, SpidermanAu

Warnings — Depression, mentions of ED, mentions of suicide, alcoholism, guns, mentions of kidnapping, sexuall assault, panic attacks, tell me if i missed sumn

Word Count — 2.8k

Rating — NSFW

A/N — Spidey!Hannie is here my babes, wifes and loves! @tusswrites @tomodachiii @svtiddiess @welcometomyoasis @diamonddaze01

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

You knew that it wasn't a good idea to leave your apartment at ass o'clock in the morning, if it could even be called that already. Most citizens of Seoul were dead asleep at this hour.

Most, but not you. Not when the nightmares of losing your loved ones were still plaguing you to this day. Making it impossible to sleep even now, 5 years later and with everyone who had vanished with the snap coming back again.

5 years of surviving as what you had done could not be called living.

You remembered the screams on the street of people vanishing into dust or of those who had to watch those they loved disappear. You could still feel how the hand you were holding was suddenly gone and you turned around just to witness the horrified look of your baby sister as she to turned to dust.

You felt your throat hurting as you screamed terrified just like half of the earths population and only when things had settled a bit where you able to drag yourself home feeling numb and like you had no joy left in your body just to find everyone gone.

Only your mother was left behind, sobbing in the ruins that had once been the living room of your familys home. They were all gone. Your father, brother, sister and even your beloved cat. It was only you and your mother left. Until the day you came home from your job only weeks later to find that she had left you too.

The blood on the kitchen floor had already started do dry as it seemed to cover every single tile it could reach. The missing knife on the counters cooking block and the metallic smell hanging in the air had burned itself into your memory.

Alone, mourning the disappearance of your family and your missing best friend Jeonghan you fell into a hole that swallowed you and held onto your being with sharp claws.

5 years of missing different puzzle pieces of yourself that left you wondering if you would ever be okay again.

Inclined to ignore the knock on your new apartments door you stayed on the couch with your cloths looking like they had been worn for weeks, which at that point was probably true and you desperately needing a shower and proper meal. But the knocking had been insistent and annoyed you threw your blanket to the floor, almost tripping over multiple take out boxes as you marched over to the door. The peephole was covered from the outside so you were unable to see who it was.

Growling out a curse that got stuck in your throat as soon as you saw who had been covering the peephole with his finger.

Jeonghan, still slightly out of it after having been brought back and having been explained what had happened had immediately went to your old home just to find a creepy stranger who looked like he had been nursing on one whiskey bottle after the other. Determined to find you again to see if you were okay, it had taken him a few days do find you and when he finally did, all he could think about was you. From his friends he already knew that you hadn't vanished after the snap just like they had warned him about the state he might find you in, yet when the door opened Jeonghan felt like he had been punched in the guts.

His best friend, the person he'd do anything for, looked like an empty shell of e person she used to be. It was obvious that the last years have not been kind to you and it took everything in him not do cry for the happy girl you used to be. The light in your eyes was gone, your hair a giant mess and even underneath the hoodie you were wearing, a hoodie he was 100% sure had once been his, he could see that you had drastically lost weight.

Jeonghan had barely caught the door as you slammed it shut or at least tried to before running to hide in the bathroom. He listened to the hysteric crying for maximum 2 seconds before breaking down the door after having heard the shattering of a mirror, scooping you into his arms as you begged for the hallucinations to finally stop torturing your mind.

He didn't mind the blood spilling from your bare knees as you sat in between the mirror shards littering the ground as he fought against you while you fought against him and the demons you were seeing in your terror and only when he forced your face to look at him did you finally give in, finally believing him when he promised that it really was him and not your mind playing tricks on you.

God, just how many times had you seen him when in reality he had still been gone?

Until you had calmed down, hours had gone by when you had passed out from exhaustion right into his arms and for you to get better it had taken much longer.

That was 1 year ago and so far, things were going ok. Telling your family about the tragedy that happened while they were gone had put a strain on all of them and while everyone was trying to live with this new reality, distance had grown larger then you thought possible. But they were back, and that was enough for you.

