#let me just objectify these men real quick

[ithinkabouttzu]

omg feel free to ignore but can you do BoB headcanons of having a female medic s/o with big boobs 🙏

Easy co.’s reaction to having a nurse s/o with big boobs

genre: Fluff; suggestive

warnings: Language, suggestion (sorry guys)

description: Easy company’s men reaction to you (their s/o) being their nurse and having big boobs.

a/n: Hey!! Sorry I totally didn’t see the medic part and I accidentally wrote it as nurse i’m so sorry 😭 Anywho, just a reminder that this isn’t any hate towards any itty-bitty-titty community at all! (love you guys for real!) Also, some of these might seem like they’re sexualizing the reader but please don’t take it that way, it’s all supposed to be about love!! Hope you enjoy reading <3

Taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @ronsparky @samwinchesterslostshoe @executethyself35 @linhkhanhcps @1waveshortofashipwreck @grumpy-liebgott @barbeygirl (if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!)

Dick Winters: - He tries to be the most respectful, it’s inappropriate to look at your body that way and he really respects you.

- But he also is fighting himself from blushing when he sees how your figure looks in your nurses uniform

- He finds you beautiful regardless though, no matter what your chest size is (even tho he’s had a very hard time trying not to stare)

Lewis Nixon: - his eyes get really big when he sees you in your nurse uniform, your cleavage out almost perfectly.

- His throat becomes dry, he feels the urge to drink water, lots of it from his recent thirst, but it seems the only thing he’s thirsty for is you.

- After seeing only men for the past months, and you being the first women he sees in the hospital, he almost dies flat out and he would be completely happy to do so

Carwood Lipton: - He doesn’t even notice at first, he only looks when you have to reach across his body in order to find a good vein.

- His face gets so red, one because he’s guilty for looking, another because he’s absolutely in awe of the beautiful things in front of him

- He still tries to not objectify you, but he truly finds you beautiful in general. He can’t help but get goosebumps at the thought of seeing you again

Joe Toye: - Man when he sees you in that nurses dress, after almost a year of seeing only the men around him, he gets so close to losing it

- He literally starts drooling at the mouth whenever he sees you, you’re like a dream come true, an answer to every single one of his prayers.

- When you do get close to him it’s like he can’t breathe, your body only clouds his mind with unholy thoughts and the dying urge to feel your pretty chest. He’s absolutely desperate for you and getting to know you for the rest of his stay at the hospital.

Joe Liebgott: - NOW WE ALL KNOW THIS MAN IS HAVING THE TIME OF HIS LIFE When he sees you, he actually does lose it, a big smile rising onto his face as though the girl of his dreams is now assigned as his nurse

- He’s an absolute slut for you. Like he’s gonna try his absolute best to make you his, whatever he has to do, he’ll do it. He can’t help but flirt with you any chance he can get.

- When it’s getting close to the end of his stay, he’s dreading it. Only wishing to see you everyday. He’ll practically beg to see you again sometime, or if he can write to you. And being good friends you say yes, making him the happiest man alive.

Bill Guarnere: - He’s probably the biggest flirt you’ve had as a patient. The look on his face is the equivalence of a kid in a candy store for the first time. He’s quick to introduce himself to you, bringing out his best charm for you

- “You always walk around looking like that? It’s killin’ me, doll, and you know it” He would whisper in your ear as you take care of him. It’s hard not to give in when he’s so enticing like this, his voice sending you chills when he talks to you so romantically.

- He’d promise he’d write to you once he gets better, making sure that once the war was over, he’d find you again and take you out the right way.

George Luz: -He gets so smiley when he sees you, he doesn’t mean to stare at your chest, in his defense your chest was kinda staring at him first, your uniform was a bit tight in the upper half making you a bit more revealed, but he didn’t mind one bit.

-He was actually rather joyful, whenever he saw you, you brought his hopes up a bunch. It always made him so happy to see you. Just being around a women and getting to be taken care of by you was a dream.

- He loves every second that he has with you, I could definitely see him being quite smitten with you after you taking such good care of him.

Eugene Roe: - He gets super shy around you and finds it pretty hard to make eye contact for the longest. He never thought he’d be the one to end up hurt, especially when he was supposed to be the one to help people get better, but being around you makes things a lot better.

- Sometimes he’d like to imagine that you guys are together while you’re taking care of him and when he’s really sad. just a lovely girlfriend taking care of her sick boyfriend is what he sees in his head (even tho he knows that’s not the case)

- When you ask if he’d like for you to write letters, he almost finds it impossible that a gorgeous girl like you, would want him to be your man. He’s estatic and would say yes immediately.

Bull Randleman: - It’s love at first sight for him. “Wow” is all he can say under his breath when he sees you for the first time. It’s an amazing sight.

- In the most non-offensive way possible, you’re like a wet dream come true to him. A sweet, pretty girl, with the prettiest tits known to man, taking care of him while he’s hurt.

- It’s like a dream for the rest of his time there. He waits and counts down the hours until you take care of him again, he’s just so happy to be in your presence.

Floyd Talbert: - After everything he’s endured the past months, you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. Literally a gift from God. You and your amazing top half mesmerizing him by the way you do practically anything.

- He looks forward to every-time he sees you. And when he does he’s flirting with you nonstop. “You know, when all this is over with, I would love to get to know you better.”

- He’s gotta a staring problem really bad, he tries to stop, but he can’t help it. You’re the first woman he’s laid eyes on in so long and he just can’t get enough of your body.

Skip Muck: - “Christ in heaven, you’re the best thing i’ve seen my entire life” He says when you walk to his bed, urgent for your care. “How are you today beautiful? Do I need to fight any fellas for giving you a problem?” He’s very playful with you, but there’s only truth to his words.

- He thinks you’re so pretty though, he’s like a schoolgirl crushing on her teacher, anticipating for your arrival everyday, and being a pet to you everytime you are around.

- When his stay is ending, he finally confesses his feelings to you, letting you know how much he actually enjoys spending time with you, and how he would love to see you after the war.

Don Malarkey:- He’s like a little boy around you, so cheerful and happy. When he first met you he was struck by your pretty face, and its was no surprise that your chest was perfect too.

- He tries being respectful every time you’re around, but it’s hard not to steal a glance at your pretty chest every now and then. You never fail to send butterflies down his body when you get close to him too.

-He’s extra sweet to you always, calling you ma’am respectfully, asking if he can do anything for you despite his physical condition. He’s just very happy to have a positive energy like you around him.

Babe Heffron: - “My goodness, what have I done to deserve you” He says when he sees you walk over to him, it doesn’t even matter if he’s hurt, he can’t feel it anymore. Only thing he can feel is a burning desire for you.

- You’ll catch him staring towards you a lot, he doesn’t even try to hide his staring eyes. He is truly fascinated with you.

- When his stay gets cut short, he asks you if you’d like for him to write to you, it was the sweetest you’d ever saw him. When you said yes he would grab you in a hug and swing you around with joy.

Shifty Powers: - He’s the most respectful out of all the guys. He’s well aware of how perfect your chest is, but he’s not going out of his way to make you uncomfortable at all. He’s pretty mature about it.

- But he does find you beautiful, to him, your body is obviously amazing, but you are so much more to him then just a nice nurse with pretty tits. You’re amazing girl that he would love to know more of.

- He probably would tell you how he feels later on once his time there was up, it he would be super nice and respectful about it.

Frank Perconte: - He’s like a dog to a bone, absolutely enamored with you and your smokin’ body (as he would like to call it)

- “What a dame” He’d say under his breath, suddenly in the need of water by your nice looks. He’s definitely gotta staring problem (he really can’t help it 😭)

- “When all this is over with, you wanna come home with me, pretty girl?” He would flirt with you until he physically can’t anymore

Ronald Speirs: - He doesn’t want to give you a huge reaction, but if you could read his mind, you’d be surprised about the things he’d been thinking about….

- “Doll, do you know the effect that you leave on half of the guys in this place? I can’t tell you what all they’d do just to touch you”

- In all, he’s mesmerized by your body and the way you move. Even in the most basic moments, he just can’t help but watch you do your job.

Skinny Sisk: - “You’re my nurse, wow. Is it my lucky day or somethin’?” When he sees you, he’s so happy that you’re gonna be the one taking care of him

- He’s a big simp for you, if you need anything, someone to talk to, help (if he’s physically able) then he’s more then willing to do it.

- He’s so smiley and happy around you it’s so sweet!! He tries not to stare at your amazing rack but he thinks you’re the prettiest he’s ever seen.

Chuck Grant: - “Golly, am I in heaven?” He thinks you’re an absolute angel after all of the hell he’s seen. If good looks could kill, he’d be willing to die under your watch.

- He has to remind himself constantly than your eyes are “up there” instead of anything otherwise, but he can’t concentrate on anything when you’re in the room (for obvious reasons ofc)

- He’s well behaved on the most part though, just a sweet bby who loves your chest like it’s nothing LOL

Johnny Martin: - He actually feels so much better when he finds out you are gonna he his nurse. Christmas day came early for him (a pretty girl with nice tits was for sure on his list)

- “What are you doin’ here? Shouldn’t you be performing at some show or something, you’re too pretty to work” He doesn’t understand why you’re having to move a finger tbh, you’re too precious to him 😭

- “I had a nice time with you while I was here, if you ever wanna write to me, you can, doll” He honestly gets kinda sad when he knows he won’t be able to wake up to your pretty face (and tits) everyday.

David Webster: - Tbh you’re the real reason why he’s in the hospital for so damn long 🤣 like the moment he met you he just had to be around you at all times

- He stares a lot, and has a quite bit of dirty daydreams containing your chest and him 😭

- Honestly he didn’t even think he was a boobs guy until he met you, you really changed him for the better

Buck Compton: - He’s this emoji: 🤤, actually drooling at the mouth, you look so good to him.

- He’s never been happier to be in a hospital at the moment, your presence is enough to bring him back to full health tbh

- He’s super thankful in general that he has such a pretty and well rounded (see what I did there ) nurse taking care of him while he’s down

Thank you for your request! If you enjoyed, make sure to reblog or like! 🩷

[dr-futbol-blog]

Childhood's End

There sure are a lot of strapping young lads in this episode.

In Childhood's End (S01E06), we start sowing the seeds of jealousy that we find upon multiple instances both Sheppard and McKay express when it comes to the other's interest in a woman or a woman's interest in them (possibly this already started at the end of the previous episode with the handsy nurse; there Rodney was miffed, here Sheppard is miffed). Jealousy due to romantic rivalry between two men would make sense in a heteronormative context (women are paying more attention to my friend when they should be paying attention to me) but, uh. That is not and never will be the case with these two.

McKay mentions Samantha Carter at the outset and while he doesn't see the faces Sheppard pulls, we sure do. The thing is, McKay doesn't even say anything particularly incriminating. It's the mere tone of his voice when he mentions her name that Sheppard seems to pick up on.

Devil's advocate: Sheppard finds it distasteful that a fellow officer is being objectified. He finds 'locker room talk' crass, even though there's barely a hint of it here. Okay. But then he does this:

This lip thing is something that we see Sheppard do when ever he does not know how to deal with difficult emotions (a notable example is following the hug Elizabeth gives him after he survives a suicide mission in The Siege, Pt III). This is self-soothing behaviour.

The episode also starts with an example of something that I really don't like but which clearly stems from McKay's insecurity: indicating that he is of a superior intellect and that Sheppard is dumb ("I'm sorry: Yes, energy field good"). Yes, he also did that to Sam in the very beginning ("I have a weakness for dumb blondes"; let's preemptively insult the attractive person to take the sting off the inevitable rejection). He did actually already start this with Sheppard at the outset ("I knew that, of course. I'm just surprised that you did").

This is also one of the reasons I think 38 Minutes (S01E04) would have worked much better later on in the season: in it, we have another instance of McKay asserting his intellectual superiority over the others ("I apologise for being the only person who truly comprehends how screwed we are!") because he "reacts to certain doom a certain way" and Sheppard, being in the bind that he is, cuts him short real quick: "You've got to stop using your mouth and start using your brain!"

This is something that we return to time and again. McKay panics and starts going off on everyone around him focusing on all the wrong things, and Sheppard cuts through the fog to get his attention back to solving the problem.

In-universe, McKay is one of the smartest people alive. Some have argued even the smartest. According to Daniel Jackson, he could have won the Nobel Prize several times over. Yes. We later learn that Sheppard is of above-average intellect but obviously he is no match for Marty-Stu McKay because no one is.

Only, when it comes to strategy and strategic thinking, Sheppard is light years ahead of McKay.

This is a very good example of that: Sheppard is teaching McKay how to communicate on a mission. Be succinct, to the point, give only the information that is relevant. Clear communication and simplification of data is vital operation protocol, especially in scenarios of certain doom. Everyone knows that you're smarter than them my guy, he's just trying to keep you and everyone else unharmed.

This episode also marks the hilarious beginning of Sheppard's poor sense of direction. In fact, neither of them can keep a straight line with regards to orientation.

Sheppard can orient himself in the sky but not on land. McKay, as we later learn, cannot keep to a straight line on the ground or in the air.

In the episode, Keras and Sheppard bond real quick. The young village elder seems smitten. Good god, he looks Sheppard intensely in the eyes and says: "I’ll be honest with you, Sheppard. There’s nothing I’d like more than to spend more time talking with you… But it’s not possible." You know, like straight dudes do.

Sheppard also seems to like the boy just fine, although how much of his behaviour is designed simply to stop Keras from doing something he thinks is morally bankrupt is up in the air. They are sitting together, walking together, exchanging personal information.

There's also this:

Keras: Would you stand witness? Sheppard: Me? Well, what do I have to do? Keras: Just be there, as I prepare. We gather the strength from those close to us for the Sacrifice to come.

In the few brief moments they have spent together, they've apparently become close enough for him to ask Sheppard to witness his suicide ceremony. He even takes an arrow to the chest for this man he has just met.

What's real interesting, though, and which I'll return to in connection with Teyla's baby later is when Keras asks Sheppard whether he has any children. He responds: "Me? No. Not yet, anyway." Not yet. Not yet but he might want some one day.

The thing is, McKay's entire arc in this episode deals with him and how he is with children. He starts by being extremely annoyed by them like he's a big child himself. Ford tells the kids: "He's just upset because you're smarter than him." But by the end of the episode he has come to care for these children. He keeps them safe and protected, and makes sure that they haven't been hurt or traumatized by the ordeal. The persistence of these children changed him, and now he seems like he might make a great parent some day. And while they are antagonized by him, the kids also seem to really like him.

Now, what possible, possible reason could you have to bring up one character's desire for children in the future and showing what an excellent parent another character would make in the same episode? Hmm?

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Elf on the shelf and pedo on the net

Merry Christmas/Holidays, everyone!

So I think you know what this post is going to be about. The one comic, that has become a christmas tradition at hypocrisy's blog.

Released mere days before Christmas of 2016 -which Dobson likely considered ruined, because it was Trumps first Christmas after he won the election 2016- the comic shows two male stripers, with one pondering that the reason he joined the profession, may be related to some rather “unsavoury” kinks he developed as a result of a Christmas tradition.

Now being from Europe, I myself didn’t even know of the “Elf on the Shelf” until I saw this comic. Though a quick google search made me realize, why that was: The entire idea of putting an elf doll on the shelf to “watch over the kid” wasn’t even a thing until a children book came out in 2004, that promoted the idea. The real take off of the Elf being around the first half of the 2010s and since then having managed to creep its way into the popcultural subconscious.

Yeah, if you can’t tell, I am not really a fan of that thing, based on the designs I saw. Also the idea of “surveilling” your children to see if they are naughty or nice feels rather creepy. And I grew up in a culture that accepts the idea of good old Saint Nicolas and his henchman Rudolph/Krampus putting the bad ones into their place via spanking or worse.

However, Dobson managed to make the concept even creepier by virtue of relating it to a masturbation punchline. Which in turn makes you just ponder, what the heck is wrong with Dobson?

So, let us just dissect this thing quick, before it sours any positive Christmas mood.

First, Dobson supposedly did the comic, because in his opinion the “Elf on the Shelf” sends a strange message to kids…

And to be fair, a lot of kids seemingly hate the creepy little doll and “experts” have called it out at being psychologically damaging. Going so far as to say the toy “normalizes” the concept of constant surveillance and that it would be okay. Which personally I think is a bit of a stretch, but not entirely inaccurate also. So making fun of the concept of the doll, totally okay with me. Heck, Teen Titans Go did an entire episode mocking the thing.

But Dobson’s attempt of making fun of it, just crosses into genuine creeper territory, for one simple reason: Sexualization of minors.

Look, I don’t believe Dobson is a pedophile -though his poor choice of wordings on twitter posts and certain aspects of art pieces can give the impression- and the situation Dobson shows in the comic is not explicitly pornographic. After all, we don’t see the kid like buttass naked pumping the bike pump while the elf stares. I now give you five minutes to hopefully delete that mental image with enough eggnog at your disposal.

But it still turns “sexual”…

An implication that is not very subtle for a couple of reasons.

First, the person asked and thinking back to the Christmas tradition is a male stripper. A job in the sex works. By the way, respect for people in that job (independent of the sex) for being able to work without feeling objectified (or too much) and managing to keep a decent body shape. Hope also for your safety out there.

Which I am not just saying because Dobson incidentally tries to mock male strippers in the comic in my opinion. After all, we all know Dobson hates men. And when men aren’t some MRA morons or fat misanthropic nerds, they can’t be anything but dumb male himbos or potentially depraved homosexuals who got kinky by perverting a Christmas children tradition.

Yeah, I am stretching here a bit, but we are talking about Dobson. The guy was always more than open to the idea of making gay men the butt of some joke in Alex ze Pirate.

Am I really supposed to believe he changed that attitude?

But back to the comic. The second reason why obvious the entire thing has sexual undertones as punchline… just look at that face

That is the face of someone masturbating under the blanket. The sultry eyes, the blush on his face, one hand under the cover while the other is above, bitting his lip… if that thing were animated, I bet the kid would be moaning and I could report Dobson to some authority.

And yeah, that is really what the entire creepiness of the comic boils down too. The face of the kid that leaves no other room for interpretation except “a sex pun, based on a “Christmas tradition” targeted at really small kids. With the final panel feeling like Dobson likely had a good laugh at his “joke”, thinking others would react the same.

Well, the reaction doesn’t seem to have been what Dobson hoped for, cause he would later release the following tweet.

Two things to that: First, I think the reason people were “confused” Dobson (confused likely means here, asked him if he is a pedo), was that they kinda didn’t want to think you were going into that “sexualized” territory because that would raise more red flags than you obsessing over KorraSami. And would have also felt rather out of character for you, cause of how prudish you become at the subject of sexualization.

Second, accusing others of lacking imagination and that therefore little things like that comic stump them. Dobbitch, I have read every major comic you ever made, if anyone lacks imagination, it is you. Your mental capacity for imagining stuff is lower than of a braindead person in a coma. And the fact that a self declared “child friendly” webartist focuses most of the time on the punchline “character X is thirsty”…

even if the character in question is underaged, makes me think you are enjoying Belgian porn on the sideline.

