#but this show was such an important part of my life

[justalittlespore]

The last time I DMed for a group of people, I had just a bit of experience from many years prior, and most of them had no experience at all. But I'd built a whole world and loose story and was excited to share it with people, so I got this group together to give it a shot.

I made the mistake of having them start out as strangers, with a grand plan to bring them together as a group. You see, I was under the misapprehension that, having agreed to play this game, they were interested in the world and story I'd set up, and would therefore take the hooks I laid for them and find reasons to work together. Because I was a fool.

When they made their characters, I asked them to fill in some basic info for me, including someone important from their life (who was still living), their greatest goal in life, and what their character's main motivation would be to go on an adventure.

Half the players tried to treat the game like a single-player sandbox video game and got frustrated and accused me of railroading them when I asked them to please not run alone into the woods in the very first scene when the characters have all just met and been given a reason to work together. At the first sign of any kind of danger, one player would simply say "my character is a coward so he would run away" and refuse to take part in anything.

One player specified in my questionnaire that his character thought himself very wise (a devoutly religious monk, in fact), but was actually very foolish, and was the type to get drawn in by get-rich-quick schemes. So I prepared a hook to draw him into the plot involving an NPC trying to sell him on a get-rich-quick scheme... which he promptly refused to engage with because he'd decided that actually his character was too zen to be tempted with worldly possessions.

When I began to get exasperated, several of the players pointed out that a good DM like Brennan Lee Mulligan never seemed to have any trouble adapting to what players wanted to do. They were unreceptive to my counter points that 1) that is his entire job, which he is paid for, and 2) his players are skilled improvisers and all actively working together to tell the best story possible.

I feel I should note that at this time, all of us in this group were in our 30s. And not, say, 14-year-olds who you might expect this entitled attitude from.

After a few sessions of desperately trying to keep the characters in the game at all without totally railroading them, I asked everyone to please watch a couple specific episodes of Adventuring Academy with Brennan Lee Mulligan which were about how to be a good player so that everyone has the best possible experience. I had already told them that I was spending literally 8 hours per week planning these sessions and trying to find ways to keep things going and keep together a group of people who desperately wanted to be brooding loners, and I promised them bonus XP at the start of the next session if they would just watch one or two of these videos.

At the start of the next session, one player proudly announced that he hadn't watched the videos, and that he wouldn't, no matter how I tried to bribe him, because he didn't think that being a player in a tabletop roleplaying game should come with homework.

When reminded (again) that I was spending 8 fucking hours a week planning these sessions, for which I was not being compensated in any way, and which he was making harder, he shrugged and said that it was my idea to start this campaign, so it was up to me to keep it going, and keep the players interested enough to keep showing up.

I don't DM anymore.

D&D 5e supposedly has a GM shortage and idk maybe if the player culture of the game didn't treat GMing as a thankless job and the rules of the game as an issue to be fixed by the GM maybe things would be better. Ah well, who knows. Maybe a couple hundred more "we ruined the GM's campaign on purpose" memes will make people enjoy running the game better.

[iamthatonefangirl]

miss possessive - congressman bucky barnes

okay not my best work, i swear i have like nine drafts i've come up with in a week, none of them good enough to post.

this is inspired by miss possessive by tate mcrae even though i completely lost sight of the song really quickly

part 2

~~~

you really had no right to be so jealous.

you watched him from across the floor, sipping on your flute of champagne. you'd grabbed it off of one of those waiters' trays as they were walking about the room.

it tasted like shit. you didn't like the taste of wine, and it wasn't even enough to get you drunk.

you knew this kind of event was difficult for him to sit through, but hey, he made his choice going into politics.

you watched as he made his rounds, speaking to various donors and attempting to charm them. you watched as all their wives fawned over your-

no.

you watched as all their wives fawned over him, bringing him in for a hug instead of a handshake. of course they were interested; he was the best looking man here. yes, he was the oldest man in the room, but appeared to be the youngest and was, regardless, easily the most attractive. and all the thirty-some wives of the cranky old rich white men wanted him.

it pissed you off. not that you had the right to be pissed, but. oh well. you're just a girl.

after two flutes of champagne, you watch as one of the donors receives a phone call, leaving his wife with Bucky. ever the gentleman, he would never leave a woman all by herself in a room full of sharks who might try to snatch her up. 

Bucky was very much a different man than he was in the forties, of course. doesn't mean he lost the ability to attract every woman in the room.

you can't stand idly by as she puts his hands all over him, and he can't take his eyes off of her. no, of course he would never go for a married woman. what he did know, though, was that if he pissed her off, her husband wouldn't donate to his campaign.

you roll your eyes and decide it's time for some hard liquor.

you hide in the corner of the room, drinking your much stronger beverage as fast as possible. no, getting drunk at a professional event isn't the best idea, but what do you care. you're not the star of the show.

he is.

he's the brilliant ex-POW who's turned his entire life around in a whole new century. he's the gorgeous soldier who not only survived, but is also electing to do something meaningful with his life. 

he's the star tonight.

he's the star of every thought you have of your future, but that can't possibly come to surface now. it's not the time or place. 

watching him entertain this woman truly boils your blood, but at least you have some actual alcohol in your system now. you no longer feel the need to justify why her hands on his pristine suit makes you want to grab her by the diamonds around her neck and yank her off of him. you can justify your desire to grab him by the tie to pull him away from her and yell at him for not focusing on what's important. 

you bite your tongue. you knew it was all a ploy.

doesn't mean you had to like it. 

~~~

while you stand at the bar waiting for your second beverage of the evening, a man comes up next to you, and the bartender takes his drink order. 

you give him a small, awkward smile as you briefly make eye contact. you're kind of shocked: he's definitely the only man in this room who appears to be younger than 60, Bucky excluded.

you almost startle when he speaks up, introducing himself. Michael, he says his name is.

you turn to actually face him this time. roughly 40, plenty taller than you, and brown hair sprinkled with some greys in there. your perfect type. you quietly tell yourself you're done drinking–no way you're gonna fuck this up. if you weren't so mad about Bucky's new admirer, you might be a tad less inclined to speak to him, but… 

you step closer as you give him a real smile and introduce yourself.

"so, correct me if I'm wrong, but something tells me you're here alone tonight," he begins, indicating to your left hand. no ring. 

you laugh a little. 

"you would be correct," you tell him. "I could say the same about you."

he smiles back at you. it's so beautiful you forget all about your boss and the woman he's now got on his arm as he continues to walk around–

well. you almost forget. good enough.

"you would also be correct."

you explain why you're here, you work for one of the candidates. although, you don't tell him who, exactly. he explains why he's here, one of the patrons. you have to pry the information out of him, but you appreciate it: he's trying to talk to you without flashing his money in your face. it's noble, you think.

you eventually learn he's interested in actually getting to know the candidates' campaigns, not just what they think they can offer him in return for his money.

"you know, I would be happy to learn more about your boss' campaign. from one of the people who probably understands it best," he tells you. you're slightly taken aback for a moment, not aware this was a business interaction. you never even told him who your boss was, so it was confusing, to say the least.

you felt stupid for thinking he was actually interested, for thinking that he was flirting with you.

"oh, of course-" you begin to tell him, but he interjects, "after I take you out, perhaps?"

your smile perks back up subconsciously. so you didn't have it wrong.

"I would love that," you tell him, carefully taking the lapels of his jacket into your hands. you feel his hands come to your waist, and it's like a jolt of energy runs up your spine.

you look closer and almost flip your shit as you see his eyes up close. they're Bucky's eyes. he's not Bucky, sadly, but. 

you're fucked.

"maybe dinner can happen... another time?" you offer, hoping he gets the hint. you realize you probably look like a whore throwing yourself at him like this.

he chuckles. "I've got a room upstairs, if you'd like to come have drinks instead of dinner."

hell yes. you're gonna score tonight, even if it's not with the man you dream about with your hands between your legs every night-

"I would," you say, and bite your tongue. "I just... have to stick around until this thing is over. yeah?"

he nods and steps back. "I suppose I should also do what I came here for," he chuckles. "I'll come find you later?"

you smile and you feel your face go pink. "sounds good."

you can't help the fact that your gaze reverts immediately back to your boss the second the man walks off. Bucky hasn't spared you a single glance all evening, but the second you look back at him this time, you're suddenly staring into his beautiful eyes. 

he holds eye contact with you for what feels like an eternity. his expression is muted, no real emotion showing. maybe... curiosity?

of course he's not going to look mad, or upset, or jealous. you have to stop thinking he'd ever look at you with anything other than pure professionalism.

because he's everything. and you're just a kid, lost in the world, desperately in love with your boss, and everything is fucking falling apart around you.

at least you've got a rich, hot, older man ready to fuck you tonight.

~~~

you kept to your word to yourself and didn't drink for the rest of the night, although you continued hovering at the bar for the semblance of safety it provided.

you continued staring at Bucky for the next two hours. the clingy woman's husband had, in fact, returned and took her away from Bucky. clearly, she was pissed, but tried to hide it. you had to bite back a smirk.

he didn't look back at you once for the rest of the evening.

eventually, the crowd dies down. you realize that now, you have to explain to your boss that you won't be riding back to the office with him, effectively telling him your exact plans for the rest of the night. embarrassing!

you're almost ready to bite the bullet and bid Bucky a good night, scanning the room for him, when you hear a voice from behind you. 

"we still on for drinks?"

you plaster a smile on your face as you turn around to the man standing behind you.

"absolutely," you say, taking his hands. "lead the way."

you begin to follow the man, telling yourself to try and remember to shoot your boss a text to 'not worry about you' before getting your clothes torn off by this man who's currently whisking you away.

you get into the elevator with him, what's his name, you think? oh, Michael, and yank him in hard, crashing your mouths together, putting all of your energy into how badly you need this.

you're startled by the sound of a clanging of metal, ripping your mouth away from the man's and turning to face the noise.

well, apparently, you were too eager and stupid enough to not wait for the elevator doors to entirely shut, because you see now that the noise was a result of Bucky's vibranium arm grabbing the elevator door. he pushes it open and steps inside, eyes piercing daggers through you the whole time.

you stand there, appalled. the man gently pulls away from you, reaching out a hand to attempt to shake Bucky's hand.

"Mr. Barnes, it's a pleasure," he begins. "my apologies for this... less than ideal meeting."

Bucky doesn't even look at the man, eyeing you up and down, taking in your smudged lipstick and the way your dress is slightly out of place.

the man attempts once more to interject. "Mr. Barnes, please, don't worry about her. why don't us men go back downstairs and have a real discussion? I'd love to hear more about your campaign."

wait. why do his words sound like they're throwing you under the bus, almost?

Bucky notices it, too, you realize. he tilts his head in the man's direction before actually averting his gaze to look at him.

"and leave the lady all by herself?" he asks.

"don't worry about that. she's... inconsequential. if you and I can just go back downstairs and–"

"what did you just say?" Bucky asks. you swear he doesn't look like your boss anymore, but someone... else.

the man is taken aback by Bucky's demeanor. his mouth gapes like an idiot.

"you do know this is my assistant, right?" Bucky asks him. the man's face goes pale as the pieces slot together in his head.

"Mr. Barnes, my apologies, truly," he says.

you just stand there feeling more stupid than ever. inconsequential? wow, okay. you almost don't even care that he's dismissing your entire existence, but you can't stand the fact that he's doing it in front of Bucky. you care more about what Bucky thinks of you than literally anyone else, and now? now he's going to see you as a fucking slut who isn't even good enough for a man to commit to for one night.

god, you're pathetic.

"shouldn't you be apologizing to her?" Bucky grits.

the elevator doors open to the man's floor, and he mumbles a sorry under his breath as he runs out.

great. not only do you look pathetic in front of your boss, but you're not getting fucked tonight, either. just great.

the doors shut behind Bucky, who has now returned his gaze to you. you wonder if he's going to press the button to go back to the lobby.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Mr. Barnes," you say, swallowing your embarrassment as you stand up straight and adjust your dress.

he just stares at you.

"what?" you ask.

"are you okay?" he asks, and he looks genuinely concerned.

you know he cares about you, you're his assistant, after all. but that's it.

"fine," you assure him, and begin to reach behind him to press the button to take you back down to the lobby.

he gently grabs your wrist before you can.

you look at him, confused. you know your face says it all.

"Mr.–" you begin.

"Bucky," he corrects.

"can I press the button, Mr. Barnes?"

he still hasn't let go of your wrist. you feel stupid for enjoying the feel of his metal hand against your skin, for getting to feel a part of him that's real.

"you know, you clearly picked out the worst of the men here tonight," he observes.

you roll your eyes and pull your wrist away from him before you do something stupid.

"are you kidding? this place was riddled with capitalist billionaires and politicians. like you," you say, smirking.

he chuckles a little.

you can't help yourself, though. can't let it go unsaid.

"clearly you had some interested parties of your own tonight."

he rolls his eyes and finally turns away from you, pressing the button for the lobby. you let out a quiet sigh of relief. being in this elevator any longer, with him? that would just about kill you.

"you noticed that, huh?" he asks.

"who didn't?" you mumble. but of course, he's not just a politician, he's an enhanced, so he hears it.

"look, I knew she was married, I was never going to-" he begins to explain, but you cut him off.

"oh, I don't care what she does in her own fucked-up marriage."

oh my god. what did you just say? did you just admit to the fact that the only reason you did care was because she was fawning over Bucky?

fuck.

the elevator doors open, and you rush out.

you can hear the smirk on his face as he trails after you.

"so, you were really going to sleep with that guy, huh?" he teases.

you stop in your tracks. most everyone has left by now, leaving only you and Bucky in the room aside from the clean-up crew. you turn back to face him.

"can we just go?"

he nods and calls for the car to come around.

