#maybe learn to criticize that shit with yourself and a few friends who you can have a back and forth with and not with the artist who dgaf

[shovson]

a lot of people could benefit from a wank channel in their gcs and a few friends if im honest....

[violetmina]

Chokehold - Ch. 1

Chokehold Masterlist

Tagging @roundroald, since they asked so nicely.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3,574

Summary: After stumbling your way into the boys crew, you quickly realize you're a little out of your depth when it comes to protecting yourself. You thought you could be sly and take some self-defense classes without telling the others. But Butcher has a nose for secrets and demands to take over your lessons. Learning a bit of jiu jitsu from one Billy Butcher can't be that terrible...can it?

Warning: Mentions of injuries and The Boys level of violence, swearing, slight implication of domestic violence. Smut to come in future chapters.

A/N: This was originally supposed to be a one shot, but my brain kept adding to it. Just this part alone took longer for me to write than I wanted, so this may be slow going. But it is in motion! Takes place in some vague space between end of S2 and early half of S3. This is the first fic I've shared in years, first attempt at writing Butcher, and my very first fic in 'x reader' format. It's not the most creative title but it's what my brain can manage right now. I'm open to constructive criticism, but please be kind. I hope you guys enjoy!

Sometimes, you questioned your decision-making skills. If the last few months were any indication, it was a skill you didn't have, period. After all, who goes from a normal, anonymous life to joining your old friend Hughie and his weird, motley gang of former vigilantes? Originally, you had only joined Neuman's team as a project to fill holes in your resume and to reconnect with Hughie. You'd heard he had gone AWOL after Robin's untimely death, but what a shock it'd been when you finally met for coffee and caught up on his new life. Maybe it'd been that sense of shock and awe over his stories, or maybe your innate slight distrust of supes and Vought that he had once teased you about in your younger years. But you'd been curious. And that adorable puppy dog look he gave you when he asked for a little help on one of his group's missions hadn't hurt either.

It was supposed to be a little favor, a one-time thing for an old pal. But then you'd met the boys, this rag-tag lot he was with now, and for all their dysfunctionality, you'd been oddly charmed by them. You'd been swayed by their mission, to finally hold those super-roided celebrities accountable, and the adrenaline of an unexpected car chase during your favor must've jolted something loose in your brain. Pushing flyers and setting up calls in Neuman's call-center wasn't nearly enough after that. You wanted to be part of the growth that had altered Hughie so much. To watch the quirky banter of MM and Frenchie, to get to know the woman Kimiko was, and give her the friend she'd been denied growing up.

And then there was Butcher.

You would have been a liar if you had said that you didn't have mixed impressions about him in the beginning. To say you found him attractive would have been an understatement, though you'd be damned if you'd ever let anyone know that. While his brusque sarcasm and biting temper had been slightly off-putting, it was his smarmy charm, flashes of quicksilver intelligence, and that indomitable will that kept you from walking away altogether. Ever since you had joined the crew, you had given up counting the number of times he irritated the shit out of you. And the number of times you'd caught yourself a little too drawn to Butcher in those briefest glimpses of a softie in him. Like when you'd fallen asleep in the flatiron office and woke with that battered coat draped over you. Or he'd given you the last of his food with a grumble when your stomach protested loudly at you for working too long on a lead.

Hughie had always said that your favorite color was "red-on-a-flagpole". And for your sanity, you'd deny as stubbornly as the day was long that you liked the bastard.

But the new eventually wears off, and the deeper you dove into their world, the darker the waters became. You learned quickly that adrenaline wasn't just a fun little rush in this life - it was a necessity. A lifeline when dealing with supes and their equally narcissistic associates. You learned the hard way how easily you could drown…

Now, leaning against the cool wall of the elevator as it rose to the flatiron office, you were certain your decision-making skills were poor. Well-intentioned but poor. You wiggled the fingers of your right hand slowly, wincing at the jolts it sent in your arm. Trying to bend it per usual sent pain in either direction out from your elbow. It was far from broken but it wasn't comfortable either.

"Damn," you cursed under your breath. This was going to be a lot harder to hide than your previous injuries. If your assumptions were correct though, the others had long left the office and were out about minding their own little businesses. Hughie with Annie, MM had his daughter for the night, Frenchie and Kimiko out for whatever little pleasantry that would make her smile for a while, and Butcher…Well, probably still sniffing out a lead on a supe, tirelessly plotting.

