#but thankfully they did and it was great~!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Enshittification isn’t caused by venture capital

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

Many of us have left the big social media platforms; far more of us wish we could leave them; and even those of us who've escaped from Facebook/Insta and Twitter still spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to get the people we care about off of them, too.

It's lazy and easy to think that our friends who are stuck on legacy platforms run by Zuckerberg and Musk lack the self-discipline to wean themselves off of these services, or lack the perspective to understand why it's so urgent to get away from them, or that their "hacked dopamine loops" have addicted them to the zuckermusk algorithms. But if you actually listen to the people who've stayed behind, you'll learn that the main reason our friends stay on legacy platforms is that they care about the other people there more than they hate Zuck or Musk.

They rely on them because they're in a rare-disease support group; or they all coordinate their kids' little league carpools there; or that's where they stay in touch with family and friends they left behind when they emigrated; or they're customers or the audience for creative labor.

All those people might want to leave, too, but it's really hard to agree on where to go, when to go, and how to re-establish your groups when you get somewhere else. Economists call this the "collective action problem." This problem creates "switching costs" – a lot of stuff you'll have to live without if you switch from legacy platforms to new ones. The collective action problem is hard to solve and the switching costs are very high:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/29/how-to-leave-dying-social-media-platforms/

That's why people stay behind – not because they lack perspective, or self-discipline, or because their dopamine loops have been hacked by evil techbro sorcerers who used Big Data to fashion history's first functional mind-control ray. They are locked in by real, material things.

Big Tech critics who attribute users' moral failings or platforms' technical prowess to the legacy platforms' "stickiness" are their own worst enemies. These critics have correctly identified that legacy platforms are a serious problem, but have totally failed to understand the nature of that problem or how to fix it. Thankfully, more and more critics are coming to understand that lock-in is the root of the problem, and that anti-lock-in measures like interoperability can address it.

But there's another major gap in the mainstream critique of social media. Critics of zuckermuskian media claim those services are so terrible because they're for-profit entities, capitalist enterprises hitched to the logic of extraction and profit above all else. The problem with this claim is that it doesn't explain the changes to these services. After all, the reason so many of us got on Twitter and Facebook and Instagram is because they used to be a lot of fun. They were useful. They were even great at times.

When tech critics fail to ask why good services turn bad, that failure is just as severe as the failure to ask why people stay when the services rot.

Now, the guy who ran Facebook when it was a great way to form communities and make friends and find old friends is the same guy who who has turned Facebook into a hellscape. There's very good reason to believe that Mark Zuckerberg was always a creep, and he took investment capital very early on, long before he started fucking up the service. So what gives? Did Zuck get a brain parasite that turned him evil? Did his investors get more demanding in their clamor for dividends?

If that's what you think, you need to show your working. Again, by all accounts, Zuck was a monster from day one. Zuck's investors – both the VCs who backed him early and the gigantic institutional funds whose portfolios are stuffed with Meta stock today – are not patient sorts with a reputation for going easy on entrepreneurs who leave money on the table. They've demanded every nickel since the start.

What changed? What caused Zuck to enshittify his service? And, even more importantly for those of us who care about the people locked into Facebook's walled gardens: what stopped him from enshittifying his services in the "good old days?"

At its root, enshittification is a theory about constraints. Companies pursue profit at all costs, but while you may be tempted to focus on the "at all costs" part of that formulation, you musn't neglect the "profits" part. Companies don't pursue unprofitable actions at all costs – they only pursue the plans that they judge are likely to yield profits.

When companies face real competitors, then some enshittificatory gambits are unprofitable, because they'll drive your users to competing platforms. That's why Zuckerberg bought Instagram: he had been turning the screws on Facebook users, and when Instagram came along, millions of those users decided that they hated Zuck more than they loved their friends and so they swallowed the switching costs and defected to Instagram. In an ill-advised middle-of-the-night memo to his CFO, Zuck defended spending $1b on Instagram on the grounds that it would recapture those Facebook escapees:

https://www.theverge.com/2020/7/29/21345723/facebook-instagram-documents-emails-mark-zuckerberg-kevin-systrom-hearing

A company that neutralizes, buys or destroys its competitors can treat its users far worse – invade their privacy, cheap out on moderation and anti-spam, etc – without losing their business. That's why Zuck's motto is "it is better to buy than to compete":

https://www.trtworld.com/magazine/zuckerberg-its-better-to-buy-than-compete-is-facebook-a-monopoly-42243

Of course, as a leftist, I know better than to count on markets as a reliable source of corporate discipline. Even more important than market discipline is government discipline, in the form of regulation. If Zuckerberg feared fines for privacy violations, or moderation failures, or illegal anticompetitive mergers, or fraudulent advertising systems that rip off publishers and advertisers, or other forms of fraud (like the "pivot to video"), he would treat his users better. But Facebook's rise to power took place during the second half of the neoliberal era, when the last shreds of regulatory muscle that survived the Reagan revolution were being devoured by GW Bush and Obama (and then Trump).

As cartels and monopolies took over our economy, most government regulators were neutered and captured. Public agencies were stripped of their powers or put in harness to attack small companies, customers, and suppliers who got in the way of monopolists' rent-extraction. That meant that as Facebook grew, Zuckerberg had less and less to fear from government enforcers who might punish him for enshittification where the markets failed to do so.

But it's worse than that, because Zuckerberg and other tech monopolists figured out how to harness "IP" law to get the government to shut down third-party technology that might help users resist enshittification. IP law is why you can't make a privacy-protecting ad-blocker for an app (and why companies are so desperate to get you to use their apps rather than the open web, and why apps are so dismally enshittified). IP law is why you can't make an alternative client that blocks algorithmic recommendations. IP law is why you can't leave Facebook for a new service and run a scraper that imports your waiting Facebook messages into a different inbox. IP law is why you can't scrape Facebook to catalog the paid political disinformation the company allows on the platform:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

IP law's growth has coincided with Facebook's ascendancy – the bigger Facebook got, the more tempting it was to interoperators who might want to plug new code into it to protect Facebook users, and the more powers Facebook had to block even the most modest improvements to its service. That meant that Facebook could enshittify even more, without worrying that it would drive users to take unilateral, permanent action that would deprive it of revenue, like blocking ads. Once ad-blocking is illegal (as it is on apps), there's no reason not to make ads as obnoxious as you want.

Of course, many Facebook employees cared about their users, and for most of the 21st century, those workers were a key asset for Facebook. Tech workers were in short supply until just a couple years ago, when the platforms started round after round of brutal layoffs – 260,000 in 2023, another 150,000+ in 2024. Facebook workers may be furious about Zuckerberg killing content moderation, but he's not worried about them quitting – not with a half-million skilled tech workers out there, hunting for jobs. Fuck 'em. Let 'em quit:

https://www.404media.co/its-total-chaos-internally-at-meta-right-now-employees-protest-zuckerbergs-anti-lgbtq-changes/

This is what changed: the collapse of market, government, and labor constraints, and IP law's criminalization of disenshittifying, interoperable add-ons. This is why Zuck, an eternal creep, is now letting his creep flag fly so proudly today. Not because he's a worse person, but because he understands that he can hurt his users and workers to benefit his shareholders without facing any consequences. Zuckerberg 2025 isn't the most evil Zuck, he's the most unconstrained Zuck.

Same goes for Twitter. I mean, obviously, there's been a change in management at Twitter – the guy who's enshittifying it today isn't the guy who enshittified it prior to last year. Musk is speedrunning the enshittification curve, and yet Twitter isn't collapsing. Why not? Because Musk is insulated from consequences for fucking up – he's got a huge cushion of wealth, he's got advertisers who are desperate to reach his users, he's got users who can't afford to leave the service, he's got IP law that he can use to block interoperators who might make it easier to migrate to a better service. He was always a greedy, sadistic asshole. Now he's an unconstrained greedy, sadistic asshole. Musk 2025 isn't a worse person than Musk 2020. He's just more free to act on his evil impulses than he was in years gone by.

These are the two factors that make services terrible: captive users, and no constraints. If your users can't leave, and if you face no consequences for making them miserable (not solely their departure to a competitor, but also fines, criminal charges, worker revolts, and guerrilla warfare with interoperators), then you have the means, motive and opportunity to turn your service into a giant pile of shit.

That's why we got Jack Welch and his acolytes when we did. There were always evil fuckers just like them hanging around, but they didn't get to run GM until Ronald Reagan took away the constraints that would have punished them for turning GE into a giant pile of shit. Every economy is forever a-crawl with parasites and monsters like these, but they don't get to burrow into the system and colonize it until policymakers create rips they can pass through.

In other words, the profit motive itself is not sufficient to cause enshittification – not even when a for-profit firm has to answer to VCs who would shut down the company or fire its leadership in the face of unsatisfactory returns. For-profit companies chase profit. The enshittifying changes to Facebook and Twitter are cruel, but the cruelty isn't the point: the point is profits. If the fines – or criminal charges – Facebook faced for invading our privacy exceeded the ad-targeting revenue it makes by doing so, it would stop spying on us. Facebook wouldn't like it. Zuck would hate it. But he'd do it, because he spies on us to make money, not because he's a voyeur.