~~~

twenty minutes, you remind yourself.

in twenty minutes, you'll have made it back to the office, and you can go get in your own car and take yourself back to your own place and you won't have to be sitting thigh to thigh with your boss in the back of a limo that would totally be hot to fuck in-

he clears his throat, and you turn your head to face him.

"what that guy said..." he begins. you roll your eyes in anger at the reminder. you didn't even care he said it, you just wish he hadn't said it in front of Bucky.

you wave your hand as though waving off the thought, and waving off Bucky's concern. but it doesn't quite work like that.

"you're not inconsequential."

he says it with such a conviction you feel it deep in your bones, in the very core of your being. he sounds so authentic that it almost hurts.

a million thoughts swirl in your head. you could say i know, you could get defensive, you could say thanks, Bucky...

a better one pops in your head.

"how did you know where I was? you didn't see me all evening."

the limo stops moving. the driver rolls down the divider to grumble something about traffic at this hour? before rolling it back up again.

great. now it's going to take even longer to get home to your vibrator.

Bucky sees the interruption as a way to drop the matter. you press it.

"Mr. Barnes?"

"god, would you stop calling me that?"

you see him turn away from you to look out the window, biting his lip and rubbing his forehead. you've now frustrated him, and he's mad at you. this is good. it's easier for you to deal with him being angry at you than him being nice to you.

you know he just wants you to call him Bucky, but you're a smartass.

"yeah, okay, sorry. Sergeant Barnes," you mumble, smirking to yourself.

he about flips his shit. why is he getting so worked up?

"seriously?" he asks, turning back to you. his eyes are blown back, in anger, probably. not lust, like you wish they were. because you're just a stupid kid, and he's just your boss with a lifetime of trauma. you could never understand him the way you wanted to.

"what?" you say, biting your lip as you smile, continuing to tease him.

you swear that for a second, he glances down to your lips.

SHIT!

in that embarrassing moment, you realize your lipstick is still smudged across your face from the moment in the elevator. your heart rate shoots up as you bury your head in your chest, bringing your hand to wipe away the mess of your face, before turning to face the opposite way from him.

you are, well and truly, stuck in traffic. some concert, or sports game, or whatever...

which means you're stuck, pressed up against your boss, in the back of this tiny limo right now, for only god knows how much longer.

you're pulling your phone out of your clutch when he says your name.

you want to lean into the feeling, how smooth it is. how crisp his voice is, how pretty it sounds saying your name, as though he's genuinely paying you any attention whatsoever.

"you're not inconsequential."

it flares your anger, all of it coming up from your gut and into your throat, as you respond.

"god, would you forget it already?" you snap.

shit, shit, shit. you fucked up. you just snapped at your boss, of all people. you try to backtrack, throw out a million comments of "sorry," but that's it, you're getting fired.

you finally look back at him, and he's actually looking at you. like, it feels like he's staring into your soul, seeing all the pieces of you that you're trying to keep hidden from him.

the car begins moving again.

~~~

he watches you, trying to figure you out, as always.

he can't think of a better word for it than the fact that you genuinely amuse him.

he sees the look in your eyes, the way you're desperately trying to cover up the shame you feel over what happened in the elevator. he's trying to be gentle about it, trying to assure you that what the man said was utter bullshit, but you keep shutting him down.

god, and you look so...

no. you're, like, 80-plus years younger than him (he rubs his temples every time he remembers his age) and employed by him. any interest on his part would be purely inappropriate, a gross misuse of his position of power.

and god, his fucking age, man. he shouldn't even be around anymore-

anyways.

you look at him with those fucking doe eyes, going back and forth between anger, and shame, and something else he can't quite pinpoint.

this is probably the worst part of what happened. you're always so unapologetically yourself, but he can tell this man has gotten under your skin.

even if it's not his job to comfort you, he doesn't want you to feel like that. because who you are is perfect. 

~~~

one minute, you're staring into his eyes, trying to read the look on his face. 

the next, you're bracing yourself as the car spins out of control, feeling hit after hit of various cars all crashing into you sequentially.

you don't register it until after it's all over. the way he's wrapped himself around you as though to protect you. his flesh arm cradles your head to his chest and his vibranium hand wraps itself around the back of your neck.

you take a few deep breaths and begin to pull away from him, looking up to his face as you do. his eyes widen in shock as he looks at you. what? what is it?