When the elevator announced its arrival, you shrugged the bag on your left shoulder back up from a slouch and stepped out. You would touch up on some paperwork you had left behind earlier to "run your errands", then head back to your place. The evening plans consisted of a hot shower, some leftovers for dinner, and tossing the items in your bag into the laundry. If you were lucky, you would get a full five hours sleep before rolling out of bed again for another long day of supe hunting. Or convincing Hughie and Victoria to let you back out in the field again after your mishap a while back.

A couple of the desk lamps had been left on in the office space, and some of the city backdrop bounced rays off the walls, but it was still a little dim for your liking. You switched your own desk lamp on, perusing over the files of most recent cases now cast in the amber glow. So much damn paperwork.

"Who winged ya, little birdy?"

You manage to only slightly jump at the voice just in front of you. Instead of out plotting, Butcher sat at the desk on the other side of yours, arms crossed and an inquisitive curl at his lip. His eyes, however, screamed interrogation. How had you not seen him in that audacious Hawaiian shirt, even in the dark?

"Christ, Butcher," you groaned. "You normally just sit in the dark like that? You could have given me a heart attack."

"Like we'd be rid of you so easily," he chuffed, rising from his seat. "Now don't avoid the question. It'd be terribly rude if you did that, wouldn't it?"

"I'm not sure what you're talking about." You shrugged, feigning ignorance. You had a strong feeling he wasn't buying it. "I'm good."

"Oh? Really?" He quirked a brow at you as he picked up one of the files from your desk. "Just here for a little light reading then. Don't let me keep you waiting." He held it out to you with a nod. You slid the bag off your shoulder onto the floor and reached with your left hand. He snatched it back just out of reach, then extended it to your right hand with a pointed look.

You tried to play along, even managed to lift your arm without a wince. But the shock in your elbow made your reach noticeably slower, and the twitch in your fingers brought that all too familiar smirk to his face. You sighed in defeat, dropping the file back on the desk. "It's nothing," you muttered.

"And the bruises on your legs? Or the ones on your arms? Those all nothing?" When you blinked at him in surprise he continued, "C'mon, Y/N. Hughie sees you everyday at Neuman's and he ain't blind. Even if he was, you've walked into this place stiff as arthritis for a while. So…" Butcher's smirk faded as he took a step forward, just enough to fill your space. "...Who did it? There a heavy-handed Romeo you ain't told us about?"

"What? No! Butcher, it's not like that," you sputtered, nearly laughing at the idea of him hunting down said imaginary Romeo. But the look on his face killed whatever humor you had. "I'm either working at this office with all of you, or I'm at the other one with Hughie. Like I have time for anything else."

"But for weeks now you got time to run supposed errands and slink back here long after hours? Conveniently when everybody would be gone?" Before you could blink he yanked your bag off the floor. "You gonna tell me this ain't an overnight bag? That you're not avoiding your place?"

"No, it's not. I don't have a - HEY!" He ignored your protest as he quickly unzipped the bag and dove a hand in to pull out some of the contents. Butcher's face quickly shifted from a scowl to confusion when he pulled out not regular clothes or toiletries, but a thick white belt with a black tail. Pulling it open further, a white gi stared at you both. He wagged the black tail of the belt at you. 

"You gonna tell me the fuck this is about? Karate, really?"

"It's not karate. It's jiu jitsu," you replied, trying not to grit your teeth at how he rolled his eyes. "Now can I have my stuff back, or are you suddenly into my sweaty clothes?"

"What you doing this for?" He tossed the bag to you and you glared in response. "You gonna grapple those bloody files into writing themselves, eh? Maybe turn Hughie into a pretzel for a laugh at the bureau?," he leers.

"I'm trying to get out of here!," you snapped, surprised at how loud your voice echoed back. You took a deep breath before gingerly shoving your stuff back into your bag. "I'm trying to get out of both offices. I want back out there. Out in the field with you and the rest of the boys. I'm cooped up here but Hughie won't even think of talking Neuman into assigning me to an operation. Not since…" You stopped, swallowing back frustration.

"Since that cunt got the drop on you and took you hostage," Butcher finished flatly.