To stop enshittification, it is not necessary to eliminate the profit motive – it is only necessary to make enshittification unprofitable.

This is not to defend capitalism. I'm not saying there's a "real capitalism" that's good, and a "crony capitalism" or "monopoly capitalism" that's bad. All flavors of capitalism harm working people and seek to shift wealth and power from the public and democratic institutions to private interests. But that doesn't change the fact that there are, indeed, different flavors of capitalism, and they have different winners and losers. Capitalists who want to sell apps on the App Store or reach customers through Facebook are technofeudalism's losers, while Apple, Facebook, Google, and other Big Tech companies are technofeudalism's great winners.

Smart leftism pays attention to these differences, because they represent the potential fault lines in capitalism's coalition. These people all call themselves capitalists, they all give money and support to political movements that seek to crush worker power and human rights – but when the platforms win, the platforms' business customers lose. They are irreconcilably on different sides of a capitalism-v-capitalism fight that is every bit as important to them as the capitalism-v-socialism fight.

I'm saying that it's good praxis to understand these divisions in capitalism, because then we can exploit those differences to make real, material gains for human thriving and worker rights. Lumping all for-profit businesses together as identical and irredeemable is bad tactics.

Legacy social media is at a turning point. Two new systems built on open standards have emerged as a credible threat to the zuckermuskian model: Mastodon (built on Activitypub) and Bluesky (built on Atproto). The former is far more mature, with a huge network of federated servers run by all different kinds of institutions, from hobbyists to corporations, and it's overseen by a nonprofit. The latter has far more users, and is a VC-backed corporate entity, and while it is hypothetically federatable, there are no Bluesky services apart from the main one that you can leave for if Bluesky starts to enshittify.

That means that Bluesky has a ton of captive users, and has the lack of constraint that characterizes the enshittified legacy platforms it has tempted tens of millions of users away from. This is not a good place to be in, because it means that if the current management choose to enshittify Bluesky, they can, and it will be profitable. It also means that the company's VCs understand that they could replace the current management and replace them with willing enshittifiers and make more money.

This is why Bluesky is in a dangerous place: not because it is backed by VCs, not because it is a for-profit entity, but because it has captive users and no constraints. It's a great party in a sealed building with no fire exits:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/14/fire-exits/#graceful-failure-modes

Last week, I endorsed a project called Free Our Feeds, whose goals include hacking some fire exits into Bluesky by force majeure – that is, independently standing up an alternative Bluesky server that people can retreat to if Bluesky management changes, or has a change of heart:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/14/contesting-popularity/#everybody-samba

For some Mastodon users, Free Our Feeds is dead on arrival – why bother trying to make a for-profit project safer for its users when Mastodon is a perfectly good nonprofit alternative? Why waste millions developing a standalone Bluesky server rather than spending that money improving things in the Fediverse.

I believe strongly in improving the Fediverse, and I believe in adding the long-overdue federation to Bluesky. That's because my goal isn't the success of the Fediverse – it's the defeat of enshtitification. My answer to "why spend money fixing Bluesky?" is "why leave 20 million people at risk of enshittification when we could not only make them safe, but also create the toolchain to allow many, many organizations to operate a whole federation of Bluesky servers?" If you care about a better internet – and not just the Fediverse – then you should share this goal, too.

Many of the Fediverse's servers are operated by for-profit entities, after all. One of the Fediverse's largest servers (Threads) is owned by Meta. Threads users who feel the bite of Zuckerberg's decision to encourage homophobic, xenophobic and transphobic hate speech will find it easy to escape from Threads: they can set up on any Fediverse server that is federated with Threads and they'll be able to maintain their connections with everyone who stays behind.

The existence of for-profit servers in the Fediverse does not ruin the Fediverse (though I wouldn't personally use one of them). The fact that multiple neo-Nazi groups run their own Mastodon servers does not ruin the Fediverse (though I certainly won't use their servers). Not even the fact that Donald Trump's Truth Social is a Mastodon server does anything to ruin the Fediverse (not using that one, either).

This is the strength of federated, federatable social media – it disciplines enshittifiers by lowering switching costs, and if enshittifiers persist, it makes it easy for users to escape unshitted, because they don't have to solve the collective action problem. Any user can go to any server at any time and stay in touch with everyone else.

Mastodon was born free: free code, with free federation as a priority. Bluesky was not: it was born within a for-profit public benefit corporation whose charter offers some defenses against enshittification, but lacks the most decisive one: the federation that would let users escape should escape become necessary.

The fact that Mastodon was born free is quite unusual in the annals of the fight for a free internet. Most of the internet was born proprietary and had freedom foisted upon it. Unix was born within Bell Labs, property of the convicted monopolist AT&T. The GNU/Linux project set it free.

SMB was born proprietary within corporate walls of Microsoft, another corporate monopolist. SAMBA set it free.

The Office file formats were also born proprietary within Microsoft's walled garden: they were set free by hacker-activists who fought through a thick bureaucratic morass and Microsoft fuckery (including literally refusing to allow chairs to be set for advocates for Open Document Format) to give us formats that underlie everything from LibreOffice to Google Docs, Office365 to your web browser.

There is nothing unusual, in other words, about hacking freedom into something that is proprietary or just insufficiently free. That's totally normal. It's how we got almost everything great about computers.

Mastodon's progenitors should be praised for ensuring their creation was born free – but the fact that Bluesky isn't free enough is no reason to turn our back on it. Our response to anything that locks in the people we care about must be to shatter those locks, not abandon the people bound by the locks because they didn't heed to our warnings.

Audre Lorde is far smarter than me, but when she wrote that "the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house," she was wrong. There is no toolset better suited to conduct an orderly dismantling of a structure than the tools that built it. You can be sure it'll have all the right screwdriver bits, wrenches, hexkeys and sockets.

Bluesky is fine. It has features I significantly prefer to Mastodon's equivalent. Composable moderation is amazing, both a technical triumph and a triumph of human-centered design:

https://bsky.social/about/blog/4-13-2023-moderation

I hope Mastodon adopts those features. If someone starts a project to copy all of Bluesky's best features over to Mastodon, I'll put my name to the crowdfunding campaign in a second.

But Mastodon has one feature that Bluesky sorely lacks – the federation that imposes antienshittificatory discipline on companies and offers an enshittification fire-exit for users if the discipline fails. It's long past time that someone copied that feature over to Bluesky.

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/20/capitalist-unrealism/#praxis

[meadowfics]

boredom got a new bestfriend

kang dae-ho x pregnant!reader

pregnancy has been exhausting, but luckily your partner is here for you.

warnings: post-squid game au. ptsd themes included but this is mainly comfort I swear

it felt like you were feeling postpartum depression before you even gave birth to the baby.

your daughter is the best thing to be happening for you right now, a human-being sharing the dna of you and your sunshine of a husband.. but you hate the discomfort.

your belly is a little bit bigger for someone who is 34 weeks along.

the doctor predicts that your girl will come out a little bit more developed than the average infant.. great.

growing up for all of your life, you slept on your stomach.

sleeping on your side and/or back during this pregnancy makes you wake up each hour, ready to throw up or cramped due to the uncomfortable position.

the lack of sleep has been killing you, and you know it will not get any better once the girl arrives.

don't worry, dae-ho has been the best partner ever, doing as much as he can to help you!

he doesn't know how it feels to carry a baby for nine months, especially a baby thats in a bigger percentile (thanks to his genetics), but he can see how much its affecting you mentally.

the man will cuddle you to sleep, give you foot massages, head massages too.. but it seems like his daughter wants to give you hell.

you're bored throughout the day as well.

its all of the time.

before your pregnancy, you used to go on walks and do chores and run errands for other people for money.

well, you had to before you joined the games.

the games are apart of the reason as to why you barely get any sleep, scared that you will wake up to someone killing you with a fork to add money to the pile.

however, you remind yourself that you are safe.

the baby is safe, you are with dae-ho, and you're all alive and safe.

even if you aren't comfortable due to your belly..

now, you cannot do a simple task like going to the grocery store without getting tired.

you've had enough, you cannot wait for the six weeks until your daughter is born.

one night, it reached its point when you went to sleep beside dae-ho.

the man's arm was wrapped around your fully developed belly, he loved to hold his daughter that you carried.

you laid on your back, your head laid down on the pillow looking up at the ceiling.

it was 12:02am when you fell asleep.

a big kick caused by your daughter made you jump awake.

dae-ho didn't wake up after you moved his arm from your stomach.

thankfully since you want him to get his sleep at least.

when you checked the time, tears immediately poured out of your eyes.

its 12:12am..

you couldn't even get ten minutes of good sleep without your body, or your daughter, stopping that.

walking out of the bedroom into the living room, you decided to turn on an old sitcom rerun that played on the overnight channels.

that did not entertain you.. nothing seemed to.

you tried to romanticize the moment, going to quickly grab some water and a fruit bowl so you could eat and relax.. but nothing worked.

sleeping was the best option, but waking up every ten minutes is driving you insane.. so why sleep at all?