"fuck, we gotta get you to a hospital." 

~~~

part 2 out NOW 3/23/25

masterlist

tag list

tagged: @clavedelune

[writing-for-marvel]

Right Here, Waiting (2)

Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Curvy!Fem!Reader

< < PART 1

Summary: While out with Bucky’s friends for Sam’s birthday, someone makes a rude comment about your body, leading Bucky to prove just how beautiful he thinks you are.

Prompt: “Hey. Pick on someone your own size.” for @avengers-assemble-bingo’s 108th Birthday Celebration

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the AU, TRIGGER WARNING internal monologue references reader having issues with weight & eating, a man commenting on readers appearance/body in a negative and unprovoked way, VERY insecure reader, slight angst with belief of unrequited love, idiots in love who finally stop being so oblivious!

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: so I was triple dared by @intrepidacious to write more for these two and who am I to break the sacred rules of triple dares? They do deserve their happy ending 🩵 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

You don’t want to be here. Not really.

Even though you’ve got Nat by your side and you’re essentially invisible as a group of Bucky’s mates celebrate his best friend’s birthday, there’s something about being in a new part of town, and with a group of people you don’t know that well, which makes you feel on edge.

But the reason you came tonight is staring at you with warm, sparkling blue eyes, and a smile that calms the raging nerves in your stomach.

“You having a good time?”

“I am now that you’re here.” You say playfully, and you hear Nat scoff lightly from beside you.

He looks heavenly, as if a statue of a Greek god was animated to life, donning a shirt which perfectly matches the colour of his irises, which shows off his bulging biceps, and just enough length to his perfectly styled hair which makes you want to run your fingers through it.

It really should be a crime to walk around looking so good that he draws the stare of every woman within a ten meter radius, head held high like he knows it too.

But while everyone else has their eyes on him, whispering about how gorgeous he is, Bucky’s looking at you, making your stomach somersault. And then the stunning smile he flashes just for you has you melting into a puddle.

Surely there’s no way he can’t see the effect he has on you, how you become a giggling fool in his presence. But that just serves as a reminder that after three months living together and him not making a move, he is very clearly not interested in you like that.

“I shouldn’t have taken so long to come find you then.” You know he’s only joking, but in reality you and Nat have barely had the time to wish Sam a happy birthday and set yourself up at one of the high top tables. Bucky hasn’t exactly wasted any time in coming to talk to you.

“Well it would have been rude of you not to say hello to the birthday boy first.”

“Ahh I see enough of that punk anyway.” He jests, as if he also doesn’t see you every single day at your shared apartment, but you don’t mention that to him.

You notice Nat walking over by to corner of the room in a group with the man of the hour, not even bothering to announce her departure unlike last weekend at your local bar with her attempt to push you and Bucky together.

Somehow being alone with him now, even though it’s a regular occurrence back in your apartment, fills your stomach with churning anxiety. Perhaps it’s the expectation that Nat believes something will happen between the two of you, even though you’re well aware that’s a physical impossibility.

“Thanks for coming tonight, I know you don’t know Sam all that well yet and would probably prefer to be snuggled under a blanket at home reading, but I want you to meet my friends. And I want them to meet the people who are important to me too.”

The implication that you are a prominent person in Bucky’s life gives life to butterflies in your tummy. Even though you’re sure the intention of his words are that you’ve become good friends while living together, it’s ammunition your mind can use to assemble a pipe dream that you serve a much more significant role in your roommate’s life.

“If they’re important to you, then they’re important to me too.” Silly boy doesn’t know you’d do absolutely anything for him, including facing your social anxiety of meeting new people if it means you get to see him happy.

“Well you’re the most important.”

It’s when he says things like this, accompanied with that earnestly affectionate smile, that hope builds brick by brick in your chest - you don’t say that to someone who’s just a friend, right?

But if he somehow did feel that way about you, ignoring all the reasons why someone as attractive and charming as him could do so much better than you, then why had he not made a move?

You come to the same conclusion you always do when Bucky comes out with these overly sweet statements - he’s referring to you as being very good friends. Roommates who would consider each other family.

Regardless, with this small sentence he’s rendered you utterly speechless, your mouth so dry and brings a ferocious heat to your cheeks that you couldn’t contribute to conversation even if you had to.

There’s a silence which passes between you, not awkward like either of you are waiting for the other to come up with some ridiculous small talk, but content, that even in a room packed with people to speak to you’re happy just being in each other's presence, words aren’t needed.

“Oh, how rude of me, you don’t have a drink - you want your usual?” You had never expected him to buy you a drink, but it warms your heart how considerate he is, that he takes the initiative to make it his priority even when it arguably doesn’t affect him.

“Yes please.” You manage to mutter out.

The cheeky wink he shoots you before heading up to the bar only further contributing to you melting into a puddle on the floor. He could do anything and have you in a trance, but when it’s small, doting actions reserved solely for you like this, that have your heart leaping out of your chest.

“So… when’s the wedding?” Nat comments, sidling up to you, however it doesn’t distract you from watching Bucky walk away, admiring his strapping, muscular back and his ass that looks divine.

It’s when you turn to look at your best friend, a brazen sparkle in her eye, do you miss the way Bucky longingly looks back at you from the bar.

That relentless hope you’re continually trying to shake returns, inflating in your chest when she talks in a way that your romance with Bucky is inevitable, when you spend every waking second actively pulling yourself back to reality on earth from dreaming on cloud nine.

“Nat you know he doesn’t like me like that.” You repeat for what feels like the millionth time.

“I beg to differ, you’d been here less than two minutes before he approached you.” The gleam in her eye has become a familiar one, that screams ‘told you so’, as if this was conclusive evidence.

“He knows we don’t know a lot of people here and just wanted to make sure we felt comfortable. That’s what friends do.” At least that’s what you are telling yourself to help suppress any irrational wish your brain could conjure at the reasoning why Bucky sought you out so quickly after your arrival.

“Well he only asked you didn’t he? It was like I was invisible to him.”

“He just knows me better, that's all, we do live together you know.” Is how you justify his behaviour, but you can tell Nat isn’t having a bar of it with the cynical look she shoots at you.

“You keep telling yourself that sweetie. That boy has it bad for you, but you silly kids will work it out eventually.” She says with a certainty that puzzles you, as if there is no question that you and Bucky are destined to end up together. She flashes a quick smile before affectionately patting your hand and making her way up to the bar.

There’s a moment where you’re left alone, pondering Nat’s words and if there is any truth to them - your best friend is honest to a fault, and isn’t the type to blatantly lie to you to spare your feelings. Perhaps there’s something she can see that you can’t, or won’t let yourself notice.

The buoyant hope you always try pushing down floats in your stomach and for once you revel in the small possibility that perhaps you’ve been wrong all along about Bucky. As unlikely as it is, maybe your feelings aren’t completely unrequited.

You feel someone next to you before you hear them speak, a voice that is unfamiliar and which sends a tense vexation shivering down your spine.

“That little redhead friend of yours is gorgeous, think you could introduce me?” It’s not the first time a stranger has approached you interested in Nat. She’s beautiful, slim and wears dresses that flaunt her toned figure, but it nevertheless causes an ache deep in your chest that you're never the person the man approaching you is attracted to.

Just once it would be nice to be the woman they notice, the one lusted after.

“She’s not interested.” You don’t even have to look at the man to know Nat wouldn’t be interested in someone who didn’t have the guts to approach her directly.

You hope that response is enough to send the man on his way, but your experience tells you men with an ego the size of a Mount Everest don’t give up so easily when they have a gorgeous woman in their sights.

“C’mon, don’t be butt hurt that no one’s interested in you. Attractive people deserve other attractive people.”

His words, laced with so much spite, feel like a kick to the teeth. Even though he’s a nobody, someone who will disappear into the masses that make up this enormous city, it’s just another reminder that not a single person in this populous metropolis wants you, in particular the one person who owns your heart and sleeps in the next room.

“You really think that’s gonna make me more likely to help you out?” You turn to finally look at the man, and as attractive as he is, there is a pretentious air to him, a conceited smirk you’d love to smack off his face. It’s a face of a man that has never been told ‘no’ before in his life. “Fuck off.”

“Don’t be a bitter bitch about it.”

Without you realising, Bucky had noticed you looking uncomfortable in conversation with this repulsive man, and stalked across the entire length of the room, forgetting about your drinks at the bar, to come to your aid.

“Hey mate, how about you pick on someone your own size huh?” Bucky looks dauntingly large as he steps up to face the man, at least a head taller than him with broad shoulders that make the other guy look like a lanky schoolboy in comparison.

In contrast to how intimidating Bucky looks, his touch is gentle as he herds you behind him protectively.

“Why? Because the whore is so much bigger than everyone else here.”

His mocking tone cuts through you like a sword, hollowing out your insides. You sense all eyes in the room turn to you, and you shrivel into yourself in juxtaposition to how Bucky shines when the centre of attention.

It feels like the air in the room has been suctioned out, your lungs and throat burning from the absence of oxygen, or maybe it’s just your lack of will to take a breath, wanting the world to engulf you and your existence to end right here.

It’s hard enough to live with the understanding of how much bigger you are than every other person in the room when it is etched into your frontal lobe so that you are reminded of it every passing second, but for someone else to actually express that notion aloud, for all the terrible thoughts you believe about yourself to be confirmed by a stranger who only needs to have seen you once in your life to recognise this about you, is enough for you to start decaying from the inside out.

It’s not just you who thinks that, now every single person in the bar is fully aware of how much physical space you’re taking up, how much weight you carry on your distinctly pudgy stomach, around your jawline which is soft unlike Bucky’s sharp mandible, how your thighs rub together when you walk, not having a gap between them as Nat does.

“What the fuck did you just say?” You barely recognise the voice as Bucky’s, he practically growls at the man, picking him up by the shirt front and slamming him into the wall behind you.

Bucky’s positive he’s never had rage flow through his veins like this before, never genuinely wanted to snap someone’s neck and step over their lifeless body until this very second. Anyone who hurts you deserves an even worse fate than that.

The bastard then has the gall to mumble out ‘it was just a joke’ as he raises his hands in defence, as if he wasn’t the piece of shit to provoke this entire confrontation.

“I dare you to say that again and see where it gets you.” Bucky longs to punch his fist through this man’s nose, the only reason currently stopping him is a potential assault charge, but then he hears you sniffling behind him and he wants to throw caution to the wind.

“Barnes, you need to go after her.” Natasha implores, interrupting the intense staring match between the two men and saving Bucky from spending the night in a jail cell. The mention of you is the only distraction which spares this man’s face from being rearranged.

Bucky practically throws the guy on the ground, searching for you in the sea of patrons staring at the commotion, before chasing after you as if his life depends on it - because it does, you are the reason his heart beats just that little bit quicker every morning at the prospect of seeing you curled up in your armchair, having fallen asleep reading one of your books and him needing to gently wake you from your slumber; you are the reason he stops off at the store on his way home from work and spends half an hour at the grocery store most days, to ensure the pantry is fully stocked with your favourite snacks; you are the reason he has not brought a single woman back to his apartment since moving in, no one on the face of this earth could could make him feel the way you do, turn him on naked in his bed how you do dancing around the kitchen in your pyjamas.

He loves you. And his whole world is crashing down around him knowing you’re in any type of pain.

“Sunrise, please.” You're not sure what he’s pleading for exactly, but he doesn’t ask again once you stop scurrying out of the bar. He reaches for you when the fresh air outside hits your face with a crispness that makes your tears sting more than they had inside, tugging on your shoulder for you to turn around and face him.

The completely shattered way you look back at him, with teary eyes that are usually so full of wonder and vivacity, shreds Bucky’s heart into so many pieces he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to put it back together again.

He’s going to kill that man for making you feel like a fragment of the beautiful person he has come to adore.

Unintelligible words fall from your lips but you don’t have the brain capacity to articulate yourself better when your mind is rerouting all your thoughts to one central nucleus - how disgustingly large you are.

Typically you’d be mortified about Bucky seeing you in such a distressed state, because not only are you huge, you must also look revoltingly unattractive with tears flowing down your cheeks, ruining your makeup, and snot dripping from your nose.

But you know Bucky’s arms, the embrace of the man you love, is also the only cure for the malignant disease which has now infected your mind, so you put up no defence to him pulling you in for a secure, reassuring hug.