Overall, the comic is just creepy. But not in the way that it makes the doll itself creepy and therefore the butt of the joke. Rather it makes the artist behind the comic creepy, because he tries to imagine a scenario where that thing causes someone to spring their first boner.

The sad thing being, Dobson could have easily made the comic creepier and funnier at the same time, fi he just had put the focus of the comic on the puppet and not the kid. For example, of all the things in the world, I think Family Guy could make the joke of a creepy elf puppet work, if it played out like that: Lois puts an elf on the shelf for every kid in the house, including Chris.

Chris goes to bed, camera focuses on him, turning around, the puppet is cut off from you.

Chris says “good night”  to the elf.

Zoom out to show the shelf, now it is Herbert the creepy neighbour in an elf costume on the shelf saying “Night, Chris”

There. Now if you excuse me, I need to take a shower. Not necessarily from reviewing that comic, but because I actually wrote out a Family Guy joke.

[patriciavetinari]

I saw a post recently making a joke about how straight men will think women want to date them because those women have been kind to them and I know my experience is anecdotal at best, but those stories are always extremely baffling to me because none of this has ever worked out for me when I tried to use those dynamics when I was actively trying to attract men for dating. And idk of it was all because I was fat or weird or what, but as a teen and young adult it made me doubt feminism because patriarchy was clearly ignoring me, not being predatory toward or objectifying me the way I wanted it to for validation.

I see jokes about one kind act or even one kind word provoking courtship from 'the dudes', there was that non-interested woman being almost cornered in a bar somewhere by a guy wanting her number, I see the memed comic strip, the one that's 'aww, you're so sweet' and 'hello, Human resources?!' with a woman being complimented at work, and with my rational thinking I understand that this is a real issue and this is patriarchy and when it's unwanted it's horrible to be on the receiving end of that.

But a blink in my brain since I was about 10 years old hadn't stopped asking 'how can I make this happen to me?' and then it hadn't! Not once! I was kind to boys when they started letting me anywhere near them, I knew some of their interests (viddy games and such), I was helpful to the point of becoming a doormat etc, abd it hadn't worked.

I was planning as a teen to make dating a huge part of my life and my personality, I was expecting to jump at the opportunity to lose my virginity at about 15 or something because that's what popular media at the time implied would be almost normal but a bit soon. Then I realized my fatness is actually going to be a hinder, so I lost weight to the point of anorexia and expected, so to speak, to do a speedrun through a double digit of boyfriends in the ages of 17-22, then land safely in a rich marriage by the age of 25 with the glory of a retired courtesan.

Then, as I was still not getting any attention, even wearing fishnets and miniskirts and heels and hanging out in seedy bars until wee hours, I started running out of ideas of what I was doing wrong and why wasn't the famed universal womens' experiece of being objectified happening to me.

Was I wrong or was feminism wrong? I went into research and went through all of the available dating advice on the interned back in the day. I've tried every technique and trick and secret and behavior and even pheromone perfume. I've tried kindness, sluttiness, attentiveness, homemaking vibes and bringing homemade baked goods to the guy I fancied at work. For the latter the result was that he told me he shared those cupcakes with the girl he actually wanted to fuck.

I tried dating apps and got barely any swipes, I tried seedy bars again and only got catcalled by men so drunk they threw up mid-catcall, I tried going to nightclubs with some weird girls I met somewhere and watched them veing whisked away to secondary location or just to club bathrooms for a quick fuck, and now I've approached 30 years of age with all that (lack?) of experience and not once having had as much as anyone ask for my phone number. I have been so lucky to never have gone through any of those traumatic and offensive experiences.

I also feel completely invisible and unwanted but all I'm told is that I'm so lucky to have avoided any attention and at the same time that I don't try hard enough.

Which is a fascinating mindsent to have I think.

[caffeineandsociety]

Let's not forget the false flag operations. I remember seeing so, so fucking many fake ace blogs that were literally just there to say the most batshit, completely unreasonable, racist, misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic, sex-negative, body-shamey, parody conservative Christian nonsense you could IMAGINE - think "gay people and trans allos are INHERENTLY aphobic for caring about icky sex, being horny on main is oppressive ESPECIALLY if you're LGBT" and "allos can't wear ANY black jewelry or talk about space or dragons because it's cultural appropriation" and "gay and trans people don't have the right to talk about conversion therapy because more people know it's wrong than ace conversion therapy" and "I'm not attracted to ANYONE it's not bigoted of me to ramble in the tags of every drawing or photo of a Black or fat person about how I DEFINITELY don't want to fuck them lol" and "why would anyone be turned on by MUTILATING their GENITALS I'm way too ace for this transsexual shit lol" and "my asexuality just means I'm a better person than you nasty sex-obsessed PERVERTS who REFUSE to stop OBJECTIFYING each other" and so much more - one of the most well-known of these blogs was still active as recently as 2020 (I think that was the year at least?), only FINALLY deactivating after getting mocked offhandedly in a popular video essay. Most of them were...disgustingly, comically obvious about it, but some were subtle enough to pass for a real person with just some internalized Societal Bullshit (and of course, there were some ace bloggers who did suffer from that for real, but no more so than any other queer subgroup)...which was, of course, never allowed to be just that, oh no; whether an ace blogger putting their foot in their mouth was a real teenager who hadn't unlearned EVERY bad lesson of their bigoted community, or part of an aphobe-to-aphobe circlejerk, whether the latter was believable or obviously fake to anyone willing to spend 0.3 seconds using their brain, it was proof that ALL ace people were just horrible, evil bigots...

And some of them were subtle enough to actually get accepted as...good and true talking points, especially the sex-negativity. Which surprised me at first, but in hindsight, considering how much of it came from terfs and other people whose worldview is basically "sex is bad and objectifying so not wanting it is good RIGHT up until you actually IDENTIFY as ace"...honestly that line of thinking deserves its own whole deep dive, but it's common enough that it sure had an impact on this hellsite.

Of course, it finally died down, so you'd probably want to think this means exclusionists realized how awful they were being and learned their lesson!

Unfortunately...it doesn't. The only lesson they learned was to be a little subtler about it. They also haven't all agreed as THOROUGHLY on a target since, so each wave hasn't been AS all-consuming (quick! who are we supposed to hate right now? The history-denying perverted anime-loving autogynephiles trans girls? The horrible traitorous trans men who transitioned for male privilege, totally definitely got it with no caveats, and STILL dare to complain? The greedy bi lesbians who CLEARLY just want MEN in LESBIAN SPACES? The multigender people who CLEARLY only exist to VIOLATE our precious gendered spaces? The blue-haired and bepronouned transtrenders theyfabs?) - but they're still fucking at it.

And, of course, some of them still think they were always right in hating ace people. There are still fairly popular bloggers who think that asexuality is a disease or a medication side effect. There was an attempt to rehabilitate a notorious sex-negative transmisogynist after deactivation, citing this view as a POSITIVE. They just get more pushback now, because ace discourse is cringe.

I don't think younger/newer users fully grasp the shit show that ace discourse was around 2014-17

It was so hostile that, to this day, discussions that begin to derail just enough can make me physically nauseous, some specific mockery trigger crying sessions years later. We lost most accounts with any sort of ace positivity. There was no information, no support, and all this damage was done predominantly by other queer people.

All this to say that you, however you identify yourself, should be engaging with aphobic comments the same way you do any hate. We don't sugarcoat or try to be comprehensive with people who are blatantly racist, homophobic or terfs, so why give it a pass just because it's coming from a queer person? I see how this tolerance goes and it's done enough damage as it is.

[rememberingthesugden-dingles]

[stvlti]

Many months ago I saw a post listing out reasons why Asian Tim headcanons are inherently racist. One reason was that it contributes to the culture of objectifying Asian men, especially queer Asian men. (Something something Tim being seen as the twink of the fandom and how Asian men are already denied diverse representations of their masculinity in media as it is)

I think that observation goes both ways though, because you could just as easily argue that in light of Tim being confirmed as bi in canon, him also being Asian would only enrich his character's experiences and add depth to representation.

So why does Asian Tim headcanons still leave such a bad taste in my mouth?

Let me ask you something real quick. Why does fandom headcanon Tim as Asian? Is it for the sake of representation? If that's the case, why, out of all the other non-Asian Batkids or Teen Titans, is he the one who gets Asian-coded the most?

Is it because of Tim's family background? The Drakes were big business entrepreneurs, the head of a corporation. Is being Asian synonymous with being upper class to you? Cause that hardly seems representative of the many Asian families who came to America as hardworking citizens of the working class.

Is it because of their family's heritage? Based on what I know, few clues in canon suggest that they are anything but a WASP (or Jewish, at most) family. I can just as easily make the case for Jason being Asian based on one throwaway plot beat involving Lady Shiva in the Death in the Family storyline.

Now look. I'm generally neutral about Asian race bend headcanons. In fact, as someone who's Asian, I think it's important for more Asian ethnicities to be represented, and represented well in media. But you achieve good representation by pinning down the specific experiences that are true to a culture and an ethnic background in a real world context. It has to make sense, and not exist based solely on nebulous ideas and stereotypes.

So with all that said, consider this: there is a subsection of fandom that loves to villainise Jack and Janet Drake as bad parents. Not just absent, but downright emotionally abusive or even physically abusive parents. While there's some evidence in canon of Jack being a less than stellar parent, the same cannot be said of Janet. Yet she seems to get the worse of it, more often than not portrayed in fics as a cold, terrifying woman who has high expectations for his son and only expresses her love conditionally.

If she were Asian, this is what we would call a "Tiger Mom". If Jack and Janet were both Asian, this would perpetuate the idea that Asian kids cannot expect their parents to love them healthily and unconditionally.

Now I'm not saying that every person who headcanons Tim as Asian also supports the "Tim's parents were abusive" fanon. But if you do subscribe to the headcanon that the Drakes were abusive and the headcanon that they are Asian at the same time, I would urge you to stop and examine why that is.

[anika-ann]

Just a Human (S.R.)

Type: mini-series turned one-shot, SHIELD recruit!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 8750

Summary: Being a SHIELD recruit was a dream come true, especially with people like Sergeant Barnes or Captain Rogers offering an input to your class’ training.

It was also hard work for many different reasons. One of them being all those guys around; not all of them were exactly fit to become heroes, simply because they were not good people.

Maybe you shouldn’t have pointed it out so openly though. Then again, what would the world turn into if you kept your mouth shut when feeling like speaking up?

WARNINGS: so-so graphic description of assault almost turned sexual, violence and a bit of blood, boys being boys in a real bad way, language

A/N: Steve Rogers vs assholes, round 2. Also, ‘you’ vs. assholes. And Bucky in the mix.

A/N: This was originally posted as a miniseries on AO3, but now edited, I decided to thrown it in as a long, sort-of three part one-shot. Enjoy and mind the warnings.

(gif source dailymcugifs, divider by firefly-graphics)

A Handful of Spite

“Can you believe the fucking nerve on him?!” Henry hissed, punching the bag harder and catching your attention. The statement was followed by his companion nodding grimly.

You tried to ignore the walking testosterone jerks; you never liked either Henry or Jim. The reason was simple – they were, as you loved to remind people, an advertisement on toxic masculinity. Bullies on top of that. The kind of people you wanted to avoid at all costs.

You weren’t that lucky to have that chance though.

So instead, you scoffed under your breath and continued your sit-ups series. You had more important things to do than wonder about what they were talking about this time.

It was your regular training session with the other SHIELD recruits led by Sergeant Barnes – which--- oh my. When joining the academy, you had no clue that the director’s ‘you’ll be learning from the best’ meant that of all things; trained by the more-than-once-believed-late James Buchanan Barnes. Everyone here knew his story – or at least some of it. The brainwashing. The murders. His heroics to make up for them as much as he could. His everlasting friendship and a nickname that was tied to it. Bucky; the very best friend of the oh-so-praised Captain America.

Oh, speaking of which, he joined the sessions too. You were being trained by not one, but two supersoldiers slash war heroes. You couldn’t believe this was your life sometimes, but you were not one to dwell on it. You just accepted it as a fact. An abso-fucking-lutely incredible fact.

“He’s just a fucker, man. Forget about Barnes, you have Cassie in your pocket. Just ‘cause he’s all sticky sweet on her doesn’t mean she’ll suck his-“

You made a disgusting face, pushing harder to tune out the conversation. You wanted to gag and at the same time, your blood was boiling.

Could there be a jerk who was objectifying women more than Jim? A guy who was using his lower brain more frequently than him? Doubtful. You really wanted to throw up at rubbish that was leaving his mouth.

Not to mention that he was throwing dirt on Sergeant Barnes who absolutely didn’t deserve it.

“-he’s like that to all of them. The chicks. And they fucking dig him, it’s disgusting. He makes the poor brainwashed kicked puppy face, reminding the sob story of his and they’re all dropping to their knees I swear…” Jim continued, practically spitting the venomous words.

You squeezed your eyes shut, half furious and half guilty; the sergeant did have a heart-breaking backstory and many girls were making eyes on him, their hearts softened by the tragedy and his bravery, yes. And you couldn’t say it wasn’t moving you as well, filling you with compassion – but compassion only. Obviously, Sergeant Barnes was objectively a very attractive man too, but what they were saying… ugh.

He didn’t deserve these insults; he was not trying anything on anyone, he wasn’t offering his ‘sob story’, actually being rather secretive about it for obvious and no doubt painful reasons. He couldn’t really couldn’t be blamed for the girls fawning over him a bit more because of it, could he? What was he supposed to do? Stop breathing? Stop doing what he chose to be his job?

It wasn’t his problem – and thank god for that – that these two assholes had egos the size of Texas and couldn’t handle a little competition.

Seriously. Walking testosterone-filled jerks. You seriously considered moving from the station you had been given, eyeing Captain Rogers, checking if he would notice.

“Well, he’s not. Getting. Any. From. My. Chick. Asshole!”

The bag swung wildly under Henry’s blows despite Jim holding it. You laid off, taking your fifteen second break.

“I bet he’s fucking them all on side. Always so… so soft on them. I bet he’s leaving all the hard shit for bed,” Jim snorted, somewhere between angry at him competition and amused at his own crude joke.

You were gonna puke. You were sure of it.

“And he’s too hard on us. Showing off for them. I would fucking want to see him holding up against us without that metal arm-“

You had enough. You sat up sharply, panting, your face flushed, unsure whether it was from the exercise or the exchange you were listening to.

“Are you serious?!” you hissed their way, earning their shocked glances.

And then, Jim’s face twisted in annoyance and disgust.

“Oh geez, you’re one of them, aren’t you?” he snarked, rolling his eyes. “The fangirls.”

More heat burned in your cheeks. You weren’t kidding anyone; both the sergeant and the captain had showed up in your not so innocent dreams, but you were only human, alright. There was only so much time you could spend with two very fine men like them in one room, a bit sweaty and rough (or just slightly gentler with the ladies) until your brain reacted. Mostly to the captain. Not the point.

But actually crossing the line? Being a part of the thing they were describing if it ever existed? Waiting in the line until one of them picked you for the evening with a promise to do it again after they… Jesus what, tried all the others? No, thank you. You had some dignity left.

Also, you simply couldn’t imagine them doing such thing. Raised in a different era, tried by war and pain and lost, yet remaining the great men they were? Just nope.

“No! Jesus, are you even listening to yourself?” you hissed, minding your volume. You hoped that the low hum of voice in the room, of others working out, giving each other pointers and the noise of the machines would offer you a cover from the rest of your companion.

“What, you wanna tell me they’re not going easy on you? On any chick, really?”

“Yeah, well, maybe because they don’t actually want to break our bones during training. Supersoldiers. Superstrength. Does that ring a bell?” you pointed out, reaching for your water bottle, hoping either of your trainers would forgive you when seeing you only took a sec to have a sip.

Henry scoffed, leaning onto the bag. “Sounds like someone has a crush…”

You couldn’t help the motion of your hands, inconspicuously throwing them in the air in frustration.

Why were you even speaking to them? You should have kept your mouth shut!

“Oh go to hell, Ulrich! You’re just jealous and scared that your girl whom you treat like a piece of shit will run off,” you murmured, wiping your forehead off sweat.

“Yeah, because they’re sure pulling their punches with guys too,” Jim complained again, rolling his eyes as Henry now watched you, eyes narrowed in anger – oh you hit a nail on the head, alright.

You couldn’t but mirror Jim’s action, deciding to stick to Devil’s advocate, because…. yeah, because it wasn’t fair to either Rogers or Barnes. They were good people and didn’t deserve this.

“So they’re not beating the shit out of us like they do with you, get over it.”

“They’re humiliating us! Showing off their big muscles, trying to impress all the chicks-“

You chuckled incredulously as they actually admitted the real reason behind their bitching so openly; as if you hadn’t known the whole time. Ego. Ohhh, the ego was bruised. Call 911, CPR is gonna be needed! God, how did they even live with ego this big? Compensating for something?

“They’re doing their job. Training. Yes, they go a bit harder on you, because your physiology can take it. Did it ever occur to you that they have bigger problems than entering a pissing contest with you just so they could steal the girls? Jeez… just… maybe try to be less of assholes and the girls will be into you too… ”

You missed the hard look Henry gave you, laying down again, this time on your belly to work on your back.

You wheezed when a knee suddenly dug into your back, violently and painfully knocking the air out of your lungs. Before you could react, one of your arms was twisted behind your back, Henry’s voice raspy right into your ear, low and dangerous.

“Listen, you little bitch, you don’t get to talk to me like that. Understand? Huh?”

He was so proving your point, but you didn’t have the time You tried to breathe in properly, and free your arm while pushing up on the free one, your muscles burning with the effort. Shit, he was heavy. You wheezed again instead of the answer.

“Can’t hear you, sweetie. What was that?”

Peripherally, you could see heavy boots approaching rapidly, making a quick guess of who that could be. You gritted your teeth, tears of humiliation pricking your eyes. You were not about to give Henry the satisfaction of proving his point of your trainers being sweet on all the girls even if this so wasn’t that.

“Screw. You,” you let out with the last oxygen left, grabbing his left calf and sharply tugging to the very same side. A half-second later when his weight of you eased just a fraction, you threw your body to the left as well, adding a jerk of your legs.

Both of you rolled over, him ending up under you and you quickly spun away, gasping, desperately fighting for air. As it burned your windpipe, it was as painful as welcomed. Little spots danced inf ornt of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away – luckily for you, Henry didn’t dare to attack you again.

You shook your head before pushing to sit up, only to meet with Captain Rogers’s strict gaze.

“What the hell is going on in here?” he demanded, sharp blue eyes flickering between the three of you.

Maybe you were hallucinating, but he seemed to be murdering Henry with his eyes. Uh-uh. You would have been glad he was, hadn’t Henry been talking about favouritism only few moments ago. You pushed up simultaneously with him and you both stood straight, facing the captain.

