#but the point is there would be a lot because i would think 'oh it had to be perfect' and then would never do it. on top of already

[sweetiechenle]

sleepyhead ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁.ᐟ mark

pairing: non-idol!collegestudent!mark x afab!collegestudent!reader

summary: your friend and classmate mark helps you out in class after accidentally sleeping in, but the hint of a scribble in the notes he lends you threatens to rewrite your relationship.

w.c: 7.2k

warnings: mdni 18+, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, it's all fluff with a dash of light angst, reader is oblivious to marks advances, but he's kinda dumb too, idiots in love, mutual pining, kissing, confessions, soft smut, love making literally, oral (f receiving), porn with plot, unprotected sex (dont do this), praising, pet names, soft!dom!top!mark (god i need him), crack/humor, lots of time skips im so sorry, if i forgot anything oh well lmk, i used this idea for a different fandom YEARS AGO, i am too embarrassed to admit what fandom but if you find it and think i'm stealing i am not. promise. reblogs and feedback appreciated ♡ fiction ≠ reality

you yawned big and loud, trying not to give yourself away too much, you kept your limbs from reaching outward. mark, your seatmate, and kind of friend?, gave you an inquisitive look. as if to ask if you were okay. truth be told, it was all rock bottom. papers upon papers, presentations, reading, and a lab took up all of your time this semester. you met Mark at the beginning of the year in your ‘major writings of the european tradition I’. you sat near the front because of your bad vision and the brown haired boy came next to you saying the famous ‘is this seat taken?’ line to which you said no. this left him to plop down in the said seat he pointed at. you studied him hard, clad in a semi-tight shirt and worn jeans, his white tube socks poking out once he sat down. it was hard not to notice the dirty and distressed black converse, probably wearing them every day since he could fit in them. he had a boyish grin when he turned to you and asked about how your day was going, you blushed noticing how handsome he actually is. his bright eyes shown under the fluorescent light as he now asked you about the book you were reading. ‘the picture of dorian gray’ sat atop all of your other books from various classes. it was apparently his favorite book too. his lips curled into the brightest smile, excitingly talking about his other favorite books and authors. it was endearingly cute.

you both shared socials in order to stay in touch in case either of you had questions about the class. you two would talk occasionally, keeping a calm distance. sharing literary memes on instagram, sending book recommendations on tiktok, or texting each other late at night when one couldn’t sleep. you would periodically meet up with him to study, or whenever you were too tired to read whatever was assigned in class, mark would read it for you out loud in the comfort of his apartment. it was easy to consider him a friend. at the end of the semester you told him you signed up for major writings of the european tradition II. he pumped his fist in the air earning small giggles from you due to his overreaction. telling you how happy he was that you’d be in the same class again. that’s where you are now, with mark still sitting next to you, listening to the same boring more advanced lecture. you loved literature and being an english major, but sometimes you don't know how many more reading and analysis’ you can take of the odyssey.

glancing at the clock you sighed, an hour left of class. pain was all you knew at this moment, you underslept last night, working on an essay for a speech writing class, trying to get it all down perfectly in order to impress your professor. you didn’t realize it was well past three in the morning when you finally had finished, all you wanted to do right now was go back to your apartment and nap until your next class in four hours. you drowned out the professor and whatever was being said about odysseus and what he got himself into this time. placing your chin on your closed fist, your vision drifting in and out of blurriness, and before you knew it you fell asleep. you gasped when mark nudged you awaken eyes going wide in surprise making him laugh a little bit.

‘dude, you fell asleep, class is over y/n’ mark said once you looked over at him, still in his seat next to you, almost everyone had already left.

you sighed running your fingers through your already messy hair, ‘ugh, i’m sorry, i didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.’

mark laughed, ‘oh, i can tell’

you scowled at him, earning another laugh from the taller man as you both stood up. at least it was friday, and you’d have the whole weekend to catch up on homework, and sleep. ‘want to go get coffee since you’re such a sleepyhead? need to keep you awake somehow’ mark asked, scratching the back of his neck, nervously rocking back and forth. you smiled at how red his ears were, waiting for your response. when you first met, he would occasionally get nervous around you, to which you never knew why, never thinking of yourself as anything special. but you noticed he got anxious around almost everyone after first meeting people. much like yourself, after a while mark started to get more comfortable with you, becoming more confident, and increasingly charming, however he could never hide the facade he tried to put on when asking to hang out outside of class. he would suddenly become a meek and shy, not the confident, outspoken boy you saw almost every day. 

‘yes, that would be perfect’ you answered, ‘caffeine is much needed right now’ mark smiled and led you to the open door of the classroom, motioning you to go through first. it was pretty pathetic when butterflies erupted in your stomach, standards weren’t high for you, obviously, the smallest gesture from mark made you turn to putty. you didn’t have a lot of relationship experience, most of the time boys would lead you on, only to tell you they were never ready for anything. only a few longer relationships would end up in flames, men too toxic for you to continue on any longer. every time, earning a vow from you that you would never talk to another boy ever again. you could tell mark was different from anyone you had ever met, he was genuinely sweet and always helped whenever he could, profusely apologizing when he was too busy to come and help you study. you’ve always liked mark more than you should, it was really hard not to, anytime you ever talked about mark to anyone else, only nice things were discussed. you would never admit to harbored feelings for him, he was lovely to everyone, how could you be any different?

after a while, he started walking in front of you to the coffee shop on campus, stealing glancing at you just to make sure you were still following him, making your heart ache so hard the caffeine you were about to consume would probably kill you. entering the coffee shop turned your tired state into total bliss, a welcome and much needed break. ‘oh! there’s johnny, let’s go sit with him’ mark exclaimed, grabbing your hand and pulling you near the table in the back. before you knew it, a tall man with raven black hair was standing up and greeting you and mark. he was older than you and mark, a senior that your friend had met during his freshman year of college. you had met johnny before, a handful of times, and for brief moments. mark would always talk about his other friends with you. he’d tell you that ‘you just have to meet them��, but whenever the time would come it would be short meetings, a hi and bye.

mark brought out your chair and gestured for you to sit down, saying that he would go order you both coffees, leaving you with johnny. he turned to you and smiled, to which you returned, trying to register what mark had just done for you. god you really need to get higher standards, hard albeit mark being your standard. johnny asked you about school and how you are doing with all of it, you asked him similar questions, watching mark disappear in the line for coffee. you didn’t notice johnny calling your name over and over, only when he had gotten up close and personal in order to get your attention. you jumped slightly after the fifth ‘y/n!’

you quickly looked over at him, calming him down, ‘jesus y/n, where did you go? staring at mark? i know he’s pretty but-’

you cut him off, ‘would you keep your voice down!? i wasn’t staring at mark, i was just thinking…’ it was hard to keep the blush from creeping up and having it wash over you like a tsunami.

johnny gave you a knowing look, ‘... thinking about mark’ 

you glared at him, ‘can we stop talking about mark, please’ desperate to leave this conversation behind, but speak of the devil and he shall appear.

‘why are we talking about mark?’ you and johnny whipped your heads up in surprise, mark standing there with a grin on his handsome, stupid face. holding two coffee cups in each hand, asking in the third person as to why you were both discussing him while he was away.

‘n-nothing, we were just talking about our english class’ you explained quickly trying to save yourself from embarrassment.

johnny just nodded while mark, handed you your coffee and sat down, joining you both at the table in extreme awkward silence. mark broke the ice, ‘y/n fell asleep in class today’ he smirked and looked your way, catching your reaction of groaning and hiding behind your small coffee cup as you took little sips.

johnny laughed along with mark, wishing that the ground would open you up and swallow you whole, ‘it was so funny, the professor didn’t even notice!’ the older boy laughed along with his friend at your plight to fall asleep so easily in class. ‘you even snored a little bit, oh my god, it was so cute!’ he squealed. CUTE!? your eyes went wide, ignoring the embarrassing part about snoring in class. mark called you cute. johnny turned to give you that knowing look again, this caffeine was definitely going to give you a heart attack. this was going to be a long weekend.

monday morning rolled around, the weekend was spent writing papers, reading epic poetry, and sleeping. and also the occasional mental breakdown when you recall that mark called you cute. sunshine hit your face, and that’s when you figured you couldn’t stay in bed any longer. you rubbed your eyes hard and stretched your body out in bed, dreading the fact that you’ll have to get yourself up and ready to learn about some new epic now that the lesson over the odyssey was over. you grabbed your phone from the nightstand, your bones practically jumping out of your body when you realized you had only an hour left of class. you had overslept and missed the first hour of class, fuck. you hurried to get ready, not giving any mind to your appearance, jeans, and a hoodie would do. you texted mark ‘i overslept ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡), just woke up, i’ll be there soon. my chair still open?’ closing the door to your apartment, you marched out into the warm weather, mentally preparing yourself for the embarrassment you were about to face once you walked into class late. eyes peeled to your phone, the delivered immediately turned into read, mark texted back ‘always, sleepyhead’ you rolled your eyes, too much in a rush to get flustered by the nickname this time, shoving the phone in your pocket you continued walking to the humanities building.

you slipped in through the door in the back, making sure it wouldn’t slam shut, praying to any god who would listen to not get called out. thankfully, your prayers were answered, no one said a thing for the rest of class, only mark who gave you a smile once you sat down. you were lost the entire rest of class, the professor going into depth about the cantos and then switching very rapidly to beowulf then to dante’s inferno. maybe you should’ve stayed home. once class ended, mark started putting everything in his backpack, grabbing his wrist to stop him, he turned towards you with his eyebrows up in question and surprise.

‘can i borrow your notes mark? please? i literally had no idea what was going on since i was late’ you were practically begging at this point, but before you could grow any more desperate, mark chuckled and handed you his notebook for this class that continued to lay on the table.

‘i guess you beat me to it, why do you think i left my notebook out?’ mark smiled and handed you the red, worn out notebook. you let out a thankful sigh, some weight lifting off your shoulders, your standards were fucked by now.

‘thank you so much mark, i really owe you one, i’ll have it back to you by tomorrow.’ you reassured, giving him a genuine, thankful smile.

later that evening, back at your apartment, you took mark’s notebook out from your backpack. you had finished all the work for the classes you did attend today and now it was time to move on to the bane of your existence. opening up his notebook to find the most recent entry, your eyes finally landed on notes about dante’s inferno and whatever gibberish the professor was spewing when you showed up. reading about the layers of hell and how it has to do with the other epic’s was further explained by mark in his notes. flipping the page, your eyes caught something in the corner. taking a closer look, you sat up from the couch and moved towards the light. you gasped upon seeing what was written, erased, and written and erased again over the left side of the page. poorly drawn hearts with the words ‘sleepyhead’ written inside littered the far left corner of mark’s notes. this surely wasn’t about you… could it? you singled out the piece of paper, moving it into the light in order to see through it, double-checking your suspicions. and sure enough, there they were clear as day. it looked as though mark drew them on the paper and had tried his hardest to erase them, yet still somewhat visible, you didn’t have four eyes for nothing after all. ‘fuck’ you cursed out, staring at the faded drawing and words. this was your own personal inferno.

the next day was like no other, barely any sleep and when you woke on time you contemplated not going at all. however, you promised you’d bring mark his cursed notebook back. the very notebook that had been plaguing your mind since you discovered its hidden contents last night. that's what kept you up so late, you couldn’t simply forget about it and let it go. you debated asking him about it, but if it had nothing to do with you, then you’d probably have to change your name, face, and leave the country all together. but after all how many people did he call ‘sleepyhead’… probably 5, max. you had to investigate, test the waters and see what this was truly all about. you had to come up with a plan.

you got up and started walking around your room, getting ready, you put a lot more effort into your outfit, jean shorts and a cute baby t-shirt you think would catch any person’s attention. walking to class, it was brisk, the wind nipping at your arms and legs. you shuddered, bringing your hands up and down in order to try to redistribute your warmth. you finally got to class and the nervousness had taken over your system, totally forgetting about the cold and now terrified to face your friend. your body shook, shuffling to your seat, seeing mark on his phone waiting for class to start. you let out a tense breath, trying to settle your uneasy heart and stomach. you pulled out the chair, startling the boy next to you, his soft hair jumping slightly and moving away from his face, his eyes shining up at you. his mouth curls into a smile, going from ear to ear, it was infectious, you gave him a small smile back despite your stomach churning in the worst way possible.

‘you finally decided to come to class on time’ he joked, poking your shoulder lightly.

you playfully rolled your eyes at him, getting everything out for class ‘i barely even slept last night, i closed my eyes, and then boom my alarm was going off…’

mark’s smile faltered and eventually dropped upon hearing your confession of getting little sleep. ‘by the way,’ you grabbed the wretched notebook from your bag, handing it to mark, ‘here’s your notebook back, the notes really helped, thank you’

mark took it from your hand, ‘it’s no problem, if you need any more you can always ask’

you smiled, and turned towards the front of the class as soon as the professor walked in. putting any thoughts of mark in the back of your mind and bringing forth your plan. every once in a while you could arrive late, it's not like you’d be penalized for missing class, your professor never took notice. it would just be on you if you never showed up and somehow failed the semester. but with marks help, there was no way you could fall that far behind.

over the next couple of days, you and mark would hang out sporadically, studying together or watching movies. after a couple of days, you finally decided it would be time to try and be late to class again. to be fair, you had an essay to start that was due in two days, so staying up and working on it and accidentally sleeping in would be the perfect excuse. silently hoping this wasn’t going to come back and bite you in the ass.

flash forward to the next day: it did. you woke up with only 30 minutes left of class, less than what you originally wanted. thankfully, you did finish the cursed essay at four in the morning, you woke up to your alarm blaring, not even realizing how many times you snoozed it. grabbing your phone from the night stand you stretched and got up, getting changed for class and heading out.

opening up your messages you internally groaned, seeing about five messages from mark reading:

‘dude, where are you??’

‘no way you overslept again( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)’

‘don’t worry sleepyhead, i’m taking notes for you’

‘also, the professor mentioned a project and let us pick partners’

‘i told her you were my partner .. if that’s okay •⩊•’

you squealed into your hoodie sleeve, trying to keep a hold on yourself, but this was too much, the cute aggression getting to you so bad you punched the air. after getting some weird looks you hurried to class, slipping through the big double doors you immediately spotted the brown haired boy, silently cheering that no one was sitting with him you moved towards him and your seat. once you made yourself known to his presence, he gave you a small smile that made your heart crescendo, brought on by the growing feeling of love coming to a climax.

‘hey’ he whispered beside you, keeping his eyes on the professor who continued to lecture.

‘hey’ you answered back.

‘late again?’ he tsked, shaking his head slightly, ‘what am i gonna do with you?’

your hand covered your mouth, trying to hold back a giggle, ‘i stayed up later than i should’ve last night, i had an essay to finish’

‘oh, of course,’ he slide his notebook to you, ‘i got some notes for you about today’s lecture and about the project. we should plan on when to meet up to work on it… the professor has been ranting about plato for the last hour, so you haven’t missed much’

you nodded and grabbed his notebook and slid it into your backpack, trying not to show much nervousness over such a simple gesture. once class ended mark turned to you.