Bucky’s chest, smelling strongly of cinnamon, is the safest place you’ve ever known. Even though you’re still consumed by what was said back inside the bar, Bucky holds you so tightly that you have no doubt that he will comfort you through the worst of it without him needing to say so.

It’s a blur of tears, head throbbing, chest aching and Bucky’s soft yet vigilant hands as you make your way home. He leads you into a cab, buckling your seatbelt for you, him taking the middle seat so you can rest your head on his shoulder, his calloused hand resting on your thigh, soothingly rubbing gentle circles with his thumb over your soft skin.

Not a single word is spoken on your journey, comfortable with the solace his presence brings you, and finally feeling secure being miles away from the environment that led you to feeling as giant as an elephant trapped in a zoo enclosure with mice.

Bucky’s fingers interlace with yours as he leads you up to your apartment, the feel of his large hand engulfing yours eases the feeling of taking up too much space in the world. Even though you’re much wider than him in size, there are parts of your tall roommate that somehow miraculously still make you feel smaller than him.

His keys get thrown on the hall table with a clang. The familiar environment brings you peace, even if Bucky holding your hand is a new sensation which has nervousness prickling your stomach.

He sits on your couch, the one you’ve sat on many a lonely night before you even knew Bucky, his arms outstretched in a way which asks you to curl up on him in a hug.

“No, Bucky I’ll crush you.”

His heart cleaves in two with just how defeated your small voice is. It physically hurts him that you think of yourself like that and not as the most beautiful, voluptuous goddess that he knows you are.

“You’re not gonna crush me. Now c’mere.” His voice is soft but his hands are unyielding as he practically picks you up and deposits you in his lap, not taking no for an answer.

His strong arms snake around you, large hands resting on a pocket of fat on your waist that has always plagued your insecurities, but Bucky holds you tenderly, almost lovingly, and the self doubt slips from your mind and all you can focus on is how close you are to him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers with a kiss to your temple. It almost sounds like he actually believes it - but your mind simply cannot accept that as fact, especially not after the humiliation surging through you from the strangers taunt earlier.

“Bucky, you don’t have to lie.”

“Sunrise, I’m not lying.” He retorts almost instantly, not wanting to allow any time for doubt to creep into your mind.

“You’re my roommate, you can’t very well call me an ugly pig, which is exactly what I am.”

Bucky so badly wants you to be able to see yourself the way he sees you, how vibrant his life becomes when you so much as walk into a room, how all his anxieties fade to nonexistence when you smile at him.

How you are everything he has ever dreamed of.

You sleep one very thin wall away, and all he can ever think of as he falls asleep on his own every night is if you are in the next room thinking of him too, wishing that your dreams will be consumed by him as his are by you.

“Stop. Please stop putting yourself down. You are gorgeous, stunning, and so much more than just my roommate.” He says sincerely, wiping away a stray tear as it trickles over the apple of your cheek. “You are my Sunrise, the stunning star at the centre of my universe that lights up my entire life.”

Never in a million years did you imagine these words coming out of Bucky Barnes’ mouth. You stare at him, jaw slack in utter shock, waiting for the moment where he takes it all back or to clarify that you’ve misinterpreted the intention and in fact he really means that you’re good friends, just very good friends.

This must be your hopeful heart overreacting after such an upsetting day, because surely he cannot actually think of you as more than that.

“It hurts me that you can’t see how impossibly beautiful you are, how you’re the most stunning woman everywhere you go, how I can’t take my eyes off you even for a minute whether it’s lazing around here in your pyjamas or all dolled up for a night out. You will always be the most beautiful woman in any room to me.”

Your chest feels like it’s about to explode any second with how much warmth is ballooning in your lungs. This isn’t happening. Surely you bumped your head getting out of the cab and this is all just a dream your mind has concocted to heal from the anguish sustained earlier.

“You can’t possibly mean that.” You shake your head, attempting to pull yourself out of the hallucination your brain is composing.

Bucky's eyes flit down to your lips, slightly chapped and dehydrated from crying your eyes out, but when they return to your gaze again, there’s a palpable desperation which quivers in his pupils.

“My whole fucking world comes to a standstill when you enter a room and like a magnet I can’t help but be drawn to you. You make my heart beat out of my chest just by smiling at me. There is not a day where I don’t wish to be back home here with you, where it’s just the two of us and the world outside holds no consequence because you’re all I’ve ever needed, all I’ve ever wanted. Can you really not see how powerful the hold you have over me is?”

There should be no doubt, given his confession, how much significance you have in Bucky’s heart, and yet you’re in disbelief, utter shock, unable to truly comprehend why he cares for you in such a way, when there are so many other women who are hotter, skinnier, funnier than you.

If this was written in one of the thousands of romance novels you’ve read, you wouldn’t hesitate to believe how much love the protagonists have for one another, but because it’s happening to you, that you are the heroine of this story, your mind is conditioned to reject the premise altogether.

“Bucky…” You mumble, your mind is spinning too much to form a coherent thought, let alone articulating just how consequential your feelings for the man whose lap you're sitting in are.

“Even if you don’t feel the same way, I need you to know how beautiful you are to me.” And that’s when your brain kicks into gear - you cannot stand any insinuation that your feelings for your roommate are simply platonic, and not the all consuming, devoted love that fills your heart with as much sunshine as on a cloudless summer day.

Especially not after his admission.

“Not feel the same? Bucky, I’ve been in love with you since you mov-”

At the mention of the word ‘love’ Bucky pulls your face close with a hand on either side of your face, and kisses you so forcefully the rest of your sentence is muffled and completely forgotten about.

You haven’t kissed someone in such a long time, and your stomach prickles with nerves as you frantically try remembering the movements you’re meant to make with your lips, where your tongue should be, that you should close your eyes. But as long as it has been, you’re sure the sparks you feel as his warm lips caress yours is because it is James Barnes kissing you, and not just anyone.

He smells and tastes divine, like sweet honey and sharp cinnamon, his lips soft as pillows that move hungrily against yours, like he can’t get enough of you either, and when he moans into your mouth you swear you see the gates of heaven.

When his tongue slips into your mouth, the realisation hits you square in the chest that you’re kissing your Bucky, the man who sleeps in the adjacent room, who cooks you breakfast shirtless in your kitchen, who always thinks to bring home your favourite food after a long day at work where he could arguably only want to think about himself.

The man you love. And who reciprocates that ardent feeling.

The awareness that it’s him knocks all the breath from your lungs and you need to come up for air much sooner than you would have liked, but Bucky gazes up at you with that familiar warmth that you never would have believed was something more than just friendship, but now seems like it was the clue all along that the two of you were never just roommates.

“You love me, huh?” He says in such a playfully taunting tone that makes you smile.

“Yeah… but I’m your Sunrise aren’t I?”

“That you are. My beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Sexy. Perfect Sunrise.” Bucky places sweet kisses to your lips between each adjective, each one lasting a little longer than the previous. “I love you too.”

Maybe you can’t understand why Bucky feels this way about you when there are far more attractive people in the world. But maybe that doesn’t matter.

Perhaps your love for him is part of what makes you the most beautiful person in the world in his eyes, the way his love for you is why you find him the most alluring man you have ever met. And that will forever be enough for you.

Follow @ems-library for fic notifications a

Add yourself to the taglist here

Right Here, Waiting [Roommate!Bucky Barnes] Taglist: @mgchaser @vxllys @littleredwolf @apricot1996 @blackhawkfanatic @avengersfan25 @thescooponsof @goldylions @shoutingcardinal @florie1 @basicallynotbreathing @scarletbich @almostglitterybear @x-press-it @https.murdock @looking1016 @rosemary0414 @bamitzzsam @doro @nerdgirljen @forgetthisbull @laughterafter

[bones4thecats]

Hello! I was wondering if it's possible to request Lilia reacting to GN! Reader, despite being magicless, managed to uses magic using the language of the fae?

Hope this makes sense!

Thank you!

❥· This Is My Family, Lilia Vanrouge × S/O

Character(s): Lilia Vanrouge (🦇) A/N: This reminded me of Luz Noceda from The Owl House so strongly, so I used her for a backdrop of the Reader. Hope that's alright, and I hope you enjoy this, @beawesome04! Thank you for the amazing request! ✎ Summary: When someone tries to attack you and your husband, Lilia Vanrouge, a shock emerges when you use the hardly-known language of the fae to defend Lilia, Silver, and yourself.

┍━━━━━━━━━━━━━☽【❖】☾━━━━━━━━━━━━━┑

🦇 Being born a human in Briar Valley wasn't very fun, since the fae there and the humans never had a very good bond. Because of this, when the relationship between you and Lilia emerged, many were outraged.

🦇 Lilia didn't care, you were his love. You were his other half, your species didn't matter. As he said at your wedding, "It doesn't matter if you were a beastman, a mer-person, a fae, or even a magicless human, I still love you. You are you no matter what, and that is what's important."

🦇 Hugging your husband, he felt the best he ever did. Even when he defeated humans in battle and secured the safety of his family and the people he swore to love until death, he never felt the amount of love that he did then and now.

🦇 As the years passed, and you were blessed by the previous Queen of Briar Valley, Queen Maleficia, with the same life as a fae. Unknowingly blessing you with an extremely old magical ability as well.

🦇 It was years since then, and now you finally got to walk around your hometown with your adopted son, whom you both named Silver, after his shining hair. The young boy smiled and sun cheerfully as he skipped around with you two beside him, just in case he randomly fell asleep again.

🦇 "Excuse me." A voice said from behind, which you turned around to put a face to voice. There, standing behind your family, was a fae man, his small fangs and pointy ears being the parts that showed that off.

🦇 "I couldn't help but wonder, are you Y/N and Lilia Vanrouge?" He asked. You cocked an eyebrow and looked at Lilia, who was picking up Silver to hold -- since he had fallen asleep.

🦇 "...Yes? Why?"

🦇 "Good."

🦇 Raising his hand, you noticed a blade. Lilia looked up and saw the unknown man try attacking you. But, before he could defend you, he heard a yell, one filled with the words of the ancient fae, emerge from your mouth.

🦇 "Silentium!" You screamed.

🦇 The fae slammed into the nearby wall, alerting all in the area. Lilia yelled for them all to evacuate, to which everyone did as he said. Silver was still in Lilia's arms when he pinned the man down with his foot, digging it into his back.

🦇 "Y/N, take Silver. I'll handle him." Lilia said. You blinked out of the stupor and nodded, taking your son in your arms as Lilia grabbed the fae and began to demand to know who he was and what he thought he was doing.

🦇 But, the sight of you using such an expired way of magic never left his mind. He knew he needed to ask Queen Maleficia what the side affects could be of your blessing.

┕━━━━━━━━━━━━━☽【❖】☾━━━━━━━━━━━━━┙

🦴 Copyright © 2025 by Bones4thecats on Tumblr. All Right Reserved. 🦴

[psychemochanight]

I was thinking about the last comics that came out, and... I have two thoughts that have nothing to do with each other, but I'm going to mix them up here anyway.

First, It makes perfect sense that Dick h has the blood type that can give the most, but receive the least. (Empathy: It means you give blood until there is nothing left to bleed).

A long time ago, I had read a fic where Bruce commented on this, actually. I don't remember the name because it wasn't from ao3, but I want to look it up again sometime.

Dick told Bruce that he wasn't his son (because he wasn't adopted), but when something happens, and Dick needs a blood transfusion, Bruce is the donor.

Clark and Bruce are talking, and Bruce tells Clark that there is only one person in the League who can donate blood to Dick... Bruce himself, since they both are O-

He tells Clark that Dick has more of his blood than John Grayson's running through his veins. That's his kid, his son.

Which brings me to my second thought, which is that Dick's parents, according to the new issue that came out, had him training 10 hours a day from the age of three.

A typical workday is usually 8 hours a day, and many adults find it tiresome.

Dick has been training 10 hours a day since he was 3 years old.

And he seems to think this is okay, or something to be proud of.

Also, there's another comic where Dick says he sometimes wishes he was just a kid, watching the show, not being part of it.

And it's terrifying to see how this is always overlooked, how his situation is romanticized. Like, there's talk that Bruce should have done better, that he shouldn't have let a kid take such risks, that if he loved him he wouldn't have let Dick be Robin...

What about his biological parents? Mary and John?

I firmly believe that his parents loved Dick, I really do. But I also think they are simply terrible parents.

Sure, at that time it was normal for children to work in circuses with their parents, for acrobats not to have safety equipment... But the Graysons were known for going further. For their extremely dangerous stunts.

And Dick trained that since he was 3 years old.

Even in the older comics, where it's not specified that he's been training since that age, even if it had been since he was 7 or 8, it's still horrible. He was a kid. He should have been among the children in the crowd, not up there risking his life.

Shit, his parents should have used a net just to have a chance of surviving, to live for their son.

Maybe the trapeze act was their way of showing love. Maybe it was all they knew. Maybe they just wanted to share their life with their son.

But still, Dick shouldn't have been exposed to that. What if he was the one who fell, not them? How would they live with it?

Also, what psychological consequences did Dick suffer? They are always attributed to Batman, but were they really due to his time with him?