“Apologies, sir,” you stated mechanically, his gaze immediately shifting to you. Your heart stopped. Oh wow, you would swear the blue of his irises was on fire. You gulped. “We had a slight disagreement with Mr. Ulrich. I’m aware I shouldn’t have been talking to him in the first place. I’ll take whatever punishment is given to me.”

“Yeah, I bet you’d liked taking a punishment from him, wouldn’t you…” Jim muttered under his breath, making your gut twist in disgust.

Was he ever not thinking about sex? You prayed the captain didn’t hear him and you had to stop yourself from shooting Jim a murderous glare.  

“I don’t think that’s necessary. Consider it a warning. Mr. Ulrich? You have something to add before you take a few laps?”

You could literally hear Henry’s blood boiling. You opened your mouth to ask for the same punishment, not wanting to have his point proved. You never got the chance to speak.

“No, sir. I only don’t understand why I’m the only one being punished,” Henry questioned innocently and you gritted your teeth.

Maybe because you attacked me, you dickhead?

Captain glared at him for a moment before his gaze shifted to Jim. “You’re not. Mr. Larkin is following your example.”

You pressed your lips together, this time to stop a smile threatening to spread on your lips. God, who knew America’s Golden Boy could get that sassy? You cleared your throat.

“If I might speak, sir, I deserve to run the laps as well,” you noted carefully, earning a curious expression from your superior. You could tell he wavered, a strange spark appearing in his eyes.

You desperately wanted him to let you run too even if you breathing was still a bit difficult; because otherwise Henry would be proved right. Yeah, nope.

“Very well, then. Ten laps around the gym, recruits. Then you move to the station free at the moment. Go. Don’t let it happen again.”

The three of you nodded dutifully and picked up a pace. For some reason, you could feel the captain’s eyes on you while he walked back to assisting his friend with hand-to-hand training. You glimpsed the sergeant leaning to him, probably asking what was that about, but the blond just shook his head.

Towards the eighth lap, you were being overpassed by Henry and Jim, who ran together; faster than you, whether you liked it or not.

“This isn’t over, bitch,” his hateful hiss reached your ears and you picked up speed stubbornly, not showing them that they might intimidate you even for a second.

They wished.

Even when leaving the room after the session was finished, you would swear there was a pair of blue eyes burning a hole to the back of your head. You hoped that you’d soon be free of the captain’s attention.

You sure didn’t want him to watch too closely. You didn’t need him behind your back to see mistakes you sometimes made just like anybody else. Also, it would be harder to admire and ogle him; you did that occasionally, okay. You were just a human, after all.

A Handful of Mistakes

Shauna, your roommate and bestie from science division of SHIELD, was very patient listening to your lament about guys being dicks; she was awesome like that.

So you vigorously vented your frustration with male population, rolled your eyes when mimicking the silent threat of ‘this not being over’, had a very unhealthy piece of cake at the cafeteria that afternoon and moved on.  

You should have known better.

Henry’s words came haunting you few days later; which was too bad, because you had already forgotten about them, until the very moment they had punched you to the face.

…or rather to your shoulder and it wasn’t even a punch, more like one of those bumps people did, especially when they were being jerks, shoving you too hard for you to believe it was an accident.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” you threw over your shoulder sarcastically, continuing your way to the women’s locker room.

In hindsight, that was probably mistake number one; ignoring Henry and not starting a fight right there, not to mention being mouthy.

To be fair, you had no interest in further interaction; you were exhausted from the training, you were sticky and sweaty and all you craved was a shower. You would have just gone to have one at your dorm, but Shauna was having a hot date and you didn’t want to step on her toes. So you had taken your toiletries with you, using the showers near the gym.

Using the gym shower; mistake number two. It meant all of the students being gone by the time you emerged in fresh homey clothes, hair dripping water, because you hated hair-dryers and avoided them unless they were completely necessary.

You had spent much longer in the shower than needed, allowing your muscles to completely relax under the spray of water. That was mistake number three.

The fourth mistake was your pride. When you saw Henry, Jim, George (at least you thought, you weren’t sure, not having many classes with him) and Frank in the corridor, clearly waiting for you, since they bounced off the wall they had been resting against when you appeared, you should have probably been smarter and scream for help right away.

But no, you were being Miss Future Agent and you weren’t intimidated by four equivalents of high school jocks. Yep, this one was definitely the biggest mistake of yours.

“Fellas,” you beckoned to them, passing them gracefully, your bag over your shoulder along with the wet towel.

You barely made a few steps before a hand gripped your arm, harshly tugging you back. Your heart jumped into your throat, but you tried your best not to let it show. You turned to Henry, looking at his face, head tilted back just slightly due to his height.

“Is there a problem, Ulrich?” you asked calmly, earning a lift of his eyebrows at your tone.

“You know there is. I told you it was not over.”

You tried to ignore your pulse skyrocketing and the panic rising in your gut. You were not that stupid – you understood the implications. You knew that with four guys slowly circling you, you would have to fight bites and nails if it came to it and probably still lose. Sometimes it was just better to walk away and swallow your pride; a concept Henry and Jim clearly didn’t understand.

You jerked from Ulrich’s grip, still hoping you could walk away and call it day.

“It is over for me. Now if you’ll excuse me…“

Yes, you were being naïve thinking it would work.

The bag was torn away from your shoulder, your fingers automatically letting go to stay attached to your hand. You gritted your teeth, blood slowly reaching the boiling point.

Also, maybe you were more than just a bit afraid. Not that you would ever admit it to them.

Henry’s hand reached for your chin and your snatched it away in disgust before he could even make contact with your skin. Amusement dances in his eyes along with a flash of anger.

“Oh, kitty has claws?”

You felt another hand on your backside, sending a shudder up your spine, so you grabbed it, shoving it away as well.

Jim. Why weren’t you surprised? Pigs. What the fuck was their problem?

“I’ll let you know when I meet any. Now get out of my way,” you spat, your gut twisting as a sly grin spread on Henry’s face and he made a step right into your route.

“Or what? You’ll scratch, kitty? Or you’ll scream? Like a little girl?” he mocked you in high-pitched voice, his face lowering to yours so you were only inches apart.

“Bet you’d like that,” you murmured, narrowing your eyes when his breath with an unmistakable hint of alcohol fanned over your face. “No, I’ll offer you a breath-mint, because honestly you should do something about your breath.”

Yep, that was the mistake no.5 and definitely an enormous one.

You heard one of the guys chuckle, but you never got to enjoy the thrill of victory.

Out of blue, there was something around your neck, the weight of the towel shifting (add that to the mistake list) and your body flew backwards, colliding with a male one. George was it?

Your hands went to instinctively grab after the towel crushing your throat, but suddenly they were wrested down and pinned to your sides by strong arms. Jim had caught one, Henry another. Fucking cowards.

With your breath coming out short with both lack of oxygen and rising fear, your pulse thundering in your ears, you tried to jerk from their grip, but they wouldn’t budge, having an undeniable advantage.

Oh fuck, fuck, you were so fucked.

“Sassy little mouth, aren’t we?” Henry hummed, wry expression on his ugly face. “So dirty, feels like we should wash it with something. Who wants to go first, fellas?”

Loud alarm bells rang in your head, icy shiver running down your spine, stomach turning over.

Oh no, you don’t.

Your knee snapped up on instinct to gain the momentum, followed by a swift low kick to Jim’s knee.

He yelped and let go of your arm, allowing you to send an elbow straight to George’s face; and finally, your airways were free as the assault as the towel trap loosened.

You coughed, fighting for oxygen and mindlessly threw the item away to have at least one arm free.

“Bitch!” one of the men yelled; you weren’t sure which one, but you didn’t waste time thinking too much. Survival instinct took over.

Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes and you barely silenced the scream when Henry took advantage of your hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back. Fuck he really had a thing for that, didn’t he?

You tried to kick him, but someone else’s leg somehow managed to swept their leg under yours and you fell on your knees. Sharp tug on your hair caused you to cry out and obediently tilt your head back. Few tears escaped you, but you pushed up in attempt to get up again.

A kick coming from behind threw your body forwards and you nearly fell on your face when Henry finally let go of you. You tasted blood as you bit your cheek, but you managed to at least land on your shoulder instead of face-planting.

It still hurt like a bitch, but at least you still had all your teeth… or you thought so, not having time to check. Catching a movement from the corner of your eye, you managed to roll over before a kick to your side could hit you with full force. Frank’s foot only brushed you, but you were sure you’d have a bruise as a souvenir anyway.

A punch landed next to your face when you dodged it in the last moment, someone grabbing your legs and holding them together. Between your efforts to free them, you didn’t have time to chase away the body suddenly holding your arms as well.

“Fuck--- she’s a handful.”

A ragged battle cry erupted from your throat as you tried to jerk your body from their grip on pure instinct, every self-defence move you had ever learned flying of the window.

“More fun to break her, don’t you think?” Henry purred, his hand sneaking around your waist under the hem of your t-shirt.

Your head spun like crazy at the skin-to-skin contact and nausea hitting you hard. You wanted to puke and scream and punch and you couldn’t make yourself to do either, tears rolling down your cheeks as your body convulsed in a desperate attempt to break free.

There was ringing in your ears, disorienting you, but aware of the hand suddenly covering your mouth you tried to bite it on instinct holding you down.

“Oh-ho, biting!“ you heard, strangely muffled as if you were under water.

“I like them feisty-“

“Playing hard to get!”

“Shit, SHIT-“

The pressure on your legs eased all of sudden and you immediately kicked with all you had, catching the rising figure in the calf, knocking them off balance.

“Fuck!”

You would swear the floor vibrated, but in must have only been your mind playing tricks on you. George disappeared from your field of blurry vision; you only saw a fist sending him flying sideways.

Yep, your mind was fucking making up things, because there was no way he could have been thrown away like this by a single punch. You weren’t complaining; the relief the illusion provided was almost blissful.

Henry’s body weight vanished as well in nearly supersonic speed as if he wanted to escape the illusion. So you did the first thing that came to your mind; with your hands free, you grabbed his ankle, stopping him from running away. Which, thinking about it, was stupid, because only a moment before, you would have given anything to get him the fuck away from you.

He kicked back blindly, but his sole never met with your body – he was dragged away and… and lifted to the air as if he weighted nothing.

Blinking your tears away, your fuzzy mind cleared.

Only to reveal a very muscled and very much pissed off blond slamming Henry against a wall and then letting his suddenly unconscious body slide down.

You gasped, your eyes catching a glimpse of the fourth figure – Frank – several feet away, running for his life.

“Buck?!” came a shout and before you could question it, a metal arm emerged from behind the corner, stopping Frank dead as he rushed straight into it.

“Yep?!” the dark-haired supersoldier yelled back, sounding almost amused.

What the hell was happening? What the hell just happened?!

You blood sizzled in your veins, loud and rapid thump-thump-thump banging in your ears, face damp with several shed tears, body aching and your mind fucking racing.

You heard a whimper on your left, automatically turning to the sound. It left Jim’s lips, his form crumbled on the floor, struggling to stand up.

The captain’s knee seemed to come out of nowhere, digging into Jim’s back and pinning him down again before you even registered a movement.

“Is it fucking over now?”

“Steve, let him be. Not worth it,” Barnes’ voice tried to reason, sounding rather growly, but not nearly as loud as before. He approached your group in rapid pace and Rogers scoffed and let go.

You gulped at sergeant’s angry grimace, crazily convinced he was angry with you for all the mistakes you made that lead to this; but his expression softened when his gaze fell on you.

“Hey there,” he greeted you almost casually, holding out a hand to help you up. “Can you stand?”

You blinked several times at the suddenly dispassionate tone, even if you still sensed something bubbling under it. You shook off the thought and accepted the offered hand – the flesh one. The detail didn’t escape you, your bran in overdrive. Of course he hadn’t offered you the metal arm. He didn’t want to scare you. He was thoughtful like that-

-or not. The strength he dragged you up with was way too much for you, more so when combined with the speed and your state. You stumbled over your feet, a wave of dizziness messing with your balance.

You awaited the upcoming reunion with the floor, unable to stop the fall, but it never happened. Before you could as much as reel, gentle hands supported you in a firm grip, pleasantly warm against your bare arms.

“Whoa, take it easy,” Rogers’ voice warned you, soothing. For some reason, it felt more like ‘I got you,’ instead of ‘take it easy.’

You took a deep breath, Barnes’ hand letting go of yours as he semi-voluntarily handed you over to his friend.  

“You’re bleeding from your mouth.”

Thanks for the reminder, I noticed.

You swallowed the snarky remark, well-aware of the sergeant’s care. You fought against the urge to spit the blood out.

“Is fine…” you muttered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Bit my cheek. I’m pretty sure I—“ you quickly ran your tongue over your teeth just to confirm your theory, “-still have all of my teeth.”

Sergeant Barnes gave you a tiny smile, the worried crinkle that had found its way between his brows disappearing.

“Whatever you say.”

His gaze flickered to something behind your head, probably in order of exchanging a wordless conversation with your still present crutch. Not that you were complaining. The weight of what had happened was slowly settling on your shoulders and you were grateful for any support – and who were you kidding, Captain America made for a pretty reliable support.

“Why don’t we leave you in pu- Cap’s capable hands while I-“ Barnes’ jaw clenched, pale eyes scanning the four bodies on the floor, calculating. “-take out the trash?”

You nearly choked at the choice of his words, wincing. Captain Rogers’ hands squeezed your shoulders reassuringly and you nodded, not sure what else to do.

You didn’t want to look at Henry. Or Jim. Or their loyal companions.

So when the captain carefully spun you on your heels, you didn’t protest and your feet started moving on autopilot in the direction he had set.

“You okay to walk without support?” he asked softly, a stark contrast to the voice you remembered from earlier or from the training sessions.

You knew that if you said yes, he would let go of you. Honestly, his touch felt damn nice, firm and yet somewhat gentle, a pleasant contrast to harsh fingers of the men who had the nerve to attack you – you had to swallow bile rising to your mouth at the awfully fresh memory. Fuck, it had been so close, just a minute later and--- you shook your head mentally and tried your best to erase this memory from existence.

You decided not to abuse the kindness the captain was offering. After several indulging steps, you quietly confirmed he could release you. You found out that sensing his large frame by your side as if he was your bodyguard was nearly as comforting. Nearly.

You didn’t have the strength admonish yourself for basking the light of his protective persona. Future agent of not, you still had the right to want to feel secure at times.

After all, you were only human.

A Handful of Truths

You didn’t realize you were shaking until a blanket was tossed over your shoulders.

You were sitting on a short couch in what looked like a cosy office, hair still damp, body finally registering the ache caused by previous events, just like your brain was slowly taking in what had happened.

Captain Rogers, whose courtesy was to escort you from the hellhole you had been attacked in, had clearly took it as a personal mission to take care of your injuries; it hadn’t dawned to you until you were seated and your mind helpfully supplied you with ‘This isn’t the infirmary’.

He pulled a swivel chair to sit face to face with you, a box of medical supplies left open on the coffee table at your side. You didn’t realize he had moved the chair or dug the box from god-knew-where until the items were simply there.

“How do you feel?” he inquired, attentive eyes scanning your hunched form. You instinctively curled onto yourself, snuggling further into the blanket. You knew you should come up with an answer, but your brain started to hurt with the effort to do so. “I guess that’s fair. Can you tell me what hurts the most?”

You quickly glanced at his openly kind face, his baby blues still watching for any reaction that would clue him. Your throat went dry at the compassion of display and you had to swallow before speaking – and think. What hurt the most…?

You didn’t know what possessed you to tell him what you did, but it came out before you could stop yourself.

“My pride,” you croaked, causing his eyebrows jump just like the corner of his lips.

“That’s probably fair too. Then again, I’d rather know about something I can fix.”

You felt your body relax a little at his informal tone – you might even say a jovial one, but you could still sense too much worry behind it to call it that. You attempted a tiny smile at least to show him that you were more or less fine – you weren’t – and brilliantly failed.

“Landed on my shoulder. Probably gonna have a bruise on my side from when… when they kicked me. Ribs and arms might be a bit tender for few days, ‘cause they were heavy as they--- they’re heavy,” you voice wavered as you saw the muscles on the captain’s forearms clench and his hands curled up in fists. You sheepishly looked up to his face. “I got lucky.”

His eyebrows rose again in a ‘figures’ manner as he leaned back to the chair.

“Nothing else apart from that, your cheek and your pride?”

“I’m a little cold, but you took care of that,” you admitted, taking a deep breath in as you tugged on the blanket pointedly.

Despite what you were saying, you didn’t feel okay, the tremble never quite leaving your body. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. You stared at your knight in shining armour, gathering courage to do what was needed. You tried your best to meet his gaze, feeling so small and embarrassingly weak in front of him.

“Could have been much worse if you haven’t showed up. Thank you.”

He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. He leaned in, his elbows on his knees.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t faster... I should have kept closer eye on Ulrich,” he muttered under his breath, making you wonder if you only imagined it. “Your pride shouldn’t be hurt. You held yourself against them just fine.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the honestly his voice held – and you were honestly grateful for the slight shift of attention. Oh. Had he forgotten how things had been when he had arrived?

You weren’t sure whether you should remind him. You definitely didn’t want to remind yourself, but before you could solve your little dilemma, he clarified.

“You haven’t started training the combat against multiple opponents yet. Let alone four opponents, all of them having both height and weight advantage. You couldn’t exactly go all Black Widow on them if no one showed you how.”

He accented his words with a reassuring smile and you almost believed him. The shivers finally eased, most likely thanks to the warm treatment you were being given in all senses of the word. The inner cold gradually melted and you were left in nothing but pleasant warmth.

Mentally, you patted your pride gently on its head; you couldn’t quite disagree with him. No matter how helpless you had felt earlier and how ashamed for it you were, the truth was you were still learning. You weren’t a finished agent yet.

You breathed in and out, avoiding the gaze that was still on you. It felt like a freaking brand with how intense it was. You couldn’t say you hated it necessarily, you only wished you at least didn’t look so pathetic. No make-up, probably red with a smudge on blood somewhere, perhaps with some bruising already forming, hair wet and messy. You absently ran your fingers through it in attempt to fix it a bit as if it could help.

What had you been talking about? Right… those assholes being cowards and coming at your four against one.

“I… I just fucking hate bullies,” you grumbled darkly, your hand immediately covering your mouth when you realized what you had said. Oh. Language. Still your superior you’re talking to, no matter how nice. “Sorry. Please, pretend you didn’t hear the f-word. I just hate bullies, period.”

“I might have sworn earlier too, so let’s call it even,” the captain offered, one corner of his lips raised. Oh. He had, hadn’t he? ‘Is it fucking over now?’ What did that even mean? “And so I heard.”

“What?” you yelped, your mind racing again in search for the meaning behind his words.

“I mean… I heard you. When you were defending Bucky, in the gym. I’m pretty sure your exact words were about a ‘pissing contest’.”

“Oh god,” you breathed out, your face no doubt set aflame. He had heard you; that was why he had said he should have kept a closer eye on Henry. Oh. Ohhhh.

Also, did he just say ‘pissing’?

“You weren’t wrong by the way. But… neither were them.”

You blinked in surprise. What? “About?”