Now though, you were suffering another night of insomnia so you had grabbed your phone and started your journey to Jeonghans place.

Seoul at 3 am was not your favorite place and walking past dark alleyways gave you slight serial killer movie vibes. Tightening your hold on your phone you dialed Jeonghans number, hoping you wouldn't wake him up.

"Hello there, sunshine! Why are you awake?" your friends far to awake voice rang through the speaker.

"You know, I could ask you the same thing." You countered and earned a huff from the other.

"Yahh, at least I'm in bed unlike a certain someone, right?" he answered just as the honking of a car was much closer on his side of the line then it could be if he was in bed.

"Didn't know that your bed is out on the streets now..." you called him bluff. "I'll be at your place in 15, you know."

There was a moment of silence on his side.

"Wait, you're outside? y/n! It's 3 am! That's so dangerous!" Jeonghan whisper yelled and you faltered a little in your steps, unsure if you should continue your way.

“Sorry... I just couldn't sleep again and-"

You looked around yourself, suddenly feeling like you were being watched.

"Please, go home. Try for me! I'll be over in a bit but please go home!" His voice was urgent in a way you had never heard before. It made you nervous.

"I'm already at the sandwich place not that far and-" You were silenced when you rounded the corner, starring right into the barrel of a gun. The men in front of you, 3 in total were covered in black, guns ready to be used in their hands.

"Gimme the phone darling!" the one pointing his weapon at your face snapped. Fear took a hold of you and with shaking hands you did as told. Jeonghans paniked voice rang through the speaker, having heard what has been said on the other side.

"Not your night it seems like." One of the others cackled at your misery.

The third one grabbed your arm roughly, pulling you along into one of the alleyways while completely ignoring your struggles against his hold.

"No, please let me go! I didn't see anything and I-" you begged, voice wavering as you were pushed against a wall.

"Pull of your shirt."

No. No, this wasn't happening. Or was it?

Apparently you were taking to long.

"I said, take. It. Off!"

You whimpered and reached for the zipper of your jacket. The cold air making you shiver when you exposed yourself to the night and reached for the hem of your shirt. "Please don't do this. Let me go home and you can leave too and-" Pain shot through you as you got struck across the face by the gun.

"Shut up and lose the shirt, bitch."

“Now I do have to ask, is that a way to talk to a lady? Did your mother not teach you any respect!”

3 heads + yours flew around only to find…

Nothing.

“Up here, pabo-ya.”

The heads flew up and came face to face with Seouls very own friendly neighbor hood spider.

He was hanging of the side of the building, head tilted to the side and web attached to the building.

“Fuck off Spiderboy. This is our business and not your’s.” the one with the gun growled annoyed and you could hear the sound of dissatisfaction when the hero jumped down to land on the ground.

“We agree to disagree; is that the way to talk to a lady? Seriously guys, you are not exactly being gentlemen here.” The red masked guy taunted happily as he took two steps closer, causing the other 3 to build a barrier between you and him.

You frantically looked to the side, hoping to find something you could use to defend yourself while Spiderman distracted them enough for you to reach for the pipe laying not to far away. You probably would even have noticed if they weren’t busy trying to scare the uninvited guest off.

The 3 gangsters were pissed, you could hear that even with having heard only half of what was being said and just when the first gun shot rang through the alley, you reached for the pipe you had eyed before.

The sound the metal made when it collided with the mans head that was closest to you would have on a normal day made you sick, but not now you only heaved as you watched him sink to the ground.

Spiderman, having taken down the gunner and now busy fending of the last one webbed his hands together, earning him a loud roar of anger which you silenced with another swing of your own weapon of choice.

You came face to face with the friendly neighborhood spider and for a moment you just stood there in silence until you could hear the sound of sirens in the distance.

The groans of the 3 taken down idiots filled the night and spiderman made quick business webbing everyone to the ground before shooting one up in the air to get ready to swing off; the other holding out to you for you to take.

“Unless you want to stay here to make a police report that the police of Seoul is to stupid to follow through with anyway, I can swing us out of here?”