Sure, being Robin meant doing your job well or dying... But being an acrobat did too.

Dick always lived with the thought that if he does something wrong, he will die, that someone he loves will die.

It's no wonder he's a perfectionist, as much of a "control freak" as Batman himself.

It would also explain many things, such as the type of response he has. When you face a dangerous life of constant stress, your body loses its ability to react normally to stress, even if it's because of small things like an exam or something even less important. Adrenaline is pumped anyway, because your body recognizes the situation as a survival situation... And it makes you addicted to adrenaline.

Damn, even his heart stopping in the last issue makes sense if we could connect the dots.

They're two totally separate things for two separate comics, I know. Just... Damn.

[mamayura]

Revelator analysis: Marinette remembering the Umbrella scene incorrectly

You know what I find really interesting about the interview scene in "Revelator" where Adrinette retells how they met? Marinette is actually getting a few details wrong.

Mind you, no deal breakers. She got all the emotional beats down accurately. And I will only truly take this as canon anyway when the French original has her misremember things the same way. But for now, it's really interesting that MARINETTE is the one who gets a couple of details wrong about the moment she fell SO in love with Adrien, while Adrien himself is out here making no such mistake in the whole interview:

This is correct. Simple as that.

This one... is on very thin ice. In reality, Marinette had just left the building and noticed it was raining when Adrien started talking to her. Yes, she was ready to wait until the rain stopped, but she never truly got to the waiting part:

But, by all means, if this were only this detail, I wouldnt make this post right now. Even if, factually, she didnt wait, she just noticed it was raining and thought she had to wait.

But let's get back to this later because there is another layer to this that was the catalyst for me writing this. But for now, moving on:

This is correct again. Adrien, in fact, had an umbrella.

But here is the thing:

This is... straight up wrong. Objectively. What Marinette reacted negatively to was Adrien trying to be friendly and saying "Hi" to her:

He only offered his umbrella at the end, so Marinette claiming so confidently in "Revelator" that she at first turned down the umbrella is false. Adrien opened it for himself because he was the one standing in the rain for a bit while explaining his perspective:

I sure don't see any umbrellas being turned down here, Marinette. So what exactly are you remembering? Just saying.

From this point onwards, the Adrinette interview is accurate again because 1) it's about the emotional core of it, and 2) well, Adrien is then talking the most because it's about him and Marinette is mostly just adding to it. So, yeah...

Look, I don't wanna say that this is some deep betrayal of love and proof that Marinette's love for Adrien isnt real. Of course not. And again, there is still the chance that the line in question is right in the French original (though, I do gotta say, I doubt it because that would change the natural flow of the conversation)

I just find it interesting that the thing about THE Umbrella scene that Marinette gets wrong is the UMBRELLA itself and how and when it was extended to her.

Cause, well... This is not a documentary. Marinette is not a real life person who can mix some things up without it meaning anything. She's the main character and the main narrative tool of the story.

This is the moment SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH ADRIEN. Pretty much 80% of what she does in this show goes back to this moment. In story-telling practice, yes, her being the one who recalls that moment incorrectly should mean something.

Bad faith reading: it's a major indicator that Marinette is actually not as invested in Adrien and their relationship anymore as she was once upon a time. Her needs and desires have changed and that's causing problems now.

Good faith reading (and I genuinely mean good faith reading. Fucking BEST faith reading, in my opinion):

The details that Marinette gets wrong about the Umbrella scene actually correspond with the ending of "Strike Back" where Marinette's lightning moment happened with Chat Noir:

Cause if you combine Marinette's memories of the Umbrella scene with the Strike Back scene, then, yes, Marinette WOULD remember standing way longer in the RAIN before Adrien eventually came to her:

Not because that's how it factually happened in "Origins", but because she was alone in the rain for a solid bit before Chat Noir arrived in "Strike Back".

But the most important thing is that, if you combine the two lightning scenes, this objectively incorrect line actually checks out again:

Because the moment Marinette fell in love with Chat Noir was about him having extended his hand several times but her having pushed him away and held at arms length:

Marinette in the Umbrella scene didnt turn down Adrien's umbrella. Not only because that simply didnt happen, but also because Adrien only had the opportunity to offer it ONCE which she then immediately took. Chat Noir, on the other hand (is that a pun?), did offer the gesture she then fell in love with more than once, which she initially turned down, but eventually accepted.

So, again, worst faith reading: we were supposed to pick up on Marinette remembering the iconic Umbrella scene incorrectly which is supposed to subtly tell us that life has changed Marinette's feelings for Adrien for the worse because she's simply not the girl she was a year ago and the love she once wanted doesnt fit her needs anymore, so it's fading and getting drowned out.

Best faith reading: It's a subtle hint that the love she once wanted doesnt really fit her needs anymore, but the one that does more and more now is Chat Noir who, as we all know, is Adrien Agreste.

Though, no matter which one it is, one truth remains: Marinette remembered the UMBRELLA SCENE wrong and that means something.

[arciam]

Underrated JayVik moments/lines (16/∞)

"I suppose your legacy has been well-secured."

How is this a JayVik line? At first and even second glance it isn't, but bear with me for a moment.

What this line does do initially - seeing as it's said in response to Heimerdinger stating he never contemplates his own death - is tell us how important the idea of "legacy", of leaving something good behind to be remembered by, is to Viktor.

This is not a novel idea; I've seen multiple posts talking about the tragedy that is Viktor, in the end, leaving no legacy at all (if he's lucky, that is - otherwise there would only be the tale of that one time a metal maniac threatened to end all of humanity) because all of his accomplishments and good intentions vanish with him and Jayce.

And yes, that sure is one - very bleak - way to look at it.

However, fortunately that's not all there is to his story.

Because if you think about it for a moment - think about Viktor's motivations throughout the show -, there are two additional driving forces that contribute to this desire to leave a legacy, apart from his desire to help and his strong moral compass:

Loneliness and a damaged self-image.

People suffering from both often end up believing they will only ever be as good, as desirable, as lovable as the good they do for others. They wish to be remembered in death because they can't imagine feeling treasured in life.

I think for someone like Viktor - having placed all of his capacity to make a difference in the world on his "gifted mind" rather than his value as a person -, to be loved unconditionally for who he is may have been so grand an idea that changing the world honestly seemed more attainable to him.

Yet as I pointed out in part 4, even after ostensibly achieving what he thought he wanted in the commune ("an immaculate physique, community, the ability to help people and 'make the world a better place' - a perfect legacy"), from the way he speaks to Jayce and goes on to think and act after facing rejection by him, you absolutely get the sense that there is something vital missing from the picture here.

And it's scarcely even new information at that point, really, as we already learned this a lot earlier by how - when faced with the loss of both love and legacy - it wasn't the threat of losing legacy which Viktor's mind got stuck on:

"Jayce will understand."

It's almost as if... oh I don't know, as if Viktor had thought what he wanted was to bring magic to the world, but ultimately...

Oh.

"I thought I wanted us to give magic to the world... Now, all I want is my partner back."

Jayce, same as Viktor, had big dreams of making a difference in the world since childhood, which - while definitely also driven by a strong desire to help people - is proven here to be equally rooted in the very elementary human desire to connect with someone. For someone to understand him and share his dreams ("our HexTech dream").

He found, and was found by, that someone in Viktor. The fact that the very catalyst of Jayce's dreams - the mage - turns out to literally have been Viktor all along only serves to emphasise this point.

And here, at the end of everything they've endured, Jayce concludes that maybe, to love and to be loved in kind can be enough. Can be everything. Can be all he wants.

I like to believe that Viktor came to that same realisation about himself in those final moments of perfect connection they shared.

Part 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16

← Prev | Next →

[pankielovesfan]

The Prime Shimmer breaks Fan's code and that's really cool

I've recently thought more about just how incredibly important The Prime Shimmer IS to Fan's entire story and character, and about breaking apart from the show and helping him put in effort to improve. Even if this was already established and said countless times, I've started to understand it even deeper when I think about it more sooo I wanted to write this out

As the core part of Fan, he loves the show and all its characters. Everything he's ever known and been surrounded with has been related to it and he loves Inanimate Insanity very much and is practically made of that admiration. However, the first time he comes in contact with something from outside the show, it's the shimmer egg. Something he clings to desperately.

The fact that the egg is the first thing he's interacted with that isn't part of the show means a lot to his character, considering how he immediately attaches to it, takes care of it, and values it so deeply. As said by Fan himself on his blog - before he had the shimmer egg with him, he didn't even know how to care. It shows just how significant the egg is for Fan's development in so, so many different ways for representing his path in life. Not sure how to work this into it, but he's mentioned how the egg also helped him feel less lonely.

When he meets them, the way Fan treats The Prime Shimmer in the show is very unique to his character and has always been... so different. He's typically very disconnected from other people, especially with how he's supposed to be a "viewer" for the show, and experiences little to no empathy or care for others because of his love for inanimate insanity as a show, and how he claims to not even know how to care at first. The finale really highlights his feelings for the aliens. He immediately seeks to help them find their other lost child, prioritizing them over his own interests. He really really cares for them, for Fan standards.

All of The Prime Shimmer is so incredibly influential for him to recognize in this way. He actually puts in effort for others instead of sticking to old habits like he does, and I think his general feelings for them are what drives Fan toward progress since what he feels for them is outside of Inanimate Insanity. It's the main hope for Fan's improvement as a person, and I'm very glad Test Tube can still represent that feeling of "being outside of the show" because she came to save him from the ship if that makes sense, she's a part of this to some extent for him. Its lovely.

There's something so beautiful about Fan feeling so much love and protection for the entirety of The Prime Shimmer, creatures that are so removed from the show, something he wasn't made to love or care for. It makes it feel very genuine, caring for it in a way he doesn't care for the other contestants. Through caring about something outside the show, he also learned how to care about Test Tube and recognize her as separated from it, seeing her as an actual person which he rarely can do for many.

It's so fun how Fan can just always tie back to themes of change. Fan, notoriously inflexible and stubborn, allows himself to perceive change and opens his mind to that development to protect the lives he's learned to care for. Starts crying. i think this guy will be the end of me

anyway thanks for reading my insanity.. Fan is willing to try for the prime shimmer which can extend to other people he cares for yay

[karmaaiza]

This. This is it. This is why no matter whatever duo comes along, Veterans will always be my number one favorite. Veterans, Wallflower duo, whatever name you wanna use.

They may not have been the types to see each other every day, but nearly every time they were both online, either Fit would go to Phil's or Phil would go to Fit's. They were always finding each other, always spending some time together even if it was just for a little bit before Fit had to leave, or Phil needed to get a quest done.

And as great as all of this is. Showing how close Phil and Fit were with the possession and hardcore lore arcs. I can't say I care about that nearly as much as every single time before it, or the other things that happened outside of it.

I didn't watch Fit, so I don't know who he told about his secret room, but a point that he made to do was to tell Phil about it. He gave him a timeframe that he would be asleep for, letting Phil know WHERE he was supposed to be, so if something happened to him, PHIL COULD KNOW AND HOPEFULLY FIND HIM.

TW: Forever

I think some people forget this a lot because both the memory of Forever is sour, but also a lot was happening during the happy pills arc. People who look back on this typically remember that Phil worked with Bad and Cellbit to turn both Pac and Forever back to normal, and how bad the interaction between Pac and Fit felt.

But the most important part of that time for me is when Phil first learnt that this was happening. When Forever pulled him off to the side to talk to him, and Phil and Fit might have shared a look, there may have been a message I can't remember, but Fit spent that entire conversation sneaking around, being unseen but nearby and listening, so he could grasp the situation fully and so that he could be there to back Phil up if he needed to. All I can remember is Forever finally leaving, finally getting far enough away, and just the sound of Fit falling down from the tree and Phil asking him if he heard all of that.

Even more so, just a couple of days after the egg event STARTED. When the code monster, who we all called "God" at the time (I still do to be honest), launched after Phil, and he ran all the way back to spawn barely injured, and the second Fit was told what was going on, he didn't even think about consequences or anything. It was only "My friend is being attacked. God or not, I'm going to help him".