"baby?"

you saw dae-ho enter the living room, wiping his tried eyes with his hands.

he is just wearing his plaid pajamas and no shirt. sexy.

sex could help the boredom, since intimacy with dae-ho is never boring, but you were too exhausted to even move at all.

"why are you awake?"

you softly ask, unaware that he could ask you the same thing.

which he is..

"I was going to ask you the same thing, since you're watching a sitcom marathon at one in the morning.."

dae ho mumbles, his big hand resting on your thigh as he looks ahead at the show on the television.

"your daughter is not letting me sleep, so I figured that watching television could pass time.. but that is not helping."

you frown.

dae-ho frowns too, moving his hand from your thigh and gently rubbing your belly.

he moves his head down towards your belly as well, going to talk to your daughter through your nightgown.

"awh, sweetheart, why are you being so mean to your mommy?"

you smile at this gesture, knowing your daughter will go right back to kicking your organs all over the place.

"I can't sleep and I am very bored.. I don't know how I am going to last these six weeks, dae."

you plead.

the man looks up at you, guilt in his eyes, as he tried to think of a solution.

"well, I can offer besides cuddles and physical affection to help you sleep comfortably.. but maybe I could stay up with you so you are not so bored as well?"

the tired man speaks through his raspy voice.

"no, dae-ho, you need your sleep."

"you need it a lot more than I do.."

dae-ho smiles,

"you will need to gain enough energy when its time to push next month!"

he's right.

how were you supposed to birth your daughter if you were too tired to push?

the man sees worry flash before your eyes and retracts his words,

"wait I was kidding, I--"

"dae-ho, I know, don't worry!"

you giggle.

you relax into your man's arms while watching the boring show on the television.

it feels like your daughter stopped her soccer/football game happening inside of your uterus.

so you close your eyes to see if your mind will take you to sleep.

you focus on dae-ho's scent since your nose is against his chest.

the first thing you notice is that dae-ho used your body wash while he showered at some point.. your vanilla body wash.. wow!

suddenly, you couldn't process anything else as you fell asleep with dae-ho.. since he already fell asleep before you.

when you wake up, the sun is shining through the curtains and you were back in your bed.

you were... comfortable.. woah.

something you haven't felt since before your belly starting growing with your baby.

the soft ivory blanket was warm against your cool skin, the pillow soft underneath your ears.

dae-ho is still asleep, his back facing towards you.

you move yourself to get behind him, big spooning him as your belly pokes his lower back.

"goodmornin', my baby."

dae-ho's raspy voice speaks, taking your small hand and kissing your knuckle lightly.

"good morning, handsome."

you smile, feeling refreshed.

looking over at the alarm clock, the time reads 10:38am

taking a huge sigh of relief, you cuddled into dae-ho more, happy to finally get some good rest after months of failure.

"how did you sleep?"

dae-ho mumbles against your soft hands.

"I slept good, for once."

you giggle.

"see, I knew my little talk to (daughter's name) would work!"

dae-ho smiles and you giggle.

"thank you, love."

masterlist

[moriitis]

Please! Create a situation with Toby being jealous! For whatever reason, I love it!

have I proof read this? no. so if you see mistakes, no you don't.

Jealous!Toby Rogers x Reader.

"Thanks Brian," you huffed softly, pushing strands of hair away from your sticky forehead. You were coated in sweat and your lungs burnt as you gasped for steady breaths of oxygen. The dampness of the forest floor beneath you cooled you only a fraction as you felt the increasing urge to peel off your hoodie. Whatever happened was a blur, but a blur that frankly hasn't happened in a long time. It had been awhile since anyone has considered stepping foot into the forest and you'd spent an increasing amount of time following their tracks and observing them within the shadows of the trees and shrubbery around you. Only, to your surprise, the person seemed to have a haunch that you were following and began speeding off into the valley before you; heading further and further into dangerous territory. Trespassers were bad news and by all means, they had to be eliminated, so when this person began sprinting off, the chase was on. Despite their speed, the forest was kind to you as you knew all what lurked deep within the fog and just when you were about to grab a hold of them, you slipped and sprained your ankle. Thankfully enough, Brian was on your trail close behind and thankfully this person did not get away so easy.

It was a rookie mistake and admittedly you were a little embarrassed to let it happen, but the rain from the night before made the ground slick with mud and the many holes that dotted the forest soil was dangerous to even the most simplest of Proxies.

"Don't thank me, it's alright," Brian reassured as he knelt beside you, lifting the cuff of your trouser to assess your ankle better. His lips pursed which didn't really give you much hope for the state of your condition. "Looks pretty swollen," he commented as he reached over to gentle probe your skin with his index finger, resulting in a sharp pain that made you hiss out. He grimaced and shot you an apologetic look from under his eyelashes, turning his attention back to your ankle. "I'm no expert, but doesn't look great." Admittedly, you bit back a sarcastic remark because deep down you were just annoyed with yourself and the situation. With a hesitant nod, you sighed a heavy sigh.

"Doesn't feel too great either," you remarked, forcing a friendly smile to hide the level of pain you were experiencing. Brian could only chuckle dryly as he leant back a little, hands on his knees.

"Think you could walk?" he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly at the question. Your stubbornness ignited the spark inside you to at least try, a part of you not wanting to give in so easily. So, with a little grunt, you pushed yourself up from the tree; only as soon as pressure was applied to your ankle, you slipped a fell back down again. Brian's lips pursed and he gave you a look, pitying you a little. "Guess not." He said, trying to add some humour to the situation in an attempt to make you feel better. Before you could muster up a remark, there was a rustle in the bushes nearby and immediately you felt the urge to jump into action. Only as soon as you made the attempt once again to stand, you collapsed with a pained grunt as Brian stood to his feet. You were both on high alert, a rock held securely in Brian's hand and your knife close to your chest as you glanced out into the darkness; awaiting.

Finally the bushes parted and out came Toby, the familiar beige hoodie, his hatchets in each hand and those orange goggles sat atop his messy, brunette hair. You breathed out a sigh of relief, thankful that it wasn't another trespasser but still irritated at the thought of Toby seeing you like this - as if Brian was bad enough. Toby was panting a little, like he were trying to find you and it seemed his shoulders dropped as he relaxed a little upon seeing you. His gaze flickered over toward Brian momentarily as he assessed the situation before him.

Now you and Toby were in no means together nor had you ever considered relationships since becoming a proxy, but you knew deep down if a part of you had to choose, it had to be Toby. His goofiness, the way he looks out for you, his dumb remarks that make your stomach hurt just from laughing, his hair, his muscles- okay, you were getting distracted and quickly you peeled your gaze away.

"Oh, it's you-you- you guys," he began, lowering his hatchets as he stepped a little closer. His gaze faltered over to your exposed ankle and he raised a brow in interest. "What h-hhappened with you?" he asked, trying to cover his worriedness with nothing but plain, odd curiosity. It seemed he completely disregarded Brian as he knelt down beside you, your gaze meeting with his for just a moment until he glanced away.

"I fell, Brian says I sprained my ankle," you muttered, cheeks flushing a little admitting it out loud. Brian crossed his arms securely over his chest, watching Toby.

"I'm just guessing, it could be broken," Brian chimed in, shrugging softly. He wasn't the expert, anything swollen could be broken or sprained. It seemed Toby wasn't too satisfied with that answer and huffed a little.

"Dummy," he teased softly as his fist jabbed you softly on your arm, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

"She can't walk either, so it's good your here," Brian scratched the back of his neck, shrugging softly. He knew he had the strength to carry you, it's just he also knew how damn stubborn you are. Toby glanced up at Brian and back down toward you before standing back up straight, leaving you sat on your damp ass, leaning against an equally damper tree. Pushing his hatchets into the loop on his belt, Toby twitched and cracked his neck before shrugging.

"Alright," he replied nonchalantly. "L-LL-Let's goo," he chimed, Brian and him nodding in unison as they both knelt down to hook an arm under your own. You took support on their muscular frame as they lifted you to your feet, you being mindful not to apply any pressure to your bad ankle. With one arm draped over Brian's shoulders and your other the same on Toby's, you could feel a sense of warmness surround you and your cheeks as you tried to contain yourself. You were between two muscular men and this was the closet they had ever been, you could smell Toby's familiar 'woody' scent, a faint metallic smell that clung to his clothing and with Brian he smelt like strong aftershave. They both handled you like you were fragile, fine china and you could feel their stares on you as you slowly hobbled along in between them. Your heart was beating a million beats per second and you only hoped, prayed that they couldn't hear it. Toby's rough hand was secure on your waist whereas Brian's was more on your upper torso, just almost grazing your breast. Now you knew Brian never had any weird or sexual intentions, it was just awkward placement.. as for Toby, he only had alarm bells going off as he glanced over his shoulder to notice Brian's suggestive hand placement.