You knew he didn’t mean the sleeping around with recruits, your gut was screaming that at you, because they wouldn’t, but still, you rather asked for clarification. If he didn’t mean that part, which one then?

“Ladies do fall over for Bucky,” he hummed with a lopsided smile, a playful twinkle in his eyes. It did something to your belly, a strange familiar shift that was very inappropriate, but hell, people needed to cut you some slack. He was impossible not to ogle and you didn’t have the energy to control your reaction after today’s events. “And I don’t really pull my punches when I’m training those two in particular.”

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself and think better of it.

His gaze bored into yours, burning with intensity and with a glint of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I don’t like bullies either.”

Did he lean in even more or were you so focused on his face it only seemed closer?

You weren’t able to look away. His blue eyes simply locked you in, not allowing you to escape. The strangest thing was that it wasn’t scary. It should be, he was— he was a freaking captain, your superior, a superior to a lot of people, which you were constantly forgetting ever since he had saved you from falling on your ass in the hallway and you had to remember that.

Before you could though, your racing mind packed up and let your body, your mouth to be precise, act without supervision.

“Not trying to impress the ladies then, huh?”

His tiny sheepish smile cut off the uprising panic in your chest when you realized how bold of you was to say that. He lowered his gaze, giving a subtle shrug. “Guess I wouldn’t want one falling for guy’s muscles and a show-off of dominance.”

“What for then? Honesty? Sincerity? Kind eyes? Strong moral compass?” you heard yourself prying, internally horrified how far you had come when saying that. Your face was drained of colour when it clicked. You were literally naming things you liked about him, absolutely shamelessly putting them in the open. Oh shit. Fix it, fix it, fix it! “…the sass?”

His eyes went wide and he burst out laughing so loud it startled you for a second, especially as he threw his head back with the outburst. Then you reluctantly joined him, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

“The sass!” he howled, unable to hold back another fit of laughter and when you peeked at him through between your fingers, you saw his palm resting against his chest as if it could help him stop laughing.

Just like that, blood rushed back into your cheeks.

“Oh god, I made it worse!” you cried out, wishing for the earth to swallow you, frantically looking around for the fastest escape route. “Oh my god, I have to switch schools now… excuse me-“

You hastily got up from your seat, but a quick hand snatched yours, pulling you back.

You stumbled, landing ungracefully right back in your place, this time without the blanket. Captain Rogers was watching you with the corners of his lips high, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Sorry for grabbing you like that. But no, please. Stay.”

Your throat closed off when you heard his soft plea, only traces of humour in it. Yeah, you bet he hadn’t met anyone with such big mouth for a while, so he thought it was better to keep the comic around.

“Captain Rogers, I-I- what I said, it was completely out of line-“ you stuttered, only to be interrupted.

“Were you making it up?” he questioned.

You gulped, your mind screaming at you to say yes to save you the humiliation. And yet, with the cerulean irises staring into your eyes, your mouth did the exact opposite.

“No.”

Dammit.

“Then why would you go?” he questioned softly. His hand still didn’t leave yours, only easing the grip into a kinder one. You felt like a brand was being burned into your skin. A pleasant one, so you didn’t retreat. Oh, you’d never. But what on Earth was he getting at? “We need someone honest like you. People who stand up for others, even if only to defend their honour. That is the kind of people who should be in this line of work. The good ones.”

You opened your mouth, no sound coming out as his speech shook you to your core, tickling your stomach pleasantly along with your pride. His words seemed to be coming from heart, genuine, which was not helping your blood pressure and suddenly wobbling limbs.

“Even when they have potty mouth and put their foot in it? ‘Cause I seem to excel in that.”

“Especially then,” he chuckled and you could tell there was no pinch of a lie in it.

Something was in the air, crackling deliciously, and you liked it. You wouldn’t be able to describe it properly, the feeling simply too unique, but it was tickling your fancy so weren’t about to complain.

“O-okay. Thank you, Captain,” you whispered, revelling in the sight of the gentle curve of his lips.

“You started with the compliments, Agent.”

And just like that, you wanted to run for your life again, drowning in embarrassment.

What were you even still doing here? Complimenting him? Enjoying his touch? Flirting with him?

Were you nuts?!

Him, a captain— no, the captain. And you, an agent--- hell, you were not even an agent yet!

The captain whose eyes flickered to not-an-agent’s lips for the shortest of moments, widening a fraction before returning to her eyes.

Oh, now you were definitely going nuts. You were hallucinating. You must have hit your head too. He wasn’t into you and you being into him was very stupid.

You should go.

…any moment now.

…just get off your ass for god’s sake-

“Can I ask you something?”

You blinked yourself back to reality, shushing the voice in your head, curious smile appearing on your lips involuntarily. The softness of his voice felt better than the blanket before and you wanted to cocoon yourself in it, postponing the leaving plans to never.

“Sure,” you replied, the smile remaining on your face despite your better judgement.

He lowered his eyes to your joined hands, his thumb running over the back of your hand in a feather-light touch. You heart positively stopped at the moment, your breath hitching. Holy shit, what was he doing?

“This, does it… do you hate it?” he whispered the question, not meeting your eyes as if he was too shy, which was… ridiculous. He had no reason to be shy.

It still felt like a shot through your heart – a nice one, though, it that was possible. The words combined with the way they were spoken, it stirred something in your belly, warming it up and you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You really wanted this man; whatever this was, it was getting beyond a silly crush. Also, for some reason, it seemed as if he was trying to tell you he was interested too, which you thought was pretty freaking crazy.

“Stay honest, please,” he pleaded when you didn’t answer right away.

Did you hate it? The chastest display of affection if you dared to call it that? Your mind raced, trying to figure out why on earth he would ask that. Because the only reason you had come up with so far was completely impossible.

“No,” you said simply, earning a brief glance up before he looked down again. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Good. That’s good… and would you… I’m aware this is out of line and I—I want you to answer truthfully without fearing the consequences-…“

It was your turn to swallow loudly, because what? What did he want to ask that he considered it out of line? He was your superior – you could think of thousand ways of how you could get out of line, but him? And why should you fear the consequences?! Did he want you to help him to hide a body?

That’s not it and you know it. You know what he wants to ask, you rational side admonished you.

Oh please, shut up. Since when you switched sides?

“O-okay. What— what is it-- Steve?” you stuttered out, freezing when his name left your lips and his head snapped up, his hand giving yours a squeeze. Oh boy.

“Would you possibly say you like it?” he blurted out and your brain went to overdrive at the hope behind his expression.

Huh. He really just asked that. Oh shit. Oh wow. Your jaw fell into your lap – only figuratively, you hoped –, your ears buzzing, your blood bursting in excitement.

Oh yeah, you understood why he mentioned the consequences. Either you could say no and you’d fear he might treat you differently or you could say yes and you’d ‘fear’ he might treat you differently.

The fire in your insides burned hotter at the idea of the latter.

His hand slowly left yours, giving you a simple choice you still couldn’t believe you were given.

Holy shit. What do you even say to something like that? Coming from someone like him? Your brain froze as you only managed to stare.

Did his— did the corners of his lips turn down? Was that sadness pooling in the sea of blue of his eyes?

Oh no, you don’t.

“Y-yes,” you admitted sheepishly, closing your eyes at the heaviness of your confession.

You could feel the weight on your shoulders as silence fell, only interrupted by your soft breathing that sounded ominously loud.

Your fingers twitched when his warm palm covered them again, your lips parting in surprise. You kept your eyes closed, indulging the strange moment. His free hand caressed your other as well, the gentlest of touches, tender, contrasting with rough callouses on his fingers.

“I like it too.”

At that, you gathered enough courage to look at him, only to see him inspecting your face closely, observing your reactions. It shocked you that it wasn’t uncomfortable as you would expect; must have been the kindness and wonder in his gaze. You forced your lips to curl up in a tiniest smile. Steve smiled back with same hesitance, his face lighting up.

He looked like a boy next door (making it to a modelling agency), shining eyes and happy grin forming on his lips. He was more gorgeous than ever.

Still keeping your hands, he raised his right one, his knuckles brushing your unharmed cheek. The gesture was so tender it brought tears into your eyes, causing him quickly retreat.

“Sorry-“

You shook your head with a self-deprecating chuckle, squeezing his fingers before he could let go of you completely.

“It’s not you—I mean… it is you,” you babbled nonsensically, taking a breath to gather your thoughts. “It’s just— that was really sweet. No, that’s not-“ Not the right word. “It was beautiful. I swear I never felt so…” loved “-cared for in my life.”

He frowned, a shadow of pain running over his face. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know that today was… unpleasant.”

Seeing his reluctance and discomfort, you went for the first thing that came up to your mind. You straightened up and pressed a light kiss on his cheek, withdrawing much slowly because once you were in his orbit, it was hard to leave.

His breath hitched, his eyes glued to you intently, flickering to your lips again.

“You didn’t upset me, Steve. That’s the last thing you could do with that,” you assured him, face still inches from his. His name rolled off your tongue easily this time, even though it still left your heart fluttering.

“And if I asked you to have dinner with me?”

Your stomach twisted in a pleasant knot at that suggestion, your lizard brain already thinking about having a dessert for a second; and you weren’t thinking cake or ice-cream.

Yeah, barely. This was a guy ready to treat you right, you were sure of it. He certainly wasn’t about to kiss you now, not afar what happened today, he might go for it after the dinner and that was only if you got lucky enough. You swallowed the disappointment at the idea, quickly shaking it off.

Make up your goddamn mind, woman. You should be glad that men who weren’t thinking with their lower brain still existed and one of those was clearly interested in you, which… yeah, what the hell, that might take a while getting used to. Add the fact that he was being incredibly considerate of how you might feel after being assaulted and you had a winner of your heart. You realized you were actually happy he wouldn’t try anything even nearly ‘funny’.

You were fine with hand-holding and brushes of his fingers on your face, which honestly, the tenderness behind that gesture made you toes curl. You didn’t care much if that made you a freaking sap.

“Still not upset,” you gave an answer at last, deciding he probably liked when you were a bit cheeky.

He offered a closed lipped smile in response, confirming your theory.

“Does that count like a yes?”

You shrugged, the corners of your lips twitching. You had no idea when the change had happened, but all you wanted now was to giggle. And maybe snuggle, but you weren’t about to say that out loud.

“You tell me.”

He licked his lips and shook his head as he retreated. Before you could protest – or have a heart attack, because the motion of his tongue attracted your gaze like a magnet, setting your core on fire –, he sat beside you, leaving enough space in case you didn’t like it.

You liked it, subtly moving an inch closer to his side. Damn, he radiated warmth. Maybe just a bit closer…?

“Cheeky dame, aren’t you?” Steve more stated than asked, reaching for the blanket pooled around you to cover you again.

You didn’t realize you had goosebumps before his hands gently tugged you in, careful not to touch you where you could consider it inappropriate.

Yeah, forget about any funny business any time soon.

You huffed. “Clearly. It did get me into trouble before.”

His eyes darkened a bit, his face noticeably falling.

No, nope, bad move, miss not-an-agent.

“I should walk you back to your dorm,” he remarked, already rising to his feet.

You first reaction was to say no, because you weren’t ready to say goodbye yet. Your second was to say no also, because Shauna probably still had her hot date.

Instead, your hand shot up to catch his, effectively stopping him. He froze before returning to his seat, tiny question mark in a place of his face right next to his soft smile.

You cleared your throat, deciding to give him the latter reason.

“Uhm… my roommate has a date. If I go there, I’ll probably find a sock on the doorknob,” you admitted, biting your lip when he raised an eyebrow and relaxed to the cushions.

“People still do that?”

You chuckled, the fact that not only he was a captain, but also Captain America, which meant he was about hundred years old, hitting you like a train.

“Yeah, people still do that,” you assured him, amused.

He pouted, which you found unfairly adorable and… kissable. Nope, later.

“Sure, make fun of the old man…” he uttered, but a spark of laughter lighted up in his irises, so you assessed he wasn’t too offended. He was most likely used to the teasing.

As an idea of interpreting his words differently popped in your mind, you grinned.

“Is that a permission to make fun of Sergeant Barnes?” you pried playfully, sending Steve into another surprised fit of laughter, not unlike when you had complimented his sass. Your heart swelled at the joyful picture of him and the prospect of seeing more of it in future.

Due to his laughter, you didn’t hear he knock on the door if there was any n the first place. The door simply swung open, revealing the other supersoldier. Speak of the Devil…

Seeing his friend, Steve burst out laughing once more. Sergeant Barnes closed the door with a puzzled look.

You just shrugged in response, opening your mouth without a sound coming out and he took in the scene in front of him again, a smirk appearing on his lips. Under that gaze, you felt your face heat up. You could only imagine how that looked like, Steve cosily close to you, laughing, your hand right next to his thigh as his outburst had sent it sliding from his hand.

The smirk on the supersoldier’s face only deepened when he noticed how flustered he had made you.

“Punk?” he questioned and Steve wheezed once more, raising a palm in the sergeant’s direction, turning to you first.

He offered you a hand to shake. Confused, you accepted as his eyes twinkling in mischief bored into yours.

“Deal,” he mouthed, sending your lips twitching, and only then he shifted his attention to his friend. “Buck?”

The supersoldier had his eyes narrowed, watching you suspiciously.

“I’m gonna regret sending you with her instead of doing it the other way around, aren’t I?” he stated, not actually asking as his gaze flickered between the two of you.

His expression pushed you over the edge and the giggle building up in your chest for the last few minutes finally broke free. You simply couldn’t contain it anymore despite having two superiors in the room. Steve gave you a warm smile as the sound left your lips, clearly not bothered by it.

You hoped you’d be forgiven by Sergeant Barnes as well. After all, you were just human.

“Yeah, Buck, I think you are.”

S.R. masterlist

Sorry for the cavities at the end. Or should I say ‘you’re welcome’? Whatever works for you :))

Thank you for reading! 

[gothicprep]

Meditations on True Crime: A Very Long Post

In around February of this year, I was researching a potential video related to how true crime media portrays websleuths, contrasted against their efficacy in each specific case. The introduction was a brief primer on the genre’s evolution, beginning with its general association with low-budget LifeTime films, to a hobby with more dignity than that. I remember finding an article talking about Serial, and there was some commentary in there from another large true crime podcast host.

I didn’t think it was particularly useful for my purposes, but it said something to the effect of “true crime as a hobby can help women reconcile the trauma related to being in a world that is so hostile to us.” I rolled my eyes at it. It seemed dishonestly saccharine, like it was giving a sort of post-hoc legitimacy to just enjoying whodunnits. I didn’t think about it again for around seven months after I’d read it.

One of the subjects that I intended to talk about was Elisa Lam’s death and the online reaction to it. The story was adapted into a Netflix series a few months prior, and I was freshly reminded of how poorly it all sat with me. If you aren’t familiar with her name, she disappeared in Los Angeles’s Cecil Hotel in 2013, and her disappearance went viral after the respective police department release footage of her behaving strangely in an elevator. The case attained quick viral status and extensive discussion, due to the nature of the video and the hotel’s morbid history. When her naked body was discovered in a rooftop water tank a few weeks later, speculation exploded. But an autopsy isn’t an immediate followup, and the online sleuths would lose themselves to their imaginations in the time between. Many people wanted the murder solved, but many let their speculation fly off the rails. Shady hotel coverups. Metal musician murderers. Fear of the homeless. Ghosts. Demons. Government tuberculosis research. The gang was all there.

If you weren’t active online back then, it’s difficult to properly convey how huge this all was. Everyone was expecting Elisa to have been murdered. Iron-clad. Beyond the shadow of a doubt. She wasn’t. Her death was ruled an accident. She had a severe case of bipolar disorder and she wasn’t taking her medication. The severity of her illness was also not previously disclosed to the public. The working theory is that she experienced a manic episode with psychotic features, climbed in the tank in this state, to eventually strip out of her clothes in late stage hypothermia and drown there. It’s a horrific and painful way to die. All that’s left of you is water contamination – insult to fatal injury.

People weren’t happy with this, but not out of any sympathy for Elisa. There was palpable rage from many who had been following the case. No, she was definitely murdered. No, her killer needs to be brought to justice. No, this isn’t the real story. I don’t like it. I’m not satisfied. There needs to be an ending better than this.

Tragedy isn’t exactly in the habit of being kind to us.

When news of Gabby Petito’s disappearance was spreading, I noticed a lot of similarities between hers and Elisa’s. A woman in her early 20s vanishes while traveling, under very unusual circumstances. Footage was released during both investigations, which portrayed these women in mentally vulnerable states. The story was viral online. People rifled through Gabby’s instagram in the same way they did with Elisa’s tumblr. Social media detectives established an inappropriate amount of investment. Everyone is sure of a specific outcome. The family deserves answers.

Let’s talk about answers for a second. I’d like you to spitball a comprehensive explanation for this one: how could something like this happen? I’m not looking for a “how” in terms of events or circumstances. In this case, this isn’t a question. It’s a protest of the unfairness of it all. My daughter. My sister. My friend. Someone who meant so much to me. It’s a prayer to a vacant sky. It’s not a question, it’s agony. Nothing shy of resurrection can feel like justice. Even if the case leads to a criminal trial and conviction, it does nothing to fill the void loss burns within us. There is no good answer, because there aren’t answers at all.

Let’s talk about ourselves for a second. I noticed many people draw parallels between what they’d seen on the bodycam footage and their own experience with abusive partners. “This could have been me.” Do you really think this is appropriate? Could have been, would have been – these are statements with hypothetical validity. It has nothing to do with you. To emotionally identify with someone does not evidence anything. You’re here. She’s gone. This isn’t about you. She isn’t in the position where she can co-sign anything you say. If she can’t speak for herself, don’t invoke her.

Let’s talk about true crime for a second. It’s funny how true crime marketed to men has a distinctly different texture than true crime marketed to women. The former seems to involve knocking the perpetrator down a peg. It portrays them as something worth our disgust and ridicule. The latter tends to foster emotional identification with the victim. Podcasts and other media in this category tend to be by women, for women, and generally discuss women. This story is presented as catharsis for women who see themselves as similar to them. This woman is no longer a person, but an idea. And it makes me think of that stupid article quote that I resent myself for not having bookmarked. This is reconciliation. These women, in their passing, can be a motivating factor for us to break up with that one dumbass guy. I’m so happy this was a wakeup call. I’m so happy that this made me think about my own experiences. I’m so happy that this did so much for me. Sure, someone actually died, but what is that when compared to my own self-actualization?

I made a comment on Twitter about how disgusted I was with how people spoke of Gabby in such an evasively self-interested way, and someone who likely was of no relation to her interjected with how the family deserved the truth. Truth? What truth? What peace will grisly details give them? Is there any meaningful difference between knowing your loved one died of murder or collapsed from exposure? Or are you just a nosey person who’s projected an inappropriate emotional dog in this fight? Do you want answers for her family, or for your own curiosity?