‘i have to meet with johnny, so i’ll catch you later’ you nodded and he smiled, his lopsided lips curling up complimented his boyish charm, making your insides twist and turn. ‘i’ll text you later about the project’

he moved to grab his backpack from the floor, without thinking you grabbed his shoulder softly, he whipped his head around, eyes now wide from the sudden touch, backpack forgotten. ‘uh-h, ha-ave a good day mark’ you said, giving him an innocent smile. his features immediately softened, that tender smile coming back on his lips.

you let go, watching him stand up from his seat, now staring up at his gorgeous face, ‘you too, pillow poet’

the new nickname felt like whiplash, like a 20 car pile up in your heart, every emotion crashing into each other, hard to make it out alive. glued to your seat, you stared at nothing now, the ghost of where mark once stood. you didn’t move until your professor knocked on your desk, promptly telling you to get the hell out.

later that night you had to build up the courage to actually open up mark’s notebook this time, his texts blowing up your phone going left unanswered. your roommate, yeri, had came back from class and asked why the hell you were staring at a closed notebook on the coffee table in the shared living room.

you sighed, ‘its complicated’

she dropped her bag and deadpanned, lips formed into a straight line as she rolled her eyes, ‘its a notebook’

you dropped your head into your hands, admitting defeat, ‘it’s not about the notebook,’ you sighed dramatically, pouting, ‘it’s about what’s inside…’

yeri gave you another eye roll and moved towards you, grabbing the notebook from the coffee table, she opened it and started flipping through the different pages, you looked up after hearing the rustling of pages, ‘it’s just notes!’ she cried.

you groaned and stood up, now facing her. you grabbed the notebook out of her hands, you found the most recent section of notes and scanned the pages, chest beating profusely. you stopped once you finally found what your heart was searching for, half erased hearts with various words inside, you took the page closer to the light on the ceiling.

‘sleepyhead’ ‘cutie’ ‘bedbug’ okay, not that cute, but the sentiment was still present.

yeri, now questioning if you really had lost it or not, grew concerned. ‘what is it?’ she moved closer to you, trying to decipher what it was you were so intently looking at. you grabbed her by the arm and brought her closer to you, nodding up to where you were holding the paper in the light, ‘look’.

‘y/n, what the hell am i looking at? stop being weird, it’s freaking me out’ she pouted and took a closer look.

‘mark…’ you trailed off, ‘i found them last week, i asked to borrow his notes because i was late to class, and he drew all these things and looked like he tried to erase them… i don’t know, oh my god, i sound crazy’ you handed the notebook to her and went to sit on the couch again and grovel.

yeri stood near the light, doing the same thing you were and tried to find what you were talking about, ‘oh’ she said, lowering the notebook and moving over to you, ‘do you think these are about you?’

‘i don’t know, if they were don’t you think he would be trying to hide it better? but how many people does he know that are late to class and oversleep!?’ you cried.

yeri’s eyebrows crease in deep thought, then it hits her, ‘maybe… he wanted you to find them’

‘why couldn’t he just tell me all of this himself?’ you questioned, second-guessing everything.

‘i’ve only met mark a handful of times and let me tell you,’ she placed her hand on your shoulder, ‘he is the most awkward person, ever, this could just be his way of flirting’

you didn’t say anything and continued to stare at your roommate, still standing with mark’s notebook. ‘you should talk to him about it’ she said, you stood up abruptly, eyes going wide.

‘no way dude, i can’t’ you tried justifying yourself but yeri cut you off.

‘ugh’ she groaned, ‘i forgot you are almost as awkward as he is, you like him though, don’t you?’ you gave her a little nod, embarrassed by the sudden interrogation. ‘next time you see him, just ask him about it, the worst thing he can do is say no and you both move on with your life, just a little misunderstanding’

you sighed and nodded again, agreeing to ask him about it so yeri would get off your back. you grabbed your phone, knowing mark had texted you earlier you finally decided to bite the bullet and answer him. four messages from mark went unread:

‘y/n, will you be free tomorrow to work on the project?’

‘y/nnn where did you go, i know you are awake’

‘or are you? smh, damn sleepyhead’ your mind screamed ‘AGAIN WITH THE NICKNAMES’

‘u better not be late tomorrow, i can only take so much european writing without you (  •̀ - •́  )’

you wrote and deleted your message to him about ten times before settling on a basic:

‘sorry mark! i (surprisingly) did not fall asleep, just talking with my roommate, i should be free tomorrow to start the project („• ֊ •„)’

three text bubbles popped up and he immediately texted back

‘gr8, c u tomorrow, get some rest’

the next day was an off day from classes, you and mark had discussed meeting somewhere in the library. but that would hinder you from asking him about his little drawings so you told him to come to your apartment, perfect knowing yeri would not be there. yet, it was as imperfect as perfect could get, the setting would be right, but your thoughts were all over the place. not planning out how this could go, most, if not all of your ‘plans’ were half-assed. you’d just have to wing it this one time.

mark showed up when he said he would, which was exactly a mark thing to do, you were just unprepared. stressing out as the minutes counted down, you opened the door and let him inside, he smiled and walked towards the couch, placing his things on the coffee table. ‘shall we get started?’ mark said, motioning for you to sit down next to him.

‘so, the project is over any story of our choosing, did you have one in mind?’ he asked, turning towards you on the couch. fuck, he was so close, you could feel his hot breath on your cheek, it smelled like mint and coffee.

‘oh yeah, i thought we could do icarus’ you answered, hoping he would agree, the story just hitting a little too close to home right now. in a sense, mark was your sun, and you were icarus, flying a bit too close every time you were near him. getting burned with reaching to conclusions that he actually liked you, getting your hopes up that he felt the same way, hoping to not fall to your death and lose him as a friend if this all was just a misunderstanding.

‘that's a great idea! i think we should be able to get through this project quickly with all the information we can get on the story’ he beamed, and you smiled back, slightly faltering from the nervousness running through your body.

‘are you okay? you seem out of it…’ he asked, more so concerned with you than the project.

you sighed, terrible at keeping your emotions from coming out, mark took notice to your anxious behavior. it was now or never. ‘mark’ you said his name like you both were already in a relationship and about to give him the ‘we need to break up talk’, you could tell he felt the exact same when he started fidgeting beside you. ‘can i ask you about something?’

‘of course, anything’ he answered, voice wavering in concern. you knew he was staring but you couldn’t even bring yourself to look anywhere in his direction, fearing that if you did, you would chicken out. you mentally screamed at yourself to stop and not do anything to jeopardize your friendship with mark. you had to remind yourself ‘the worst he could do is say no’.

‘oh, by the way, i forgot to ask, do you have my notebook?’ you could tell mark was trying to ease the tension, but because of the mention of that damn notebook, it only made it worse.

‘yeah about that…’ you started, having no idea how to ask about this, ‘i uh, wanted to ask you about something i saw in your notebook…’

mark, tilted his head to the side in confusion, ‘like some of the notes i left? i tried to be as thorough as i could…’

you picked at the skin on your fingers, ripping away the flesh in order to try and calm yourself down, ‘erm, no, something else i saw… some, um, drawings…’ you wished for nothing but this couch to swallow you whole and never spit you back out. you couldn’t tell what mark’s reaction was since you refused to look at him, but the silence gave you more answers than what you initially asked.

you peeked to the side, mark now had his head in his hands, rubbing his temple, cheeks dusted pink, you knew you caught him in something. ‘dude… this is so embarrassing’ he laughed. you didn’t say anything in response, just wanting him to continue explaining himself. ‘i thought i erased those, oh my god. how much did you see?’ he asked.

‘i think almost all of them…’ you rubbed the back of your neck, picking at the hair back there.

‘oh’ he said, his mouth turning into a perfect o. ‘that was not the way i wanted to tell you’ mark stated, still acting shy next to you. if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack, it would’ve been endearing.

‘tell me what?’ you whispered, turning away from him so he wouldn’t notice the pink dusting over your cheeks.

mark stared at you, now sitting up and his shoulders straight, ‘that um, that i like you’ he said, ‘i don’t know i got bored in class and doodled in my notes, after i realized how stupid and cheesy it felt i erased them and tried to forget… guess i didn’t erase them hard enough’ he smiled at the memories of it all. ‘i wanted to tell you, but i didn’t know how to go about it, i’m not good at things like this, i don’t know, confessing i guess… i wasn’t sure if you felt the same, so that’s why every time i tried to tell you i liked you, my plans always fell through’

mark grabbed your shoulders and lightly forced you to face him, taken back by surprise your ears grew hot, now staring into his eyes he smiled, ‘but you’re here now and asking about my lovesick doodles, and i want to tell you… that i like you… i like you so much y/n, studying with you and being with you in class and outside of class, you are cute, funny, caring, and you work so hard for your classes i wish i had the will to stay up at ungodly hours to finish any of my essays, we like the same books and we talk about the nerdiest stuff no one else would… i think you’re perfect’. he stopped, his eyes looking into yours trying to search for any reaction, he looked desperate. ‘sorry, i, uh, got a little carried away there’ he cheeks bloomed into a deep red.

‘mark’ you felt wetness pool at the base of your eyes and roll down your cheeks, not even realizing you were crying mark reached out and whipped the tears away with his thumb. ‘i really like you too… that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me i-’ he cut you off, throwing himself onto you in a huge bear hug, making your back crash into the couch due to the weight now on you.

he got up, now hovering over you, he stared deeply into your eyes, ‘y/n… i want us to be a couple or something? whatever you are comfortable with, i want to be able to read you any stupid 100 year old story any time you’ll let me’

your eyes softened, gazing into his it was like a thousand stars shining in the night sky, you could see and feel every emotion he was talking about. pure love. there was no doubt, no sun to scorch your waxed wings, withstanding fear and questioning. with him you could now fly as far as he would take you.

‘oh mark’ you said breathlessly, throwing your arms around his neck, yanking him down so his lips could meet yours. it took a second for him to realize what was happening, but soon enough he was moving his lips in synch with yours. his hand still placed next to your head, holding himself up, as his other one moved to your face to lightly caress your cheek. after a minute or two, you could barely breathe, so you broke the kiss in order to regulate your breathing. you look up at mark, who continued to stare at your lips, ‘mark, you’re the one who is perfect’

this time he initiated the kiss, putting his body weight more on you, his hand now moving to explore your body further, you could tell mark was excited as you could feel his bulge on your thigh. his tongue licked over your lips, silently asking for access, which you granted immediately, letting your tongue slip into his mouth, tasting the mint and coffee that he had previously consumed.

‘mark’ you whispered, lust overclouding your senses, ‘i want you’

mark audibly groaned, your words obviously having a certain effect on him as he pushed his hips into yours making you moan in response. he kissed your lips again, moving onto your neck, sucking brusies into the sensitive skin there. mark got off of you and sat up, removing his shirt to which you followed, throwing the clothing somewhere on the floor. going back into position, mark kissed your chest, grazing your breast that was still covered by your bra. he didn’t mind, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible, that was until you decided to take it off anyways, throwing it somewhere over your shoulder. mark went back to work, sucking on one nipple, while twirling and pinching the other between his fingers, earning moans from you.

mark suddenly stopped, lifting his head to look at you, ‘do you want to go further?’ he asked sincerely.

‘yes, mark, please’ you breathed, curling your fingers around his broad shoulders, lightly bringing him back towards your chest. he chuckled at your eagerness, peppering kisses down your stomach, finally reaching your buttoned up jeans. ‘can i take these off?’ you nodded, he unbuttoned your jeans and yanked them down and off, leaving them on the floor with the rest of the clothes. he could see the wet patch that formed in your underwear, earning a moan from the boy on top of you. mark ghosted over the spot with his finger, making you twitch in response due to the light, yet scandalous action.

he slid your underwear off, leaving them somewhere on the couch. you watched him silently as he stared at your core, looking like a man who had been without water for at least a century. he dove in, licking a strip up your pussy, making you moan out in response. mark continued to lightly suck, adding a finger into the mix. he slowly pushed it inside your opening, wetness gathering at the base of his finger, ‘you taste… it’s perfect… you’re perfect’ he whispered, gazing up into your glossy eyes, overtaken by craving him. he added a second finger, stretching you out. ‘mark…’ you groaned, feeling him hit the sweet spot inside of you made your head spin and insides twist. ‘i’m gonna come…’

‘not yet’ he whispered, he exited your core, earning a whimper from you due to the sudden loss, ‘don’t worry, i’ll take care of you’ he kissed your cheek, standing up from the couch in order to take his own pants off. you could see his member throbbing inside his briefs, you swore you almost started drooling. mark came back down to lay on top of you, kissing you again, more sensibly, softly, slowly. savoring the moment with you, the delicate and gentle touches almost making you cry again from just how sweet he was, how much he showed that he cared about you.

he broke the kiss, you stared into his eyes, caressing his cheek gently, mark melted into your touch, closing his eyes and burying his face closer to your grasp. ‘you are so beautiful’ you stated to him. his skin kissed by the sun, the features adorning his face; making up gorgeous art on a blank canvas that someone like da vinci would be furious not to know of such beauty.