Each step you grunted and groaned softly as your foot make gentle contact with the ground beneath you and apparently, it got unbearable as Toby quickly pulled his frame away from you; staggering you slightly and causing you to lean more on Brian's weight. Something that really didn't sit right with Toby.

"This isn't w-wor-w-" he huffed. "Working," he announced, almost agitated as both you and Brian shot him a confused look. You went to open your mouth to say something but Brian already spoke up before you.

"What's wrong?" he asked but Toby didn't answer as he pushed Brian's arm off around you, causing you to almost step back and fall back on your ass. Only before you could, Toby's arm hooked under your knees, his other slipping around your torso and it was there he lifted you bridal style. You squealed a little as he lifted you into the air, causing you to hook your arms around his neck in fear of falling down.

"I can handle this," Toby spoke abruptly as he glanced at Brian, leaving him a little bewildered at what was happening before his eyes. It wasn't all the time Toby acted this way and honestly, it felt a little hostile. Thankfully, Brian wasn't one to lose his temper quick and in fact, caught on to the situation almost instantly. There was a little, smug grin across his face as he crossed his arms.

"Oh, right, yeah, seems you can," Brian remarked, shrugging softly. "Want me to tag along?" he asked but it seemed he already knew the answer.

"No, she's alright," Toby seemingly replied before you could speak for yourself, his grip on you tightening a little. Brian then sent you a smile, wanting to ensure that you were okay with this and frankly, you just nodded slowly.

"Thanks, Brian," you muttered softly, feeling too flustered to form a proper sentence at all. "I'll reach out." Brian only smiled and gave a court nod before disappearing off into the woods, focusing back on his task.

Toby seemed a little distant, cold and frankly it put you on edge a little. So, slowly you glanced up at him and raised a questioning brow. His muscular, tall body swayed a little as he carried you through the forest, where you were going? You had no clue but you had some weird kind of trust in Toby and is intentions, despite his coldness toward Brian.

"What's wrong with you?" you remarked, surprising the brunette a little as he raised his brows. Despite his sudden cold demeanour, there was now a smile tugging at the intact corner of his lips and you only became more confused.

"Why were you t-t-talking to B-Brian?" he asked softly and you were shocked, unsure on what to even say. So your mouth hung agape as you tried to grasp the right words to say, your mind nothing but an empty blankness as you tried to conjure up a remark.

"What? Wh-Wh-" Fuck, you were so shocked you were stuttering yourself! And Toby couldn't help but give you a look that said, 'are you mocking me?' You were flustered and now you were panicking. "What do you mean?" you quickly remarked. "He was just helping." You felt insane explaining this to him, it wasn't like you owned him anything nor did he control who you did or didn't speak to.

Shrugging softly, Toby just pursed his lips before responding: "But you have me."

sorry if this sucks i kept getting distracted heheh

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

[While waiting for the kettle to boil water, Li is startled by the sound of four tiny fists banging on the door]

Mei: Mommy! Li: Hi sweetie, did you have fun? Mei: Yeah!

Li: Did you miss me? Mei: No. Li: Well, I missed you.

Li: I was just about to have some tea; do you want to stay for a cup? Dawn: Sure.

Li: Thank you again for taking care of her for me. Did she sleep okay? Dawn: They both did, if you can believe it. I think it’s the first time Aspen has slept through the night in months. They must’ve worn each other out running around together. Li: [laughs] I can imagine.

Dawn: How are you feeling? Did everything go okay? Li: Oh yeah, it was great. Atlas and Asher were even able to be in the room, and they had this screen set up so they could see the ultrasound image. So, they got to watch the embryos being transferred, it was really neat. Dawn: That’s amazing.

Dawn: How long before you know if it worked? Li: We go back in a couple of weeks to find out. Dawn: Is that all? Li: Yes, thankfully, the wait is going to be so hard. I’m already anxious. I’ve been trying to distract myself by pre-recording as many videos as I can. If the morning sickness is half as bad as it was with Mei, then I’ll need it.

Dawn: Well, if you need any help, don’t hesitate to call me. Phoenix is working so much these days, Aspen and I can come by anytime to watch Mei. I can help out with laundry and meals. Whatever you need. Li: Thank you, really, you’re such an angel. Dawn: Oh please, you’re having my brother’s babies, you’re basically family now.

[Li’s phone vibrates]

Li: Ugh. Dawn: Who is it? Li: Nathan. Dawn: Oh, I thought you liked him.

Li: I did, he’s really sweet and funny, but he wanted to get serious right away, and I just can’t do that, so I ended things with him a few weeks ago. Dawn: That’s too bad. I’m sorry. Li: It’s okay. I really prefer being single right now, if I’m honest.

[Li’s phone vibrates again]

Li: [sighs] Unfortunately, he thinks he can “fix things” or something. He doesn’t understand there’s nothing to fix. We just want different things. Dawn: Well, if it’s been a few weeks and he’s not hearing you, maybe it’s time to just block him. Li: I think you’re right. I was hoping we could stay friends, but clearly that won’t work.

Li: There. Blocked.

[of-yourblazingsun]

“Pads,” said a tiny voice coming from the bedside drawer. Sirius startled, but then slowly relaxed back into the pillows when he remembered the two-way mirror.

“Please, Pads, it’s been days. You didn’t sit with us on the train, which I understand, but then you disappeared so quickly from the platform. You never said goodbye, and I don’t even know where you are. You mentioned your uncle’s old house but I have no idea if we’re on opposite ends of the country right now. My parents are asking a hundred questions and I have no answers for them.”

Sirius turned out the lamp. He could feel his eyes stinging as he lay there in darkness.

“Are you and Regulus doing well? I hate to think of you having to cook for yourselves. Please don’t die from food poisoning,” said James.

Despite the circumstances, Sirius had to fight off a smile.

There was a long pause, and Sirius thought James had given up, before the other boy pleaded, “You don’t have to keep punishing yourself.”

Sirius felt the tears fall. It wasn’t true. He did have to keep it up because if he didn’t, he’d do something horrible again, for it was in his blood. He was fighting his very nature every day. And he’d do it gladly if it meant he didn’t hurt anyone else he cared for.

“I hope you get some sleep tonight,” James sighed after a while, seeming to accept that he wasn’t going to get a response. “Take care of yourself, Padfoot.”

Sirius wiped his eyes as he tried not to make any noise while crying. Not being able to use magic in the summers meant that he had to be careful that his brother couldn’t hear him down the hall.

Nobody should care if Sirius took care of himself or not. He didn’t understand why James still checked in. For a while after that horrible night at the Shrieking Shack, none of his friends could even look at him, including James. But some time after what must’ve been his twentieth apology, James took pity and started talking to him again. That’s what it was, though. Pity. Because even while James would talk to him in the dorm and the Great Hall, he’d still chosen to sit with Remus in classes. As he should have. Thankfully, they hadn’t had much of the year left and they’d all had O.W.L.s to focus on.