I really don’t trust shit like that, nor am I willing to give leniency to people who say such things. I think we’ve been conditioned to relate to dead women in a way that’s completely separate from who they actually were. Alive, they’re deep, multifaceted individuals, with an array of likes, dislikes, quirks, and endless little details. Dead, they’re a concept to serve a purpose. The purpose is generally a form of narrative catharsis. The creep gets thrown in prison. A woman’s abusive partner gets the comeuppance he deserves. The story needs a good ending. The story needs an ending that satisfies me. People aren’t stories. Life is not a novel.

The real trauma of others will never belong to you. This not your therapy tool or plaything. This is real pain that will never be theoretical for plenty of people. Know your place. Keep your distance. Don’t objectify the dead.

[retvenkos]

Hello love! Could I get a spoiler-free review of the secret history?

oh, lol, okay, so 97% of my goodreads review is actually spoiler free (or like,,,,, spoiler free after the literal first line of the book asdfghjhgfdsdfghgf), so i'm going to copy and paste it from there without the spoilers, but also just like,,,,,, include Tumblr Thoughts™. (I don't know why the goodreads app will mark the entire review as containing spoilers while the desktop version just lets you hide the one (1) sentence with a spoiler, but it is what it is.)

i'm putting the rest under the cut for long post reasons - the review is spoiler free!

Honestly, this book is a 4.9 for me, and the only things dragging down that rating is the fact that i'm very tired of the whole, "there's one (vaguely masculine coded, because she's better than those feminine girls) girl in our group and we objectify her in every scene she's in." like bRO. i understand camilla is a hottie but please. can we talk about her like she's a real person for 0.5 seconds? and just.... when it's combined with the slut-shaming of other (feminine!) female characters,,,,, i had to dock the points. i generally try to not let stuff like that lower my rating overall, just because if i were to base every review off of morality and triggers, my reviews would become about a moralistic stance rather than enjoyment of the novel or the thought it produced, but bro,,,,,,,,,,, it was just like, "ah, yes, we're interrupting your regularly scheduled programming for three paragraphs about camilla's legs, soft pale skin, and blonde hair. put the murder mystery on hold real quick,,,,,,,, put the deterioration of characters on the back burner,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, let's just talk about how Small camilla's hands are, and how she should never let Boys and Men hold them..."

BUT!!!!!!! positive stuff????? the writing is beautifully superb™. and the book is very good at being engaging.

This book is truly dipped in aesthetics and created an atmosphere that is so ripe for the taking, and so vivid in its enchanting gravitas and rot. I understand now why this book is considered one of the founding fathers of dark academia because anything visual you associate with that particular aesthetic was detailed here in the most engaging and lush of language. Reading this book for the quotes alone would be valid because there are simply so many. This book fills me with such a vivid and overflowing fascination...

As for the engagement of the book overall, I think the book is clever in that it takes its central murder mystery and tilts it to the side. Rather than a traditional story of "who did it?" the cold opening of the story tells us who. Then, the overarching plot is "why did they do it?" and "at what exact moment?" This is particularly engaging, as the main characters are all quite nuanced, and trying to pick apart the psychology of each person and understand their motives (or lack thereof) is a fun exercise that keeps the reader hooked during dialogue scenes where little else is happening on the surface. Furthermore, the book arrives at the scene of the murder at the halfway mark, meaning that for the last half of the book, the reader is wondering how our main characters will make it out unscathed, and what happens after the climax that is so important to warrant an entire half book. The Secret History is really good at building up a slow-burn mystery, even if the payoff at the halfway point was a little underwhelming, with the confrontation shadowed by the tension, and the deft cutaway of the scene leaving readers momentarily jarred. The story stagnates a bit after the halfway mark - the high stakes of the murder have reached their climax, and the sheer number of pages left feeling daunting, in the face of the most interesting course of events having finished, but the last ~150 pages of the novel quickly pick up momentum again. The very ending is certainly a subversion of expectations, but a subversion done well, leaving a much more fascinating ending than the one foreseen. I already predict that because of the strength of the ending alone, the book hangover with this one will be strong...... (goodreads excerpt <3)

working a bit off of what i mentioned above, there was a bit of a lull at the halfway mark. there's this big buildup to the murder that's going to take place......... and then it doesn't live up to its own hype? the adrenaline doesn't quite hit the way you're expecting it to? in its own way, that's powerful because like,,,,,,, everything is glorified in this book except the murder isn't, so when it rings a bit hollow, you're able to feed off of guilt and morality questions a bit...... but idk. maybe it was the day i was reading it, but i wanted just a bit more. either lean into that morality bit or hype up the murder a bit, but do just a little more.

and the beginning of the second half of the book is decidedly a little slow. at first, you're a little interested in what is going to happen (to warrant the half a book) but it fades a little bit, and for maybe 50-80ish pages you're just like..... hmm....... should i keep going? but once you get to the last ~150-120 pages it really picks up again and it's worth the lull.

and the ending!!!!! on the one hand, it's a subversion of your expectation because a lot of the behavior of some characters leads you to think one way (which doesn't happen), but it's also not a complete subversion because like,,,,,,, you saw half of it coming, and the last half (while shocking!) makes sense in retrospect. i loved it, personally, but like,,,,,, people addicted to plot twists might not like it. it was satisfying if not a tad bit tame.

also!!!!!!!!! i want to talk a bit about richard papen!!!! because, imo, my goodreads review did him Justice. (i'll take out the spoiler bits, but literally, it was one (1) line from this section that contained the spoilers.)

But segueing to characters, I want to quickly talk about Richard Papen, the narrator of the story. He's such an interesting fellow, because (in my opinion) he's an everyman actually done well. (So, I have a bone to pick with everymen, in that not every story requires one, and oftentimes, using an everyman can be an excuse for having a character who is ill-defined or generally not very interesting. Or, on occasion, and everyman-esque character is shoehorned into a story so the readers have someone to relate to, when such a character is not needed, or someone with a bit of personality could have carried the story much more naturally.) Richard Papen is decidedly not that kind of everyman. Richard has some very interesting character beats and flaws at the beginning of the story, which make him just a bit more engaging than the Expected Bland Narrator. And for some of the early bits of the novel, Richard comes off as just as nuanced as everyone else in the main cast. As the main storyline kicks up, this nuance and depth very slowly gets lost in translation, and Richard becomes less of a character and more of a stand-in for the reader. As the narrative twists and turns, Richard fades into the background until it's almost easy to read the novel as a third-person story rather than a first. Richard seems to fade away (with no complaints, either, as the story becomes increasingly engaging, overshadowing any contribution he might make) and then, in the final moments of the story, something unexpected happens to Richard - not as a direct result of his actions, but just because he was simply there. In the epilogue itself, Richard remarks how he is very much a bystander and spectator - in this story and in his own life, entirely. He is at the whims of the story; he is at the mercy of others. The reader finally sees that the backstory Richard had from the beginning - that which made him interesting and memorable - is somewhat gone, perhaps never there in the first place. Perhaps Richard embellished even himself in the writing, to make it seem as though he belonged and was an active character, and slowly, as the writing progresses, he slips up - forgets to complete his own fabrication. Or perhaps he loses parts of himself in the narrative, like so many other characters. Perhaps the turn of events guts him (and the others) until they're something beyond recognition, and only a hollowness left in his place.

I loved this use of an ill-defined everyman, because it not only has narrative and thematic significance, but it lends itself to reexamination and recontextualization of the story at large. It takes the nebulous nature of an everyman and gives that particular trait significance and reason. Love it when an everyman makes me think!!!!!

as you can tell, lol, i have many thoughts™ about everymen, and just,,,,,,,,, the book takes the flaws of an everyman and uses them to create deeper meaning and thematics in the story. love that for them, actually. praying at their shrine.

and, as a quick recap of other personalities

The other characters (as you most likely well know) are also fantastically written. I have my quarrels with some parts of everyone's personality, and at times the flaws can feel a bit too bold of a choice — really, in what reality are people these extreme and far-flung going to be put together in one, singular location - and a college of all places? — but part of the gravitas in this story is the dramatics. The otherworldly nature of it. The way it mimics our world, but cannot possibly be anything other than a reality tipped on its side and wholly separate from ours. If characters fall into tropes, or they do something extreme, that's part of the story. It's part of the intoxicating charm of the novel. (Lol, it very much reminds me of what people say about the characters of the very popular TV show Euphoria. Certainly, in real life, all of these personalities don't co-exist so naturally and so closely together. But isn't that what stories are for? To push the envelope of reality and smash it into a million pieces, only to make something artfully distorted? Is that not what Richard himself sees and makes of the world, after attending his first Greek lecture? Who knows. To each their own.)

also, uhhh, i promised no spoilers, so i'll be vague, but like,,,,, everyone is mentally ill and i get the distinct feeling that mr. julian morrow knows this and is exploiting it and like,,,,,, anyone want to explain to me wHO he is???? WhAt he's doing??????

Anyway, if you have doubted whether or not to read this novel, I would strongly recommend you do. There's something really interesting going on here, and I think it's romanticized morbidity (and acknowledgment of it) makes for a very engaging and fascinating tale.

[jar-of-ectoplasm]

First Kiss Headcannons: All Characters!

(none of these pictures are mine)

i’m sorry these took so fucking long to finish-

Herbert West:

-This was most certainly not planned, and this was definitely Herbert’s first kiss. He had just made a pretty fucking important discovery regarding his little hobby and he just couldn’t contain his excitement. He bolted up the stairs and straight to you, giving you a quick kiss on the lips

-Herbert’s kisses are very sloppy at first, but he’ll get the hang of it eventually. He isn’t quite sure what to do with his hands so they’ll probably just be fluttering all over you. They go from cupping your cheeks, to holding your jaw, to around your shoulders, running down your arms and eventually ending up holding your waist

-After he pulled away from you Herbert will be talking a mile a minute about whatever he had found in the lab, up until he realized what he had just done. He’ll stop talking immediately, a dark shade of pink creeping up his neck and into his face. He’ll probably just walk away and back into the basement before coming up again and giving you a real kiss

Dan Cain:

-Dan thought that the cutest way to have your first kiss would be after a very special date. It was your one month anniversary and Dan was dropping you back off at your house. After walking you to your front door, he leaned in for a kiss

-Daniel wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s a very emotional man, and his kisses are very emotional as well. Whatever he is feeling, you can feel it in the kiss. Almost all of the kisses he gives you are full of unconditional love. They’re so sweet and every single time they leave you breathless 

-When he finally pulls away, he gives you the same charming smile you fell in love with while he catches his breath. After giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, you ruffle his hair and walk into your home

Megan Halsey:

-Another day, another incident where Hill freaked the actual fuck out of Megan. It was yet another dumbass dinner that her dad invited Carl (ew) to, so she had nowhere else to go but your place to escape the scary old man. Understandably, your Meg arrived to your front door in tears (do i get unreasonably scared and teary eyed when old men objectify me? maybe. am i self projecting? also maybe.) Pulling her inside, you gave her a soft kiss to calm her down and hopefully get her in a better head-space

-Has the softest kisses of the bunch (except for maybe Crawford but still). Meg will lace her fingers together behind your neck and kiss the corners of your mouth before getting to your actual lips. Every single one of her kisses, no matter what kind of mood she’s in, is always filled with love (just like her)

-After Megan had calmed down and explained what had happened (you were understandably angry and disgusted with Hill) you set up the most comfortable spot on the couch and popped in a rom-com to cheer her up. The entire time, you two cuddled and exchanged small kisses until you fell asleep

Crawford Tillinghast:

-This event was either planned or it was completely by surprise. Maybe Crawford had set up a cute little romantic evening, all coming to a close with your first kiss with him or he just got way to excited about something and just went for it during the heat of the moment

-Crawford’s kisses are very slow and soft but very passionate. He’s not the best with words, so he relies on actions to speak for him. He’ll cup your jaw and keep a hand on your hip while you have your arms wrapped around his neck

-He’ll either smile the softest, most loving smile you have ever seen on a man’s face or he will start apologizing so much and so fast you can barely make out the words (you’ll have to shut him up with another kiss) depending on what prompted the smooching

Katherine McMichaels:

-Lovely, darling Katherine was overworking herself again and you were having absolutely none of it. She was too tired to hold a pen properly, so you had to guide her out of the in-house office and to your shared bedroom. After tucking her in Katherine pulled you down for a quick kiss, mumbling a goodnight before she passed out

-I headcannon Katherine as a very hard worker considering she’s a female doctor in the 80′s, so she’s almost always pretty busy keeping up with paperwork and such. Her kisses are usually in passing and pretty quick, but when she does finally get time to relax (or you make her take a break) she’ll savor each and every kiss being given (sweet babey 😌)

-While you two were eating breakfast the next morning, Katherine asked if you had actually kissed or if she was dreaming. After explaining that yes, Katherine, you really did kiss me she just pulled you in for another (much less sleepy) kiss :)

Bubba Brownlee:

-With being a police officer and all, Bubba’s job does come with some level of risk so when you got a call from the hospital that he had to stay for the night, you rushed over immediately. Apparently your darling boyfriend had gotten caught in a shoot out, thankfully only catching a bullet to the shoulder and his leg, but it still worried you immensely. As soon as you walked into his room, you pulled him in for a kiss

-Tall man has to lean down A LOT (or lean up a little bit for those of you taller than 6′5, i see you tall kings, queens, and other assorted royalty) so Bubba might just pick you right the fuck up when he is in need of smooches. His kisses are very smiley, every single time he kisses you it’s always broken by him smiling and laughing to himself. He’s just so happy with you, baby!!!

-As stated above, your unexpected smooching was broken by his (award winning) smile. He pulled you in for a careful hug and apologized for worrying you. The entire time Bubba was awake he was giving you little kisses all around your face, but he eventually fell asleep which caused you to stay the night in the hospital as well

Milton Dammers:

-Milton was resting his head on your shoulder like he always does and today he was feeling a little bit more confident than usual. He tilted his head up, meaning to give you a little kiss on the cheek, but he had caught your lips instead after your turned your head to look at him

-Milton’s kisses are very soft and VERY hesitant. No matter how far into the relationship you guys are, he’ll always handle you like you’re made of glass. He just loves you so much, he doesn’t want to hurt you (a soft man deserves some soft kisses god damn it)

-Oh god oh fuck what has he done. Immediately after realizing he missed your cheek, Milton would yell out an apology and basically run into the other room. He’d probably cry, not because the thought of kissing you was disgusting to him, but because he was afraid you’d hate him for it. Just approach him calmly and explain that everything was okay and that you didn’t hate him

Ash Williams:

-A deadite had broken through the backdoor while you were in the kitchen getting a snack and Ash was waiting on the couch watching a movie. Said movie was of the horror genre and the volume was cranked up pretty loud, so Ash didn’t really notice that your screaming was coming from the other room and not the TV. After killing the deadite and making sure you weren’t hurt, he just smashed his face onto yours

-Ash’s kisses really just depend on how he’s feeling. When he’s jealous, they’re rough and possessive and when he’s in a better mood, they’re still kinda rough but not nearly as possessive. But when’s he’s sad/upset? oh man, these are the rare times Ash doesn’t almost break your skull with the sheer force of his kisses, so cherish that while it lasts (which hopefully doesn’t last long, make your boy happy again god damn it-)

-When he pulled away from you, Ash held you to his chest (even though it was covered in blood) and started crying while rattling out apology after apology. When he finally lets you go, you’re probably gonna have to hold him as well ‘cause he’s still sobbing (you’re gonna be on a blood stained kitchen floor for a while man)

[steponmepinkjun]

I NEVER FINISHED MY STORY OMG. ok so i left off at being too proud to tell my friend she was right and kpop fucked hard. the difference between u and me is that i’m too good of a liar. too good. i kept up the “i hate kpop it’s cringe” facade for ALMOST TWO WHOLE YEARS, I SHIT YOU NOT. why? bc my dumb ass, extra ass, dramatic ass self thought “ok if i’m gonna have to deal with the embarrassment of admitting i’m wrong, i better do it in such an extra ass way it’ll knock ur socks off so hard that YOULL be the one embarrassed not me.” the original plan was to learn the entire choreography to bts dope, bc it’s the song that she told me to listen to and inevitably the song that got me into them, but later switched to bts fire bc i saw too many of those “choreo matches w any song” videos, and then her birthday party came up. and here’s the real kicker. her birthday is April Motherfuckin Fools. so it would be So Perfect for me to reveal my kpopism as a birthday present And a april fools prank in one. so i was Set on the Reveal being on april 1st, but the day rolls around and god that choreo is so fucking hard and i am Not a dancer. never have been. so i abandon that and go ykno what… i’ll do it Next Year. BC MY BITCHASS WAS LIKE NO THE MOMENT IS TOO PERFECT TO DO IT ON A NORMAL ASS DAY ITS GONNA BE ON APRIL FOOLS ON HER GODDAMN BIRTHDAY OR NOT AT ALL. a year rolls by, i’ve told most of our friends except her and they’re all in on it, i’d made so many subtle kpop references to her without her realising they were fully intentional and had too many scares where she almost figured me out but i lied my way out of it, and i’d given up on showing off with choreography bc i couldn’t make that shit look good. i’m not a dancer. i am, however, a rapper, and a damn good one, so i inhaled the agust d mixtape and decided i’d just rap the eminem of kpop’s anthem at her face. in korean. and change the lyrics at the end (if u haven’t listened to agust d, the bridge repeats “i’m sorry” a lot) to “i’m sorry i kept this from u for so long” and “i’m sorry i actually ult got7 not bts” (this was like the april after skz debuted ok i was holding onto got7 for dear life knowing full well skz we’re going to convert me smh) and the best part? she never saw it coming. her official present was a cd with a bunch of kpop on it but she thought it was just a personalised mixtape for her so i told her to play the first song out loud and she knew the song Instantly. it has a long intro so she was like “i guess u did listen when i recommended u this song!! i knew you’d like it since u like rap so much!!” and then i started rapping and i shit u not. she started SCREAMING. like the initial reaction was her jaw dropping and then instinctively covering her mouth but when i kept going and she realised i wasn’t fucking around she just fucking screamed like a banshee. at the end during the sorry bit i threw off my jacket to reveal a got7 shirt on the inside and she fell off her chair and started rolling around on the floor. needless to say it was every bit as satisfying as i thought it’d be LMAOOOO afterwards her ass was like “I CANT BELIEVE U HID THIS FROM ME FOR OVER A YEAR” and when i tried to explain my ego couldn’t take the “i told u so” she was like “you know i wouldn’t have made fun of you for it right? i would just be glad you’re not hating on my boys anymore” so basically i’m a big dramatic fool and she was always too good for me.

don’t mind the weird spaces here my ipad is being all fucky wucky w me rn. damn sad to hear ur sideblog experience didn’t go so well, i’d have shown u the cool side of the fandom if i knew 😤😤 leading u thru the cursed halls of kpop stan tumblr like a sketchy tour guide that’s actually 3 small raccoons stacked on top of each other like a trench coat, like “over here we have the fanfic writers that honestly need to publish a book, over here we have the gif makers that are responsible for my entire camera roll, if we take a quick swerve past the death threat anons and the twt fanwar screenshots - mind ur feet bub the 14 year olds were tryna make a grab for ur ankles - ah here’s the holy grail of shitposts, you might be here for hours, to the right we have the weird aussie side of the fandom that projects our childhoods onto chanlix but also all the members as we decide what their life in australia would’ve been like, and down there is a secret trapdoor to the blogs w endless random headcanons that will make you laugh, cry or blush depending on if the author woke up and decided to choose violence today. enjoy your Stay!” but then again i’m not so active on tumblr anymore (ngl you’ve become the highlight of my tumblr experience these days, interaction wise,) so maybe all my Local Hotspots are inactive now. i know a bunch of them are, it’s sad. “i don’t fw stan twitter for the same reason i don’t hang out in meth dens” oop. guess i’m a meth addict. no but i get u i rly do, it’s a hellhole out there, but the fact that things get shared and spread a lot easier than on tumblr and how short most things have to be (therefor keeping up w my adhd attention span without having to resort to the mental torture that is tiktok, with the added bonus of not always needing headphones.) that i just. couldn’t leave if i tried. maybe i should try being active on tumblr again but it’s a dying site in comparison.