‘do you want to keep going? we don’t have to if you don’t want to, i want to take my time with you, with us…’ he explained.

you cut him off with a peck to his lips, making his smile grow wider, ‘yes, i want to if you do… i feel the same way’ he kissed you, much like you did with him, confirming his feelings yet again.

he slid off his briefs, leaving you both fully naked in each other's presence, since the sun had started to set when mark came over the only light provided was the soft glow of the lamp behind you on the side table, making the sweat that graced his chest shine. ‘if you get uncomfortable please let me know and i’ll stop’ he whispered, you nodded in response, heartbeat picking up due to his kindness. he sighed and carefully lined his member up with your entrance, the shakiness of his hands having him try a couple of times to get it in, you could tell he was nervous.

he slowly pushed inside, giving you ample time to adjust, ‘that’s it’ he breathed in your ear once fully inside, ‘fuck you’re so tight… so perfect’ you moaned at his words, digging so far deep into you and leaving many traces in your mind, words you’d never forget. he readjusts your legs, giving him deep access into your womb, now in a missionary position. mark started moving, slowly thrusting into you at first, you wrapped your legs around his back, trying to keep him as close as possible, which he didn’t seem to mind. his lips moved to yours, the simple kisses shared spoke volumes-no hesitation, the pastel feeling of everything you both never said to each other, lost on fleeting glances in class, heart doodles on paper, and the way he would read to you without argument, buying you coffee, smiling whenever you’d enter the room. the soft kisses subdued any fear you held over this relationship. you loved him.

mark occasionally groaned into your mouth, and in return you moaned, sharing sounds and soft touches over each other's body. ‘you’re taking me so well like you were made for me. fuuck’ he keened at the way you held him inside. he started moving faster, but still acting as careful as ever with you. his hips snapped down on yours, earning strained grunts from you, head spinning as he continued to hit your sweet spot in all the right ways. ‘y/n’ mark moaned, ‘i-i love you’. you cried, the barrier breaking open the flood waters, you silently shed tears into his shoulder, the hot tears running down his arm and chest. ‘i always have, e-ever since i met you’ his trusts started growing erratic, faster, snapping his hips into yours with a force that had you seeing stars. you could barely comprehend any type of language at this point. you were about to reach your breaking point, feeling the heat collect at the bottom of your abdomen, the rope you were holding onto ready to snap.

mark seemed to take notice due to your internal struggle of letting go, mumbling in your ear about a bunch of different phrases. ‘it’s okay baby, you can let go’ and ‘come for me’, it was at the point where he whispered ‘i got you love, i got you’ you felt yourself starting to slip from the rope, letting go and the rope snapped, letting it all out and moaning out marks name, locking your eyes on his. your toes curled, body threatening to collapse in on itself like a black hole with mark at the event horizon, wanting to suck him in.

as you tightened around him, his thrust grew more sporadic, out of rhythm, trying to catch his own release now. with one last thrust, he stilled and emptied into your womb, you could feel how deep he was and the hotness of his come filling you up so perfectly. mark panted, overcoming the mountain of exhaustion after reaching his peak. his forehead fell onto yours as you also tried catching your breath. mark smiled down at you, love filling his eyes, adoration shining in yours. ‘you’ he started, regulating his words to come out more clearly, ‘you are part of my existence, part of myself. you have been in every line i have ever read’

you playfully rolled your eyes, the audacity of this english major, ‘you did not just quote charles dickens while balls deep inside of me’

he laughed, as if that was a queue to pull out, mark left his place inside of you and went to the bathroom, returning with a damp wash cloth in order to clean you up. gently whipping you down, after he threw the towel into the laundry room. mark picked you up and walked you to your room, slowly slipping you into some fresh new clothes, while he put on clothes that yeri kept at the apartment for her boyfriend. surely she wouldn’t mind.

you both climbed into bed, eyelids growing heavy he held you in his arms, head resting against his chest in the quiet darkness, ‘mark’ you said, voice small, he hummed, ‘i love you too’

‘sleep in tomorrow, i’ll still be here’ he answered.

eyes crusted over and limbs numb, that was probably the best sleep of your life. you reached over to marks side of the bed, but it was empty, and you frowned. he said he would be here. you stretched and got up, slowly making your way towards the door, you opened it to an empty living room. you heard a sudden, but low crash of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. you walked slowly, not really knowing what to expect. but alas, speak of the muse, and he shall appear in the lines, your (now) boyfriend, mark, stood in front of the oven with a spatula in hand, flipping a pancake.

in the stillness of the afternoon, you didn’t make your presence yet known, and watched as he worked. the glow of the sun and the kitchen light reflected off of his hair ever so slightly, making it shine, it was as if only you two existed. he turned and smiled like he always did, ‘good morning sleepyhead’

[taibhsearachd]

#I think for some people #knowing that humans took care of the nearly fatally injured #and knowing humans took care of a child born with a disability #are two different and incredibly impactful factoids #because like. one can picture a some guy who would buy into ‘alpha male’ shit saying something like #‘well obviously if one of their best hunters had his leg broken they would put a lot of effort into healing him. He’s a genetic asset’ #is some other masculine ancient hunter bioessentialist nonsense #for the rest of us it is a beautiful reminder that humans are caring and always have been #but to have evidence of caring for a child with Down syndrome #is so incredibly irrefutable #from birth this child was different #but they still cared for them #this kid didn’t have to prove their worth to be allowed to live

Thank you for articulating this when I've been struggling to explain it to people who are like "oh but we knew they took care of the disabled before this!"

Shanidar 1, my number one Paleolithic boy, was severely disabled... but he was disabled as an adult, in a catastrophic injury, and lived a decade after that. There's a specific Homo erectus skull that I don't remember the specimen name of but I always called "the old man" when I was studying him... he lost all his teeth and survived long enough that the holes in his jawbone completely healed over, at a point in time where someone would have had to be chewing most of his food for him to keep him alive. But those are adults who had already proved their worth, who probably had children and partners (whatever that would mean in their culture), who could still share knowledge or teach skills or maybe watch a child briefly even with their disabilities.

The significance of this child is that the child would have never been independent, it was probably very clear to its community from early on that it was not going to contribute to their survival at all... and they still went out of their way to care for it. Not just its parents, who of course will love their child. The entire community had to give extra resources and time and care to this child that would never benefit them, and they did, to the end of that child's natural lifespan as far as we can tell.

And to say it's "evidence of compassion" is not, as many people replying to this post have supposed, suggesting that anthropologists did not believe ancient humans possessed the capacity for it. It's that there is evidence now, that a community of people in the most extreme survival circumstance you can imagine still loved and cared for a child simply because it was one of them, and not for any benefit it could provide them.

Yes yes a healed femur is very important, I entirely agree, but this is something else entirely, and it matters differently.

DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THE NEANDERTHAL CHILD WITH DOWN'S SYNDROME? Because they're all I've been thinking about when I'm sad for the past few days. Their existence makes me less sad.

[kashverse]

a career day where parents come into class! Papakuna being all gruffy but baby has the proudest and biggest smile for his effort

those parent-child PE competitions for the class for the fastest duo! Papakuna would def win

making babykuna’s first science project!

Just to name a few ideas and it’s okay if you can’t or don’t!

this request dates back to feb 9th…i'm sorry for not finishing it earlier but i hope you like it <3 ☆ kunafamily lore masterlist

career day at babykuna’s school is a battlefield.

parents in stiff suits, freshly pressed uniforms, and worn-out scrubs stand in the front of the classroom, each presenting their careers to a group of tiny, fidgeting children who only care about snack time. but none command the attention of the room like ryomen sukuna. the moment he enters—six foot plus, towering, expensive watch glinting in the light like a status symbol—the energy shifts. the kids stare in awe. the parents look over with thinly veiled concern. the teacher, an older woman with soft eyes and a cardigan covered in embroidered apples, visibly hesitates before greeting him.

sukuna, of course, revels in it.

he takes a seat in one of the impossibly tiny classroom chairs, arms resting on his knees, eyes trained on the front of the room where babykuna stands proudly, ready to present her "photo-seen-thesis" project. "alright, class, today i will explain how the earth drinks the sunlight!" babykuna announces, voice clear and unwavering. "this is important because we need the sun to live, but too much sun can make you crispy like toast."

sukuna nods solemnly, as if he is learning this for the first time. she gestures to her carefully drawn diagram, a piece of poster paper covered in various labubu drawings. one is violently yellow to represent the sun, another is painted green with visible streaks of other colors from where she went outside the lines. "this is the sun." she points to the blindingly yellow labubu. "it looks scary but don’t worry. it only makes you blind if you look at it too long."

sukuna hums in agreement, his expression one of deep concentration. "makes sense. can’t argue with that."

"exactly!" babykuna continues, completely serious. "and these are the leaves. they eat the sun and then they breathe out the air we need. so really, trees are like… big air factories. that’s why we have to take care of them."

there is a brief pause. one of the kids at the front blinks. "so if i eat a leaf, will i breathe better?"

the teacher chokes on air.

"no, stupid," another kid interjects, "you have to eat a lot of them."

babykuna closes her eyes and inhales deeply through her nose. she learned patience from you. she is practicing it now. sukuna, meanwhile, is fighting for his life not to laugh.

the presentation eventually ends, and the teacher thanks babykuna for her "insightful and creative take on plant science" before calling for a short break.

sukuna is thoroughly entertained.

"that was real fuckin’ impressive, princess," he tells babykuna, crouching beside her desk. "i learned a lot."

"thank you, papa," she says, beaming. "did you like my labubus?" he eyes the yellow one. "not gonna lie, this guy looks kinda cursed."

babykuna pouts. "he’s the sun! he’s supposed to be bright!"

"he’s a biohazard," sukuna mutters, amused.

but the real highlight of the day comes after the presentations, during the PE showcase. the teacher, bless her soul, announces that parents are encouraged to participate in a duo race with their kids. "oh, we’re winnin’ this," sukuna mutters, rolling up his sleeves. "we are?!" babykuna gasps, eyes shining with excitement.

"hell yeah. you think i spent all those years runnin’ between takin’ care of you and your mom for nothin’?" he smirks, crouching down. "get on."

babykuna does not hesitate. she scrambles onto his shoulders, gripping his hair for balance, practically vibrating with anticipation as they line up at the starting line. parents are stretching, adjusting their shoes, mentally preparing themselves. sukuna just smirks.

the whistle blows.

it is an immediate massacre.

sukuna takes off like a fucking racehorse, years of fatherhood training kicking in as he sprints down the track. babykuna screeches like a banshee, the sheer volume of her battle cry sending every other parent into fight-or-flight mode.

one poor dad panics and stumbles out of the way. a mom gasps and grabs her child, moving before they can be trampled. the teacher watches in abject horror.

they do not stop. they do not slow. they cross the finish line in record time, babykuna throwing her fists into the air, grinning so hard her face might split.

"WE WIN!" she shrieks. "PAPA IS KING! KING OF THE CLASSROOM!"

sukuna, slightly winded but infinitely smug, nods in approval. “damn right we are.”

[noxiatoxia]

Mikan wants to be "forgiven"...but what does that really mean?

Hello. This is something that has been quietly on my mind for a while.

It's something shown in the game in chapter 3. Mikan really focuses in on "being forgiven".

And while not a mistranslation per se, I think it's inaccurate to what is happening in the game.

I've talked about this extensively - the fact ENG DR team has a very bad habit of translating things literally or very directly. This leads to either clunky dialogue, missed nuances, or just incorrect interpretations sometimes.

I think this in particular falls somewhere between 2 and 3. I'll explain why.

If translated literally, the English text works just fine, but as with a lot of literal translation, it misses the "feeling" of what was trying to be conveyed. If you want my translation...

Mikan: Won't someone just tell me what I did wrong!? Why won't anyone just let it be already!?

While Mikan doesn't say "What did I do wrong", there is a subtle emphasis on her talking about herself...I feel like it's a more natural way to word what is essentially "What is it that I did differently [to warrant this]?"

Anyways, to the main point...I hope you can kind of see what I'm getting at.

"Forgive" feels like...Mikan is seeking people to "pardon" her for perceived wrong-doings. And while not untrue I would say, the way Mikan specifically uses the word and the context it is in, to me, feels much more like she is using it like "allow" or "excuse".

Let me use another example to better explain myself.

The last line to me reads like Mikan needed this person to pardon her for being born; for existing. That her existence in and of itself was a mistake or wrong-doing that needed to be forgiven.

I think that's missing the point, though.

Mikan: They allowed me to exist.

See, the point is...Mikan is a very troubled person. She admits as much in the freetime events that wherever she goes, she is horribly bullied just for existing. That she hated being bullied, but even more she hates being forgotten.

She emphasizes her beloved (Junko) did not hate her, and in fact allowed her presence...

This line was heavily misread, I think. 許して受け入れて was read as two verbs in one sentence (which it is) but as "forgive and accept" which is incorrect to what it means. It's closer to "they tolerated me" (like, accepting and moving on). Which comes to how I would translate it, and my final point:

Mikan: They accepted me for who I am.

This is why I think the "forgive" thing is not only incorrect, but actually opposite of what this scene was going for. Junko did not "forgive" Mikan for the sin of existing. Rather, she was the only person who seemed to not mind that she existed, that didn't bully or ignore her.

She didn't "forgive" Mikan, she allowed her to be herself.

Another reason DR3 totally missed the mark, but I digress...

I guess while I'm on the topic, we all know that scene where Mikan has a little back-and-forth with Nagito...that, too, was misrepresented somewhat.

Putting the English here just for comparison sake. And while not the worst translation in the world, it certainly isn't how I would go about it.

Nagito: I don't...really get what you're trying to say... Mikan: Oh, you don't? (lit: you don't understand?) Mikan: Is that because you don't have any loved ones in your life? Mikan: Is it because there's no one who will love you?* Mikan: Oh, you poor thing...I feel very sorry for you.

*Literally speaking, she says "Is it because you are a person nobody allows" but considering the context thus far, it's easy to conclude she means that there's no one who will love/accept him for who he is.

*Adding "also" to the line is a mistranslation, I believe. も means also but it is also used for emphasis, which I think it is here. Not that it's impossible Mikan is using it to say "also", but in these lines of dialogue she is intentionally contrasting how she does have someone who loves her and that she can love, so to then identify a similarity between her and Nagito, I think, wouldn't make much sense...

Mikan is one of my favorite characters, so little details like this matter a lot to me.

[thewinterdrafts]

Flesh and Metal | The White Wolf

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (1st Person)

Word Count: 6,062

Summary: Bucky Barnes is everything you ever wanted—soft, thoughtful, devoted. He loves you with a quiet intensity that should make you feel like the luckiest person alive. But after so many months of being together, he still hasn’t touched you. Not like that. When you finally confront him, you realize the truth is so much deeper. He does want you. He just doesn’t know how to ask. And tonight, for the first time—he’s finally ready to give in.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, Sub!Bucky (lots of begging you guys), Angst, Swearing, Dominance & submission dynamics, Self-doubt & insecurity, Trauma responses & PTSD, Fear of abandonment & rejection, BDSM themes (light control, praise, permission-based dynamics), Overstimulation & begging, Implied past abuse

A/N: hey guys! this is my first ever story here, and i've worked so hard on it, my brain might dissolve through my ears tonight. i hope you'll like it, happy reading 🤍

📍Masterlist

It has been four months. Four months and one day, to be exact, since Bucky Barnes became mine. I’ve never heard so many people congratulate me and warn me in the same breath, but I never cared. Not when he’s been so precious, so thoughtful, so achingly romantic. Not when he’s spent every single day making me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

I love him more than life itself. And with him—life and death feel closer than they should.

So why does it feel like I’m still not enough?

Four months, and he hasn't touched me. Not once. Not like that. 

Every time I try, every time I lean in, every time I press just a little too close, he pulls away. Sometimes subtly, sometimes not. Sometimes it’s a hesitant step back, sometimes it’s a firm grip on my wrist, pushing me away just enough to make it clear.

I tried everything. Cute lingerie. Whispered invitations. I even got my hair done for our anniversary last night. Nothing helped, I couldn't shake his composed demeanor, no matter what I did.

Maybe, he doesn’t want me at all. Why would he?

The Bucky Barnes could have anyone. Someone like Natasha—gorgeous, cool, effortlessly magnetic. The kind of woman who could hold her own against a super soldier, the kind who wouldn’t hesitate. The kind who makes sense with him.

Me on the other hand? What was I thinking, believing I would be enough? Just a simple girl, coming from a boring family, with no interesting backstory, nothing to show, nothing to–

"Baby?" Bucky put his face an inch from mine, which immediately snapped me out of my spiralling thoughts. "You okay? Is your stomach upset?" He pointed to the remaining of mac and cheese he cooked. 

He grew to be extremely good at reading my expressions over the past few months. He usually doesn't need to ask; he just knows what's wrong, and eliminates the problem without a word. This time, though, he didn't know. How could he?