He didn’t sleep much that night.

~~~

Snippet from a jegulus and wolfstar fic I’ll probably never finish, because I’ve been stuck for months and I have no one to talk about it with, which means I’ve unfortunately lost steam. In this au there’s no Voldemort but the prank still happens and Sirius and Regulus run away to Alphard’s house in Brighton. I may have fallen in love with that seaside town while on holiday there

[nickfowlerrr]

once more with feeling

pairing: professor!bucky barnes x curvy!actress!reader (reader is not a student)

warnings: mdni. no smut. flirting. i’d label this as soft horny if that were a thing lol. edward/guy moratz makes a short appearance. not much else really but self-indulgence at its finest. reader is probably minimum twenty five but you can imagine whatever age 21 and up you'd like and it should read alright.

words: 5185

notes: this was originally going to be a professor bucky x reader fic but then i got the idea for auditioning reader and then i thought oh! what if i wrote for my latest obsession - edward/guy! so then it was gonna be guy x actress reader but then i realized i kept picturing bucky and i’ve missed writing for him so then it changed again into professor bucky but now with actress reader and that’s where i landed with it even though i think this would work so well with guy as our guy and truth be told upon rereading myself i did start to picture him instead of bucky ha but ANYWAY this is buckys fic but if you wanna picture guy that works pretty well too 🤭 writing this was a nice distraction from the craziness of life lately and i hope you enjoy it. also just to say it - if you haven’t had the chance to watch a different man yet, you absolutely should. it’s great.

pls lmk your thoughts! i’d love to hear what you think. thank you in advance for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are so appreciated and more than welcome. 🩵

Goosebumps have risen all over your skin as you sit in the uncomfortable auditorium seat. Your legs are freezing thanks to the dress you don; despite its length, the fabric doesn’t provide much warmth and you can’t help but shake just a touch as another chill comes over you. You wrap your arms as tightly as you can around yourself but it too does little to help. The shrug cropped cardigan keeps your arms covered but the cold still chills - even inside the walls of this classroom auditorium.

This was a stupid idea, you accept far too late.

Granted, your planned outfit originally saw you in lined leggings to help fight the cold of the season, but after your little trip down the stairs on your way here - despite having held the skirt of the dress up to avoid such a fall to begin with! - you decided to toss the ripped and coffee soaked leggings and keep on instead of doing what the universe clearly was screaming at you to do: Go back to your apartment, take those god forsaken heeled shoes off, and put on something simpler. You were trying too hard.

Maybe you were. But you couldn’t care. You needed this. And when do you get to wear a dress like this on the daily? It fits the mood and works for the role without being a costume. You may feel a little uncomfortable, you don’t wear dresses out often, but you don’t think you’ve really made the wrong choice.

You were last on the audition sign in sheet so thankfully no one would be left to watch you the way you’d just studied the twelve other girls reading for this role.

They all dressed casually, had book bags with them, it was obvious they all attended this school. And here you were! A college dropout, overdressed in comparison, and clearly out of place.

Ah, you’re getting too in your head again. Always looking for a reason why something won’t go your way. But you’ve been working on that, and calling yourself out seems to help.

You take a deep breath as the last girl clears the stage and the casting table speaks amongst themselves.

You haven’t been able to see any of their faces, only the backs of their heads. You aren’t sure if there are students or faculty at the table with them but you figure it doesn’t really matter.

The casting call said all were welcome to audition - student or not. The location was only at the college because of renovations on the theatre in the city.

…It did say that, right? You’re not auditioning for a college show, right?

Your heart begins to pick up speed as you worry. Did you read it wrong? Were you making things up? You scramble for your phone and as you pull up the email the city theatre sent out last week, your name is called.

You don’t have the chance to reread it before you shut your phone off and tuck it away in your bag, placing it on your seat as you stand. You take a breath as you smile as confidently and friendly as you can and make your way down to the stage.

“That’s me,” you say as they watch you.

Finally you’re able to see their faces and as you make eye contact with each of them you can feel them sizing you up. Three people sit at the folding table before the stage and one man sits a bit further back in the second row of auditorium seats. He has yet to look up from his book and you realize you hadn’t noticed him at all earlier.

A younger man at the casting table, no more than 30 if you’d had to guess, tilts his head as he watches you ascend the few steps to the stage.

“So,” he states your name again, “do you attend classes here?”

“No,” you answer with a small shake of your head, “no I’m not a student.” You work to maintain your easy smile as you feel all eyes on you.

The man nods and turns to speak to the man still sitting and reading behind him. “Well, Mr. Barnes,” he gets his attention finally, “no pressure to stay. All the students have been seen, you’re free to go. This is the last audition for the day then we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Until tomorrow when you’ll take over my auditorium again,” he rumbles lowly as he stares at the man who is still looking at him.

You swallow hard as you do the same. His eyes are bright despite his obvious annoyance, his dark hair pushed back as he tries to keep it out of his face, only a couple silver strands shining through the dark chestnut brown; the stubble that covers his jaw adds to his air of gruffness - the spot of gray near his chin adding to his appeal. He’s tall, you gather as your eyes move down his body, his long legs. He wears dark slacks and a baby blue button up dress shirt tucked into his pants. The sleeves are rolled up his forearms and the top couple buttons of his shirt are undone, giving just a hint at his chest hair and the chain that hangs around his neck.

You realize you’re staring as you hear the voice of the younger man responding to Mr. Barnes, but you don’t hear what he’s saying as you force yourself to look away. Your eyes blink up and you’re caught. His blue eyes are on you, brows furrowed and his expression unreadable. You quickly look away and pretend you weren’t doing a thing as you wait for them to give you the go ahead.

Some more words are exchanged as they seem to try and appease the man whose classroom they are in. You’re not entirely paying attention to the conversation as you run your lines in your head for the millionth time.

You know the words. You know the part. You’re not worried, necessarily. But you haven’t booked a single thing in the past eight months and to say that hasn’t shaken your confidence in yourself even just a little bit would be a lie. But you’re getting back to your roots. You’ve missed the theatre. It was and will forever be your first love. This is your first stage audition in a while though, and your first experience with this theatre. Since moving to the city, you swore you’d audition for one of their shows but just never got around to it as your focus shifted to film. This is your time now. Is it going exactly how you’d envisioned it’d go? Well, you’re standing in a university campus auditorium instead of the stage at the Fervent Fires Theatre to audition, so, no. But that’s okay! You have a good feeling about this. And as you stand here, you feel more and more relaxed. It’s kind of bringing you back to your high school days - the annoyed teacher having to share the auditorium with the annoying theatre people. It’s funny.

And after seeing the other girls audition you really don’t feel too stressed. Most of them were late teens auditioning for Elmire. Despite the fact you played her in your late teens, too, that was simply because the production was full of other teens and young adults. You’re definitely more of the right fit even now. You’ve seen some of the theatre's productions before and who and how they tend to cast. Granted this is second day auditions and everyone else who has been seen might be in your league, but you won’t dwell on who you may be compared to - and you kind of needed the confidence boost today.

You take a breath and remind yourself you know what you’re doing. Whether you get a callback or not, just being on a stage again, acting in front of people again, you’ve needed this. It’s good.

You come back to yourself, out of your head and more at ease and hear Mr. Barnes as he speaks.

“And I appreciate being ‘free to go’ but I’m fine right where I am. Seeing as how this is my classroom, I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

“Oh, no, of course not. I just meant that if you wanted to go, you were free to, are free to, do, ya know, whatever you want. We were under the impression you were required to be here as a faculty member during student’s auditions, but, uhm, yes, of course. We aren’t trying to push you out or anything,” he smiles before nervously clearing his throat and turning back to face the table. He shuffles around the papers before him and you see him pull your headshot and resume to the front of his stack, grabbing his notes and pen before turning his gaze to you.

“Alright, sorry about that. You can start whenever you’re ready.”

Their eyes are all on you. The casting table, and the man behind them. He’s set his book down next to him, has his hands folded in his lap as he sits back in his seat, casual and intent all at once, while his brilliant blue gaze is set right on you.

-

The audition is a blur, it goes by so fast. As you thank them for their time, you’re surprised when they offer you more information they hadn’t given out before.

“Callbacks will be next Tuesday and they’ll be at the actual theatre. We’ve been under construction all month but should be good to go next week. We appreciate you taking the time to come audition here, we know it’s a little out of the way in comparison.”

“Not a problem at all, it actually isn’t too far from me,” you smile.

“Good, well, keep a look out for an email with more details and…” the director on the end of the table looks up to you as if she’s catching herself from revealing a secret, then sighs, “ah, screw it, you’re definitely on the callback list,” she smiles, “we’ll see you there.”

“Amazing,” you breathe, “I’m looking forward to it. Thank you again, so much,” you can’t help your grin as you walk closer to the steps of the stage.

The casting table packs their things as you walk past them back to where you were sitting before. You’d left your bag and half drinken coffee so you make to go get it. As you pass the first few rows, you feel Barnes’ stare again, this time only fleeting as his name is called from the young man who spoke to him before.

“This table?”

“You can leave it,” he states, sounding bored.

“Okay. Thank you again for letting us use the stage, we really do appreciate it.”

You don’t hear him reply as you hear the casting team leave out the door.

The realization you’re the last one left intruding on this man has you hurrying up.