THEY GOT WARNED TO DO SOMETHING FOR GOD, AND THEN THEY WENT ON A FUCKING ADVENTURE WITH BADBOYHALO AND ALL OF THEIR CHILDREN

THATS NOT EVEN TOUCHING MOMENTS OUTSIDE OF QSMP. THEY WERE AT EACH OTHERS SIDES THE ENTIRE TIME DURING JSMP, AND THEY KEEP MEETING UP ANYTIME THEYRE BOTH ON THE REALM TOGETHER

But on qsmp specifically... Whether there are gods involved, whether they're going to rob materials from a plane, whether they're going on an adventure to rob some ships, fight off possession, sleep for week to find memories, find out how to save their friends, whatever.

No matter what, in the end, it's always them. Ride or die, but dying isn't something either of them are willing to do.

They know each other like the back of their own hands. A deadly combination, one that had to be separated forcefully in purgatory because they would have been too good together in a life or death match.

My favorite underrated duo of qsmp. The only other underrated group I think of all the time is Fit, Phil, and Bad, they can literally take up space in my brain for eternity, I do not care

Hold on I need to be mentally ill about Veterans Duo for a minute here.

When I was rewatching Phil's lore from Birdhouse to the end of the Ender King Possession Arc, I realized that every single time. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Something happens, Fit is the FIRST person Phil confides in.

He does it when he tells him about the Birdhouse.

He does it when Rose makes her first appearance in the back of Lullah's garden.

He does it when Ender King makes his first appearance with the amethyst in the bunker and the whole setup in Missa's shark tank. Fit is the first and only non-egg he name-drops Ender King to.

Not part of the lore I'm talking about, but he does it when he checks the bunker during the Election Banquet to see that Chayanne & Lullah are at home sleeping like he told them to be, thus confirming the Chayanne & Lullah at the Banquet are imposters. Fit is the first person he shows the picture of the real ones sleeping.

And every fucking time, Fit unconditionally believes him, drops everything he's doing to find Phil and listen to him and reassure him. Every time Phil apologizes or downplays his own distress, Fit rebuffs and insists he's right and it's okay and what he's feeling is real, at least to him, and that's important. Phil isn't burdening him.

When Phil tells him about the Birdhouse? He believes him. When they see if the Birdhouse is still where it should be and it's not? Fit still believes him. He says he's not the type to hallucinate and make things up.

When Rose's flowers and horse skull portrait are gone when Phil brings him and Pac back there to see it? Fit still believes him. He even says Phil wouldn't lie about something like this. An almost exact repeat of what he said about the Birdhouse.

When it becomes apparent that only Phil could see the amethyst and other items from Ender King, and when they disappear completely? Fit believes him. And he doesn't question or downplay anything to do with Ender King. He accepts what Phil is saying, period.

The trust between them is SO STRONG. The fact that Phil is very much the type you have to twist his arm to make him confess what's stressing him out because he chronically tries to shoulder it all himself to avoid burdening anyone because he's insistent that he has to be strong enough to handle things on his own (something deeply rooted in him due to his Hardcore nature). And yet. Without fail, he will confide in Fit immediately. And without fail, Fit comes running, listens fully, validates it all, and promises to do what he can to help.

Veterans Duo makes me fucking insane man.

[tealvenetianmask]

I'm sick, so I'm going to do the very normal thing and wax poetically about the positive neurodiversity representation is in HB. That's because they manage to make it appear neither purely good nor purely bad. It's allowed to just be part of what makes our characters who they are in their beautiful complexity.

Exhibit A: Blitz (there's no exhibit B yet, but maybe there will be!).

He never gets a diagnosis. No one in this show does.

I think ADHD is obvious. I did a post on this a long time ago, but the man barely sits still, and he's always climbing and sitting on things in odd ways. He misses things other characters say when he's caught up in his own ideas. He sometimes falls on his face when distracted despite having literal acrobatic skills. He gets stuck . . . hyperfocusing on things to the point where he ignores other pressing matters. He's an out of the box thinker and has an infectious enthusiasm for life.

You've probably seen me on here arguing that he has dyslexia. ADHD and LD (learning disabilty) are a much more common combination than most people acknowledge, just like ADHD and autism. If this is your take on him, I welcome you to comment too, but to me the LD/dyslexia thing is pretty powerful because I have ADHD and LD too. We all come to these conversations with our lived experiences.

And just like lots of real people with these and other neurodiversities, he also deals with a shit ton of trauma and related disorders as an adult. BPD . . . PTSD . . . you get the gist. The trauma is portrayed as bad, and some of his resulting behaviors certainly are too, but he's still fundamentally a good person who's been through a lot.

I think the part of his story I most understand as a neurodivergent one is the concept of "not being good enough" that he carries around. It originated before the fire, with Cash devaluing him (literally) in favor of Fizz. Blitz has an ever-present itch to prove himself, believes that he is not worthy of love, and that what he can DO for people is all that will make anyone want him around.

I think that most neurodivergent and/or otherwise disabled people get this, either from the always pushing side or the giving up side, or both at different times . . .). I grew up with parents who expected A LOT, and frankly, to this day, I often CAN'T meet their expectations because of how my brain works. I learned that I need to accomplish things. I also learned that I need to accomplish them IN MY WAY, or else I'd just fall short. I spent a lot of time when I was younger thinking that no one was like me (cue angsty music), but it turns out, a lot of people are. We just weren't very open about it in the 90's/2000's. That's why representation is important.

Blitz finds ways to work. He works very hard for his company, because he cares deeply about it and about the people who work for him, and also about PROVING SOCIETY WRONG (yes, there's a pushing back against racism element here too). He chooses to not care too much about spelling or paperwork and leans on employees for some of that- not justifying Moxxie being stuck with it, but, yes, this reads as self-accommodation to me.

And having to work around having more trouble with certain things because your brain works differently? Well, when a person grows up like that, you can get a really inventive, dynamic problem solver. Some people will say that this is inherently part of ADHD, and I don't know, but it's part of Blitz.

Anyway, I'll try to write a more coherent essay on some of these issues as they appear in the show later. Stolas is also an interesting case.

But do discuss! Entertain me on my snotty sick bed. XD

[liberty-barnes]

if there was no end

Arthur Leclerc x Female!Reader

Summary: Grieving someone who is not yet death was a special kind of suffering. One that Arthur wouldn't have wished on anyone, but especially not her.

Warnings: heavy heavy angst, mentions of dementia and the future death of a family member, mentions of Hervé's death, grief-induced mental breakdown, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2k words

Estimated Reading Time: 8 minutes

A/N: fun fact this is actually a true story that is currently happening to me but the difference is that mid mental breakdown I just thought "oh wait this would be an awesome fic" and then this was born. coping through writing iktr (i'm fine promise, therapy's great y'all), anyways hope you enjoy

in happier news, i have officially started writing part 2 to you will not always want to shatter so keep an eye out for that everyone!

Masterlists | Formula One RI Masterlist | Taglist

None of it would be so sweet Or so important If there was no end. (Liam Xavier, Welcome to Hell and Other Poems About Adulthood)

Arthur opened the door to their flat and immediately knew something was wrong.

Her keys were in the shell-shaped bowl by the entryway, her shoes neatly lined up on the rack, and her coat hung in its rightful place. So she was home.

But the flat was silent.

No singing along to whatever songs she had on repeat, no voices from a movie or show she’d decided to watch, not even the sound of the shower running.

Just silence.

He toed off his shoes, hung up his coat, and made his way through the apartment. The living room was silent, as were the kitchen and the terrace. The spare room, converted half into her personal library and half into Arthur’s practice room for the piano, showed no signs of life. It was worse than he thought, then. The only time you could find (Y/n) silent in their bedroom in the middle of the day was when she was sick, or…

“Mon ange?”

He knocked on the half-open door, coming in slowly. She hummed absent-mindedly, eyes fixated on a card in her hands, dried tear tracks staining her cheeks. She was sat in the middle of the bed, face so void of emotion, you’d wonder if she’d ever even had any.

“Hey, baby…”

She hummed again, but he could tell she wasn’t really present. He slowly sat down on the bed next to her, legs crossed just like hers until his right knee and arm were touching her left ones.

“What’s wrong?”

She kept looking at the card in her hand. It had a little Christmas tree on it. There were dozens of others spread out on the bed, all with various designs and motifs.

“Did you know I was the first grandchild to be born on my dad’s side?”

Her voice was scratchy, but it never wavered.

“My grandmother and her older sister lived in houses next to each other. I never made the distinction between the two. It wasn’t Grandma’s house and Aunt Grace’s house. It was Grandma and Auntie’s house. For ten years, I was the only grandchild. And Aunt Grace always treated me like I was a blessing.”

He could see her eyes were starting to get red, and he sighed internally. This was going to be a bad one. Because it just hit for her.

Six months ago, her Aunt Grace had been diagnosed with dementia. Arthur was there when she learned the news. He was prepared for screaming, and crying, and having to hold her broken pieces together with his bare arms.

But all she did was smile and say, “it’s alright, no one lives forever, this was bound to happen at some point”.

Arthur had been waiting for the fallout ever since.

“After we moved to Monaco, she’d send me cards every year. For my birthday, Christmas, Easter, International Children’s Day… I was a kid but I knew I wanted to keep them all. And I did.”

He looked at the cards spread out in front of her.

“I called Grandma today to see if I could say hi to Auntie… See how she’s doing. I guess I must have caught her during a bad day cause… It took almost half an hour of us talking for her to remember me. I get it, you know? I’m far away, she doesn’t see me very often, her health’s deteriorating… of course it’s gonna get harder and harder to remember me but… It’s only ever taken a few minutes. It never took this long.”

She fiddled with the card in her hands, eyes full of tears.

“So, I thought… Since I was missing her, I could re-read the cards she sent me over the years. I mean sure, the last one she sent me was when I was fifteen and that was seven years ago, but… Still.”

She sniffed, voice starting to crack now.

“So I read them and… I forgot how she used to sign them… Every time, without fail…”

She opened the card and at the bottom were the nine words that made Arthur draw in a sharp breath.

“Love from your Aunt Grace, who never forgets you. I forgot she used to do this. It started off as a joke cause I was a five-year-old kid who was worried my aunt would forget to wish me happy birthday cause I was moving to a new country. But she kept doing it. Kept reminding me that no matter the distance, she’d always be there for me. Love from your Aunt Grace, who never forgets you.”

Her breath hitched as the first tear started to fall.

“What kind of— fucking sick and twisted— awful, awful shit— some kind of cosmic joke?”

She hiccuped her way through half-formed sentences, trying and failing to voice out what was in her head, and he just pulled her to him. He tucked her head into his chest, arms coming around her shoulder, one hand still firmly in the back of her hair.

“It’s alright, mon coeur, just let it all out.”

He’d heard her cry before, of course. (Y/n) was an emotional person, she cried at everything: movies, songs, those cheesy Christmas commercials. He was used to seeing her cry, to comforting her through it.

Never like this, though. Never these full-body sobs, or hiccuping, half-choked-off screams. Never felt her clutch at him with the full force of her body, like she was worried he’d disappear, knuckles turning white and nails digging into his flesh. Never felt her cry for ten, twenty, thirty minutes, until her body exhausted itself and she just fell asleep.

She was limp in his arms now, breaths still coming out unevenly, tears leaking out of her eyes for minutes more, still.

Arthur didn’t know what to do. What do you say to a person going through something like that? What can you say? 

“Her suffering will end soon”? “At least she lived a full life”? “She doesn’t have to remember you to love you”? 

What bullshit.

He didn’t know what to say. He was pretty sure (Y/n) didn’t even know what she wanted to hear. All he could do was hold her as she slept, wipe away her tears, and make sure she knew how much he loved her.

He laid her down on the bed, covered her up so she wouldn’t be cold, and put the letters on her nightstand.

He might not know what to say, but he could at least make her some soup for when she woke up.

—

“Thur?” 

It was well past sunset when she came into the kitchen, dressed in his favourite hoodie and wearing her comfortable fuzzy pants. Her face was still puffy from all the crying, and her eyes had that vacant look in them, but she was there.

“Hey, mon ange, how are you feeling?”

She shrugged, staring at the pot he was stirring.

“What are you making?”

He turned off the hob and took out two bowls.

“Chicken noodle soup. Figured we could eat this while watching a Barbie movie, something to make you feel better.”

She nodded.

“Wanna get settled on the couch and put on the movie?”

She nodded again, still a bit absent, and he took the toasted garlic bread slices out of the oven. He put everything on the tray along with some chilled water, and made his way to the living room, where Barbie of Swan Lake was just beginning.

It took her the entirety of the movie to finish her food, but Arthur was just glad she did. She didn’t like to eat when she was sad, said it made her feel weird, so this was quite the accomplishment.

Neither of them moved, even as the end credits ran. He just sat there, holding her, as she stared blankly at the screen.

“Do you want me to get you a flight home?”

She straightened up.

“What?”

“To see your aunt, spend some time with her.”

She shook her head.

“No, no… I have uni, and my job, I can’t just leave.”