"No," I say flatly.

"Sure? Because–"

"I am fine," I snap, louder than anticipated. 

I immediately regret my tone when I see Bucky stiffen, the sound of his metal arm clenching into an unbreakable fist. He takes exactly three steps back from me; measured and calculated. His eyes terrified; I can almost see how he is searching for the possible threats or punishments he would receive, now that he senses the change in the mood. He's still as a sculpture, except for the arms; they are shaking from how strongly he is sqeezing his fist.

Oh, I fucked up.

"I'm sorry. It's just been a really hard week on me, I-"

"You're hurt." 

It's not a question, it's a fact.

"I'm not hurt–"

"I hurt you."

It's not a fact, it's a crime. At least that's how he says it.

I look down to the tiled floor where I can still spot the signs of Bucky's cooking. I cannot look at him. I would need to lie to his face and that is one thing I was never able to do. Not after what he's been through. 

I notice a small movement from him as he takes another step; farther. Way farther away from me. I take a deep breath and force myself to look at him, wishing I didn't as the sight instantly breaks my heart; his eyes are filled with tears, and he's so confused. Scared. Terrified of what is coming. He's gripping onto the side of his shirt, like he always does when he feels unsafe. A lump forms in my throat as I try to open my mouth to speak. I've ruined him. 

"I– uh." The sound I made was barely a whisper, but it made him visibly flinch. "Do you... Do you not... want me?"

Bucky's terrified gaze turns into utter confusion in a matter of seconds. He blinks – for the first time in maybe minutes – as he's struggling to understand my question. I collect all my leftover courage and hope to keep talking. 

"You push me away," I say, trying to be as soft as possible. "We've been together for months, but never... together."

I feel so stupid for not being able to just straight out say it. I'm hoping he somehow understands what I mean, but judging by his scrunched eyebrows, I'm gonna have to be more specific.

 I let out a big sigh and close my eyes to make the embarrassment less painful. "Bucky, we never had sex." 

As soon as the words leave my mouth, his face drops. I lose him again somewhere very far away from me, and he keeps looking at me like I am about to destroy him completely. 

"If you don't want me, that's okay," I assure him, ignoring the bitter taste in my mouth. "I know I'm not the prettiest girl, and you've probably seen better—"

"No!" he snaps, so I lift my head up. He looks horrified, like I've just said something unspeakable. I wait for him to continue, but instead, he keeps staring at me, as if his eyes could tell everything he is unable to.

"No?" I echo. "Then why do you run every time I try to touch you like that?"

He breaks the eye contact by strictly looking at the kitchen counter right in front of him; or at anything that is not me. From all the months I've spent in his presence, I recognize this look too well. He's ashamed. 

"Bucky..."

Silence. He grips the fabric of his shirt, twisting it in his hands. A nervous tick, but to him, a grounding mechanism. He's really trying not to lose himself.

"I—, I don't—," he stutters. "I don't know how."

"What?" I blink. “Bucky, you’ve—” I hesitate. “You’ve been with other women before.”

His head jerks up with a flicker of panic and frustration.

 “That’s not—that’s different.”

“Different how?”

Bucky is refusing to look at me, so I stand up from my seat to make way towards him. He takes a sharp breath when I'm within his reach, but doesn't move. That's a good sign. 

"Look at me, baby," I ask, softly. His eyes snap up instantly, and I see it all there. The fear, the desperation, the battlefield in his head. "Tell me what's wrong."

He tries to do so; he opens his mouth, swallows, exhales, shakes his head, tries again, but he fails, no matter how hard he tries.

"Do you want me?" I ask bluntly.

He nods, still staring at the marble countertop. Okay.

"Are you scared to ask for what you want?"

Another nod. 

"Do you trust me?"

This one is instant.

"Yes."

"Then tell me."

He lets out a shaky breath before he swallows. He turns his head to me, face flustered, his chest moving up and down as he tries to regulate himself.

"Please, can you—," his voice dies before he can finish. He clearly is struggling, like he doesn't know how to want things and the fact breaks a small part of my heart permanently.

"Go on, Bucky. What do you need?" I encourage him.

"I—," he stutters, and then shakes his head hard, like the words are physically hurting him inside his head.

 His body, however, tells the truth on behalf of him. The way his hands tremble and his chest heaves with each exhale, the way his metal fingers twitch against his thigh—he is fighting himself.

I let the silence stretch, waiting, watching the way his face twists with frustration, with hesitation. With want.

“Baby,” I say softly.

His eyes cracks open, blue burning with something raw, something pleading. He sucks in a breath, and for a moment, I think he finally gives in, but then he shakes his head again, hard, turning his face away.

I click my tongue, grabbing his chin, forcing him to meet my gaze. “You want something. I can see it. I can feel it.”

His chest rises sharply, lips parting, but still, he doesn't speak. I lean in, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. 

“Do you need me to guide you?”

His entire body jerks, a sharp inhale ripping from his throat. His fingers are clenching into fists, the tremor rolling through his shoulders like a quake. But he still doesn't answer me.

My grip tightens slightly, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Bucky, if you don’t tell me what you need, I can’t give it to you.”

He exhales shakily, a frustrated, broken sound. His brows knit together, his hands lifting before falling back to his thighs, his whole frame trembling.

“Please,” he whispers.

My heart clenches. “Yes?”

His head dropped forward, breath ragged. “Please… please tell me what to do.”

Oh. 

Oh, fuck.

I smile, slow and knowing, letting the moment stretch, letting him feel the weight of what he's just asked for.

“I’ll show you.” I say, and I find my voice firm. Commanding.

His breath stutters, his entire body tensing, every muscle coiled tight with restraint, with hesitation. He’s fighting it, clinging to the instinct to resist—until I lean in, my mouth brushing over the shell of his ear.

 “If you'll be a good boy for me.”

The sound he makes—soft, broken, fucking relieved—rips through me like a shockwave. My core tightens, ignites, burns, a volcano threatening to erupt at the sheer power of it. 

Bucky Barnes is submissive. For me. 

"Follow me," I say, and as if I freed him from an invisible curse, he makes his way after me.

All at once, every doubt I ever had—about myself, about us—disintegrates. How did I not see this before? How could I have been so blind? He doesn’t need distance. He doesn’t need time. He just needs me. Me in control. Me guiding him. Me telling him exactly what to do.

And fuck, if that isn’t the most intoxicating realization of all, I don't know what is.

I may not be the most experienced woman alive, but that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that he needs me to be present. He needs me to take this. Own this. There’s no room for doubt, no room to shy away, when he trusts me to take care of him.

I release him just to check his expression, searching for even the slightest hint of hesitation, but to my surprise, I find none. Not a single trace. His eyes track my every movement, locked onto me like a soldier awaiting an order.

And it shouldn't turn me on the way it does.

"Do you want me right now?" My voice is steady, even as I close the space between us, just by one step. 

His gaze sweeps over me, dragging from my lips, to my throat, to my body before he gives a sharp, assured nod.

 "Then take off my dress." 

He moves instantly, without hesitation—like he’s been waiting for this since the moment he met me. His fingers find the hem of my dress; his touch cautious, reverent, like he’s afraid I might pull away at any second. Like he can’t quite believe this is happening.

The contrast of his warm, flesh hand on one thigh, and his ice-cold vibranium fingers on the other, sends a shiver tearing down my spine. Slowly, deliberately, he lifts the fabric over my head, the brush of his knuckles against my skin leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Once I’m bare before him, he takes a small step back—just to look. His lips part slightly, his breathing uneven, chest rising and falling faster, deeper. His eyes—piercing, devastating—roam every inch of me, burning me from the inside out.

And then, he moves.

He throws the dress across the room without looking, never once taking his eyes off of me. His entire body is vibrating, like he’s barely holding himself together, barely restraining the need thrumming beneath his skin.

The sight of him is stealing every breath I have left.

“Can I take your shirt off?” I break the silence, my own voice softer now.

“Please,” he begs.

I waste no time. I step in, close enough for his ragged breath to ghost over my skin, and strip him bare. It’s a summer night, so he’s only wearing a thin, black V-neck, already clinging to the sweat on his chest–or at least, he was. With one fluid motion, I pull it over his head and let it drop to the floor.

I take a moment, just a few seconds, to admire him.

His body is all strength, broad shoulders and sculpted muscle carved by battle and time. Scars litter his skin, testaments to wars fought and survived, and yet, under the soft glow of the moonlight, he looks like something untouchable. Ethereal. Unreal.

I swallow hard, licking my lips as my gaze travels downward, over his defined abs, the way they tense under my attention, down to the dark trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his boxers. I feel it then—the heat pooling low, the unbearable pulse between my thighs. And he’s just standing there, watching me, eyes so dark they’re nearly black.

I’m already so wet for him, it’s almost embarrassing.

"Undress me," I whisper. 

His breath catches, eyes flash with hunger, the way they always do when he wants but won’t take. But this time, he moves.

With careful fingers, he reaches behind me for the clasp of my bra, hesitant yet desperate. This is as far as we’ve ever gone. Four months of waiting, of skirting the edge, of Bucky refusing to let himself see me without clothes. Back then, I thought it was because he didn’t want me, because I wasn’t enough.

But now? Now I know the truth. He wouldn’t have known what to do. He was afraid to ruin this. Afraid to ruin me.

I snap out of my thoughts as I feel the cold air of the AC dance on my bare torso. My nipples instantly harden as a result, and Bucky notices it just as quickly. His lips are apart, and he's staring at them like an animal on his prey. The way he wants me fills me with every ounce of confidence I’ve ever needed.

"You can touch them," I whisper, not sure he even heard me, but then he takes two steps towards, putting his flesh hand on my waist.

I gasp, the breath catching in my throat as his warm, steady touch trails up my skin. His movements are slow—painfully, torturously slow—like he’s memorizing me with his hands, drinking me in through touch alone. He reaches my left breast and he cups it, his thumb immediately finding my hard nipple. His breath shudders, sharp and heavy, his chest rising with a strained inhale as he circles my achingly hard peak with his thumb, teasing, testing, learning me.

I struggle to hold in my moan, my teeth sinking into my lip as he pinches it, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight between my legs. And fuck, he’s watching. His vibranium arm remains stiff at his side, fingers curled into a tight, trembling fist, his jaw slightly slack, his lips parted as he watches himself touch me.

He’s fascinated. Hypnotized. Like this is the first time he’s ever allowed himself to truly want something.

"Both hands, please." My voice is barely a whisper, barely a sound, just a needy, broken plea. His head snaps up, and for the first time in what feels like forever, his eyes meet mine.

His metal hand, still clenched in restraint, relaxes. With slow, careful hesitation, he brings it up, inch by inch, his fingertips skimming my ribs before finally—finally—he touches me. A shiver rips through me, my body instinctively arching into the icy contrast of metal against my heated skin. I don’t pull away; if anything, I lean into him, chasing the sensation, craving more.

"You're being so good for me," I praise, my voice low.

Bucky fucking breaks.

His entire body stutters, trembles; his breath hitching, his knees nearly buckling beneath him as a wrecked, desperate whimper falls from his lips.

Fuck. That has to be the sexiest sound in the world.

“Can I—” His voice cracks, his fingers flexing against my skin. “Can I please kiss you?”

He is pleading, over and over, his voice shaky, utterly undone.

“Please, I need it. Please.”

His words shoot straight to my core, the need in his voice a direct pulse between my legs. I want him so much, I might sublime from the heat he ignites inside me.

I don’t hesitate. I grab his arm, pulling him against me, forcing his bare chest to crash into mine. He melts against me, his body burning, muscles taut, already trembling with restraint. And then, I kiss him. Or maybe he kisses me. Either way, the moment our lips meet, Bucky loses himself.

He kisses me like he’s starving, like he’s drowning and I’m his only air. His mouth is hungry, relentless, desperate, lips crashing into mine as he’s trying to devour me whole.

And fuck, his hands.

They roam everywhere, one gripping the small of my back, the other skimming just beneath my panties, teasing, taunting me, and just when I think it couldn't get any better, his metal hand clamps around my ass, gripping tight, keeping me steady. Feeling the cool vibranium pressing into my heated skin, I moan straight into his mouth, my body shuddering in his hold.

“Put me on the bed. Now.”

The words leave me in a command, and Bucky moves before I can even take another breath. With one arm, just one, he lifts me with ease, like I weigh nothing to him. He lays me down, gentle but firm, already moving to cover me with his body—but I stop him.

“Not yet.”

I shake my head, and he immediately halts, his breathing labored, controlled. He looks wrecked, like he's using every bit of self control to keep himself away from me. Still kneeling between my legs, still so fucking obedient, and yet—his eyes. His fucking eyes, they’re eating me alive.

“Take it off,” I order, nodding toward his jeans.

Bucky keeps his eyes locked on mine, hands trailing down, slow and deliberate as he reaches for the button of his jeans. With a quick flick of his fingers, they’re undone. His piercing gaze never leaves me, his eyes dragging over every inch of my body, devouring, worshipping.

I don't have much time before he stands up and slowly pushes his jeans down. I gasp when I see the thin, black material of his boxers that do nothing to hide him. The thick, heavy outline of him, pressing against the fabric, takes my breath away.

I’ve never seen him like this before. Not even close. I’ve felt him—hard, pressing against me on nights where he’d let himself have just a little. But then he would stop and shut it down. I couldn't understand why, not until now, and I don't have one second to think about it, because he pushes his boxers down. His cock is finally bared to me in full, and Jesus fucking Christ.

He is huge. How is that gonna fit?

“Please,” I hear a small plea towards him, and I shot my eyes back to his face. 

His breath is wild, erratic, chest heaving like he can’t get enough air, like he’s on the edge of breaking. His flesh hand is poised, ready to touch himself, to relieve even an ounce of the pressure, but he doesn't. Not without my word. I bite my lip, reveling in the power of it, in the way his entire body trembles under restraint.

“Take this off, too,” I instruct, gesturing to the lace panties that I’d bought months ago—back when I thought he’d see them then.  Back when I thought we’d be here so much sooner. 

But I don’t have a single complaint left in my body, because when Bucky finally moves—he rips them off. The thin fabric tears from me in one sharp pull, and for a split second, I wonder if he just ripped them in half.

His eyes drag over me, drinking in every inch of bare skin, mapping the places he’s never let himself truly look at before. I feel just how wet I am, now that there’s nothing to soak up the slick. I can feel it all pooling between my thighs, proof of just how badly I want him.

A flicker of  shyness grips me—how did I get this lucky? How did I end up with him, undone and starving, in front of me? But I don’t let myself hide; instead, I sit up slowly, deliberately, my movements calculated, letting myself kneel on the soft mattress.

I look up at him, like I could devour him with a single breath. The six-foot-tall ex-assassin is towering over me, radiating pure heat, his entire body coiled tight like a predator barely holding back.

And then, soft as a prayer, I say, “I want you.”