Until you hear his voice again.

“You were good.”

You turn at the compliment, wide eyed as you see him coming closer up the steps. Your heart seems to skip a beat and you wonder what he’s doing until he bends down a few rows before you and picks up an empty coffee cup someone must have left earlier.

You’re caught a bit off guard but force your mouth to work after a second, “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he nods as he stands back up straight. You watch as he tosses it easily into the trash can at the bottom of the stairs before he turns back to look at you again.

You were right. He’s tall, and somehow even more attractive than you’d originally thought now that you’re seeing him even closer.

“I’m no director, but from what I’ve seen yesterday and today, if I was casting, you’d be it.”

“Oh,” you feel your face warm despite how cold the auditorium still is, “that’s,” you laugh a little under your breath, “that’s really nice to hear, thank you.” You have to look down as his gaze is just a little too much for you right now. You don’t need to fall down another set of stairs today and if you let yourself get lost in those ocean blue eyes of his, you’re almost certain you will.

“You seem more shy off stage than you do on,” he comments, taking another step up the stairs, another step closer to you.

“Yeah,” you titter nervously, “um, I’m an actor, ‘m pretty good at faking it when I have to.”

He raises his brow at your unintentional innuendo and immediately you catch yourself. You feel like you’re on fire and you see something in his eyes, almost like he’s working himself up to reply as he takes the last step he needs to be on the same level as you.

“You fake it a lot?”

Your lips move as if you have words to speak but nothing comes out as he stares at you and you stare back.

God, he smells good. And he’s so tall. And muscular. And pretty.

You blink as you try to break yourself free from this trance.

Is he hitting on you? You don’t even know this man’s name and yet there’s a fluttering in your tummy at the way he’s eyeing you. His gaze roves down your body, over your soft curves that are accentuated by the corset dress hugging you. His tongue darts out as he wets his lips seemingly without thought and that familiar desire that’s been plaguing you the last six months since your breakup has you fidgeting where you stand. He’s so effortlessly hot and the thought of getting on your knees right here and now for him hits you out of nowhere and only burns you further. Wow, where did that come from?

You haven’t been with anyone since you ended things with Nick, and you may be horny, but you’re not desperate… Are you?

You swallow hard and extend your hand to him, offering him your name as you do. He smiles with a deft chuckle, looking from your hand back up to your eyes before he takes your hand in his, seeming to ease some tension in him you hadn’t noticed before. Maybe not tension, maybe anxiousness? But no, that couldn’t be it. His smile is so easy there’s no way the word confident wouldn’t be in your top choices to describe him.

“James,” he supplies as you shake his hand. His big, warm hand that you can’t help but imagine the weight of if he were to place it on your waist. He squeezes you just a bit and another wave of your sudden desire rolls through you.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, sounding a lot more sultry than you ever intended. His lips quirk and he takes a second before he responds, again, you get the funny feeling he’s working himself up to say what he does.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asks bluntly, waiting for your nod before he continues. “I saw you staring at me when you were on stage.”

Okay. Ha. Wow. You’re so hot you wouldn’t be surprised if steam was coming off your cheeks. God, you could just explode from your mortification at his words. Is he really calling you out like this, right to your face? Your cheeks are burning and you don’t know what to say. You suck your lips in your nervousness as you inhale a breath through your nose, letting your lips go as you suck your teeth when you release them. You look down as your tongue runs along the edges of your teeth. A nervous habit when you’re at a loss for words as you let out a breathy titter at being caught and having it brought up.

You hear a light laugh from him before your breath is stilled when he gently touches your chin, his touch warm as he tilts your face up so you’re looking at him once again.

You’re stalled in a sort of awe as his eyes seem to twinkle at you.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” he assures you, his voice smooth as silk, “I was staring back.”

The soft smirk on his lips lights you up as you unthinkingly wet your own. In any imagined scenario you would never have thought you’d be so receptive to a stranger coming on this strongly - so boldly and up front. But here you are. Receptive as hell. There’s something about him, about his approach, that has you even more attracted to him than you were at first glance…er, stare. His voice, his attitude, the way he’s looking at you. As if he knows exactly what he wants, and he’s going for it. As if the very thing he wants right now, is you.

“Your eyes alone are captivating, but there’s something else about you,” he muses, “you got on stage and it was like I couldn’t look away.”

You almost have to force yourself to take a breath before you can talk. “The dress,” you quip with a small shrug.

“The dress,” he looks down at your body once more, a funny fluttering setting your core alight under his gaze, “well it definitely helped. It’s nice,” he compliments, his hand reaching to touch the fabric and grazing your hip. At his touch his eyes flick up to gauge your reaction and, seeing what you’re sure is a dreamy like haze, he goes on. “Look, I have to teach a class here in half an hour so I’m just gonna cut to the chase,” he says, a hint of an east coast accent slipping in and becoming clearer in his voice as he speaks, “I think you’re gorgeous. And I think you might think I’m not so bad myself,” he half smiles as his lips twitch. “I know this is forward,” his eyes meet yours once more, “and there’s no expectation here.”

Your brows raise despite yourself as you wait for him to go on. He licks his lips again and takes a step closer to you.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

You inhale sharply as you pause, your lips parting with the breath.

Weirdly some far off part of you was kind of expecting that was where this was leading, but in the very same breath, you really were not expecting him to say that. Your mouth goes dry and your mind goes blank as you try and process his words. You know your immediate, no thought involved answer. But surely, this calls for some thought, doesn’t it?... It’s not like anonymous sex isn’t a thing, it’s just never been your thing. But you do have the rest of the day free and you’re riding on a kind of confidence high at the moment, and god is this man tempting.

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he stares at you, studying you and waiting for your yes or no.

“You do this a lot?” you ask instead.

He breathes a soft chuckle, “Never, actually,” he shakes his head, “but I’ve been out of the game for a while, recently been told I need to put myself out there, and I guess I don’t really know how to be anything other than direct these days.”

“Hm,” you look into his bright eyes, a sincerity there you don’t find in people often these days, “I guess I can appreciate that.”

“Is that a yes?”

Fuck it, you think. You’ve been pushing past your normal comfort zones all day. What’s a little sex with a hot stranger? …Right? You’re seconds away from saying yes, how could you not, you egg yourself on, but you figure you should make this as clear as you can. Not that his answer has much chance of changing yours.

“Is this just sex? Or…” you trail off.

“At the very present moment,” he specifies, “just sex.”

You nod in easy understanding, readily taking it for what it is, but he continues on.

“And if you wanna leave it at that, we’ll leave it at that, but if you’re interested in dinner later tonight, too, I’d be glad to buy. Pick you up and everything.”

“Oh, what a gentleman,” you simper with a titter you can’t suppress. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Mhm,”

“Sex?”

You nod with a smirk as he closes the gap between your bodies.

“Right now?” he adds again, getting the same response as you smile against his lips when he leans in closer.

He kisses you. You’re immediately lost to him as his lips touch yours, his stubble tickling your soft skin. It’s surprisingly tentative, slow and soft at first, like he’s testing the waters between you. After a long moment, he decides to pull away, not too far, only parting for a split second. You're struck by the fleeting feeling of his lips being on yours, it steals your breath as you mindlessly lean into him immediately looking for more. Your eyes meet again, there’s a glimmer of shared recognition and you know he feels the same, and then his lips are on yours even more hotly. You’ve always thought people were dramatic when they spoke about having sparks with someone, that it wasn’t a real experience, just hyperbole… exaggeration, but you’re realizing now you just hadn’t ever experienced it before. That spark, that zing, it is real. It must be, because as crazy and sudden as it is, you think you have it here.

His hand comes to hold your head, keeping you close as he leads you. You might be embarrassed by the way you melt into him if you were thinking of anything other than how good his touch is and how perfect his lips seem to meld with yours.

You’re filled with a thrilling excitement you don’t know you can compare to anything you’ve felt before. This is new and nice and as the kiss deepens, your nerves turn from jittery butterflies in your belly to a smoldering desire that burns lower and lower. His firm body is pressed to your soft one and his free hand falls to the tail of your back, holding you closer and keeping you there against him before his hand snakes to your hip, wandering up your curves as he feels as much of you as he can. Your own hands are against his stomach as you chase his kiss, fingers fisting the fabric of his button down shirt.

James nips at your bottom lip and you give him entry without a pause, his tongue slipping in your mouth as he kisses you fervently, like something out of a movie. You’ve never been in a situation like this, and you can say with certainty you’ve never been kissed like this either.

You let your hands slide up his torso until you find the first button. As if you’ve done it a million times, you easily begin the tedious task of unbuttoning each one - though you take your time, not wanting to break any as you’re still caught in his hold, still lost in his kiss.

You hate having to break away but you need a breath and despite the loss of contact with your lips, James’ continues to travel along your skin. From your cheek to your jaw and down your neck as you angle yourself to allow him more access, all the while your fingers do their work and your breathing turns heavier. Once the buttons are undone you pull the tails of his shirt from his pants. His hands are still on you, feeling you as he kisses your delicate skin.

Your hands stabilize yourself by holding his sides as he yanks you closer to him still. He’s much thicker than he looked, you realize as you touch him. Your hands wander up his back, wanting to get his undertank off as soon as humanly possible so you can really feel the muscles there.