“their music doesn’t consistently hit for me as much as skz” i’m sorry we can’t be friends anymore. what. what. you don’t dramama ramama ramama hey? you don’t feel a little jealousyyyyyy, naega anin? you don’t shoot out, shoot out, shoot out, or aremdaeun love killa love killa? you can’t be your hero du du du du du du du du du dududu? u disappoint me. literally like everyone i know who likes skz music likes mx music like it’s a rite of Passage. they’re kindred spirits, monsta x music is like skz’s music’s cool but mildly heterosexual older brother. neither of them know what a bad song is it runs in the family. and both their music runs in my VEINS. whenever i describe my music taste they’re always the first two that come to mind, skz being my number 1 bc they are my best boys but mx bc of the Flavour. pls listen to the entire the code album then get back to me 😤🙌 ok but fr ur so right they are 7 of the finest men i ever seen (yes i say 7 bc i’m including wonho cause he deserved better and i’ll die on my ot7 bullshit.) like don’t get me started on them either LOL i LITERALLY downloaded that one insta video of changkyun working out his back n arm muscles w his tattoo showing bc i needed that shit saved for Science. they could do Anything w me like frfr. yes vixx is the bdsm contract group i’m telling ya they wildin. or at least they were. it’s been years since their last comeback idk what they’re doing anymore tbh. and yeah that makes sense, savouring the hyperfixation i feel it, but also i’m so attached to skz that i never let it die. like i hyperfixate on other things and other groups but i will Always go back to skz cause they’re my homeboys. hell, they’re my home. being a predebut stay i’ve spent more time w skz than most of my actual family members at this point. but that’s just me you do u boo xx just know that if ur anything like me ur never letting go once skz it’s been my longest lasting fixation cause they hit like Nothing Else Do. ik i’ve already said that but i cannot stress it enough. they’re really special. i’m gonna stop here before i get all sappy and emotional bc i really love those boys so fucking much and i don’t drop the L bomb often. SIDE NOTE I WOULD LIKE TO SEE UR LIST OF GROUPS RANKED BY THORSt. i need to judge ur Taste. and omg cat&dog is such a guilty pleasure song bc the lyrics make me cringe so much bc while pet play can be fun they be doing it in more of an “i’m an innocent soft dogboy uwu” kinda way that just Does Not Sit Right with me. it comes back to the objectifying of asians that asians themselves don’t help in industries like these and maybe i’m looking too far into it when rly it is just wholesome n cute or maybe they are into some pet play shit idk idc i will bop to the song regardless but i will not acknowledge the lyrics nope.

YOURE RIGHT THO SKZ’S OPENNESS IS IN FACT, A BIG DEAL, i’ll grab them for u if u want but i found these twt threads of skz supporting the lgbt community and i just felt a special kind of happiness man like sure the delusional part of me likes going “haha they’re gay” bc my brain likes to imagine them as my polycule of mlm boyfriends bc sometimes thats what gives me the serotonin to get me thru the day ok don’t judge but also bc it’s nice knowing that yes i’ll never know them personally, but at least i can support them knowing they’d respect my gender identity and my pronouns, they’d respect who i choose to love, and that’s already more than the general public can say so shit, it is special! it’s special that they don’t treat being cishet like the norm - they constantly remove gender from their songs and speech entirely, they don’t assume all stays are female anymore, we don’t talk abt the babygirls incident cause we got babystays in the end outta that ok, and it’s just. so refreshing and important to me bc i can’t get that anywhere else!! like my semi ults are the boyz and while i love them very much and there’s no way all 11 of them are straight i refuse, i do get just a little bit sad whenever they she/her their fandom by default and call them their girlfriends n shit even tho i do still identify as a girl, i’m also genderfluid/nonbinary/transmasc, and i have a very love/hate relationship w my womanhood and rarely use she/her pronouns, cause it’s like, do you not see me? see us? the ones who aren’t cishet women? i mean i know kevin does bc he congratulated a fan who came out as nb but it’s just not the same as the openness we get w skz. like how do i trust cishets i could be supporting them as a queer person when in reality they’d call me a slur. what would i know, behind the screen? so it’s so good that skz go the extra mile to make it a safe space for everyone. this is already long enough i will reply to the second half of that ask in another message… tomorrow cause it’s 1am and i’m tired gn -felix bi anon

I'mma have to start putting these under a readmore so that i don't absolutely make everything who is still following me for some reason go totally fucking insane 😂

NDJDHWJJAHFNAKBSJSBFBHHDBDNAJD YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE FACES I WAS MAKING READING THIS, I WAS FUCKING CACKLING AND GASPING EVERY OTHER SENTENCE SO HARD THAT I SCARED THE CATS NDJWHSHSB the fact that you went "oh you want me to get into kpop? Give me a hot minute, and I'll give you a whole ass private concert for free" biduehsjdbd biiiiiiiiiiitch you're a fucking ICON, I stg I could NEVER 😂 (and not just because I couldn't find a tune if you gave me a printed set of Google maps directions and that I embody the steriotype that white people can't dance, like my sister kept sensing me tiktoks of the whole "dance like a white girl" trend going lmfao look it's you and eventually I was like "sis please this trend has me feeling like being white is a disability and these mothafuckers are being ableist 😭 also I could NEVER be that on beat so yall ain't even doin it right 😭😭😭😭"). Tbh if I told one of my friends (lol what friends, i got jokes) to get into Skz and they showed up at my bday and performed the entirety of I Got It I would simply shower them in money and go "aight everyone else go home, you are no longer needed, you are being laid off, your position has been eliminated, we're downsizing, the company is moving up and you're moving out, you are not qualified for this role any longer, best of luck with future endeavors" 😊

I think part of the reason I can't deal w Twitter is the exact reason I refuse to leave tumblr, in that I've been on tumblr since 2006 and twt since 2008, and tumblr literally has not changed at all, not even a little, whereas going from the early days of twt where there were no corporate sponsorships or ads and you had to manually copy and paste someone's tweet and @ them to retweet it, to how it is now, like 90% ads and showing me shit from the timelines of people I don't even fuckin follow n whatnot, it's just not enjoyable. Idk how anyone finds anything on twt, it confuses and frustrates me because I am old and have not adapted well to technology changing 😂 But arguably, the skz fanbase doesn't want me on skztwt anyways so like it works for both of us lmfaooo. I am old and cringey, and also still think of twt as stream of consciousness whereas tumblr is your teenage bedroom where you can decorate the walls with anything that interests you. I do really love the nonsensical kpoptwt shitposts tho fhshsbdjjss like it is a very specific flavor of mental instability that I enjoy immensely 😂 OH and also I initially misread part of that and thought you were saying you actually irl do meth and I was like 😳 WHAT DO I SAY TO THAT. HOW DO I HANDLE THIS. Like how do I express like "I wasn't being judgy of people who use substances cause I've been there but I was just being insensitive 😳" And then went back and reread it and was like WHEW, IM JUST AN ILLITERATE FOOL 😂😂😂😂 ejeywhdhrhjwbfbdjshdhdhd I spent like an hour bwign like "IS THE REASON WE GET ALONG BECAUSE THEY'RE ON METH???? WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS INFORMATION??????" hrhehshe I am literally a fuckin idiot it's fine

It's not that I don't fw them, it's more like... Okay so like there is no situation in which I am going to skip a skz song if it comes on shuffle. You will not ever catch me NOT in the mood to listen to Sunshine, if God's Menu comes on we are THROWIN the meager amount of booty meat I got hither and thither, I could be in the happiest mood of my life but if Ex comes on I will stop to SOB. And I'm not like that with most music, so mx just falls into the category of "there is a time and place." Idk why but it just doesn't forcibly grab hold of my heart and ass the way skz always does. I really don't WANT my skz fixation to ever end, but I know that eventually it'll stop giving me dopamine bevause my brain is my worst fucking enemy 🙃 like my arcana fixation is to date the longest running hyperfixation I've ever had, going on almost three years, and I used to not be able to spend every single second of every day thinking about Asra, but now... I just feel nothing when I look at arcana stuff. As you can probz tell by the fact that I hardly post arcana anymore 😂 So I know that eventually all my happiness will end, it always does, I can never stay just as obsessed with something as I was for long. I CANT SHARE THE LIST BECAUSE I DONT *HAVE* TASTE YET 😭 I'm basically just compiling a list of any group someone tells me I should look into, ranked by how strong the kitty purred upon googling pics of them 😂 My mom read my ass to FILTH over txt lmfao she was like "they're not that adorable. Maybe your standard for adorableness has gone down with You Know Who still on hiatus 🤔" bfjwhdhd like MOMMAAAAA THE LIBRARY IS CLOSED 😂 she attacks me any time I even hint at stanning other groups, she is a skz purist and stans skz only, unofficial Momma Stay of All Stays keeping me in check lmfao.

I feel like skz really do follow thru on their promise that they're a safe space for stays, it's nice to see that they hold space for anyone and everyone in their fanbase and do it in a really simple and elegant way, I feel. Like they never make it seem like "okay here are the fans and here are the token weirdos that were only recognizing to make a buck off of them" the way a lot of artists make it feel like 😑 like they don't go out of their way to act like it's some revolutionary act to do the bare minimum of not shitting on certain parts of the fandom, if that makes sense. They feel very "yeah, of course we love all our stays, this is a welcoming space for literally anyone, that's how it should be, that should be normal," instead of like "Hi fans we love you 😊 and special shoutout to you ell gee bee tee folk, make sure to buy my rainbow merch after the show!!!" you know? Like, they're the friends who would never make you feel weird or different for some shit, the friends that take the attention off you if something they know ur sensitive about comes up, instead of weirdly snapping at whoever brought the unfomfy thing up which ruins the mood and makes you feel tiwce as bad, yk? They just give off this vibe that they, and the space they create with their music, is just a genuine and chill place to be and hang out and relax and bond. I feel like they'd be the friend group that is so goofy and sweet and silly and accepting and lovely and always makes you feel loved and excited to be alive 🥺 They are all good noodles 🥺🥺🥺

[loganwadelerman]

it is actually really fucking gross how capitalism has commodified feminism. who needs reading angela davis's work when you can just go ahead and buy a lil this is what a feminist looks like shirt from miss hermione. people just see feminism as some cute lil trend that will get them tiktok likes because waspy yt talentless hacks like the weirdo playing camilla parker and her white friends continue happily promoting watered down versions of it that society is more than happy to promote because it is "safe" for men and makes women feel empowered without actually empowering them. ppl praise emily ratawhatever performative wokeness while miss thing couldnt even differentiate between gender and sex in hee shitty 3rd grade level vogue essay. but hey, its all good because when this woman is not busy trying to find legal loopholes to not pay for hee shit even tho she is rich or defending her racist and abusive husband and ignoring and blocking the multiple woc trying to bring attention to what is happening, she makes meaningless lil insta posts that get pushed down our throats by publications benefiting from the oversexualization and objectification of women.

like lmfao, even this so called sex positive bs just serves to continue objectifying women only that knows is actually a super cool, wokey dokey thing to do. and dont get me wrong, women should absolutely be allowed to be sexually liberated, but the issue is that ppl, PARTICULARLY MEN, have taken this 3rd wave feminist concept and benefited from it more than women have to the point young women now feel forced to perform sexual acts theyre not remotely confortable with because the so called progressives will resort to actually shaming them because they dont think its cool to let their bf hurt thrm during sex. and this gets way worse when you take into account how people have literally made abuse survivors believe that retraumatizing themselves in the name of white neoliberal feminism it is totes okay.

and the best part is that these are the same damn people that despite their 9 to 5 lip service takes on the bird app, continue mistreating and shaming sex workers while peomoting girl boss fauxminism and posting stale takes lisa bloom would retweet in a heartbeat.

there is absolutely nothing radical about the feminism hollywood and just capitalism in general has shoved down our throats. while they praise women that succumb to the harmful wants of men, they also discredit the women doing the real work, women forgotten by the system, sex workers, abuse victims, trans women, poor women, queer people, women of color, and so on in benefit of the same tired ass system that is working hard to benefit from feminism without actually implementing their ideals or even attempting to contribute to the betterment of women. feminism has been reduced to a marketing ploy where execs can just add that label to whatever they want to make a quick buck all while producing material that is short from being progressive and basement weirdos online caling themselves radicals when in reality theyre just disgusting transphobic dummies.

terfs and swerfs dont interact. i hate your guts and hope y'all choke

[alex-wrtng]

How I Describe Characters: I don't.

This is where the "show not tell" demon comes to bite eveyone in the ass. Most of the time, characters are introduced and described within the same parragraph (unless it's some sort of pen pal situation, or they are a ghost/invisible, or the MC is blind, etc.).

Most amateur writers will try to infodump all those quirky characteristics they've been working on so hard and then their introduction ends up looking like a grocery list of random attributes that vaguely resemble a real human and not an anime character.

I usually don't describe my characters unless there's a striking feature I need to point out like a scar, a tattoo, dyed hair, etc. and if it doesn't fit in my narration then I use dialogue or action to fill in the blanks left behind by my need to keep descriptions short and simple.

Work with negative space: less is more.

No description means "default characteristics" which can change depending the setting, your character's name, socioeconomic background, etc. This is where stereotypes come in handy (oof). Stereotypes exist whether we like them or not and we writers need to take advantage of them by using them in our favor.

The average person has: brown eyes (approximately 79% of the world's population has brown eyes), brown hair, under 6 feet tall (you can look what the average height by country is here), no scars (unless your book setting is wilder than average then go off and give everyone scars), no facial hair, short hair (men), shoulder length hair (women), etc. Skin color depends on other factors, but readers are more likely to guess that the character has a light skin tone than a darker one.

No description means the reader will probably imagine what I just described.

We can work with stereotypes in a small setting (say your story is set somewhere in small German village. What do most German people look like?) or in a more general setting (an international space station or simply a big city with a diverse population where one's ethnic background is hardly going to be the same as everyone else's). When it comes to wider settings the "default" changes a lot so go do your research if you are using real locations.

Names

Your character's name will paint a picture way faster than an entire parragraph.

Examples: Karen Miller, Ricardo Martinez, Fitzwilliam Wickham, Tyrone Williams, Wang Xiuying, Pierre Dubois, etc.

I didn't need to say a word for you to draw a basic picture of what they look like. Do what you must with this information.

Professions

Now that we have a name and we know what a default human looks like, we can start with clothes. Uniforms are easy because you don't need to do anything special with their description. Eveyone knows what a cop looks like and same goes for a bunch of other professionals. A quick Google search should be enough to let you know exactly what you need to know, but remember that a few words are more than enough. One adjective and one or two nouns should do the work.

Examples: Bloody scrubs, pristine suit, tactical gear, ragged jeans and a random hoodie, leather jacket and washed out jeans, etc.

On the other hand we can simply NOT mention any piece of clothing and simply go "David the doctor" and depending on the setting the reader will imagine a white lab coat, a stethoscope, either scrubs or a button up shirt, a pen in their pocket, a pager in their belt, and whatever else their brain can come up with before you throw in some action. If your character doesn't have a profession (too young or unemployed), you can describe the climate instead (what do people usually wear when it snows?) or the setting (could be a fancy party or a beach in the coast of France) or the activity your chatacter is doing (gym, class, visiting grandma, murdering the governor), etc.

Skin tones

Don't look for synonyms unless you want to super romantic (or super annoying). If you aren't like me and you have an inclination for poetic descriptions then go ahead and describe how the sun makes their skin shine or whatever, but if you aren't then here's a very basic chart:

If that's not enough for you then go to a makeup websites/blog and look up tones vs undertone.

Again, you may NOT need to describe your character's skin tone if their name or setting was enough to deal with that. Most of the time the reader will simply guess your character is white and that's it.

Body proportions

Here's where it gets tricky. There's the basic descriptions of "tall vs short" and "fat vs thin". The reader will automatically choose a medium for these two (unless it's a male main character in which case they will always choose tall unless he is some sort of loser or a child) so you may not need to describe this either. Height is highly irrelevant unless the character is much smaller/shorter than the MC or if this new character is a romantic interest then "taller" and "shorter" should be enough of a description unless you want to get creative or your MC is the type to wax poetics about such a thing or your MC is the exact opposite and has the ability to guess their exact height (like a Sherlock or Spock type of smart character).

You can soften the "fat" adjective with words like "soft", "chuby", "curvy", "thick", or you may go for the kill and describe the character as "morbidly obese" if you feel like it. I don't make the rules, you do.

Objectification

No one needs to read a description about a female character's boobs.

If you reeeeeeally want to go there you can mention how character A can't stop looking at Character B's chest or you can bring up the subject with dialogue or you can indirectly mention it by describing their clothes (be creative, bitch).

One thing most men don't know is that women (straight or otherwise) notice when other women have above average breasts, but most of time it's just "oh wow those are big" and "oh wow those are much bigger than mine" which may or may not be out of curiosity, jealousy, or attraction. I mean... women have eyes too, people. There's a third option which is "that can't be comfortable" which is 100% real. Big boobs can cause health problems, but this isn't a post for that.

MEN can also be objectified, but it's more subtle and less problematic as the mention of "marked abs" and "big muscles" is exactly what makes it to the cover of Men's Health magazine and superhero movies. Just like huge perfect boobs with small waists aren't realistic (but they exist), perfectly chiseled bodies aren't very realistic, but you do you. Find a balance and look up what's needed to have someone look the way you want them to (diet, exercise, good genes, demon deals, plastic surgery, etc).

Have fun NOT describing your characters and follow me for more tips. 💖

Bonus notes: Your chosen POV style will affect your descriptions. In 1st person POV, your MC's personality must color how they view people and what words they use to describe them, but you must keep in mind that most people don't stop to think about what a person looks like for more than a few seconds unless there's something special about them or the situation.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Baby You Were My Picket Fence [Chapter 2: Should I Stay Or Should I Go]

You are a first grade teacher in sunny Los Angeles, California. Ben Hardy is the father of your most challenging student. Things quickly get complicated in this unconventional love story.  