As if I’ve broken a curse, Bucky snaps. His fingers clamp around my throat, his mouth slamming into mine, the sheer force of it knocking me back onto the bed. He pins me down, all of his weight pressing into me, heavy, suffocating, absolutely fucking perfect. The way he kisses me makes me crazy; he's hungry, possessive, and so filthy, I can only moan as a response.

His cock, thick and heavy, sliding between my soaking slit, his length gliding right over my clit with each slow, torturous grind.

“Fuck—” I moan straight into his mouth, my hips instinctively tilting up, chasing every ounce of friction he gives me.

I lose every bit of control I had left. Overcome with greed, I grab at him, pull at him, take as much as I can. My fingers tangle in his long hair, keeping him locked to me, refusing to let him break the kiss for even a second. 

I let my other hand wander; I trace the sharp lines of his back, trailing lower, until my palm finds his ass. I squeeze, hard, forcing him to rock against me even harder, dragging his cock rougher, deeper through my slick folds. My breathing is a wreck, my body moving instinctively, clinging to him, needing more, more, more.

I want him. All over me. Inside me. Taking me apart.

“Can I—” His voice shatters, breathless. He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes wrecked with need.

“Can I please put it in?”

And fuck, he looks at me like a puppy, wide-eyed, begging.

“Please, I’ll make you feel so good,” he purrs against my neck, teeth grazing my skin, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses.

“God, yes,” I groan.

Bucky grabs himself, his fingers shaking with need as he positions his cock right at my entrance. He could thrust in immediately, take what we both want without hesitation, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pauses; his eyes flick back up to mine, searching, waiting, needing something more.

And I know exactly what he wants.

“Be a good boy and fuck me, Bucky.”

I'm way past hesitation or shame. All I want is him taking over me, claiming me, pressing me into himself. The words shatter something inside him; his mouth parts, his pupils blown wide, and then—without ever breaking eye contact—he slides inside.

A broken moan leaves my lips as my spine arches, my body opening for him, stretching around him, and fuck, he fills me.

Completely. Entirely. Devastatingly.

I’ve been aching for this moment for months. I’ve fantasized about him taking me, and now he’s finally inside me. A deep pressure builds low in my belly, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as he pushes deeper and deeper, until I feel the blunt tip of his cock press against my cervix.

He’s so fucking hard. I can feel him throbbing inside me, feel the pulse of his cock against my walls, and it drives me insane. I wait for him to finally move, but after a few seconds of stillness, I open my eyes.

Bucky is watching me so carefully, his eyes flicking over my face, searching for even the slightest sign of discomfort. His arms shake violently, his knuckles white from gripping the sheets beside my head. He’s breathing fast, erratic, his small, shaky breaths cold against my ear. And he’s moving too slowly, like he’s terrified of losing control.

“Relax, baby. You can let go.”

I lift my hand, gently stroking his beautiful face, my voice barely a whisper. His eyes soften, then immediately darken.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasps, his voice hoarse, ruined.

“You can’t,” I assure him. “I can take it. I want to take it.”

The sound that escapes him—a helpless whimper, like he’s been waiting his entire life to hear those words. His body trembles, his control hanging by a thread, his cock twitching inside me at the sheer relief of it.

He might be above me, but he is completely at my mercy.

“You’re doing so good,” I murmur, just inches from his lips, my breath fanning over his skin. “Don’t stop.”

The second I say it, he melts.

Raw, desperate need unleashes from him so suddenly, it knocks the breath from my lungs. I wheeze in surprise, barely able to keep up before he grabs the bedframe above my head with his vibranium arm and picks up the pace—hard. The deep, wrecked moan that rips from his throat sets me on fire; a wildfire raging low and uncontrollable, consuming every last of my coherent thoughts. All I know is him—the way he moves, the way he fills me, the way every precise thrust hits where I need him most.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and he collapses into me, his mouth claiming mine in a sloppy, desperate kiss. His thrusts are relentless, shaking the entire goddamn bed, and I have to grip his vibranium arm for dear life just to keep myself in place.

Somewhere in his haze, even now, he thinks to protect me—his flesh hand cradling the top of my head, shielding me from the bedframe. My chest tightens at the gesture, and I let my lips trail down his sweat-slicked neck in silent gratitude, my teeth grazing over his skin.

Something inside me snaps as I feel his salty skin on my tounge. My nails rake down his back, digging into the hard muscle, desperate to leave my mark. My teeth sink into his shoulder, biting, scratching, taking him. We’re sliding against each other, slick with sweat, the heat of the summer night making everything feel even filthier, more raw, more real.

And Bucky is falling apart.

He’s moaning, breaking, unraveling against me, the sounds deep and ragged, each one rougher than the last. If I didn’t know better—if I didn’t know how utterly overwhelmed with pleasure he is—I’d think he was in pure agony from the helpless little cries slipping from his lips.

“Tell me I’m good for you,” he whispers, almost afraid to ask, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Bucky.” 

The words fall from my lips like a promise, and fuck, the sharp, broken gasp he lets out shreds me to pieces. It’s high and desperate, so fucking needy, and it goes straight to my core.

He kisses me, hard and possessive.

“I’ve been waiting…” His voice is unraveling, barely understandable.

”… for so fucking long.”

Then suddenly—

Thrust.

“And you—”

Thrust.

“Feel—”

Thrust.

“So—”

Thrust.

“Good.”

His voice rasps in pure, guttural pleasure. I’m nothing but a puddle beneath him, completely ruined, and somehow, he’s not finished.

His rhythm snaps, his thrusts turning harder, rougher, deeper, more possessive.

“Mine,” he snarls, his voice low, primal. He slams into me, hard, forcing me to take it.

“Mine, you understand?”

I can’t speak. Can’t think. There’s no rational thought left, no words, just pure, consuming pleasure. So instead, I match his pace, my hips rolling up to meet every devastating thrust. The way his words set me on fire, I let the flames consume me. My orgasm builds dangerously fast, and I’m hanging by a fucking thread, barely holding on under the brutal precision of his movements.

“Bucky—God—”

His name falls from my lips like a prayer, breathless and desperate.

“I’m—”

Judging by his increased pace, he knows exactly what I'm trying to say. He lifts himself, just enough to look me in the eyes, and I’m trying so hard not to let my eyes roll back, not to completely lose myself in him.

“Please.”

His voice shatters, breaking apart in my ear, pleading.

“Please cum on my cock. Please, baby, please—”

This is all I need to spiral. The coil inside me snaps violently, my entire body arching, shattering as a scream tears from my throat. I crash into pleasure, drowning in it, my walls clenching tight around him, milking him, pulling him deeper.

“Oh, fuck—” Bucky’s voice breaks, his hips stuttering, his rhythm completely unraveling as he feels me fall apart around him.

“That’s it—fuck—that’s my girl.”

His praise sends a violent aftershock through me, my body trembling, shaking, completely spent. I gasp for air, trying to regulate myself after the most devastating orgasm of my life, but I don't stand a chance. Bucky's not finished, not yet.

“I—I can’t—”

Bucky’s voice isn’t even human anymore. It’s a shattered, breathless little whimper, choked between desperate gasps, his body trembling like he’s about to break. His hips falter, his cock twitching so agressively inside me I swear I can feel it in my throat.

But he won’t let go. Not yet.

Not without permission.

“Please—”

The word falls apart in his throat, barely even understandable.

“Please, baby, please—please let me cum, I need it, I need you, I can’t hold it, I can’t—”

He’s whining, his breath is gone, his voice is gone, his body is gone; he is completely, utterly mine.

“Release it, baby.” My fingers tighten in his hair, dragging him deeper inside me. “Be a good boy and give it to me.”

And that’s it; he doesn’t just fall apart—he disintegrates.

His hips slam forward, burying himself so fucking deep inside me, holding us together, his muscles locking up, convulsing. And if this wasn't enough, he whimpers.

“Ohhh—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

His cock twitches and throbs uncontrollably, and I feel everything. The first violent, overwhelming pulse. The hot, thick flood of him spilling deep inside me. His hips keep jerking, his muscles keep locking up, his whimpers keep breaking apart into desperate, breathless sobs.

“Baby, baby—please, please, oh my God, I—I can’t—”

His hands claw at my waist, face burrowed into my neck, his breath a gasping mess. His voice cracks, completely breaking apart, and then a single, desperate sob escapes from him.

He cries. Bucky Barnes cries when he cums.

His body shakes uncontrollably, his hips rocking forward on their own, like he’s trying to push it even deeper, like he’s chasing something he’ll never be able to reach.

“Baby, baby—please hold me, please—fuck, I love you, I love you so much—”

His voice is cracking, completely gone, and I gasp as I feel another orgasm building inside me. Another slow, rolling wave, ignited by his moans, his desperate little whimpers, the way he’s still trembling inside me.

“Bucky—oh, fuck—”

The second he realizes what’s happening, it destroys him all over again.

“Baby, you’re gonna— Fuck, fuck, fuck—please, baby, please—”

His hips snap forward as a last burst of desperate energy, his hands gripping my waist so tightly I feel the bruises forming.

“Oh, baby—please, please cum on my cock again, I wanna feel it—please, baby, please, please—”

The filth of it, the raw need in his voice immedately shatters me. I scream his name, my body convulsing around him, my walls tightening, pulsing, taking him deeper, squeezing him so hard he sobs.

“Oh—oh fuck, baby, I’m still cumming—”

His cock throbs again, another weak, helpless little spill, and he whimpers so high and wrecked he sounds like he’s dying.

“I can’t stop—baby, I can’t stop, I can’t stop—”

His breath is gone, tears spilling onto my skin, his voice a trembling, begging mess, pleading for the final release. Not a moment later, he collapses.

His body slumps into mine; arms useless, his breathing erratic and broken. His tears still fall, his entire body shivering, overstimulated, still whimpering, still sobbing.

He’s still inside me, throbbing. Utterly gone from this world.

His hands stay locked firmly around me, fingers clutching, shaking, gripping, like he’ll die if I let go. And on top of that, he just won't stop crying. Soft, helpless little sobs hide into my skin, as he's holding onto me for dear life.

“Baby,” he whispers, his voice so broken and small.

“Baby, please don’t let go—please don’t go.”

My heart shatters to a million pieces in a matter of seconds. It becomes evidently clear that he's not here right now. He’s somewhere else, somewhere dark, somewhere cold, somewhere where he had nothing and no one. I feel it in the way he clings to me and his hands shake as they grip my waist. The way his face tucks into my throat, burrowing, searching, nuzzling like he’s trying to disappear into me; like he’s afraid this isn’t real.

"Shhh, Bucky,” I murmur, kissing his damp temple. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Even though I wanted my words to soothe him, he breaks even more instead. His breath catches on a sob, his entire body curling into me, fingers fisting in the sheets, in my hair, in anything he can hold onto. 

“You’re so good to me,” he gasps, his voice shaking. “So perfect, so soft, I—fuck, I don’t deserve this—”

His lips quiver against my skin, hands tightening around me, pulling me closer. The realization that he’s not just crying from overstimulation, hits me like a brick. He’s crying because he’s never felt this before.

Never felt this safe. Never felt this loved. Never felt this cherished, taken care of. 

“Bucky,” I whisper, cupping his tear-streaked face, making him look at me.

His blue eyes are glassy and vulnerable, still wet with tears. God, he looks so much younger like this. Like a little boy, back in the ‘40s, nineteen years old, held too many responsibilities, never got held in return.

I immediately want to fix every bad thing that's ever happened to him.

“You deserve all of this, my sweet boy,” I whisper, pressing my lips to his forehead. “You deserve every single second of love. You deserve to be taken care of.”

He lets out a tiny little sob that slits my heart in half, like a butcher knife.

“But I—” His voice cracks, his fingers digging into my waist. “I don’t—I don’t know how to do this. I don’t—”

His breath hitches, his chest rising, falling too fast. I know him enough to realize he’s panicking, his brain is fighting him, pushing against the comfort, trying to tell him he doesn’t deserve this.

I also know how to shut it down. I pull him into me, wrap my arms so tightly around him that he has no choice but to believe that this is real. I'm real.

“It’s okay, baby,” I say gently, stroking his hair, feeling his body relax against mine. “You don’t have to know how. Just let me love you.”

He immediately eases into me, his breath slowing, his shaking finally dying down. He doesn't know, but he's holding my own broken pieces together too, since I've never felt a love so consuming before. 

“If I fall asleep,” he whispers, as if he is about to say something unthinkable, “will you be here when I wake up?”

My dear God. 

"Of course, Bucky. I'll be right here, always," I promise, my voice firm, not leaving any space for doubts in his broken mind.

He buries his face into my neck as an answer, and with that, Bucky Barnes is fast asleep in my arms.

[betterwithbooksthanwithpeople]

things I noticed in The Outsiders musical seeing it a second time (2/20/25 matinee):

feel like putting a disclaimer that I've now seen the show twice but in two partial view locations (standing room today) and my memory is far from photographic so some of this might be stuff that happens every time that I just missed the first time or it stuck out to me differently

-the greasers were HYPED. UP. from the top of the show basically all the way to the drive-in. sooo much energy which is also how I felt getting to see the show again so I loved it

-really thought Andre Malcolm was a great Steve! also John Patrick Collins is back covering I don't even know what role because it's whoever Trevi is when he's not Ponyboy and I've seen him as Ponyboy both times lol

-during Grease Got a Hold Soda kept poking at Darry trying to get him to join in and he said either "don't talk to me" or "don't touch me" but with a little smile like he couldn't actually be annoyed with Soda

-at the end of Great Expectations and the scene after with Johnny and Dally, Johnny was rocking himself back and forth but as soon as Ponyboy would put the flashlight on him or Dally would look at him he'd stop

-honestly I think Sky played Johnny more fidgety/ shaky in general (I saw Josh last time). what's that line from the book that says Johnny is like a kicked puppy? that's what he was embodying

-Marcia did a little wave and "hey" at Two-Bit during Friday at the Drive In!

-Emma's vocals were eating in that song and especially I Could Talk to You All Night. I've seen her Cherry before but today? dangg

-Paul has a new boyfriend real?! bro was fully laying on the car stargazing and drinking with somebody (Chet maybe?)

-Ponyboy opt down in Far Away from Tulsa! now I know what y'all are going on about lol

-Ponyboy was SO out of it and Johnny was yelling SO much the whole way from when they get jumped through all of Run Run Brother and it was making me ahhh

-Cole was amazing as Paul, especially in Justice for Tulsa. He played it so angry that he was kinda scary, plus vocalsss

-maybe this is always the blocking for Death's at My Door so apologies to people who've seen the show more than I have, but when he's singing "I'll never leave you alone," Johnny put his hand out to take the knife from Ponyboy who repeated the line but just? wouldn't let go of the knife? to grab his hand? until they both sing the line together and fully make eye contact, then Pony finally gave back the knife after and Johnny did this little sigh of relief almost as he put it back in his pocket while keeping a hold on Pony's hand. it's a lot guys.