He brings an arm around your waist and his other hand glides down your back until he gets to your bottom, groaning in your neck as he squeezes you there.

“Buck?”

A loud voice breaks the trance the two of you have been under and causes you to jump as you hear the doors closing and footsteps coming around the side staircase, bringing a different man into view.

You’re startled, and James gallantly moves you just behind him despite your still fully clothed state. You’re still grateful though, you know you must look a little mussed, your cardigan falling down your arms and James’ undone shirt hardly producing any air of innocence about what was unfolding just moments ago.

“Oh, sorry,” the man starts with inquiring eyes, looking between the both of you. He’s just as tall as James and has eyes just as blue. He’s clean shaven, though and not as bulky. Still, they look like they could be brothers. “Professor?” he asks, “Am I interrupting something?”

“She’s not a student, Guy,” James responds, annoyance clear as day in his voice. “I’m not Drysdale.”

“Right,” Guy says on a light, breathy laugh, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He seems uncomfortable at the mention. You see him as he eyes James’ still undone shirt.

“What do you need, Guy?” James asks firmly, getting his eyes back on him.

“It can wait,” he brushes off, “just wanted to say thanks for letting the theatre use the stage again, we appreciate it.” His eyes flick to you and he seems to make a connection. “Elmire?”

Your eyes meet his in surprise, “Um, yeah,” you nod with a small smile, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, arms crossed over your chest.

“Tartuffe,” he gestures to himself with a smile of his own. You suddenly recognize him and take a step forward.

“Wait, did I see you in Death of a Salesman the other month?”

“Yes,” he smiles even more sincerely now, “yes, it’s the year of the classics at the theatre,” he chuckles.

“Right, yeah, you were incredible. Really great performance,” you compliment him.

“Thank you very much. I heard good things just now about your audition, I’m assuming you’re -,”

James interrupts Guy by supplying your name himself, causing you both to look at him. You fight a smile at the sound of it on his lips.

“Well then,” Guy looks back toward you, clearing his throat a bit, “I will be seeing you at your callback,” he turns to James, “and I will be seeing you in the office later.”

He takes a step back, “It was nice to meet you, and thank you again, Bucky.”

The name catches your attention as Guy walks off and James turns back to face you.

He sighs as he looks at you, reaching for your hand which you allow him to take.

His touch is deceptively delicate and you can’t pretend you don’t like it.

“Bucky?” you question. He meets your gaze and gives a sheepish half smile.

“Nickname.”

You nod, “Ah. Makes sense,” you lilt, holding his eye. “Suits you.”

“You can call me Bucky if you’d like. Like the way it sounds when you say it.”

You huff a laugh, looking away. He continues on, “I’m sorry for that interruption, I uhm,” he let’s go of your hand and moves to start buttoning his shirt back up, “I think we’re gonna have to try this again later,” he pauses, glancing back to you, “if you’re still-,”

“I am,” you smile, cutting him off.

He finishes tucking in his shirt and then immediately takes another step closer to you.

His eyes are scrutinizing in the best way as he takes your face gently in his hands, your own coming to hold his wrists; his bright gaze shining into your own. It feels intimate but strangely…right.

“I guess I should be thanking Guy,” he muses. Your brows furrow in unvoiced questioning. His lips quirk at the face you make. “I was taking the advice of someone I’d never normally take advice from being so forward with you. Honestly, it’s not really me,” he admits, admiring the soft smile of your own gracing your lips at his words. “I’m more of the courting type.” You laugh brightly at his choice of words as he smirks. “Old fashioned, I know.”

“No, that’s..That’s good. More my speed. I was uh, stepping a little ways out of my comfort zone with this myself.”

The want that had been burning between you two wasn’t exactly boiling over at the moment, but despite the space between you now, it was still there... Call it a low simmer.

He pulls you closer as you wet your lips and his nose brushes yours. You’re certain he’s about to kiss you and your eyes flutter shut but instead, Bucky pulls away. He lets you go as he bites his own lip and you both hear the opening of the door again before you hear multiple footsteps follow in.

“My class is starting soon. But,” he gets his phone from his back pocket and hands it to you, “we’re still on for dinner?”

You take his phone with a demure smile, feeling somewhat grateful for the shift in direction, and send yourself a text message, saving your contact in his phone before handing it back, his fingers grazing your own. “I’d really like that.”

Students begin to file in and get seated around the auditorium as you stand with Bucky.

You turn to grab your bag and your coffee cup, then face him again. You glance around and notice you’re still relatively alone, most of the students have sat toward the middle of the auditorium, and no eyes seem to be on you, but you keep your voice low anyway.

“And I do get it if you really want to go slow here, but, if you want to…ya know, try this,” you raise your brows, hoping to communicate your meaning, “again, tonight, I’d be up for that, too.”

He nods, a schoolboy smile on his lips as he admires you.

Your lips twitch with a smile of their own, “I’ll see you later.”

You feel a renewed giddiness as you turn from him and he returns your ‘bye’. His eyes are on you as you make your way down the steps and follow you until he can’t any further. You liked the feeling.

Call you crazy, but you think you just might be developing feelings for Bucky already as it is, despite not knowing much more than he seems to be a kind man, gentle, confident, insanely attractive…. You wouldn’t be surprised if this dinner solidified those feelings and more, even further. You’re looking forward to talking with him, really getting to know him.

You may not be one for sex with a stranger, but sex after the first date doesn’t sound too out there for you... Especially not when that date is with Bucky.

[ttheggrimrreaper]

Hello hello, can you write first meetings with Otoya, Shidou, and Barou

(I love your writing so much hugs and kisses you to oblivion)

Ofc I can!! Thank you thank you!

Masterlist

First meetings

Otoya, Barou, and Shidou x reader (separate)

Takes place after the U-20 match

Otoya Eita

After the blue lock U-20 match, you had been in a rush. Watching it live as a gift from a friend, you never were super into soccer, but if soccer was like this all the time, you might have to start getting into it! A certain player caught your eye however... White hair with a green streak.. odd hair choice but it suited his face well. After all, he could very well be your 'hear me out'.

"girl, Otoya Eita is NOT a 'hear me out" your friend said as you walked along the sidewalk, "a hear me out is when you are ODDLY attracted to someone, everybody is attracted to Otoya Eita.

"well., I just... His hair?" You shrugged as you sat down, something about him made him seem like a hear me out. But it could also be you trying to gaslight yourself into not having a crush on him. You had sat down at this cafe, it was nice.. large tables. However you and your friend sat outside.

"... Oh my god." Your friend said as she looked over your shoulder.

"what!? Oh no is something on me!?!" You looked from side to side frantically then at your lap. What? What was it!?

"nothing but my eyes" a voice spoke from behind.. a voice you recognized after watching countless interviews of this man.

"on fuck,." You whispered as you looked to your friend with wide eyes. Slowly you turned to look behind you, and low and behold... Otoya Eita stood there, his signature nonchalant look on his face.

"mind if I sit? My name is Otoya Eita." He said, gesturing to the chair. Your friend beat you to saying yes, so he sat.

"y-y/n L/n" you said hurriedly, your friend giggling as she introduced herself in more relaxed manner.

"nice to meet you L/n.. however I must say, your friend is right. I am not a 'hear me out'." He looked to you expectancy, as did your friend, and you just sat there in shock.

Barou Shoei

You watched from the bowling counter, it was a very slow day. One singular person was using the lanes. Sharp hair... Probably a lot of hair gell, who seemed to explode with power whenever he rolled the ball to the pins. The oddest thing was, you could have sworn you had seen him somewhere.

"another round on Lane 3" He snapped you out of your thoughts. You hadn't even noticed that he had walked over.

"umm yeah sure." You said, he pushed forward a card for you to charge, as you picked up the card you saw his name. 'Barou Shoei' you had to stare at it for a little bit.. now you were sure you had seen him somewhere!

"is there a problem?" He asked, leaning against the counter. Eyebrow raised as he looked from you to the card. "Waiting for an autograph or something, because you're not getting one." Rude you thought as you looked back to him.

"I swear I've seen you on TV... I just don't know what show.." you trailed on,, must be an actor if he's that cocky

"..what?" His tone seemed rather offended, you shrugged it off as you charged the card. "I play soccer.'

That's when it clicked. The blue lock vs U-20 match. A close friend made you sit there with them and watch it.. how could you forget, he was so entertaining to watch! Barou, on the other hand was offended, in fact, to make a point he grabbed a pen from your side of the counter and a napkin. Leaving you standing there dumbfounded as he handed you his autograph. With that, he turned and left.

"...what the fuck"

Shidou Ryusei

It was odd.. seeing such a wild player on the u-20 team. Now you had followed this team through alot, each game you watched and merch you purchased.. but this man just something else entirely. Thankfully you would get to meet him a meet and great! Unfortunately Sea Itoshi would not be attending.. you were hoping to get an autograph.

"welcome welcome!" He sang as you stepped forward, pushing your note book forward with the bright pink sharpie.

"hi.." you shrugged slightly. You really didn't care about this player, but you didn't want to be rude. He frowned, not quite signing the note book yet.

"what's up your butt?" He pouted out, much to your dislike. You would have rather gone to Shindo or Oliver.. but here you were... Waiting at this man's mercy.

"nothing, you're just not the guy I was wanting to talk to today." You answered honestly. Why would you lie. Shidou huffed still not signing

"you wanted Bottom lashes Senior? Don't worry I did too.. he owes me his number" he guessed, right on the dime of what you wanted. "guess we can suffer together." He said, finally signing the notebook. He closed it and handed it back you with a smile, and you went to the to the other line for Oliver bewildered.. what an odd man. You didn't open your notebook again, not until you had made it Oliver. Opening it up to the same page to see a number.. and a ,little message from the man before,

'lets meet up, and you can get both our autographs~'

What the actual fuck, you were looking down at the page in shock, mouth hung open.

"It's gonna be worth it." Oliver said with a chuckle, taking the paper and signing it.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Aiden/Lambert enemies to (potential) friends where Aiden is the slightly prickly/suspicious one instead.