Song inspiration: Miss Missing You by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing) HERE

Taglist: @blushingwueen @queen-turtle-boiii @everybodyplaythegame @onceuponadetectivedemigod @luvborhap 

Hey y’all, I’m also going to tag some of my usual readers so you know this exists but I WON’T TAG YOU AGAIN UNLESS YOU ASK ME TO, so don’t worry I won’t bother you! :) @the-borhap-boys @killer-queen-xo @sincereleygmg @calspixie @queen-crue @inthegardensofourminds @jennyggggrrr @stormtrprinstilettos @bramblesforbreakfast @brainflakes @coffeexcigarette @ezmina98 @danamaleksworld @littlespoiltthing

You guide your forest green, decade-old, positively no-frills Hyundai Elantra onto the shoulder of the narrow, winding road. There are trees and boulders and steep rock faces peppering the landscape; even before you open the car door, you can hear birds and rustling leaves overhead. You climb out and inspect the rear tires with your hands on your hips. As you suspected, the driver’s side one is flattening before your eyes. There’s a daggerish white rock jutting out of the deflating rubber, the source of your trouble on this otherwise unencumbered Saturday.

“Dammit,” you moan, peering up and down the road. It’s not a great place to break down: it’s fairly isolated, there are blind curves, the shoulder isn’t very wide. The sun is hot and glaring in a cloudless sky.

You slip back into your car and click on the hazard lights. Your iPhone is laying on the dashboard. Fortunately, you already have your usual mechanic’s contact information saved.

“Siri, call Benji’s.”

“Calling: Ben Hardy.”

“What?! No!” You paw for your phone and in the process knock it off the dashboard and onto the floor of the passenger’s side. “No no no no no, bad Siri, no—!” 

“Hello?” a reverberating British voice pours through the speakers.

You chuckle awkwardly, contorted between the front seats, your left arm painfully extended towards the phone. “Uh, hi, yeah, good afternoon, Mr. Hardy. This is Miss Y/L/N, Eli’s teacher.”

“...Okay?”

“Uh...” Your fingertips brush the phone, flail around unproductively, then finally scoop it into your palm. You sigh as you straighten up in the driver’s seat, treasuring your freshly unimpeded breathing. “Look, I’m going to be honest, Mr. Hardy. I was trying to call my mechanic and accidentally dialed you. So I’m very sorry for the intrusion and won’t interrupt your weekend any further.”

There’s a lull before he replies. “Having car trouble?”

“No. Well, yeah. It’s a flat tire, nothing serious. I’m just woefully incompetent with car stuff.”

He sounds amused now, as if all his assumptions about what it means to grow up in the United States have been shattered. “Your dad never taught you how to change a flat?”

“Not exactly.” The thought is legitimately preposterous. Your mom and dad own an organic goat farm in Northern California, and as skilled as they are in animal husbandry, quilting, soapmaking, and horticulture, neither know the first thing about the stereotypically heteronormative male, unapologetically red-blooded American realm of vehicle maintenance. “My parents are...unconventional.”

“Gotcha. You know a mechanic is going to charge you an arm and a leg to drive out and fix it.”

“Thanks for the tip.” I knew you were evil.

Mr. Hardy is backpedaling, almost nervous. “What I mean is that I can change a flat in five minutes and you shouldn’t be out a hundred bucks for something like that.”

“...Okay...?”

“Where are you?”

You recoil, shaking your head, your earrings jangling. “Are you...offering to come fix my car...?

“Is that against the rules or something?”

“I mean, no, I guess not.” You’re struggling to process his words; he wants to help you? He’s taking time out of his Saturday to save you, a systemically underappreciated public school teacher, from financial distress? Mr. Archetypal Uppity British Gentleman knows how to change a tire?!

“Good. Where are you exactly?”

“Angeles Crest Highway. I’m about halfway up Mt. Wilson.”

“Yikes,” Mr. Hardy notes. “Not a good spot.”

“Not at all.”

“Right. I’ll be quick. See you soon.” And then he’s gone.

You set the phone back up on the dashboard and crinkle your brow at it in suspicious bewilderment. “What the fuck, Siri?” you murmur.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean—”

“Forget it, Siri.”

This is weird. This is really weird. But the part that’s gnawing at you the hardest is this: now that you’re alone again, now that there’s no husky voice echoing around the Elantra, now that there’s nothing between vulnerable stranded you and the Southern California wilderness...you sort of miss him. You miss Mr. Hardy. He’s odd and intense and intimidating and seemingly always vaguely pissed off, but there’s something else underneath that as well. There’s something strong and protective, something comforting.

“No,” you say firmly, glaring at yourself in the rearview mirror. “We cannot get crushes on students’ parents. Especially not potential demons.”

Suddenly, you wonder if maybe this wasn’t a good idea. You’re completely on your own out here on this wooded, snaking road. And you don’t actually know Mr. Hardy at all, that abrupt irrational fondness notwithstanding.

You text your best friend Sasha, who teaches third grade. If I go missing or end up sacrificed to pagan deities or something, it was Benjamin Whitaker Hardy. Avenge me.

Sasha replies thirty seconds later. ???

And then: Demon kid’s dad?????

Finally: Daddy demon?????????

Daddy demon sounds way too sexual for your liking. Yeah, you reply practically. Then you wait.

He rolls up behind your car in his black Lexus, and before he kills the engine you can hear AC/DC booming through the open windows. You’re perched on the hood of your Elantra, your feet swinging. When Mr. Hardy steps out of the Lexus, he’s wearing slim-fitted light jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt, the kind sold at Target and sported by teenagers who couldn’t pick Kurt Cobain out of a lineup if their life depended on it. Instinctively, you smirk and roll your eyes.

“That’s no way to greet your rescuer. What’s funny?”

You point to his shirt. “Can you name a single Nirvana song or is that strictly for the aesthetic?”

“All Apologies. Stay Away. Smells Like Teen Spirit...Teen Spirit is a type of deodorant, by the way. Come As You Are. Heart-Shaped Box. In Bloom. Lithium. About A Girl.” He flashes a grin. “Want more?”

“No, that’s okay. You pass.” You’re a little sad about this; it would be so much easier to loathe him if he was a poser.

Mr. Hardy pops open his trunk and digs around. “Do you have a spare tire and a jack?”

“I think I have a spare, but...uh...what’s a jack...?”

He bursts out laughing. “You really are hopeless! Not to worry, I’ve got one.” He pulls an x-shaped wrench and a twist of black metal—what must be a jack—out of his trunk and strolls towards you, surveying the damage to your flat tire, nodding as he rubs his cleanshaven chin. You slip off the hood and approach him, your arms crossed over your chest so he can’t see your hands trembling.

“Mr. Hardy...”

“I’m not going to fix that unless you start calling me Ben.”

“Ben,” you manage with difficulty. “Why are you doing this?”

He shrugs. You don’t feel like he’s ogling you up and down, you don’t feel objectified; that’s a pitifully rare occurrence around unfamiliar men. His gaze is on your face and nowhere else. It’s hard to meet his eyes; there’s that daunting aura he never quite shakes. But once you do, you’re trapped there in a sea of sparking green like malachite. Oh no. I like this guy. “I feel like I was rude the other day,” he says finally. “I wanted to apologize. And if my kid’s been giving you hell for the past month, I should probably apologize for that too.”

“Oh,” you respond softly. “Well...that’s really appreciated, Mr. Hardy. Ben. But of course I’m going to pay you—”

“You definitely are not.” He slides the jack beneath the Elantra and pumps it up as you dig the spare tire out of your trunk and bring it to him.

“Can I help?”

“Here’s what you can do.” Ben gestures to the pavement next to where he’s kneeling. “Watch me. Then you’ll know how to do it yourself next time you get attacked by a rock.”

“Okay.” You sit beside him, trying not to stare at his glistening biceps, the beads of sweat gathering at his temples and dampening his golden hair, his sturdy dexterous fingers as he unscrews the lug nuts one after the other, rolls the flat away, and secures the spare tire. Five minutes was about right. “I’m gonna keep it real with you. I feel ridiculous.”

He glances over at you as he throws the flat tire into the trunk of his Lexus. “Why’s that?” he asks, oddly concerned.

“Because you made that look so easy and I’m a helpless moron.”

Ben chuckles. “You’re not a moron. We just have different skillsets. I’d be pretty lost in a classroom of twenty-five six-year-olds, that’s for sure.” He points at your earrings. “You like dinosaurs?”

“What?” Your hands come up to feel them: oh right, the green stegosaurus pair. “Yeah, I do, actually. And the kids like them too, so everyone wins.”

“How do you feel about Jurassic Park?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “This is a bizarre conversation, Mr. Hardy.”

“Ben,” he corrects good-naturedly.

“Ben,” you agree.

“The question still stands.”

“Jurassic Park is one of my all-time favorite movies, I harbor a humiliating yet undying passion for Jeff Goldblum, there, have I passed?”

Ben smiles at you playfully, almost trickily, like there’s some hilarious joke you aren’t in on. “You passed.”

“Awesome. I guess I should let you go enjoy the rest of your weekend now.”

Instead he says: “Do you want to get coffee or something?”

“What?” you sputter, gawking. “With...you...?”

Ben rubs the back of his head and glimpses around at the trees, the sky, nothing in particular. Oh my god, he’s nervous. “Well I’ve been meaning to find time to talk with you about Eli, and my schedule is usually a nightmare, but Eli had a friend’s birthday party to go to today and my meetings fell through so I find myself suddenly available.”

“Oh,” you reply, blinking.

“Unless of course you have plans, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t assume—”

“No, no, you’re absolutely right,” you say. “I have no life whatsoever outside of school. So, yeah, we can totally talk now. About Eli.”

“Okay.” Ben seems pleased. “Are you especially attached to the prospect of coffee?”

“I am not. Why?”

He buries his hands in his pockets and tilts his head at you. Why does this feel like a test? “I really like pie.”

“I freaking love pie. Let’s go.”

Ben’s Lexus follows you to your favorite—if decidedly unglamorous—little diner about twenty minutes outside the city. The decor is straight out of the 1950s: slick black-and-white checkered floors, mint green counters and appliances, Elvis and Marilyn posters, a full-sized jukebox. You ask the waitress for your usual spot, a cozy booth next to the rotating dessert display. Then you place your orders: a root beer float and coconut cream pie for Ben, hot chocolate and crumb-top apple pie for you.

“So you’re into national parks,” Ben ventures as he scoots into the bright red booth, as if he’s trying to make conversation, as if this is some stilted blind date. “Or just...driving through them?”

“I’m super into them. Sometimes I do my grading out there.” You lace your hands on top of the table, clicking seamlessly into business mode. “Now, about Eli...”

“Yes,” Ben complies, fidgeting, drumming his knuckles on the table. What is up with this guy?

“What I usually do in situations like this is come up with a collaborative, two-pronged plan. I’ll make classroom accommodations to help Eli succeed, and you as the parents...parent...will implement steps at home to model better choices and reinforce the lessons learned at school.”

“Okay.” He’s attentive, he’s nodding, he’s making this way too easy. Your order arrives and Ben beams at his root beer float like it’s a winning lottery ticket. “Oh my god, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted one of these,” he sighs, slurping through the metal straw.

“Are root beer floats...a rarity where you come from...?”

“Well I’m usually on a strict diet. For my job. But I’m between projects so I can afford the calories.” Ben devours his slice of pie in three bites. “Oh yeahhhhh.”

You laugh at him, sipping your hot chocolate. “So you’re an actor? Or a model or something?” Holy hell, he really does work for J.Crew.

Ben clams up instantly. “Or something.”

Fine, be cryptic then. “Anyway, here’s my plan for Eli. Your son is extremely bright—he couldn’t possibly come up with some of those shenanigans if he wasn’t—so I’m thinking part of the problem is that he’s bored with the lessons, that the rest of the class moves a bit to slow for him. I think he needs extra attention, extra motivation. I’d like to ask him to be my helper, to write examples out on the board, to take care of the class hamster Creampuff, maybe even do some grading. Try to find something that interests him, and get him to realize that teachers can be friends. But I need to be able to trust him not to abuse that added responsibility.”

“Yeah,” Ben replies thoughtfully. “That sounds great. He’s definitely a smart kid, he’s just...he’s got a lot of energy, you know, he’s...he’s spirited. I’ve talked to Eli and he says he doesn’t mean any harm, that he’s just trying to have fun. But of course I explained to him that throwing frogs at people is at best a very loose interpretation of fun.”

Here comes the sensitive part. “How are things at home, Mr. Hardy?”

“Ben.”

“Ben. Sorry.”

“Things are...good!” he answers, but he’s avoiding your eyeline. “I mean...things aren’t perfect. I wish I could be home more. I work a lot. But I try to spend as much time with Eli as I can, and my mum relocated to L.A. so she’s always available to watch him...he adores her. He’s definitely better behaved at home than at school. But I believe you about the trouble he’s been causing. And I do think stress at home is at least partially to blame.”

“Is his mother...” How can you put this delicately? “Did Eli...lose her?”

Ben nods, glancing out the window, refracted sunlight spilling over his pale face, still not looking at you. “Yeah, she’s not in the picture.”

“I’m so sorry,” you say gently. “For both of you.”

He clears his throat, then drains the rest of his float. “Right. I think we have a plan.”  

“We do,” you agree. “And I think we should have meetings every so often to assess Eli’s progress. Maybe once a week to start? I can just call if that’s easiest. It doesn’t have to be in person.”

“No, in person works.” Now Ben’s eyes are fixed on you, large like a doe’s and arresting. You remember thinking they were like malachite before; but maybe emerald is closer, or olive, or hunter or peridot or jade.

Okay, time to stop obsessing over daddy demon’s infuriatingly nice irises.

Except all at once you can’t imagine thinking Benjamin Whitaker Hardy is anything like a demon. Maybe something else, something related but reversed, something light and benevolent and peaceful.

He asks: “Can I take you to dinner sometime?”

There’s no way I heard that right. “I’m sorry, I was chewing pie obnoxiously loudly, did you say...?

“Dinner. Sometime. With me.”

You swim through the words like coming up from a dream, clawing through haze and into daylight. “We’re not...dating or anything, are we?”

Are you allowed to date students’ parents? Is it possible that outrageously dashing, British, J.Crew model Ben could be interested in you? Did you get hit by a truck while trying to change your flat tire and all of this is some elaborate unconscious fantasy? Are you in a coma?

Ben chuckles, and it’s a heartbreakingly beautiful sound. “No, we are definitely...” He makes air quotes. “...Not dating.”

And you realize that whether you actually want to date Ben wasn’t on your list of questions, probably because it’s not much of a question at all.

“Okay,” you reply quietly, your lips curving up at the edges into a shy smile. “Dinner sometime.”

“Cool. It’s a not-date.” Ben winks at you.

If the fiery afterlife is filled with demons like him, sign me the fuck up.

[vmheadquarters]

We’re going to play a game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors will take turns telling this story. Each writer will craft a chapter (with no prior planning) and then “toss” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected! Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Chapter Three of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @saoirsekonstantin​

And stayed tuned next week for Ch.4 from @chikabiddy​ -tag, you’re it!

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

CHAPTER THREE by @saoirsekonstantin​

The sleet changed over to lacy flakes of fluffy snow that drifted from the sky, further covering everything in a thick blanket of white as far as the eye could see, while the owl flew overhead.  It did a cautious circuit over the house before deciding it wasn’t safe there anymore.  Flying to the left, it grew tinier in the stormy night sky until it moved out of sight, but Veronica didn’t notice; instead she raced around the back of the house toward Gia’s scream.

Logan and Wallace ran right beside her through a foot of snow, and all three came to a screeching halt when the light of their flashlights found a male body covered, in part, by snow.  Blood stained the snow surrounding him, turning it a muted maroon color.  A tree branch almost as long as Logan’s arm protruded from the man’s chest.

Tucked between two fingers, and sticking up out of the cup of his palm, was a photo of two men being intimate.  It reminded her of the image she’d seen of ‘Joe the Boss’ Masseria with the playing card in his hand, in her favorite vintage crime scene photo.  An overzealous crime scene photographer staged the infamous picture of him lying dead on the floor of a Coney Island restaurant, with the blood-spattered Ace of Spades posed resting between two fingers of his bloody hand.

She suspected a similar, if not more sinister, scenario here.  There was no way a body that big had fallen without the impact dislodging whatever was in his hand.  Despite the ever-deepening snow surrounding the body, from her spot a few feet away she saw cuts and abrasions on his hands, implying he fought back; so that would make him holding onto a photo even less likely.

About five yards straight ahead, past a few longer tufts of dead grass breaking through the snow, the red soles and three-inch heels of Gia’s ‘cute’ but useless boots stuck out of a shadowy snow bank.

Veronica stepped over to the snow-covered male body and crouched down.  After removing her glove with her teeth again, she brought her fingers to the man’s wrist, which was protruding out of the snow.  While trying in vain to find a pulse, she took a deep inhale of the crisp, snow-filled air and called out, “Gia, Can you hear me?  Are you okay?”

The gusting wind caused the branches of a nearby tree to shift, and snow cascaded down on both bodies. Gia gave no response to her voice, or to the heavy snow falling onto her.

Veronica glanced up at Logan and Wallace when she still found no pulse on the guy, she shook her head before rising and stepping around the body.

Her foot hit a slick spot, and she slipped, almost falling—except Logan was right beside her, and reached out, grabbing her. “I got you.”

With a soft up tilt of her lips she admitted, “You always do.”

He grinned at her.  “For better or for worse, I always will.”

She glanced away, and they resumed taking cautious steps towards Gia.  They reached her lying in the snowbank and discovered that when she fell, her face had turned just enough to keep her from suffocating.  Veronica reached towards her, and Logan helped her roll Gia over.  With Gia’s eyes closed and the lack of worry lines, she could have been fast asleep.

Veronica watched while Wallace reached down and touched Gia’s wrist.  She crossed her fingers and offered a prayer to whoever would listen, ‘Please let her be alive,’ while waiting for him to say Gia had a pulse beating against his fingers.

He let out a heavy gust of air.  “She’s alive.”  He leaned down and peered at her chest.  “And she’s breathing.”

Veronica gave a single jerk of her head.  “Good, now let’s look at the dead body real quick. Take a few pictures before getting Gia out of the cold.”

Logan held out his arm for Veronica, who grabbed hold of it before taking the few steps back to the body.  She took out her phone, and snapped pictures from every angle of everything she thought the police might want, even zooming in on the branch sticking out of the dead guy’s chest and the photo in his hand.

She took a deep breath of the crisp night air and furrowed her brows, uncertain whether the metallic tang in her mouth was from the snow in the air or the blood on the ground.

When she took the last photo, she leaned in closer to the guy’s snow-covered face.  After hoping the police would forgive her for touching the body, she brushed the snow from his face before gasping.  “Crap! Logan, it’s Norris Clayton.”

Dick and company chose that moment to come clamoring over through the snow drifts.  “We heard a scream.  Who’d you kill now, Ms. Black Widow?  Shit! I was kidding but isn’t that the guy who had a crush on you in school?  See, Logan, I was right.  She’s a spider waiting to eat you alive when you let your guard down.”  He affected a high-pitched voice. “Come into my parlor, so I can devour you.”