-Throwing in the Towel vocals were off the charts today. Brent and Jason were not messing around - the riffs

-Darry was so happy and united with the gang in Hoods Turned Heroes that I almost started the act two crying right then and there. he's just a kid proud of his little brothers

-Ponyboy was PISSED during Trouble like he was giving do NOT mess with me right now

-I am convinced Jason is in on the Parry lore because the faces he was making during the whole Paul/ Darry pre-rumble conversation were so loud I fully missed the first punch since my eyes were on Soda lol

-just everything about Ace in the rumble. yelling "get off of me!" and the genuine concern when Two Bit takes awhile to get up after and jumping into Dally's arms because they won - it was adorable (actually Tilly was just getting picked up so much? maybe that's her Ace's thing even more than others lol)

-Aramie put his whole heart and soul into Little Brother oh my gosh. Like fully sobbing for much of the song, looked a mess, scREAMED the "does anybody care" line?! I was crying so much that my friend pointed it out after the show pls

-speaking of crying, Darry was a whole mess not really in the argument part of the end scene but for the entire time Pony and Soda are talking at the dinner table - like, he'd visibly pull himself together in order to talk evenly when he had a line? but wouldn't look towards his brothers like he was hiding his tears? Brent Comer you understand Darry so well I'm so glad I got to tell you he's my favorite at the stage door

-overheard at the stage door: someone asked Trevi about the Johnny/ Ponyboy ship and he basically went "they're too young" hahaha

hours have passed somehow but this is all I've thought about and I've forgotten so many things and already want to see it again but yeah, yay outsiders

[goldfades]

crash out couple thought…reader is def loved by a lot of people, so what if at a game maybe its a very bold fan or another player playing against luka trying to flirt with her? how do u think luka would react?

ohhh this is such a delicious scenario because luka? oh, luka does not play when it comes to his girl. like, he’s chaotic and goofy until it comes to you, and then? suddenly it’s giving possessive, petty, and lowkey unhinged energy

picture this:

it’s a big game. high stakes. the arena’s packed, lights are bright, and you’re sitting courtside—of course. you’re in one of luka’s oversized jerseys, legs crossed, looking effortlessly good like you didn’t just steal the entire spotlight by simply existing.

every camera in the building cuts to you at some point. you’re that girl. the wnba star with the attitude, the reputation, the “crash out queen.” and you? you’re chilling, locked in on luka, maybe tossing a few playful chirps his way when he misses a shot.

but then—

oh and, here comes the problem.

it starts with a look.

maybe it’s a player luka’s had beef with before. one of those guys who likes to push buttons, always jawing at luka during games, always trying to throw him off his rhythm.

but today? he takes it too far.

because instead of running his mouth at luka, he glances at you. gives you that slow once-over, paired with some smirk like he’s got a shot.

you? you roll your eyes. because please. be serious.

but luka? luka sees it.

and ohhh, the whole vibe shifts.

luka, who was previously all smiles and shoulder shrugs, suddenly looks dead serious. he squints, head tilts a little like, nah, did this dude really just try that?

you can see the exact moment his whole demeanor changes. he stops joking with his teammates. next possession down the court? luka’s got the ball, and he’s locked in—but not just on the basket. on him.

the trash talk starts immediately.

luka hits a three in the guy’s face and doesn’t even look at the basket. nah, he’s staring dead at him, jogging backward like:

“what was that? you were saying something? look at the scoreboard.”

petty. disrespectful. peak luka.

but the dude won’t let it go.

next dead ball, he saunters by the sideline, glancing your way again. throws a wink.

“yo, you sure you don’t wanna sit somewhere else? i could get you a better view.”

oh. he’s dead.

luka hears every word.

and you? you’re ready to pop off—because you don’t need luka to defend you, you’re more than capable of checking someone yourself. but before you can even uncross your legs, luka’s already there.

he steps right up to him, smirking but with that dangerous edge in his eyes.

“nah, she’s good where she’s at. you should worry about staying on the court. you’re lucky she doesn’t lace up right now—she’d drop 30 on your head easy.”

the ref steps in before it gets too heated, but the tension? palpable.

and it doesn’t stop there.

luka cooks him the entire game. stepbacks. no-look assists. and every time luka scores, he looks straight at you.

blows a kiss. taps his ring finger. mouths, “mine.”

the fans are eating it up. twitter’s in shambles. the broadcast camera cannot stop cutting between luka’s smirking face and you, sitting courtside, absolutely thriving in the chaos.

postgame?

luka barely lets the clock run out before he’s jogging over to you. he pulls you in by the waist like there aren’t thousands of eyes watching, resting his forehead against yours with that cocky grin.

“he really thought he had a chance? that’s crazy.”

“you’re petty as hell.”

“and you love it.”

and okay, maybe you do. because luka getting fired up over you? putting on a show just to remind everyone exactly who you belong to?

yeah. that’s the crash out couple energy.

the press conference after? iconic.

a reporter tries to sneak in a question:

“luka, there seemed to be some extra back-and-forth with [player] tonight. any comment?”

luka shrugs, grinning that infuriating grin.

“nah. just making sure people know to stay in their lane.”

and you? you’re sitting in the back of the room, smirking right back at him.

the internet the next day is on fire:

“luka doncic going full ‘don’t talk to my girl’ mode is peak crash out couple behavior.” “he really dropped a 40-piece out of pure jealousy 😭😭.” “she’s the wnba’s problem and his problem only.”

because that’s the thing about luka and his queen:

they’re chaotic. they’re fiery.

but above all else?

they don’t play about each other.

[peachhcs]

did we ever get samy and wills first i love you’s? also i feel like a fic about a bunch of their firsts would be cool.

omg no i've actually never officially published that fic. it's been in my drafts for who knows how long and i always meant to make it a fic, so here it is! slightly edited from when i wrote it like a year ago. takes place after will's first world juniors during their freshman year of college

au masterlist

after a successful world juniors, samy flew to boston to see will in her last week of winter break before the chaos of school started again. it was a jumbled joint christmas, new year's, wjc celebration, and samy's birthday celebration all wrapped into one since her birthday was at the end of the week.

they were taking things fairly slow considering how crazy the last two weeks were. it was nice just getting to lounge around the house without too much responsibility. will was using this time off and seeing his girl to his full advantage because he would not leave her side at all. they were connected at the hip whether it be running errands, watching tv on the couch, even using the bathroom. samy found it endearing though and she loved it just as much.

it was the day before her 19th birthday and considering will mentioned something about going all out tomorrow for her, the couple was having an easy, relaxing day inside away from the cold boston air.

samy was tucked away into will's side still in bed. they agreed that if they weren't going to leave the house, then what was the point of leaving the bed? it was way warmer and cozier than any other spot in the house. not to mention, being back in will's childhood bedroom brought back a lot of many memories.

"maybe this is weird to say but sometimes when we were kids..like 8 or 9..i used to picture myself years in the future in this exact spot wondering what would happen if we were like boyfriend-girlfriend,” the brunette broke the silence of the room. will’s hand that had been delicately dragging across her skin stopped for a moment as he peered over at her.

“really?” he seemed surprised at that.

“like..kind of. i dunno. i know we didn’t really understand relationships yet but it was the first thought in my mind and you were the only guy i really knew,” samy shrugged.

“are you happy your premonition came true?” the blonde chuckled, resuming his touch.

“i am actually. i think maybe i did always know. i don’t know. or at least i thought about it happening,” she grinned up at him and will thought that smile was the best thing he’d ever seen.

it was always so full of light and nothing could make him happier then seeing that bright smile which would’ve sounded like such a crazy sentence a year ago.

“you know i thought about it, too. sometimes. i wondered who i’d date but i dunno, i guess i never put a lot of thought into it. your brothers used to tease me,” will rolled his eyes at the memory.

“oh, of course they did,” the soccer player giggled.

“they always used to poke me about me having a crush on you as a kid. i always denied it and said no way, but i did think about it and did wonder what if i did end up dating you.”

“are you happy it turned out this way?” samy asked will’s question back to him.

“i’m really happy it turned out this way. i couldn’t picture anything differently honestly,” the hockey player craned his neck to plant a gentle kiss to her forehead. she flushed and buried her face further into the crook of his neck.

“for some annoying, kind of arrogant hockey player, you sure know how to get sappy.”

“arrogant?” will pretended to act offended.

“sometimes,” samy giggled again.

“i’d like to think i’ve grown out of my arrogant phase,” the blonde frowned.

“you definitely have. just sometimes. you were real bad when we were 14-15.”

“i will never be 15 again. that was the worst year,” will shook his head. all of those years were bad which always seemed to new running theme in the teenage years.

“last year as a teenager though,” samy reminded him and the closer her birthday got, the more jittery she became about how her last year as a teen would go.

she wouldn’t say being a teenager was always super fun, but she’d miss the carelessness that came with it.

“are you excited?” will wondered and the girl shrugged.

“kind of? nervous? excited? both?” she laughed.

“it feels so weird getting older. i wish we could go back to being kids. i miss those days,” a solemn feeling fell over the couple as they silently reminisced on the days they ran through the house chasing after one another and getting mad when someone was being too mean.

“say we go back in time and you know everything that’s going to happen in the future. would you do anything different?” samy wondered. she loved asking those random, thought provoking questions.

“no, i wouldn’t,” will answered almost immediately without missing a beat.

“really?” his response shocked the girl. “you wouldn’t like..i dunno maybe try and swoop in faster if you knew what our future was?” she giggled again.

“i mean..yes and no. yes i do wish i realized faster, but also i think if we got together too soon it wouldn’t be exactly the same, you know? we got close on our own and it wasn’t ever forced and i think that’s the beauty of it. if we did know and we did force, i don’t think our relationship would be as organic as it is,” will hummed and samy was shocked once again at how insightful and wise her boyfriend sounded.

“okay, since when did you turn into a philosopher,” she joked.

“you get what i mean though?” will pushed himself up some more as he thought a bit deeper about samy’s question and the reasoning to his answer.

“no, i get it. i don’t think i’d do anything differently either. i think the slow burn is what made it feel that more special and worth it in the end,” she nodded, admiring the boy’s features. he ducked his head down so she could drag her fingers across his scalp through his curls.

“this is gonna sound really cheesy but i would wait for you in every life time,” his words earned a bright blush all across the younger hughes’ cheeks.

“i think you need to get back on the ice because this time off has been made you way too sappy,” samy pinched will’s cheeks.

“i think it’s just because i’m finally around someone i love,” will kissed her cheek and it took another second for his words to settle in.

the girl pulled back, “wait. what did you say?”

the blonde grew confused, “what?”

“you said..you said you love me?”

will finally remembered his words and now it was his turn for a bright blush to spread across his face. his cheeks burned in embarrassment because he didn’t even realize he said it. it just came out of his mouth without much other thought other than how true and how much he meant it.

so he recollected himself and nodded a bit more confidently this time, “yeah, i do love you. i’ve always loved you.”

samy melted into his arms, “i love you too.”

the two were now smiling from ear to ear, their relationship now taking on a whole new meaning.

[dykepuffs]

This is why we can't leave the Disgusting Fantasy Havers out in the cold too.

Cut because this is a long rant and maybe people don't want to see it and if I wasn't on mobile I would have spawned this off into its own post sorry.

(I am deliberately picking an unpleasant, ugly, disgust-provoking topic, to prove the point, don't assume you know what I personally am into from this!) Because;

"They write stories about UNDERAGE and NONCON, so I bet they are real life child abusers, they should get the rope!" Being said about people who have never been near a child and have never shown any interest in them, can easily become-

"Him and his partner RP as Icky Daddy and Spoilt Stepson, and they're really *realistic* about it, they should get the rope!" Which becomes:

"Him and his partner call each other Daddy and Boy, you know what that means REALLY, they should get the rope," which becomes:

"Those two have an age gap, and the younger one dresses in cute bright colours and the older one is all serious, they're totally doing age play shit, they should get the rope." which turns into:

"Those two might be the same age, but when we raided their house we found a cuddly toy on the bed, which suggests they do ageplay, they should get the rope."

Which gets reported as "Local paedophiles evicted in raid, paraphernalia confiscated." Everyone is relieved when they get the rope.

When someone has already decided that queerness is quasi-incest (All the late-c20th horror over the concept of lesbian feminists calling each other Sister!), is unnatural, is always-coercive (because the Queer must have preyed on the Confused), they will always be able to make you - yes, you, your milquetoast vanilla bean relationship- look like abuse, and like the worst kind of abuse, the kind you should be hanged for. And anyone who defends you or says "oh hold on I don't think that's really proportional..." will also be called the worst kind of predator (after all... they're showing excessive sympathy for groomers and sickos... going out of their way to say these freaks aren't evil when idek i just think some fantasies are evil! Being horny about something harmful and gross doesn't make it morally neutral... seems sus idk idk...)

If you and your partner rent a house together, they will say one of you must have coerced the other by trapping them financially. If you met at school, the elder one corrupted a minor (That two month age gap is a lot to a seventeen year old who was just finding their way in the world!). If you met at a bar, you tricked them when they were too drunk to evaluate the risk. If you care for your disabled partner, you're sexually preying on a poor cripple... Or the devious deformed degenerate has perverted the natural caring urges of an innocent helper into something sexual and sinister. If you're in a long-term relationship it's a sign of incorrigible and unrepentant deviance, and if you are single it was only a matter of time before you preyed on an innocent passer-by.

Do not trust. ANY. Arrests for public indecency. Honestly, don't trust any arrest at all, the state isn't your friend and the carceral apparatus isn't "good" when it happens to chew up a murderer or an abuser, because those are just the seasoning that gives it license to also chew up all the "deviants" that are stumbling blocks for the project of fascism.

If they do start rounding queers up it won’t be with the gestapo, but the police, and the crime won’t be written down as being queer, but public indecency, the indecency being queer in public, but that’s the quiet part no one will say out loud.

[lemotmo]

https://www.tumblr.com/lemotmo/776032832624705536/ali-posted-this-ask-i-think-its-finally-sinking

Ok so it's not just me going crazy feeling like both of them pulled away from the fandom.

Like we had them liking buddie Halloween art and costumes and then suddenly 8A ended and it was like poof.

Buddie fandom. Who's that. Never heard of them lol.

But I guess it makes sense they would want to get some boundaries set up. They are going to be getting a lot of attention for sure.

But then I go around and around in my head on it because it's so clear from what we've seen like how much Oliver has wanted to engage with the fandom but couldn't/wouldn't because he didn't wanna be accused of queerbaiting when it wasn't going to happen. That now if it is you'd think he'd be wanting to engage even more instead of pulling back. So it just confuses me 😂

Well, I think this one is two-fold:

First, Lou and the Tommy fandom crossed too many lines and boundaries over the last year to the point where the show and ABC had to step in and take action.

They had to block some of these people on the official Instagram account for God's sake. That is not normal behaviour. And while I'm sure that they have had to block some more extreme Buddie fans in the past, it's nothing compared to droves of crazy people spamming each official post with inane and nonsensical hashtags about T and BT. Or them sending the showrunner, actors and crew crazy DMs about a fictional ship.