He kept his eyes on her.

“No one would fault you for taking a semester off. And I have more than enough money that your job shouldn’t be a concern, not when it’s about something like this.”

She sighed, coming back down to lay in his arms. He held her tightly, running his fingers through her hair.

“There’s a part of me that wants to, you know. But she’s only getting worse. Grandma said she spends most of her time just looking outside or completely zoned out, with only a few hours where she acts more or less normally. It’s like she’s there but at the same time…not. 

“As much as I want to spend all my time with her, I don’t want to remember her as a barely functioning human. I want to keep the good memories. And I know she’d never forgive me if she knew I was neglecting my studies because of her.”

She paused, but he didn’t speak, knowing more was coming.

“I feel like a horrible person, though. And selfish. Like, she’s dying and I’m pissed at her for forgetting me. And my whole family’s pitching in to keep her company but I don’t wanna see her outside of facetimes on her good hours cause I don’t want that image of her to overtake the good memories. She’s always been such a beacon of light and happiness, and now I can’t bring myself to be around her when she’s weak. I’m a horrible person.”

He shook his head and tightened his hold on her.

“No, you’re not.”

“I am, though. I’m supposed to be helping her. To call every day, regardless of her mood so I can still see her.”

He sighed.

“Baby… Look, I know you feel guilty, but you can’t sacrifice your own mental health for anyone. Not even her.”

He felt her tears start to dampen her shirt, and simply held her tighter.

“I just… I don’t know how to deal with this. I knew she’d be gone eventually but I never thought she’d go so soon, let alone like this…”

Arthur couldn’t help but think back to his father. He never wanted anyone else to have to go through what he did, mourning someone who wasn’t yet gone, let alone her.

“Have you thought about therapy? Or, well, grief counselling?”

She didn’t answer.

“I went to it about three months into Papa’s diagnosis. Kept going for a few years after. I still have Dr Claire’s number.”

There was a long pause in which he didn’t dare speak. He just stared at the pendulum wall clock (Y/n) found at a flea market when they first moved in, watching the brass circle go back and forth.

“Did it help?”

She sounded hesitant, quiet. So unlike herself.

“It did. She’s great, honestly, helped me understand a bunch of things and deal with the pain of losing my father, the drawn-out mourning of someone who wasn’t even gone yet. The weekly sessions were a big help.”

She was silent for a little while longer.

“Okay…” 

—

She was staring at the pale yellow house like it would eat her alive. The whole drive there, she hadn’t stopped fidgeting.

“Hey, bébé…”

He squeezed her hand to get her attention, and she turned her frightened eyes back to him.

“I’m proud of you. It’s hard to ask for help, and I’m so so proud you did. I’ll be waiting for you right here, and we can go get ice cream right after the session, okay?”

She bit her lips nervously.

“Promise?”

“Promise. Je t’aime.”

She leaned in for a kiss and he felt her relax the longer it went on.

“I love you too.”

And as he saw her enter Dr Claire’s office, he could only hope the pain would become more manageable. But either way, he’d be there for her. No matter what.

before i sign off, i just wanted to say that if you're going through something like this, or if you're in a bad spot and you just wanna talk, my asks and dms are always open for you guys. anyway that's enough feelings out of me for today.

don't forget to comment and reblog, and keep your eye out for more stuff coming soon!

-Love, Miah <3

Formula One RI Taglist

@aykxz98

[samsayswhatever]

Desire & Identity in The White Lotus s3

An important theme this season is how our desires tie into our identities, and how holding onto these idealistic mental representations of ourselves we are doing a grave disservice to our actual selves.

Every character in this show has a unique and interesting connection to desire as it relates to identity. But my favorite four characters right now are Frank, Jaclyn, Lochlan, and Saxon. They are all in their own stages of parsing what they want out of life, and who they are as people. Below I go into my thoughts on each of them.

I think Frank's asian-girl monologue pretty clearly shows this theme. He desired them so much that it became such a fundamental part of his identity that he couldn't distinguish between the two. And although that was an insane conversation, I think it's very interesting to see how he approached his identity crisis. He cut out alcohol and sex, pushing away his desires to see what's left of his identity without them.

Jaclyn is also going through an identity crisis. She desires to be fun, young and hot and that was her identity for a long time with seemingly no issues. Now that she's getting older it's hitting her. She may have even married that young guy to keep a grip on her sense of self. But without him she has decided to sleep with Valentin, who she has hyped up as the "fun, young and hot" guy in her mind.

Lochlan starts off the show talking to Saxon about he doesn't know what he wants, and his actions show he doesn't really know who he is. He desires to be like his siblings, but he's not sure which one at the beginning. He decided to try out Saxon's identity by going to the full moon party in search of all the things Saxon told him to want, like sex and respect. However, as the kiss shows, desiring to be like someone and desiring someone can be fine line.

Saxon starts the show thinking he knows exactly who he is and what he wants. He's his fathers son, he likes working, he likes working out and protien shakes, he doesn't do drugs, he's a simple cishet dude bro looking for a hook up, and the list goes on. But this week every single element of his identity has been attacked. He's been denied his desires; denied his phone, knowing whats going on with his father and at work. He was temporarily denied his blender. No girls have even kissed him let alone fucked him, he did drugs, and now he's kissing not only his sibling - but a boy. His sense of self is being broken down piece by piece. And I'm very excited to see what we find under the rubble.

[manish1942-blog]

Sir Greetings with Regards 🙏🙏

💐💐🌹🌹💐💐🌹🌹

May God Bless You with Health, Prosperity, immense Success.and Lots Of Happiness .

Sir, I am a Big fan of You and Your films, You and Your Amazing Acting have Impressed Me a lot.

I have been a Big fan of Yours since Childhood and have been for more than 45 Years.

I have Never had such Devotion, such Passion for Anyone Other than You in My entire life.

Sir for Me, You are Another form of God whom I Worship in My Heart.

Sir, there is Really No Description of Your Greatness.

Sir You are Our Inspiration.

Sir Everything Pales In Comparison to Your Aura.✨✨✨✨✨

Sir, there is No One who is not Inspired by You.

Sir, Nothing is More Important to us than Your Respect.

Sir, I have been sending You Messages On Your Blog , X (Twitter) , Facebook, Disqus for quite some time, but I am Sorry that I did not get any Reply from You.

Sir, what is lacking in My Devotion that You are not able to show Me kindness .

Sir, I have Only One request to You, Please give Your Blessings by follow Me Back and make Me a part of Your ABEF family for which I will be Very Grateful to You throughout My life.

Sir I Wish that We will Always Remain Blessed with Your Blessings.

🙏🙏🆎♥️🆎♥️💐💐🌹🌹

My Wishes are Always with You

With Love & Regards Forever

🆎♥️🆎♥️

Manish Mishra

@Manishm1942

Patna

Twitter X Account: @manishm1942

DAY 6244

Jalsa, Mumbai Mar 21, 2025/Mar 22 Fri/Sat 2:25am

YEEEEAAAAHHHHHHH !!!

HOOO HOOOOOOO ..

Abhishek Best Actor for "I Want to Talk"

https://x.com/SrBachchan/status/1903073547465134443

My blessings and love abound ..

शुभकामनाएँ बहुत ही छोटा शब्द लगता है, अभिषेक को जो मान्यता मिली है !

गर्व है मुझे, और सदा प्रार्थनाएँ की इसी तरह हर तरह की मान्यता मिलती रहे !

पुरुस्कार के लिये माँ बाबूजी का स्नेह और आशीर्वाद, और हम सभी इफ़ की और से मंगल कामनाएँ !

Talent and hard work never fail ..

Recognition is acknowledged , but the best reward is the recognition of your own work and talent ..

In Abhishek's work it is always seen that spirit of forgetting himself , but living in the character he portrays ..

May this be just the beginning of many more to come ..

Amitabh Bachchan

[ulysses-s-wishes]

God, everything about the Fox-Raven brawl is sooo important to me!!!

(I’m basically just about to rehash everything that happened, there is no analysis to be had)

Andrew’s loss of stability (which probably destroyed him confidence-wise) being the thing to save his life?

The fact that Williams was the same striker who fouled him in the finals match? (and the officials had the audacity to just red card him for a repeated offense which Neil called “one of the worst offenses in the game”)

Aaron defending his brother

Aaron and Matt running to help Andrew and being all in on that fight (especially because of what Matt said to Neil in the finals match: “I'm the backliner," he insisted when Neil opened his mouth. "It's my job to defend the goal, okay?") Defense defending each other, guarding the goal being their job as part of the game and as teammates!

Neil running to Andrew anyway, in spite of Matt saying that he should let them take care of it (I know that was months ago for them, but still)

Neil outrunning the worst of the hit! (And Lane being surprised that he wasn’t in the same spot even though running to safety is like his whole thing)

Kevin going for Neil immediately. Kevin going for Neil immediately!

The fact that Kevin was a Raven which means he was a brawler. We didn’t see it much in the original books, both because of his injury and Andrew’s protection, but he’s generally not afraid to get his hands (right hand) dirty and getting a glimpse of that was so exciting. He is used to the fighting - presumably he wasn’t as big on the fouling because he’s busy being good - but he is comfortable with a fight.

Dan rushing to help Kevin! They’re a team!!

Kevin immediately going to make sure Neil is okay after Dan takes over for him

Dan continuing to fight the guy even after the refs have pulled them apart -

and only stopping when Matt drags her away to check on Neil? And the fact that they’re a couple, but they’re also teammates in a violent sport so he’s comfortable manhandling her out of the situation (not for her sake obviously) but to go see to their team

Andrew with a broken collarbone taking a detour to choke Lane and it taking all of the officials and Wymack to get him off of her

Wymack grabbing him (because he’s presumably the only one who won’t get stabbed for touching him) and deciding that the best plan is to just carry him around the court in a headlock (much like a backpack leash for your wayward child) (and then essentially depositing him on the floor next to his boyfriend)

And obviously before that when Wymack (a grown man) was being dragged across the court by holding onto the shirt of a 5’ twenty year old with a severe injury

Neil, after suffering a blow that “took most of the fight out of him” still capable of kicking his attacker so that she missed a killing blow and fell over (and keeping enough fight to hold her at bay until Kevin showed up)

(also wasn’t Aaron standing next Neil while Abby assessed him? Doctorhood? brotherly-in-law concern?)

God they’re all so insane individually and they’re such good teammates and they’re so familiar to me that seeing it from an outside perspective is as devastating as it is jarring

[elainsgirl]

I saw this one post ranting about how people love Emerie but bash gwyn because of Azriel. Most elain fans don’t hate gwyn because there’s not much to hate about gwyn. She’s not a main character - as such we didn’t get to see any of her flaws. I know many people bash Feyre for being too stubborn/immature, elain for being too passive/meek, Nesta for being too aggressive/mean but it’s their flaws that make them such interesting characters. Of course SJM can always expand on gwyns character and further her development in future books, but as of right now she’s kinda one-dimensional and was only written to serve in Nesta’s character growth which makes it so easy to use her character as a self-insert.

I think most people are put off by gwyn because of a select few who prop her up by tearing other female characters (particularly elain and Feyre) down. Gwyn can be nice without elain and Feyre being mean. Gwyn can be motherly and nurturing without elain being cold and Feyre being a bad mother. Gwyn can stand up for Nesta and be a good friend without Elain and Feyre being bad sisters. I rarely ever see headcanons/fics about Emerie being Nyx’s second mom and teaching Feyre how to parent, or Emerie yelling at elain for being a bad sister and scolding her for leading poor, little baby Lucien on - and yet I’ve seen countless about gwyn.

And honestly I don’t believe that the fandom likes Emerie more than gwyn at all. In fact, I would say that gwyn is probably more loved throughout the fandom than Emerie is - which is messed up in its own right. In my opinion Emerie, a POC and LGBT character, rarely gets the same amount of recognition as gwyn, who’s a white cis character.

The only reason most elriel might *hate* Gwyn and I say that in an exaggerated way bcs annoyance is more the word, is due to how her stans have shoved Gwyn down our throats ever since acosf. How in every situation, they would use Gwyn to tare down Elain and show how much better and amazing Gwyn was. How Gwyn deserved Az and Elain didnt, etc etc. Other then that, she is just irrelevant. She’s Nesta’s friend, a nice character that was part of acosf and thats pretty much it. There is nothing to hate Gwyn herself for. She’s not done anything wrong, she isn’t a polarising character nor is she complex. She’s just there. The perfect bff. Perfect way to put it anon, Gwyn is one-dimensional. Whereas characters like the sisters or even batboys have flaws that make them complex -> they’re more interesting to read about and im sure as an author, to write about. Yh sure, Mass can “expand” on Gwyns character but thats a “maybe” as of now Gwyn is just a standard character thats perfect for self-inserting with - which many of her stans do.

Gwynriels are the ones that made Gwyns character all about Azriel. Poor girl showed 0 romantic interest in him. It was her “stans” who forcefully interwined Gwyn and Az together. Instead of appreciating and focusing on her joruney during acosf - they’ve made discussions surrounding Gwyns character be related to Azriel and how can she be the perfect/right Li for him. How can her trauma serve the next book. It wasnt elriels who did this. Im sure there are some elriels who are toxic and disgusting with their hate for gwyn but thats not the norm. In a general sense, no one hates Gwyn bcs of Azriel. He was ready to risk his life for Elain and when it came to Gwyn he wS more concerned with another redhead…there’s no reason for any elriel to feel threatened by Gwyn. I think - in my personal experience- we’re just heavily annoyed with her stans who have put so much false importance onto this new side character over characters that have been apart of the OG series.