With a frown, she shook her head, ignoring Dick. “Dad said, Norris is a Deputy Sheriff now; so we’ve got a dead Deputy and a dead P.I. who used to be a deputy.”

Dick wandered over, trudging through the foot of deep snow, and after leaning closer to the body he grabbed the photo.  “Hey, what’s this?”

Veronica reached for it, but it was too late, Dick was already getting his wet fingers all over it.

Dick cackled.  “Dude, Luke, what the hell?  You prefer dudes over chicks?”

Luke snatched the photo out of Dick’s hand, and without more than a quick glance at it, moved to tear it in half; but Veronica swiped it out of his grasp.  “I don’t care who you like or what gender you prefer.  However, I also don’t care how embarrassing you find a piece of evidence, or how much you want to keep something a secret.  You destroy evidence and I’ll make sure the authorities hear about it; and you’ll need to explain publicly why you tore up a photo of you and Conner Larkin in flagrante, which I can describe with perfect clarity. And now everyone here knows it, so think twice before you go touching my evidence again.”

While she pocketed the picture for safekeeping and took her taser out of her messenger bag, Luke scowled. “Your evidence? Listen here, you little know-it-all bit—”

Logan interrupted. “I’d watch what you say if I were you and show a little respect.”

With a raised eyebrow, Luke asked, “Why, you going to beat me up?”

Logan, chuckled, and shook his head.  “Won’t have to.  She’ll splay you out in the snow with a jolt from Mr. Sparky, which is already in her hand.”  She waved her taser at him with a smirk, while Logan continued. “Make no mistake, I might make a habit of jumping in and protecting Veronica, but she can take care of herself, especially against the likes of a pretty, pampered, rich boy like you.”

Luke scoffed.  “Oh, like you’re not just as pampered and rich as I am?”

With a low, bitter laugh, Logan said, “I’ve got way more money than you could ever hope to have, but no one ever pampered me. Daddy Dearest made sure of that.  I can take care of myself.”

Veronica smirked.  “You’re also prettier than he is by a long shot.  Those arms, hubba-hubba.”

Logan laughed. “Why, Mars, are you objectifying me?”

She smirked but didn’t answer. Dick leaned over Gia’s prone form, and while he glared, asked, “So, did you kill Gia, too?”

Veronica crossed her arms over her chest.  “I didn’t kill anyone, and Gia’s still alive. Which brings us to the matter at hand; which of you strong strapping men will carry Gia into the caretaker’s house?”

Cole took a step back. “Not me. Can’t we just leave her here until she wakes up?”

Veronica rolled her eyes and articulated each syllable with crisp clarity. “And not only leave her unprotected, but let her die of hypothermia instead?”

Logan took a step forward. “I’ll do it.”

With a shake of her head, Veronica said, “No, you and Wallace are at my back and sides since you’re the only ones I’m certain aren’t killing people.  It’s got to be someone else who carries her, or…”

She marched back over to Gia, slipping, and landing in Logan’s arms.  While he righted her, she said, “See, I need you watching my six.”

He chuckled and helped her over to Gia. She leaned down and slapped Gia a few times, with increasing force.  “Come on Gia, nobody has time for you to be lying around while bodies are dropping like it’s going out of style.”

On the fourth slap, Gia moaned.  “Ugh, stop already.  I told you, Veronica Mars, they do not make these boots for hiking through snow.  What’d I trip over, anyway?  I would have been fine, but I hit ice.”

Dick leaned closer.  “Another of Ronnie’s victims… sorry, boy-toys. Norris somebody.”

Veronica stood back up and faced Dick.  “He and I hardly knew each other.  I cleared his name when a dirty ATF agent tried to frame him, but I spent all of an hour talking to him in my time in Neptune. And I didn’t kill anyone.”

With a smirk, Dick crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking her. “And I didn’t say you did.  I said he was another victim of yours, as in you broke his heart, just like that Leo guy and Piz, and Troy, and Logan.”  Wagging a finger at her, he said, “If you get my boy killed, I’m gonna be pissed. You already got my dad and my brother killed.  Logan dies because of you and I’m gonna go ninja on you.”

When she began raising her arm with Mr. Sparky in it, Logan grabbed it. “Don’t, he’s not worth the trouble of explaining why you tasered him after this is all over.  And if you taser him now, we’ll have someone much heavier to carry than Gia, since he won’t be able to walk.  And to make matters worse, he’d play that card for as long as possible.”

He turned and faced Dick, eyes hard, his voice steel. “And for the record Dick, I’m tired of you always blaming Veronica for every little thing that goes wrong in your life.  Your dad was a crook who died in prison, because even at rock bottom, he couldn’t dial back the elitist bullshit.  And your brother was a rapist and murderer, who took a stroll off the roof of a building all on his own because he was too much of a coward to face the consequences of his own actions.  Both were their own people, who made their own choices and paid the price for them.  Veronica had nothing to do with either of their deaths, even if Cassidy twisted the knife a little deeper by forcing Veronica and I to bear witness to his end.”

Dick took two steps closer to Logan and snarled. “But if she had minded her own business, no one would have figured out what Dad was doing. And Cassidy was a victim, too.”

Logan shook his head. “They would have figured it out; only he would have had time to add even more victims to his list of innocents, who lost their life savings because of him.  Kendall was talking to the authorities.  And Veronica was Cassidy’s victim, not the other way around. Yes, he was Woody’s victim; however, you don’t see me or Veronica using our status as the victims of grown men misbehaving as an excuse to blow up a bus full of kids, do you?  Your brother may have still been a kid, but he made grownup decisions and hurt people.”

Dick threw up his hands and stomped off through the ever-deepening snow, while calling over his shoulder, “Whatever, dude. When you become another casualty of hers, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  The surrounding snow dampened his voice and it faded on the increasing wind with his every step away from the group.

Logan took a step towards him, but stopped and glanced at everyone who was staring between him and Dick’s retreating form. “I’ll let him cool off.”

Gia pouted. “Did you have to bring up my dad?”

He shook his head.  “Just stating the facts.  What your dad did wasn’t your fault, but I’m not going to pussy-foot around the fact he took advantage of and hurt innocent kids for his own pleasure. I’m hoping he and my dad are roasting in hell together.”

Veronica took his hand in hers and squeezed.  “If there’s any justice they are.  Now, we need to look inside the caretaker’s home. There might be a phone, or something else that might prove useful.”

Susan frowned, her arms akimbo.  “And how are we going to do that?  We checked, both doors are locked.”

With a smirk, Veronica rifled through her messenger bag and pulled out her lock-picking kit.  “Do you think a locked door has ever stopped me?”

Logan chuckled. “I know for a fact that not even an armed security system has stopped you.  Though I still maintain you just wanted to see me in nothing but a towel.”

She batted her lashes at him and brought her free hand up to her chest. “Moi?”

He nodded, and she tilted her head and gave him a once-over before returning the nod. “With those arms, the way they are now? I might pay good money for that, just to see what else has improved with time.”

He gave her his patented smirk and said in a sing-song voice, “You think I’m hot.”

She giggled before slapping her hand over her mouth, and saying though her fingers, “That never happened.”  He smirked but didn't contradict her, so after lowering her hand, she eyed him again. “And you know how good you look, with or without clothes.”

Wallace scowled.  “Hey, you think the two of you can stop flirting long enough to figure out a way off of this death trap of an island?  I may not have been the next victim, but statistically, as the only Black man here, my number is coming.”

She grinned.  “Don’t worry, Papa Bear, I’m not letting you or Logan out of my sight, so neither of you will shuffle off this mortal coil anytime soon.”

After turning, she led them back through the snow drifts to the front door of the caretaker’s house; and after handing her flashlight to Wallace he pointed it at the lock, while she took off her gloves and went to work unlocking the door.

Within a minute she pushed the door open and took back her light before stepping through the doorway. She turned and flashed the light on the wall by the door.  “Dammit.  Nobody touch anything.  I think there is blood by the light switch.”

With a shaky hand tucked inside her jacket sleeve to keep both the blood from her hand and her prints from the bloody light switch, she reached out flipped it on, confirming her suspicions.  Blood smears covered the wall, as if someone had dragged a bloody hand along the wall while trying to support him or herself.

After turning and facing the rest of the room, she narrowed her eyes and picked her way through the wreckage of overturned furniture and living-room debris, including a smashed flower vase with the wilting flowers covered by the shards of blue glass and several magazines thrown into the air, and allowed to land where they would.  She reached the satellite phone on one of the few upright pieces of furniture beside the couch in the room.  She pushed the on button but nothing happened.  After picking it up, she turned it over. “Everyone keep your eyes out for the battery.”

Wallace used his boot to move some magazines. “Like the one over here smashed to smithereens?”

She skirted around the large triple blood pools on the floor.  One of them had drag marks leading up the staircase.  For the time being she ignored that and leaned closer to the shattered rechargeable battery on the floor.  “Yeah, like that.”

Logan stood inside the door. “Is it just me, or is there one blood pool too many for the number of bodies we have?  And what can I do to stop you from following the trail of blood up the stairs?”

Her lips turned up at the corners.  “Not a thing.  I will turn over every stone, look through every closet,”  She picked her way around the room, her eyes scanning everything while she continued talking. “And, hello, rifle through every backpack hiding in plain view behind an overturned chair.  I won’t miss any clues if I can help it.  Your life and Wallace’s may depend on it.  And I’ll be damned if I get either of you hurt.”

Logan dropped his voice an octave, to that tender voice he reserved for Veronica.  “You know, you don’t have to save everybody.”

With a shake of her head, she said, “Not trying to save everybody, just those who matter to me, those I love and would be nothing without.  Those who are the air that keeps me breathing.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, straightening up. “Are we doing this now?”

She gave him a shrug while she crouched and unzipped the backpack. “It’s as good a time as any, and I need you to know I still need you and I miss you.  I—I still love you, always have.  Even if you don’t take me back, I need to say it to your face at least once.  You deserve that much from me, after everything I’ve put you through.  I need to pull on my big-girl panties and admit, to your face, that you’re the only man I’ve ever truly loved; and the only one who not only gets me, but has always supported me, even when you thought I was being stupid and reckless.”

He shifted on his feet and took a step closer to her.  “What changed?  You’ve never admitted to any of this before, not in so many words, at least.”

She flashed the light into the bag, and after making brief eye contact with him, glanced into the backpack. “Life without you in it sucks. I hate it and want to go back to the world I had where you were always there.  And I’m tired of fighting my feelings; somewhere along the way, I realized that the fact you scared me with all your feelings meant I felt something worth experiencing.  Living safe is boring and never taking emotional risks makes me stagnant.  If I can take risks in every other aspect of my life, why shouldn’t I be just as brave in this instance and take the one risk that matters most?  If I’m right, and my life is a shallow empty shell without you in it, imagine what my—our—lives, together, can be... if I grow up, and act like a mature grown adult who isn’t too scared to commit, or even say I love you.”  She made eye contact again. “I do, ya know?  I love you so much.”  After glancing back at the almost empty bag, she continued, “It hurts when we’re apart, and that’s what scared me.  That you’re so vital to my happiness.  Sue says,—”

“Wait, who’s Sue?”

With heat rising in her cheeks she ducked her head. “Sue is my therapist.  Anyway, she said my fear of feeling emotions so much is a product of everything that happened to me—to us—and it amazes me you went the other way and feel so much.  But I want to experience that.  I want to be free of all the baggage, and I want to be free with you if you’ll have me.”

He stood there staring at her for a solid minute, his eyes flickering over every inch of her face, as if memorizing each curve. Then with a smirk he put her out of her misery.  “I’m not saying no, but how do you plan to work around the fact you go to Stanford while I go to Hearst?  What about the distance?”

Veronica shrugged, her gaze staying down, but her voice lowered.  “Wallace already drives up every weekend, so it’s a doable weekend trip.  We could switch off weekends, back and forth.  Or if that doesn’t work, you could transfer or I could transfer, either is a possibility.”

Without waiting a beat, he shook his head. “Stanford is your dream.  You always wanted to go there.  You’re not allowed to transfer because of me now that you’re there.”

Her lips turned up a little.  “I will ignore that ‘allowed’ part, because I’m sure you don't mean it in a controlling or bad way, and I don't want to start a fight over something so petty as a word.  But, for the record, I would.  I would switch out of my dream school, if it meant being with you for the rest of my life. I would give up Stanford and anything else that might get in the way.  You shouldn’t be the only one in this relationship making sacrifices and personal changes to compromise and make this work.”

She finished that statement by taking two ID’s out of the bag and standing.  “I choose you, Logan, now and always if you’ll have me.  And I choose to be your partner in this, a fifty-fifty–”  She paused. “No that's not right.  I want a one hundred-one hundred partnership.  No more lopsided relationship where you put in all the effort and make all the compromises, with me just taking from you without reciprocating.”

He took the five steps to her and pulled her into his arms before crushing his lips to hers.  They stayed like that until he pulled back, gasping for air. “I got into San Jose State University  It’s half an hour away from Stanford.”

She beamed before her lips turned down.  “Why did you apply to transfer there?”

With a smirk he said, “You’re not the only one who felt empty and stagnant.  I was hoping to convince you to give us a try one more time.  Our story is epic…”

She giggled again.  “Spanning years and continents.  Lives ruined, bloodshed…”

“Epic.”

Her eyes darted to the pools of blood. “Well, we’ve got bloodshed, and lives ruined in spades today; and, now, I’m even more determined to get you and Wallace out of here in one piece.  We’ve got a future to work on, together.”

He leaned in and gave her a tender kiss, and they stood there amid the destroyed living room, enjoying being on the same page, before a scream ripped through the small house.  They pulled apart and took each other’s hand before turning towards the scream.

Wallace smiled at them.  “I hope it works out for you guys.  You suck apart, both of you bellyaching about not being with the other. Do a brother a favor and stay together, so I can focus on my love life instead of yours.”

They laughed before the three of them climbed the stairs, stepping on the edges of the steps to avoid trekking through the bloody drag marks.  When they reached the top, everyone else clustered around a doorway. The girls all cried, clinging to each other, and Cole and Luke both bent over and threw up in the hallway.

The three friends pushed their way through the crowded hall and entered the bedroom before looking around the room; bed against the wall, a desk in the corner, bureau standing against the wall the door was in.  It appeared normal, except for the bloody drag marks leading to the only other door in the room.

Veronica let go of Logan’s hand, strode to it, and opened it, before staggering back and slamming her hand over her mouth.  After fighting her own gag reflex for a minute, she said, “Duncan!  What the hell?”

She turned towards Logan, blinking rapidly to keep her tears at bay.  The last thing she wanted was to shed tears in front of the other oh-niners.  She’d save them and share them with Logan, the other remaining member of the Fab Four, later.  For now, she said, “Maybe I am the Black Widow.  Perhaps Dick is right for the first time in history and you should get as far away from me as you can.”

Duncan Kane’s bloodied face and lifeless eyes stared out of the closet at them.  With quick steps, Logan moved behind her and gathered her into his arms, holding her tight. “Not a chance, Bobcat, wild horses won’t drag me from you now.”

Her lips turned upward before she glanced at the two IDs still in her hand and she lost her smile after she did a double take. She pulled back from Logan enough to hand them to him, but still stay in the circle of his arms, before asking, “Recognize these two jokers with a penchant for hurting people?”

He took the cards with one hand, the other holding her to him tighter and stared at them.  “Who are Adam Rodriguez and Peter Hanson?”

After shaking her head, she said, “No idea who the names belong to but look at the pictures.  Their names aren’t Adam and Peter.”

He peered at the top card. “Dylan, Dylan Goran, the ass who hurt Trina and got a beat-down from Dear Ole Dad.”

She inclined her head, so he shuffled the cards so the second one was on top and sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Gory Sorokin.  Crap!  What are these doing on this island, out in the middle of nowhere?  You don’t suppose the assholes are here, do you?”

She took the cards back from him and examined them, even holding them up to the light.  “These are top quality fake IDs, Logan.  They paid good money for these.  If these cards are here, I’d bet my college scholarship and your trust fund that Dylan and Gory are here somewhere, too—lurking in the shadows, and possibly killing people associated with me or both of us.  Remember, Leo first stole and then sold you Lilly’s sex tapes, and while not directly connected to Clayton, you led ‘the torment Veronica’ campaign at school that he tried to intervene in, or you could even get to him through the ATF agent. You gave Ben a beat-down while he was setting Clayton up for terrorism.  And Duncan, he was your ex-best friend and while he was also my ex-boyfriend, Sue showed me that what he did was rape.”

She took a deep breath and released it even while she gripped his arm tight.  “He raped me. Somehow, I made what he did okay in my mind, because I couldn't face the fact that my former best friend hurt me like that.  And then—then I dated him. Logan—I'm so sorry that I fell for his good boy, perfect choir boy routine.  I'm so sorry I ran from you and my feelings for you.”

He pulled her back into his arms. “I forgave you for that a long time ago.”

She sniffled into his chest before pulling back. “Thank you.  I’m not sure I deserve that but thank you.”

He kissed the tip of her nose.  “I’m not sweeping it under the rug or forgetting about it.  However, I’m seeing a therapist too, Jane.  We’ve been working together on my forgiving those who have hurt me and myself, too.  So, I forgive you, because I believe you’re sorry, and Jane has helped me see how much you’ve been hurting, how confused you must have been trying to deal with everything that happened to you, including me turning the school against you.”

He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I’m sorry for that, and, now, you’re sorry for the things you did in our relationship, too.  Jane taught me that holding onto that hurt and anger will only hurt us both.  So I propose we both work on letting go of the pain and rage and heal together.  You and I have always been better together.  The problems between us always crop up when one of us forgets that and I want us to work this time 'Ronica.  It won't always be easy, but you're it for me, my one true love, and I'm willing to work for us if you are.”

She fell into him more and, damn the consequences, she sobbed all over him even with the oh-niners looking on.

A few minutes later that seemed like a lifetime, a weight lifted off her shoulders and she straightened, and kissed his chin, before she pulled back, straightening her shirt.  “Thank you.  We’ll talk later about all this when we don’t have more pressing matters to deal with… like bodies piling up.”

With another glance at Duncan’s body, she said, “So, Duncan’s connected to both of us, too.  Clayton is, I admit, a stretch, but the other two aren’t and if we include Troy and Piz, we’re both connected to them as well.  Troy dated me and stole the steroids after visiting Mexico with you and Luke, and you gave Piz a beat-down when you understandably thought it was him who recorded and distributed the video of him and me making out.”

The door downstairs creaked while it opened before it slammed shut and Veronica did a head count. Everyone but Dick was in the hallway; she waited a moment for him to come upstairs, but he never did.  She gave a heavy sigh.  “We need to go see who came in.”

Logan’s eyebrow rose.  “You don’t think it’s Dick?”

With a shake of her head, she said, “Wouldn’t he already be up here mouthing off?”

“Crap, you make a fair point.”

She turned in his arms and hugged him before pulling back.  “This time we all need to stay together for real,” she said, before leading the group back down the stairs.