Hesitant but cold you took it and suddenly he had is arm wrapped around your waist and held onto him for dear life while swinging through the night.

The wind tugged at your hair and clothes and you prayed to everyone who would listen that Spiderman wouldn’t drop you. You weren’t particularly keen on ending as human pancake on the asphalt.

Your feet hit the ground or more like a roof top. The rooftop of your best friends apartment building to be exact. Having spend countless of nights up here with him to chase the nightmares away just trying to feel his presence in the last 5 years right on this roof, you knew exactly where you were.

The question was just- no… this had to be a coincidence, for sure…

“You really shouldn’t be out this late, it’s not safe for a lady like you.” Spiderman said and now that you had calmed a little after your adrenalin rush, something about the chiding tilt of his voice rang a bell in the back of your head.

“Yeah, my friend told me as much… I was on my way to his place when i– you know.”

The hero nodded knowingly. “Yeah about that…” he stated calmly before suddenly ripping the mask of his head and your best friend long black hair fall in front of his face. “What the hell, sunshine?!”

What. The. Fuck????

Mouth basically on the floor you stared in Jeonghans horrified face. It was funny. Shouldn’t you be the one to feel like that upon finding out that your best friend was fucking Spiderman???

“What are you doing outside this late? Were you trying to get yourself killed? Do you know how scared I was when you called?”

But it made sense. His late nights. The fact that he brought you here. His voice.

“You belong in bed! Not out on the streets at 3 fucking am!”

Jeonghan paced in front of you, hand furiously buried in his hair and tugging on it while you still stood frozen on the roof.

“God I think my heart stopped for a moment because of it! You’re going to be the reason I go bald early and I hope you know that I will make you pay for every single hair dye job I get because of it!”

Your mind slowly caught up with the situation even if it gave you a headache. You rubbed your temple with the tips of your fingers hoping to make the incoming pain go away before it really started while Jeonghan kept ranting to himself without looking at you.

“Jeonghan.”

“And not even that but what if I hadn’t come in time? Huh, what then?”

You tried again.

“Jeonghan!”

Failing.

“You could have been kidnapped, thrown in a ditch or what not!”

You inhaled deeply.

“Or, or you could–“

“JEONGHAN!”

“WHAT?”

He whirled around to finally face you. Realizing the situation you were in his stressed look changed into something akin to surprise.

“You–“ you stopped talking to gather your thoughts. “Are so lucky I love you or I might have killed you for keeping this from me!” you spit out, livid about the entire situation. You felt betrayed.

Spider man had been around for years, save for the years after the snap. Did that mean that Jeonghan had lied to you about this since the beginning? I had to be, there was no other explanation other then-

FUCK!

The words that had left your mouth came back to you.

You’re lucky I love you… You’re lucky I love you…

The words echoed back, taunting you like the kids on the playground.

“You-“

“NOT THE POINT, YOON JEONGHAN!” You yelled out in panic.

“We are talking about this!”

“Right after you tell me what all this is about?” You gestured wildly to his mask and suit.

The black webs on red of his spandex contrasted starkly even in the dark of the night and Jeonghan had the guts to look sheepish.

“y/n, I- it’s complicated okay. There was this incident a few years with a radioactive spider and now I’m your friendly neighborhood spider. Please don’t hit me?”

His words came out so fast that you had trouble following.

“Still considering on that.” You shrugged, hands crossed over your chest.

You always had a weakness for Jeonghans puppy eyes and this time, just like the countless times before, they made you melt like butter in the sun.

“I hate you so much right now.” You sighed and Jeonghan cracked a smile.

“No, you don’t. You looove-“

Glaring hard at his smug grin you stared at the ground when Jeonghan stepped closer. You shivered in the cold of the night and your best friend gently loosened the grip you had on upper arms, taking your hand into his.

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I should have told you. Maybe then things like tonight wouldn’t have happened” He raised his free hand to your face, fingers trailing down the side of it and sending shivers down your spine. This time not because of the cold.

“You were there, weren’t you? Just like always.” You swallowed with a lump forming in your throat.

“But I almost wasn’t.”