YES, Gwyn can be all those things: Loving, funny, protective etc WITHOUT the need to villanise Elain and Feyre. The amount of times I see Gwyn stans say how Gwyn will put Elain/Feyre in their place for how they treated Nesta or how Gwyn will be Nyx’s favourite over his literal auntie is crazy. Its bcs they dont care about Emerie enough to make her a main character. Gwyn however they need to be a main character- part of the main cast. Thats why they insert her into the IC dynamic and have her interacting with all these important people so she can then be important and integral to the story. So the narrative can focus on Gwyn as it does with the inner circle. Obviously, Azriels Li will be part of his family so they need to include Gwyn with the IC.

whoever is claiming Emerie is liked more then Gwyn is wilding. They’re straight up lying, anyone part of the fandom knows how much Gwyn has been hyped up and how loved she is. Emerie does not get the same recognition that Gwyn gets and yh she should, emerie was a pretty amazing character in Acosf. Yet ofc the white woman would get more popular, they’re also giving the illyrian plot to Gwyn and her story instead of Emerie’s who it belongs too.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Unauthorized Documentary 1.5

Summary: Shenanigans, hi-jinks, Shemar being better(?)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff?

Warnings/Includes: pranks, dumb Matthew, Shemar is superior

Word count: 2.3k

a/n: he's backkkk lol seriously i love writing these

main masterlist

Fuck. Another Episode.

The camera opens on the breakroom. Cast and crew members sit at various tables, mid-coffee sip, mid-bite, mid-trying to have a peaceful moment before dealing with Matthew Gray Gubler.

Then, a loud throat-clearing.

The camera swings to Matthew, standing on top of a chair, hands clasped before him like some kind of enlightened prophet. The room collectively groans.

“Friends,” he begins, his voice rich with self-importance. “Colleagues. Unfortunate souls who have suffered my presence.” He pauses, letting the words hang, scanning the room as if expecting nods of understanding. There are none.

“I come to you today, a changed man.”

AJ leans in, whispering to you, “Didn’t he do this last month?”

You nod, barely suppressing a smirk.

The camera cuts back to Matthew, still deeply immersed in his speech. “I will be better. I will be stronger. I will—”

Shemar, arms crossed from the back of the room, cuts in. “Did you actually do anything different, or are we just supposed to pretend this means something?”

Matthew visibly falters, blinking rapidly caught off guard. He opens his mouth, closes it, and tilts his head as though re-evaluating everything.

Then, slowly, he recovers. “…It’s about the gesture, Shemar.”

Shemar scoffs. “The gesture?”

Matthew, dead serious: “Yes.”

Shemar: “Dude, if I walk up to someone, slap them in the face, then hold a press conference about how I’m the real victim, does that count as a ‘gesture’?”

Matthew gasps, offended beyond belief. “That is so unfair. When have I ever slapped anyone? Metaphorically.”

AJ looks on with an unamused face and deadpans, “Yesterday. When you ‘accidentally’ threw that script at my head.”

Matthew waves a hand dismissively. “That was an artistic outburst.”

The blonde woman rolls her eyes, “You literally yelled ‘catch, loser’ before doing it.”

Matthew deflates slightly but powers through, reaching into his pocket. “Which is why I’ve prepared these!”

He dramatically pulls out a handful of handmade friendship bracelets.

The camera zooms in. They’re horrific. Some have letters spelling out questionable phrases like “SORRY 4 CHAOS”, “GUBLER IS LOVE”, and simply “FAVORITE”. One is just beads and a single dried bean.

Lola leans in, squinting. “Is that a… kidney bean?”

Matthew looks deeply proud. “It’s a symbol, Lola.”

She stares at him. “A symbol of what, exactly?”

Matthew falters. “You know… forgiveness.”

Shemar snatches a bracelet from Matthew’s hand, inspects it, and reads it aloud. “‘To Shemar, The Hot One. Love, MGG.’”

The entire room erupts in laughter.

Matthew snatches it back. “Whoops. That one wasn’t supposed to be in circulation.”

The camera zooms in on your face. You look directly into the lens, like a character in The Office, completely done.

—

After his, frankly, atrocious attempt at an apology, Matthew takes a new approach to get back in the good graces of the cast and crew. 

Matthew’s method acting phase was, to put it lightly, a nightmare for everyone involved. It started innocently enough—he just refused to wear anything that wasn’t a cardigan. At first, people thought it was a joke. But by day five, when he showed up in three layered cardigans despite it being 85 degrees outside, the concern was real.

Then came the statistics.

“Matthew, are you eating lunch?” You asked, expecting a normal response.

Matthew didn’t even look up from the book he wasn’t actually reading. “Did you know that 62% of actors refuse method acting because it’s inconvenient to their daily life? But I, as Spencer, must remain committed—”

You blinked at him. “Okay, that’s a no.”

The worst part? He wouldn’t break character. Ever.

Cut to you, just trying to order coffee from the on-set vendor like a normal human being.

The barista was already waiting for your order when Matthew, standing beside you, adjusted his fake glasses and cleared his throat.

“Actually,” he said in full Spencer Reid voice, “caffeine increases dopamine transmission by an average of 35%, which is why—”

You did not blink. You did not move. You just stared at him.

“…I’m just trying to get a latte, man.”

The barista, clearly terrified, did not intervene.

By the time week two hit, Shemar had had enough. He devised a plan.

“Man,” Shemar said loudly one day on set, standing just within earshot of Matthew but pretending not to notice him. “Derek Morgan is just so damn cool.”

Matthew’s back was turned, but you saw him physically tense.

“The confidence,” Shemar continued. “The swagger. The way he’s the absolute best part of the show.”

Matthew’s hands curled into fists. His breathing got heavier. You could see the war happening in his brain.

Then—

“I MEAN—” he blurted out, spinning around wildly. “I am fully committed to Reid, but also, yeah, Morgan’s pretty cool—wait. Damn it.”

You and Shemar erupted in laughter as Matthew gasped in horror, realizing his method acting had crumbled before his eyes.

Cut to Matthew later that day, begrudgingly sipping coffee in a hoodie instead of a cardigan.

The method-acting phase was over.

—

Tension between Matthew and Shemar had been simmering ever since the method-acting fiasco, and now? Now, it had boiled over into an all-out battle for dominance.

It started as a small argument over who was more loved on set, but within minutes, it had escalated into a full-scale, no-holds-barred competition to determine the true favorite of the cast and crew.

Everyone immediately gathered around. This was better than an actual episode of Criminal Minds.

Challenge #1: Who Can Carry More Things at Once?

Shemar, confident as ever, didn’t even hesitate. He casually picked up six chairs, the entire coffee cart, and someone’s backpack. He made it look effortless, strolling across the set like he was on a catwalk.

The crew cheered. Someone whistled.

Matthew, refusing to back down, stepped forward, determination in his eyes.

“I can do that,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing a single folding chair and attempting to lift it dramatically over his head.

His arms immediately started shaking. His legs wobbled.

“I—I got it,” he wheezed.

He did not have it.

Cue immediate collapse.

The chair clattered to the floor as Matthew went down like a sack of flour, landing on his back with a loud oof.

Shemar stood over him, arms still full of furniture, sipping his coffee. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

Point: Shemar.

Challenge #2: The Fan Love Test

Shemar pulled out his phone, opened Instagram, and snapped a quick selfie. No effort. No filter. Just pure, effortless charisma.

Within minutes:

50,000 likes.

Hundreds of comments.

People begging him to marry them.

Matthew, meanwhile, had a vision.

He donned an old-timey hat, adjusted the lighting, and filmed a deep, avant-garde video where he dramatically monologued about "the nature of existence", pacing back and forth in a dimly lit hallway.

When he posted it, the results were… less impressive.

50 likes.

30 confused comments.

One person asked if he was okay.

Matthew stared at his phone, devastated. “They don’t get my art.”

Shemar looked over his shoulder, glanced at the post, and snorted. “Bro, you’re literally filming like you just got kicked out of a 1920s speakeasy.”

Point: Shemar.

Challenge #3: Who Can Make You Laugh First?

Shemar went first.

He didn’t even try. He just said literally anything, and you immediately laughed. Because let’s be honest, Shemar was naturally funny.

Matthew was not pleased.

“I see what’s happening here,” he muttered. “Fine. I’ll have to go bigger.”

Then, without warning, he launched into full-blown slapstick mode.

No lead-up. No explanation.

One second he was standing there, the next—he tripped over absolutely nothing and faceplanted straight into craft services.

Food flew everywhere. The sound was deafening.

The crew gasped.

You? You lost it.

You were laughing so hard you had to bend over, clutching your stomach, tears streaming down your face.

“Okay, okay,” you gasped between laughs. “Matthew wins that one.”

Shemar, standing beside you, deadpan as hell: “Not fair. He’s naturally a walking disaster.”

Point: Matthew.

Final Score:

Shemar: 2 Matthew: 1 (but, honestly, at what cost?)

As the crew dispersed, Shemar clapped Matthew on the back. “Nice try, bro. But let’s be real—I own this set.”

Matthew, still covered in food, sighed dramatically. “This isn’t over.”

Then, in true Matthew Gray Gubler fashion, he turned on his heel and walked straight into a door.

You burst into laughter again.

Shemar shook his head. “Man, you really need a handler.”

Cut to you, his handler.

—

Matthew had been humiliated one too many times. The failed challenges, the method acting disaster, the relentless Shemar superiority complex—he needed to reclaim his dignity. And what better way than through a perfectly executed prank?

Or at least, that was the plan.

The target? You.

The prank? Simple. Switch your coffee with decaf.

It was supposed to be harmless. A mild inconvenience at best.

It was not.

The camera cuts to you, mid-morning, sipping from your usual coffee cup. Your eyes are sharp, focused on your work—until, suddenly, they go wide.

Something is wrong.

You pause, staring at the cup like it’s personally betrayed you. You sniff it, take another slow sip, then visibly tense.

The room goes silent.

The camera cuts to Matthew, lurking nearby, watching nervously. He shifts on his feet. He knows he did something.

Then—you snap.

Cut to you storming across the room, coffee cup clenched in your fist, shaking violently.

“You think this is a joke?” you hiss, voice low and dangerous.

The camera cuts to Matthew, now visibly terrified. He steps back, hands up in surrender. “I—I didn’t think you’d notice so fast.”

You slam the empty cup onto a table.

“No caffeine?” you breathe, voice shaking with rage. “No. Caffeine? You think I can deal with your chaotic ass with no caffeine??”

Shemar, watching from the sidelines, murmurs, “Oh, he done fucked up.”

Matthew takes one look at your face and does what any logical man would do—

He runs.

—

Later that day, Matthew walks onto set feeling a little on edge. He hasn’t seen you since The Incident. He’s convinced you cooled off during the day, and after he got you a real coffee.

He is wrong.

Very, very wrong.

As he approaches his trailer, something feels off. The air is too still. There’s an uneasy silence lingering over everything.

He opens the door.

And freezes.

His trailer is completely empty.

No furniture. No decorations. No clothes. Nothing.

It looks like it’s been raided by the FBI. Or worse—Shemar.

The only thing left? A single note taped to the wall.

It reads:

"Revenge is a dish best served hot. Unlike my coffee."

Matthew lets out an actual scream.

Cut to you, watching from a distance, sipping your fresh, fully caffeinated coffee with pure satisfaction.

Shemar pats you on the back. “Damn. Cold-blooded.”

—

The day had been long. For Matthew, excruciatingly so.

The fallout from The Coffee Incident™ still loomed over him like a storm cloud. His trailer was still empty, his pride still wounded, and worst of all—you hadn’t spoken to him all day.

Not once.

And that? That was terrifying.

Now, as the day wound down, and with all of the cameras packed away, Matthew found himself standing a few feet away from you, nervously fidgeting. You were gathering your things, calm and eerily composed.

Too composed.

He swallowed hard, hesitating before finally working up the courage to approach you.

“Hey, baby…” he said hesitantly, dragging out the words in the most cautious tone imaginable.

You didn’t look up. Didn’t acknowledge him. Just zipped up your bag.

Matthew’s stomach twisted.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

“Babe?” he tried again, his voice slightly more desperate now. “You’re… you’re not still mad about the whole coffee thing, right?”

Silence.

His palms sweated.

He laughed awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I mean… you knew it was a joke, right? A totally harmless, playful, innocent—”

You finally looked at him.

Just looked.

No smile. No expression. Just a long, slow, unreadable stare.

Matthew felt actual chills.

He took an instinctive step back. “Babe?”

You sighed, finally speaking. “I don’t know, Matthew,” you said coolly, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Was it a joke?”

Matthew’s throat went dry. He blinked rapidly, a nervous laugh bubbling out. “I—I mean, yeah! Of course! I wanted, uh, a real reaction, so I didn’t tell you, but like… I didn’t think your reaction was, um, real real…”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Are you sure about that?” you asked, voice calm, steady, but somehow worse than if you had yelled.

Matthew’s brain short-circuited.

He wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

“…Yes?” he squeaked.

You hummed thoughtfully, then reached out—just a simple movement—and Matthew flinched.

“Oh my God,” you laughed suddenly, shaking your head. “You’re actually scared of me.”

Matthew, offended but still terrified, defended himself, “No, I’m not!”

You leaned in just a little, lowering your voice. ���Then why are you sweating?”

Matthew instantly wiped his forehead. “I—I run hot, you know that.”

You grinned, finally smiling again, and suddenly, Matthew felt even more uneasy.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, patting his cheek lightly before stepping past him toward the door. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

He should’ve felt relieved.

He didn’t.

“…You do?” he asked slowly, watching you with deep suspicion.

You turned back, walking backward toward the exit, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Of course,” you said sweetly.

Then, before disappearing out the door, you added, casually, almost offhand, “…But you’ll never know when I’ll get you back.”

The door clicked shut.

Matthew stood frozen, staring after you, his entire soul leaving his body.

“…Oh, I’m dead,” he whispered to himself.

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

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005 @asobeeee