Lou made his unhinged cameos which really put Oliver in a tight spot. He got the brunt of the BT shit dumped on him, because Lou was talking to his side of the fandom and telling them his insane headcanons and lies, while Oliver didn't interact with the BT fans at all. The reason why Oliver didn't interact with these fans is because he knew that BT wouldn't last. He has spoken up before on the fact that he refused to bait people with a ship. But these people just didn't understand that and started blaming everyone under the sun (showrunners, actors and Buddie fans alike) for being homophobic and biphobic. We all do remember the crazy 4-hour long podcast where a few Tommies trashed Oliver, right?

Then there is the insane Ryan hate they keep advocating. They keep spewing out the most racist vile shit about the man. They question him being a good father and some of these people were actually talking about 'deporting' him out of the country. How is that normal???

So of course this will have consequences for the show and the actors. The actors have seen the darker side of fandom and have wisely stepped away and distanced themselves from that. It's natural and normal that they will be more cautious from here on out to interact with fans.

Second, Oliver has never shied away from openly telling people that he's all for Buddie happening. And just a couple of months ago, during 8a, in an interview with PinkNews, he openly talked about Buddie. So I don't think he's pulling away entirely here.

Buddie is happening in 8b, that much is clear. So obviously they want to build up the suspense around that. It's logical that they'll stay away from the Buddie-talk for a while up until the moment when it will be revealed that Buck's confusion in 7x04 was never really about Tommy, but about Eddie. (Oh sweet vindication! 😏)

So I do think that, as soon as it will become clear that Buddie is happening, both Oliver and Ryan will be more open towards the fandom again. They might not have crazy joint interviews anymore where they reveal how they send each other edits and how they cry in the shower over them. But I do think they'll discuss the fandom in a more appreciative way and that they might again like some fanart and stuff online.

They know very well just how long we've been patiently waiting on the sidelines for Buddie to finally happen. Hell, they have been waiting for the same amount of time as us. They know exactly how we feel.

So in conclusion, they have put up some healthy boundaries, which was absolutely necessary. But I don't believe for one second that Oliver and Ryan aren't impatiently waiting on the sidelines until they can FINALLY talk openly about the Buddie-elephant in the room. 😄

Soon you guys. Soon. 🙌

[ordinary-barbie]

i would give you the moon.

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

tags: fem!reader, lots of sap, rafe and reader are in their 20s, pet names ("babe," "baby"), some suggestive references but no actual smut, a mention of drunk driving but nobody actually drives drunk!

summary: Rafe was never one to care about Valentine’s Day—until you came into his life.

word count: 1.1k

note: I know Valentine's Day is over with but I had to get this out of my system lol.

fic title from "Moon Song" by Phoebe Bridgers!

Rafe Cameron never used to be a Valentine's Day sort of guy.

He'd buy chocolates or stuffed animals for past girlfriends because he felt he had to. Because they'd chew his heads off if he didn't. He personally didn't give much of a fuck about the holiday and thought it was lowkey corny.

Then you walked into his life—so casually, like you had no idea how much your presence made Rafe's world shift—and he started feeling differently. You made him want to spoil you rotten any day of the week, but especially on Valentine's Day. Sarah and Wheezie teased him for being "so down bad" for you after only a few months of dating, but he didn't care. You were so kind and caring, but also funny as hell, and didn't take any shit from anyone. How could Rafe not utterly simp for adore you?

When Rafe had asked about making Valentine's Day plans, trying to seem nonchalant, you'd laughed and shrugged, admitting that you weren't much of a Valentine's Day kind of gal. And Rafe got it. If you'd talked to him back in high school or college, he would've been relieved to have a girlfriend who didn't want him to put forth an effort. But you were you, and Rafe was determined to give you the day you deserved.

Butterflies danced in your stomach. It was Valentine's Day, and you were excitedly waiting for Rafe to pick you up for whatever plan he'd concocted for the night. Rafe told you a few days ago to clear your calendar for Friday because he wanted to do something for Valentine's, but his lips were sealed despite your constant badgering. All he'd told you to do was "dress cute," which you did, donning a burgundy wrap minidress and a pair of black pointed-toe ballet flats.

You'd never been excited about the holiday before. If whatever boyfriend you were dating bought you a plushie and chocolates, or took you out for Italian food, cool. But it was never something you anticipated until now. Your past boyfriends had been a mixed bag (some were definitely better than others) but Rafe was proving himself to be the best. When you moved to Kildare last year, you were initially unsure of him, feeling intimidated by his stunning looks and impassive exterior. However, you managed to unravel the enigma that was Rafe Cameron and found someone who cared, truly and deeply.

You grinned when Rafe's truck pulled into your driveway. When Rafe stepped out of the vehicle, he paused, his jaw dropping as he noticed your ensemble.

"Baby...you're beautiful," Rafe murmured, making you feel warm inside.

"You don't look so bad yourself," you joked, but you were practically swooning inside. Rafe looked incredibly sharp, wearing a black long-sleeved button-down, khakis, and brown loafers.

Rafe smiled fondly at you, giving you a peck on the cheek. "C'mon, princess. Your chariot awaits."

"Well? What do ya think?" Rafe asked, looking at you expectantly.

Rafe Cameron had truly outdone himself. He'd brought you to the marina, where his yacht was decorated for Valentine's Day: fairy lights casually strung, some rose petals scattered about, and a candlelight dinner for two on the deck.

"Oh, Rafe—this is amazing," you gasped, your voice overcome with emotion. Before Rafe had a chance to respond, you launched into his arms, burying your face in the side of his neck.

"Only the best for you, baby," Rafe said, kissing the top of your head. "Now let's eat—I'm fuckin' starving."

Dinner was so delicious that you had to restrain yourself from scarfing it all down in five minutes. You and Rafe dined on cacio e pepe—one of your favorite pasta dishes—along with roasted asparagus and a glass of Chablis. (Rafe opted for a sparkling cider because you would kill him if he ever drove drunk.)

"This is so good," you raved, swallowing your last forkful of pasta. "What restaurant did you get this from?"

"I made it," Rafe admitted, smiling bashfully. "Well—Sarah helped, 'cause I was scared of fucking it up."

And suddenly, there was a tug at your heartstrings. Rafe had admitted that he hated cooking and insisted that you were much better than he was. The fact that he went to the trouble of making a homemade meal, especially one of your favorite dishes, meant the absolute world to you.

You looked at Rafe like he hung the moon in the night sky. "You really are something else, you know that?"

"Hopefully you mean that in a good way," Rafe quipped, wearing a playful smirk.

You rolled your eyes at Rafe, trying and failing to hide your grin. "You're such a dork."

"And yet, here you are," Rafe said, lightly stroking your cheek. "Just admit it—you like me."

You responded by kissing him deeply, wrapping your arms around him. Rafe pulled you closer to him, running his hands down your sides as he returned your kiss. Making out with Rafe was intoxicating—you could never get enough of the thrill it gave you. Still, after a few minutes, the two of you broke apart, taking the time to catch your breaths.

"Night's not over yet, princess. Why don't we take this to the bedroom?" Rafe suggested, his voice sounding deliciously husky in your ear.

You've never moved more quickly in your entire life.

"Can they just fuck already?" Rafe grumbled, staring at the man and woman bantering on-screen.

You rolled your eyes at Rafe, playfully shoving his shoulder. "Rafe, it's called romantic tension for a reason. Now shut up and enjoy the movie!"

After a passionate night on the yacht—and once more in the morning—you and Rafe were back at his place, cuddled together on the couch as you watched a rom-com. Though Rafe had scoffed at romantic comedies in the past, you convinced him to watch Set It Up, one of your favorites. (He'd also ensured you had your favorite movie snacks stocked in the pantry, so yeah, he was a keeper.) It tickled you to see that even your sarcastic boyfriend wasn't immune to the charms of Zoey Deutch and Glen Powell.

You felt Rafe's eyes on you and turned to your boyfriend, raising an eyebrow. "Rafe Cameron. You're supposed to be watching the movie, not me!" You tried to be stern with him, but you ended up giggling.

"Can't focus on the movie when I've got a beautiful woman right next to me," Rafe replied smoothly.

You focused back on the screen, visibly flustered. Why did he have to be so damn charming? Rafe chuckled softly and wrapped his arm around you, paying attention to the movie again.

Both of you had the same thought: maybe this whole Valentine's Day thing wasn't half bad.

[impactrueno]

oh! i wanted to ask you too but i was thinking of how to articulate my thoughts before asking. I have a lot of trouble making / drawing fan art (it does make me happy don't get me wrong!), i get wildly insecure about basically putting my interests on blast and I guess I was wondering if you've dealt with that?

like I get worried about putting my own spin on an already established character and deep diving into their character more, and it gets my brain going in a negative spiral-y way y'know?

i know EXACTLY how you feel, been there many times!! it sucks!! there's so much you want to draw and express but you fear you'll come across as annoying or cringe or whatever

here's a secret. i'm not sure if this is a good tip due to reasons i'll get to in a second, but what i do to combat this feeling is act annoying about it on purpose. i'll get loud, intense, act all over the top like idgaf (even if i do, in fact, gaf) as a defense mechanism so if people think what i made is cringe, i can more easily dust off my shoulder and turn up my nose, all for the sake of the bit. it does work in giving me enough confidence to share stuff i feel strongly about, even if it's false confidence haha. but the truth is more often than not, people DO like the stuff i thought they were gonna hate.

case in point:

if you had told me back when i drew these that i would end up working on a couch gag on the simpsons i would've laughed like "lol that shit just doesn't happen"

maybe that's an extreme example. a more recent one would be when i started making trolls fanart. the risk of coming off as cringe to my followers was higher so i felt a bit insecure. hence the caption:

yes, acting this way does help me put out the content i feel a bit insecure or even embarrassed about. but in reality there's nothing to be embarrassed about. cringe culture is dead!!! but i'm still very socially anxious yknow???? i hate feeling vulnerable lol

the reason why i said this might not be a great thing to do is that it discourages being genuine. i think it's important to be genuine about the things you make and why you love them. people love to see passionate people create things, no matter what it is! and this is just with art in general, but if you're talking about fanart, hell all the more reason to share it! because fans will always eat up new content and follow new creators in their fandoms. sure maybe your stuff isn't to everyone's liking, but just how you can't please everyone, there will always be someone looking forward to what you make, even if you feel like it's not good enough. always remember: two cakes.

[linka-r9-vysocina]

you do sound like a broken record, sorry. I don't claim to be an expert on the history of my own country just because i live here, however I know some stuff. It is recent. People remember what it was like. Hell, my own parents remember the regime, even if I don't. And they are not OLD, they are in their 50s. It's recent history, and wherever you go you see all the ways the communist regime broke us.* I am not happy that someone who has probably never set foot in my country is trying to explain my own history to me, someone who hasn't ever tried understand and witness the ways we ended up where we ended up, to grapple with the role our own people played in what happened. You can look at us, from the comfort of your own home, and exclaim "well I would NEVER EVER let my country do that!". We don't have such luxury here, sorry. We KNOW FOR SURE that we aren't clean and we have to understand why that is, so that we can do better in the future.

I am really sorry that the world you see in front of you is either "morally pure" or "actively collaborating with Nazis". I am not gonna go point by point to refure what you are saying because I don't think there is any use - I am no gonna convince you of anything because you aren't really engaging with anything I just have said.

"Oh, and they didn't know what the nazis did? Well, I wasn't aware that they didn't know! But they still had ash in their feather dusters, didn't they?" I am sorry but like half of Europe only found out after the war. That's a fact.

"The USSR stopped fascism from spreading across Europe, at least for a while. They saved millions from concentration camps, poverty, and capitalistdeath squads." I don't know why those who died of poverty in Soviet Russia, were starved to death in Soviet Ukraine or were sent to concentration camps in Russia don't count to you.

I am really sorry, but "well no matter how many awful things they did to you, AT LEAST they saved you from the Nazis" isn't the winning argument you think it is. And it would be great if you stopped seeing the world in a binary. When I say that Soviet Russia was awful, I am not saying the Nazis were great. When I say that the Soviets invaded the Baltics, I am not saying that the West is clean and pure and I hate communism. Oh my god.

"the average anticommunist's Pavlov-doglike reaction to any appreciation of the Soviet Union." I went off on my long rant not because I don't appreciate the Soviets freeing half of Europe, but because the argument of Soviets freeing half of Europe is regularly used (by you, for example) to silence literally any voice of criticism of the SSSR by the average Soviet Union appreciator, and I am tired of that. "Well they freed you from the nazis, so why don't you shut up about the 130 000 Lithuanians deported to Siberia." I am tired.

How the hell did we end up here? The only thing I said, in the beginning, and I stand by it, is that "there were other ways to end up in SSSR as a POW than being a Nazi", which is a simple fact. I agreed that prisoners in Korea might have been treated well. I agree with the original post in full. I am not a great fan of the US, especially not now.

You then automatically concluded that we must have been Nazis because we were invaded by SSSR, and that I am a Nazi apologist because of my disdain for Soviet Union and because I, frankly, know a bit more about European history than you do and spent quite a lot of time thinking about the stuff. Do you haven any idea what it's like to think about, since you are a kid, what you would do during the Protectorate? During the Holocaust? Have you ever thought about how you would have acted if you were forced to choose between doing what's right and saving your children? Because I have, and I am aware how fucking hard those decisions are. I know that in the current climate "Things are not always black and white" can be used as a fascist dogwhistle. However if you start claiming that "several million people are basically Nazis because of who their country allied with", then yes, things are not black and white.

"I really don't care how you try to justify the Nazi collaboration. I don't care if it was a reluctant decision made out of fear. I don't care if they allied with the Nazis because they didn't know any better. I don't care if it was because they considered the Nazis the lesser of two evils compared to the Communists. I don't care if it's because they were intimidated, ignorant, or just greedy. A fascist is a fascist is a fascist." WHY DID THE SOVIETS ALLY WITH NAZI GERMANY AT FIRST. WHY DID THEY. EXPLAIN IT TO ME LIKE I AM 3. WHY IS IT UNPROBLEMATIC WHEN SSSR DOES THAT AND THEN, STILL ALLIED WITH NAZI GERMANY, ATTACKS THE BALTIC STATES AND POLAND. Hint: when they allied with Germany, they WEREN'T SAVING OUR NATIONS FROM NAZIS. You can't just cherrypick what is convenient from history.

Anyway. You act like the Soviet occupation was inevitable. That it was like, the only way. It wasn't. Nobody forced them to stay. And yet, they did. For 40 years.

If you are invoking dead people, then I will too. You know, for 40 years there was a fence on our border with Germany, to keep the people IN. There were people trying to flee their own country, shot by the communist regime that absolutely didn't want that - they didn't die at the border just for someone who (probably) never set foot in this country to claim that this was all inevitable and necessary.

rant over.

*that is not to say that it didn't bring us any good. Right now, I really wish for us as a nation to finally have a discussion about it, because there were definitely things the communist regime did right, and if you lived here you would have known how hard it is to have these discussions. Once again, you know nothing about me, about my opinions on this stuff, and yet you are so quick to call me an average anticommunist.