Whispering into the night quiet enough so a normal person wouldn’t have heard it. “Yet you were, and now get me inside. I’m still freezing and I’m tired.”

Jeonghan laughed loudly, hurrying to pull you towards the door to get inside you followed willingly. You would definitely make him tell you about everything in the morning and god better be with him when you do cause it will be the day Yoon Jeonghan will regret not doing so in the beginning.

But for now, all you wanted was get some much needed sleep.

“So you lo-“

“I will hit you!”

[eroticcannibal]

It's still a minority view (plenty of varied viewpoints do get conflated with those things though, by people who have also grown up with the criticism of men = man hate line and internalised it in the other direction). It's still heavily exagruated by bad actors. Have you not actually talked to these people? Have you not looked at what they feel is man hate? Have you seen the examples the radicalised will list? Evil radfems saying all men are scum on twitter is a *tiny* fraction of what they feel attacked by and is almost never what they feel *most* attacked by.

I saw an intelligent, reasonable, compassionate, previously explicitly feminist man become *violently* (and I do mean violently, I was the target) antifeminist overnight because I expressed on Facebook I was having a trauma response (wariness of men) after an assault. And you know what else? Not a single man in that room defended me from *actual violence* because to them, fear looked like hate. Anything that made them uncomfortable looked like hate. This was during a time where publically discussing online your experiences with sexual assault was first becoming a Big Thing, the original #MeToo (interesting that it had to happen twice), and there really wasn't anyone going all men evil, just all men can be scary because we don't know who will hurt us. There was SO MUCH EFFORT to add nuance to the discussion, to let men know hey! We aren't saying *youre* bad! And they would not listen. Why? Because they'd rather listen to other men saying we are man hating feminists who are calling them all rapists even when we explicitly say the opposite! And that got me assaulted by a friend. The same shit fucking led to elevatorgate ffs. How dare a woman say she is uncomfortable, that's man hate, ignore all evidence to the contrary.

And yknow I did see an uptick in *performative* man hate at the time, but it was purely reactionary and it was a *test* (and a lot of current supposed "man hate" is still a relic of this era). Since you can make clear you don't hate men all you want and they will still say you do, "yes all men" became a sort of password. If you could here that without being a little bitch about it, if you knew the context because you actually bothered to listen, then you were cool. You knew no one actually meant that because you bothered to listen to them instead of people lying for political gain.

This is a tactic that has been going on since *before feminism even existed* and it is effective! It relies more upon the constructed belief that feminism is anti man which has become very well established over the years than it does the actual behaviour of feminists. I would strongly encourage you to look at anti-feminist sentiment throughout and predating the history of feminism (starting with the votes for women movement, that's the earliest I am personally aware of, there may be earlier examples) and see how we got to this point. Convincing every feminist to never again say "men are evil" will not create any change. (Which is not to say people *should* do it, but just that it's not the true root of this kind of radicalisation). Actual examples of it are *convenient* but not necessary for this tactic.

I would never *entirely* discredit the viewpoints of someone who has escaped cults and cult tactic using groups (I've been through that, I get it), but I would encourage caution with how much you trust the narrative of the *whys* from someone who has escaped. Leaving is quicker than undoing the thinking, and I really do believe that user isn't quite there yet. Best case scenario, that user is right about *them*, but it is not correct of radicalised men in general.

Because you can be as gentle as you like to these people getting radicalised, you can have all the nuance in the world, you could make it so that no one, not even as a joke, says anything about hating men, and you know what will happen? Just like has always happened, they will listen to who they want to listen to. They will listen to the people promising them superiority, they will listen to the people giving them a reason for their economic suffering (we must remember how much economics plays into radicalisation), that reason being evil feminists. They will see the man hate regardless of if it is there or not. Because they have been told to. Because it is convenient for them. And even if you convince them that we don't hate *men*, now you've got to convince them we don't hate them for being *white*. The point is not the hate they perceive but the superiority they seek and the power they desperately want.

Radicalisation and cult tactics do not rely on facts.

I couldn't have said it better myself.