Aiden gets injured on a job. Now, if he would stop being so stubborn and let Lambert help him, that would be great!!

In a room on the estate of some forgettable Noble, two Witchers were glaring daggers at one another. One leaning against the stone wall of their room trying to keep his temper in check, the other sat on the edge of the bed and trying to ignore the throbbing coming from the deep (though thankfully no longer heavily bleeding) gash running from their shoulder blade to the bottom of their ribs as they continued unsuccessfully trying to wrap and tie the wound themselves.

Lambert bit the inside of his cheek, although a bitten off snarl still managed to escape, which the Cat returned with another slight hiss. If his brothers thought he was stubborn, he should try introducing them to this fucker.

"Look Cat, we both know that needs stitching. Either you let me help you, or you spend the night incredibly uncomfortable and then lose what pay you did get because you had the nerve to bleed all over this fuckers bed linens when that swallow wears off. Your choice."

A muscle jumped in Aiden's jaw. Bastard would pull something like that aswell. He'd already shorted them on payment and instead offered them a room for the night as an act of 'gratitude' (the extra guards down this corridor were just a coincidence, he was sure). He knew he shouldn't have shooed the Noble's healer - or rather, the healers apprentice - away when she came knocking but the poor girl was barely into the first years of womanhood and had smelled absolutely terrified. He'd dismissed her with equal parts pity and annoyance after barely five minutes; not wishing for any innocent human to be afraid of him but also not wanting his care to be left in the hands of somebody whose hands were visibly shaking from nerves. Meanwhile, this Wolf continued to stare him down, knowing Aiden only had one answer he could give and just waiting for him to cave for whatever reason. He crumpled the bandages into a ball and threw them onto the bed petulantly, "....Fine."

He moved to lay on his front, movements slow and stiff from both now aching muscles and the wound. And instantly stiffened as soon as Lambert pressed a hand to the bare skin next to it. "Try anything Wolf and I'll-"

"For fucks sake! If I was planning on offing you, I would've just left you back in that field. Not dragged your arse back here and then offer to put you back together." He sighed through his nose irritably as his eyes darted around the room before landing on something in the corner, "I've got an idea."

Lambert dragged the full length mirror across the floor until it was stood directly infront of the foot of the bed. Aiden's entire posture stiffened as he cocked an eyebrow from over his shoulder from where he'd lifted his head to see what this 'idea' was.

"Mind out the gutter, Cat. You flip yourself around and this way I can sew you up and stop you bleeding all over the floor more than you already have and you can stay safe in the knowledge I'm not about to try and shank you with a sewing needle, you paranoid fuck. That meet with your approval?"

Aiden chewed on his lip as he mulled this over before giving a slight grunt of assent and gingerly started to move again.

"Need a hand getting situated?"

Aiden flipped him off in response, trying to keep any outward hints of pain under control until his head was at the foot of the bed; chin resting on folded arms and eyes locked on the reflective surface, already tracking Lambert's every move as he prepared the needle and thread. Lambert for his part ignored the way the Cats chest was heaving alongside the stronger sting of pain and apprehension which now hung in the air. He had to fight the urge to pat the other on the shoulder like they were some sort of spooked animal when Aiden visibly tensed again at the bed dipping as Lambert took his place at Aiden's hip.

"You know this'll go easier if you relax."

"That's what he said." Aiden replied, waggling his eyebrows in the glass before seeming to remember himself and returning to stoney faced silence.

Lambert for his part let out a surprised bark of laughter at the joke, "Fuck's sake, don't make me laugh unless you want this turning out crooked. You ready?"

Aiden gave a sharp nod, "Just get it over with."

Lambert worked efficiently and silently, making sure to keep the stitches as neat as he could - Aiden may have pissed him off, but he wasn't quite petty enough to leave him with a messy scar because of it. Every time he raised his eyes he caught Aiden's own watching him in the mirror intently, jaw clenched tightly enough to break teeth although the rest of him seemed to be relaxing in small increments. Either he was just officially too exhausted to stay on full alert, or he was starting to believe Lambert's earlier insistence that he did just want to help.

"Done." He said, cutting the excess thread with one of his smaller knives and not missing the way Aiden briefly tensed again when Lambert leaned over him before he realised the Wolf was just reaching for the bandages, "Sit up, I'll wrap this and then you can sleep if you want."

Aiden looked from the bed and back at Lambert, obviously wondering the same thing which had crossed Lambert's mind. The handful of times they'd pragmatically teamed up to take on larger contracts they'd yet to share sleeping space, parting ways as soon as the job was complete and payment had been received. That wasn't exactly an option this time though. There was no town nearby and it was too late now to set up camp anywhere (plus, the thought of knowingly leaving the other injured in an unfamiliar place didn't sit well with Lambert, no matter how apparently innocent their hosts intentions. An injured Witcher was an easy target afterall).

"You stay in the bed. I'll meditate in the chair." Lambert said, tying off the bandage and settling in to do just that. Sword within easy reach.

"...You're sure?"

"Positive. I don't know if you noticed the looks they were throwing us earlier, but I don't trust these guards as far as I can throw them."

"I noticed. Wake me up in a couple of hours? You must be knackered too, we can take turns."

"I'm not the one who almost got flayed open. Just go the fuck to sleep." Lambert closed his eyes, listening as the other lay back down and shifted a little, trying to find a comfortable position.

"Thanks... Lambert."

Lambert grunted in response, "Don't mention it Ca -... Aiden."

[beesmygod]

how much have lily and vera changed between conception and debut?

sorry anon, i asked for people to send qs and then my period started so i went into a temporary coma/sat on the couch like a slug. terrible stuff.

i talked last time about how characters start as plot devices/are designed to fulfill a specific narrative purpose; vera's purpose, outside of her direct plot relevance as a mysteriously powered human, is to be maxine's enabler. vera is the most well adjusted of the group and can plainly see everyone's neuroses as an impartial observer and chooses to leverage this social aptitude to make things as funny as possible for her. however, she has an empathetic heart and never want to take her teasing and fucking around too far. these are some of her basic personality traits.

this makes her alarmingly, comparatively normal despite her troubles lol. i have not had a chance to deeply examine her personal motivations and history until recently for the pages im working on now (outside of very basic plot beats: foster care with alice, rough young adulthood with no stability, drug induced crashing and burning). in these pages im working on, i wanted to think about:

1. how did she develop these traits? how much of it is innate vs developed vs by choice?

2. what motivates her on a primal level? i decided it was libidinal in nature in the pages im working on now lol if youre caught up on patreon that might sound Deep but

3. is her past tragic or funny? unlike alice, who is a self-induced unhappiness factory, vera can shrug most things off and would probably find the humor in her lot in life. so what's the humor? i think i have some good stuff for this lol.

i guess the answer is: vera is becoming more of a foil of her sister, rather than becoming alice's polar opposite. this includes the fact that while alice is very resolute in and certain about her role in life, vera is uncertain. she wants conflicting things and knows it. if alice is the physical avatar of vera's desire for stability in her life, then maxine is a tantalizing call to return to the wild life.

as for lily....she was wholly undeveloped until the millisecond i had to put her in the comic lol. it was a nightmare. i knew these things about her: she was the key that unlocked the plot of the comic, her family was fabulously, freakishly wealthy (multi-billionaire wealthy), she's beautiful/turns heads, and she was maxine and valdos friend. which opened up a ton of problems like "how" and "why" that ive been brainstorming and figuring out over the past uhh. year. but thankfully i think its shaking out great and things are falling into place cleanly.

really, the thing for figuring out her personality was being a hater: theres a similar character in another work i cant stand with the depth of a puddle. lily gave me a chance to make my own super wealthy, pretty socialite with special powers in a form that i recognized as being authentic and "real". a sugary, syrupy, cultivated exterior masking a terrifying interior. someone raised in wealth who had to learn to recognize others as people solely because its a social faux pas to treat them otherwise. someone who, out of a combination of natural wiring/childhood boredom/unfortunate formative moments, conflates sex and self-determination with galling violence. someone who does not recognize the autonomy of other people to such a degree that she puppets their bodies for entertainment/comfort. she is an untethered sadist who is desperately trying to be good. she will try to obfuscate this aspect of herself but it will seep out in spite of her efforts.

[calliecat93]

Also according to the credits they used both. Christopher Wehkamp and I guess whatever they’d been able to record of Billy Kametz before he passed, and both of them NAILED Roman. Loved it~!!!

[sciderman]

You said that if you dated Peter or Wade it would make you miserable. Which– Okay fair, Wade does have a history of purposely hurting the people he loves.

But what about Peter? Why do you think dating him would make you miserable?

because I’ll always know I had the option to climb a 6’8 cyborg and I passed that up for a sweaty little twunk that I perpetually have to remind to bathe (sorry peter)

[dailykugisaki]

Day 274 | id in alt

I like to think Gojo has the strongest mentality so far up his ass it pisses Kugisaki off because, DUDE. SHE FUCKING GETS IT. BE QUIET. He's emo but a different color.

[qroier]

they're always next to each other

[hana-bobo-finch]

erm…..posting about an OC via a rushed shitpost was not on my 2025 bingo card!! 😂😂😂😂😂😂get it??? 😂😂😂because his name is bingo??(GETS SHOT)

these are all things he has done or has attempted to do so consider this the full intro post for that freak for now. he’s still too undercooked to fully introduce but damn I love him

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Month 1, day 13

More work on the cage! It opens now :D

I've also got the start of a chain so we can hang the cage but that's not ready to get shown off yet on account of it's, like, six chain links floating in midair rn XD

[ornithological]

yellow-crowned night heron (nyctanassa violacea), first record for ireland