I've literally said for years but the idea of mind control being real is more valuable as propaganda than actual mind control

[daz-zey]

Character analysis/opinion(s)/discussion

“In-ho/Young-il didn’t have to fake his death. He cares…”

1. He’s still putting Gi-hun down because he gained Gi-hun’s trust. It’s another manipulation/gaslighting tactic of survivor’s guilt. He thinks “oh, that’s another person off the list”. And he was literally on his team so it hit close to home. Lee Byung Hun said he’s rooting for Gi-hun in some way BUT ALSO his main goal is to break his conviction that people can be kind in the midst of suffering.

2. He seen enough of Gi-hun’s attempts of stopping the games. He’s gotten close to what he’s wanted. Which is seeing Gi-hun slowly losing hope, his ideals. The planning of the riot proves his point. (Even though there wasn’t a lot of x’s and the o’s would’ve gotten rid of the x’s in the next fight)

3. He doesn’t want to be in the games anymore so that he could be the Frontman again. The VIPs will arrive and they’ll wonder where he is at. He can’t be in two places at once.

4. He was teary eyed because he needed Gi-hun to believe that he was going to die. He had to get into “character”, show some of “emotion”.

In the end, he’s still doing what he’s been doing. Continuing the games and turning a blind eye. It might be opening a whole can of worms here but couldn’t he have just expose what’s been happening? Kill the VIPs himself? Command his own guards to do something? He doesn’t have an issue killing the players or any of the guards.

Yes, he’s played the games before and yes he’s lost a lot of people. Yet, he has his brother and mother. He could have connected with them. It still doesn’t excuse his actions. It’s like you’ve been bullied when you were younger and now that you’re older you act like a bully. The humanity he has left is because of his brother, Jun-ho. Then again, the humanity is being conflicted and the responsibility of being the Frontman is crowding over. Everything was done because of his wife and child, the memory of them and yet would she have want this? Does his child want to see their father become who he is now? They would empathize, understand him. That’s her husband, that’s their father. However, they would want him to do better, to find a way to move on.

Will he get a redemption arc? Does he deserve a redemption arc? I think, yes. I think he will sacrifice himself, he will die in order to do the last good thing he ever did. Most likely in Jun-ho’s arms. Who knows. He would want to reunite with his wife and child in death.

[bartletslesbians]

Top 5 (or more) people who were involved in The Leak. I love your opinion/perspective on things, you've got such an interesting way of looking at things. This is really just an excuse to ask if you actually think Toby did it, and if not who else could have (or if he did leak it, if other people had more involvement than we know).

Ohhh oh okay. Yes. I love talking about this and I get anxious talking about this because this really seems to be the hot topic item in this fandom. And I do not hold a very popular opinion on it.

So to preface: I get why people don't like this storyline for Toby. That's fine. I personally think that he did it, and I think it makes a lot of sense for him to have done it; I don't think it's out of character, I don't think he covered for anyone. This is hopefully going to be a clear explanation as to why I think that, and why I like it for his character, but if you disagree that's not unexpected and completely fair.

I struggled to structure this, so I think I'm first gonna give you the actual answer to the top 5, and then at the end a more thorough thought process? Toby will be number 5 on the list because I think he did it and it'll be an easier transition to the longer explanation.

so

(and 2.) Claudia Jean Cregg (and Andrea Wyatt)

I'm putting them together because they are the most common alternative leakers I've seen in alternate theories. And I think that's a shame. CJ is involved, in a way, because without the conversation she had with Toby, he never would've known the information he had is worth leaking to the press. Something important there is that at that point in time, CJ suspected there was something of a military shuttle, but Kate, NASA, the President, and Hutchinson, were all unwilling to tell her anything except "well in theory we could build one, that's something we're capable of doing" with no confirmation. She goes to Toby not with a certain "I know this, do you know this?" question, but with a "I'm suspicious about this, do you know something about this?" where she hopes that he knows more than she does. And he does, cause he immediately knows what she's referring to even though she herself doesn't know as much yet.

I think that's an important distinction because there's a reason she could tell the white house counsel that she talked about this with Toby and not get in legal trouble, while Toby is very explicit that CJ was not the source of his knowledge of the military shuttle. They talked about it, but he knew of it before that conversation.

Still, without that conversation, he would not have been able to deduce that the military shuttle he was already aware of, was useful in this situation. That conversation clued him in that the shuttle could be used, wasn't being used, and he's smart (we saw him figure out MS so quickly), he could easily guess that the reason for not using it was the importance of secrecy. Hence, leaking it to push the administration into using it.

but for both CJ and Andy: I really kinda dislike the theory that either one of them leaked the information themselves, and Toby was just taking the fall. (Sidenote: I highly doubt Andy had any way of being aware of the shuttle, honestly.) Partially (and I'll get to that part later) because I think it takes away from what makes the leak so Toby for me, what makes it work. And partially because frankly I think it's insulting to say that the leak would destroy Toby's character too much, but to then pin it on someone else for who it would be a much more horrible thing to do, and act like that's not a worse character assassination.

Toby leaks the information and it's a self-sacrifice. Andy or CJ leaks it, but is too much of a coward to take the fall? Letting or making their ex-husband/father of kids or their best friend destroy his life for a crime they committed? That takes all the moral good to be found in the leak and just turns it into this insane act of cowardice and selfishness. CJ leaking this, and then letting Toby ruin himself so she can skip off to California with her new husband and a baby? That's a completely unforgivable act. And I think it's a shame that that's one of the more common explanations to 'save' Toby's character from what could be a very admirable act if he did it himself.

For CJ outside of this, I have so many thoughts about how the leak affects her desire to leave politics (for a while at least), and her relationship with the press and with Toby and with her own career. "First female white house chief of staff" is now gonna be followed with "in charge when her best friend committed one of the more egregious security leaks in modern history" and that shit hurts.

3. Josiah Bartlet

I think Jed was completely genuine about how angry he was with Toby about the leak. And I think part of that is the way it shows that Toby is more willing to do hard things to do good than Jed is, when that's something Jed wants to pride himself on. But also in general, when Jed finds out there was a leak at all, he's furious. It's a domestic and international disaster, and it's really such a personal betrayal and a way of saying you did wrong, I fixed it because you wouldn't. But especially also, Toby is the one he assigned to finding out who leaked it. It did not cross his mind that it was Toby. (and when the FBI points to CJ, Jed does not appear like he disagrees very heavily). I don't think Jed encouraged Toby to leak this at all; if he had I think it would've played out differently (there would've been even less reason to drag the investigation out a month before confessing, for example; it could've spared the democratic party and the white house and CJ herself a whole lot of headaches).

4. David Ziegler

Toby's source, beloved.

I do believe David is where Toby got it from. And while that technically is a crime, I think the reason Toby is so insistent to his lawyer and the prosecutor that it wasn't David (whereas to CJ he readily admits that David did tell him about a military shuttle), is because it was never ever intended as a crime or as something of any importance. They describe it as brotherly one-upmanship, and I find that very believable; two brothers bragging a little about their importance in the world, the younger brother wanting to show off what he knows. And that's supposed to be it! David had no way of knowing there would ever be a situation in which Toby would find it necessary to leak that information; no way at all, and I tend to imagine that Toby knew that if he had, he wouldn't have told him anything. I think that's how it went: David told him, and because CJ asked him what David told him, Toby knew it was relevant.

5. And then there's Toby.

Who did it.

I think it's partially that David, his astronaut brother, had just killed himself. David died in his car, asphyxiation. These three astronauts are also about to choke to death. Toby was powerless to prevent David's death, but can save the astronauts. David gave him the key he has to save those astronauts. How could he not?

And partially it's just... it's what's right. The President has to weigh this against international agreements and alliances he's already broken but hasn't admitted he's broken with the military shuttle. Toby doesn't have to take that into account. He sees an opportunity to save three human lives while the administration is dragging their feet debating if that's worth the political and international fall-out, when for Toby there's no question about that. Of course that's worth it. That's worth everything, including his own freedom and career and relationships with his friends and his kids.

And I admire that. He sacrifices almost everything he has (cause he doesn't know nor expects a pardon to follow) to save lives. And I think that's what's taken away if you say he didn't do it, or he's taking the fall for someone else. I think the most interesting and admirable thing about this is that he did it, despite all the reasons many other people would have been too scared to do it.

I think one thing that bothers me about the ideas that CJ or Andy did it, or that Jed pushed him, is that it takes away a lot of the agency Toby has over this decision. It's important to me that it's a choice he made; not something other people made him do. I don't like the idea that it was a sacrifice he was pressured into making?

Something I also love is that he didn't ask for a pardon. Andy wanted him to have a pardon (and was the only one in the building saying this out loud, when everyone else was scared to broach the topic let alone mention it to CJ or the President), and then Jed himself asked for it. I love that detail. Toby doesn't seek the pardon, but it's given to him anyway because Jed's furious with him, but knows right from wrong. (Hilariously, I learned that you can technically reject a Presidential pardon. And I doubt he would, but I'd love to see a fic where Toby does that and Jed loses his mind even more, just for laughs.)

That said, I do understand specifically the complaint that there was no build-up for it, no arguments about it in the oval and such, and I do think it would've worked better if there had been, but it doesn't really bother me that there wasn't. In a way that kinda reminds me of Toby organizing the funeral for the homeless veteran using the President's name, without telling the President. There's no time to go round for round with it in the oval, he just acts and lets the consequences happen.

And also, having said all that, there is one thing that always really bothers me about this. And I don't think it's necessarily out of character, cause I think it makes sense to do something, but then become scared of the consequences until it becomes really pressing. But while I deeply admire him leaking the shuttle, I find it hard to fully forgive him for the month he let it drag on before confessing.

Aside from Brock, even. Specifically, the way he allowed CJ to lose her mind and be targeted as the suspect by the FBI, believed by the President, while he could've stopped that and let the inevitable happen a little sooner by just saying he did it. She's falling apart in front of his eyes and he doesn't say a word until he learns that Leo's about to be subpoenaed, and the that is the catalyst for him confessing to it. And I get that, honestly; I think doing something knowing the consequences is different from then seeing those consequences in action and that's scary as hell. But I also think her "you don't need a pardon, you need a frying pan to the head" was the least he deserved for doing that to her. I would have liked it better if he'd leaked it, and then marched into the white house counsel's office, or the oval office, or even CJ's office, the day the article came out, and said he did it.

I really love the CJ and Toby friendship through the seasons, which makes it all the more heartbreaking. I love imagining them close again post administration, but I also think that would've taken years of effort, and I find it just as easy to believe that they never get that comfortable with each other again. One thing I find so interesting about that is that CJ never gives her opinion on Toby getting the pardon; Jed asks what she thinks he should do, a reporter asks what she thinks about Jed having signed it, and she never answers. And I think that's such a complicated question for her.

Okay I hope that all made sense lmao. I am so very happy to talk about this more, if you think I missed anything (I barely touched Brock in this, I know, but I think ultimately that's different from the people involved from the administration) or have something to add! I enjoy writing about this storyline

[zolo-san]

Pleasseee some thoughts on Law not believing that he deserves love. 🥺🥺🥺❤️

Okay, so I think that Law feeling that he is undeserving of love is kind of a defining feature of his character and I think he feels this way for a lot of reasons one of which being because of how he sees himself as a bad, selfish person (for anyone who missed my ramblings on that you can find it here)

But I think that a huge contributing factor is how much he's been rejected throughout his life

Law faced A LOT of rejection in his early life, starting with the fact that him and his entire town were pretty much thrown away and abandoned by a government that was supposed to protect them It's also implied that after the eradication of his town, Law at some point tried to seek out medical help on his own (how else would he have known how the doctors would react to him when Corazon brought him?) and he undoubtedly was faced with a lot of rejection there as well (and a confirmed death sentence to boot) Then when he tried to join Doflamingo's family he was immediately met with more rejection from Corazon Though Corazon's actions had good intentions behind them, he definitely did not help with Law feeling rejected and unloved at the time He not only pushed Law away, but quite literally threw him away and beat him to try to drive him off (like good god my guy, there were better ways to go about that ;-;) Continuous rejection like that can have a very big affect on a kid (Part of which is the thought of "What did I do to deserve this?" easily turning to "I guess I must deserve this.") And while Law was a kid, he channeled a lot of his feelings about being rejected into anger and resentment - a behavior that was encouraged by Doflamingo and his family, but I think that later in life, it ended up fueling feelings of inadequacy and giving Law the impression that not only did he not deserve love, but he must be the type of person that deserves that kind of rejection

From the moment that Corazon chose to reach out and be kind to Law (starting with him covering for Law stabbing him) Law was unwilling to believe, even for a second, that someone could care for him in anyway because doing so would be opening himself to another potential rejection Not to mention, I think that there is a lot of trauma for Law surrounding the concept of someone "reaching out a helping hand" He was told by the sister in his town that there will always be someone willing to reach out and help only to have that immediately proven wrong and then subsequently proven wrong time and time again as people not only refused to help him, but out right rejected him I can't help but feel that all that makes it very difficult for Law to believe in the existence of the person with a helping hand~ I think that's also why he's so unwilling to be hopeful when it comes to doctors again - he knows how this goes down And for him, that's just how the world works, the message is clear: He is unloved and unwanted and that's how it's supposed to be And I can't help but wonder if he might also feel that this is what he gets for not being able to do anything to save the people most important to him For not dying with everyone else (oh hey there's that theme of survivors guilt again~)

There's also something interesting to be said about Law seeing himself as alone and rejected by the world because I think that's actually a contributing factor as to why Corazon feels for him and wants to help him Because Cora sees his younger self in Law Despite Law pretending as if it all doesn't bother him - as if he has accepted his death and the worlds apparent rejection of him - Corazon can see that, in reality, Law is just scared and alone And I think that's why when Law keeps questioning why Cora is so determined to help him and why he cares, that Cora tells Law to stop asking and to stop looking for a reason why someone might love him I think in saying that, Cora is trying to instill in Law that love is not something transactional, you don't have to earn it and you don't owe anyone for it Corazon gives his love to Law freely because he wants to It's as simple as that But even after everything that Law goes through with Cora, I think that's a lesson he was never able to learn or a concept he was ever able to accept

It's a fact that Luffy is the only person that Law ever explains his whole story to He's the only one that knows everything that Law has done and everything that he's been through And I can't help but wonder why that is? He clearly cares about and trusts his crew, so why is it that he never told them? Instead, he left them behind (Somewhere safe of course) and I think it's because he can't believe that they would or should help him I think that despite it all and despite how he feels about them, he doesn't think he has the right to even ask them to help him He doesn't think he deserves it

And I'd like to say that I think it's really important in helping Law to heal and unlearn this way of thinking that Luffy consistently, loudly, and very unapologetically declares his love for Law Luffy, much like Corazon, offers him love and support unconditionally, despite Law's attempts to deter him, despite knowing everything about him, including all the reasons Law thinks he's undeserving of love Luffy doesn't hesitate for a second He has no doubts when he reaches out a hand to Law offering to help him, care for him, and love him Why? Because Luffy thinks Law is a good guy and because he truly believes that Law deserves to be loved~