As he nodded in realization you knew he was remembering it as much as you. You'd ignored Hughie's orders and went in as backup when bringing in a supe and their accomplice on human trafficking allegations. It had gone sour and you had tried to sneak into the warehouse to help. Instead of saving them, the accomplice had snuck up on you, nearly resulting in a trade off for the arrested supe. You had been so sure you could handle your own, save the day. The only thing that had saved the day was Butcher dropping from a balcony onto you both…and promptly emptying several rounds into your captor's screaming mouth. Sometimes you wondered if there was still one of their teeth hiding in your hair.

"So what?," he asked, tearing you from the memory. "You thought a few hours at a gym and you'd just skip back out there?"

"You know Hughie will never let me on another operation unless I can prove that I can handle myself."

"Little shit would wrap your ass in bubble wrap if he knew he could get away with it, and roll you out the door from it all!," he snapped. "For starters, what the hell is jiu jitsu - or any self-defense combat form - gonna do you when a supe get their hands on you? Like A-Train? Black Noir? Or that star-spangled cunt?"

"Like we're even close to going after any of the Seven right now! We're stuck with B, C, and D list assholes and you know it! And how would it be any different than the rest of you with all your training?"

"Which brings me to my other point, " he cuts you off. "The lot of us are knee deep in experience, at least. Military, terrorism, gang shit. We all have gotten our hands bloody. We're killers, love. Even Hughie, or did you forget? So why the fuck would you stroll into a dojo that's probably sponsored by Vought anyway, instead of coming to one of us, eh?"

You scoffed, couldn't help it. "Right. I'm supposed to just assume that Mr. Billy Badass is gonna have the will or time of day to teach me self-defense?"

"Now that hurt me feelings, " Butcher replied, holding a mocking hand over his heart. "Oh ye of little faith. I suppose whatever bloke you rolled with tonight is far safer than yours truly. Oh wait." Here he glanced at your arm with a jeer and a nod. "Lemme guess - sparred with someone who likes it a little rough?"

You rolled your eyes. "My rolling partner was fine," you grumbled before admitting, "I did it to myself. He…He caught me in an armbar and I thought I'd try toughing it out a little longer before I'd tap."

He made a tsking noise of disapproval. "Stupid, wasn't it? Is he white belt or color belt?"

"White, four stripes. I think he tests for blue soon."

"Then you're fucking lucky. There's a reason they say spazzy ass white belts cause the most injuries. If you ignore your limits in a safe, cozy class setting, why the fuck would any bad guy out there hesitate on your behalf?" He steps forward to lift your bad arm up, not too fast but it still smarts.

"Straighten your arm all the way out. Slow." You try to do so but hiss in pain just shy of the mark, leaving your forearm at a slight angle. "You'll live. Strained, maybe a slight sprain, that's all." He shuffles past you to the mini-fridge tucked in the corner and tosses you a half empty bag of pizza rolls. You almost laugh at the impromptu ice bag and apply it to the protesting joint.

"You're not going back," he says, as if commenting on the weather. And before you can say anything he's herding you across the room to the couch by the TV. "Keep that on for about fifteen minutes and we'll get started right after." He gives an unceremonious push and you plop onto the cushions with a huff.

"I'm sorry, wha-? Butcher, I'm not quitting! I need to-!"

"I didn't say quit," he answered over his shoulder with a slight grunt as he begins shifting a couple of the desks outwards. "What I said was you're not going back to that bleeding dojo. But knowing your stubborn, annoying ass-" He shifts the coffee table past the TV. "-you're just gonna find another bastard ready to take your money and give you a false sense of security. You really wanna roll that bad..?" He slides the rug out far enough to his liking before sitting back on his heels with a little nod. Then looks up at you with that trademark, crooked smirk.

"You're rolling with me now, love."

You blink at him, your stomach doing a little flip at his words. Sure, when you started jiu jitsu it had been a bit uncomfortable having strangers literally on top of you. In your face, up in your little bubble. After awhile though, you adjusted and you had actually started looking forward to class. But the implication of what Butcher had just said, realizing that he was going to be the one up in your personal space, shifting and heavy and pinning -

You immediately cut off that line of thought. "I-I-I've already rolled. And I don't wanna make my arm worse."

"You're right. You've caught me in a rather generous mood. We're not rolling together now. But you…" He moved and stood over you with a grin. "You're going to drill tonight. Nothing that requires your arm and I'll see exactly what I'm working with. From here on out, I'll be the one to train you, teach you the kinda shit you can actually use when shit goes sideways. If I'm lucky, as short a time you've been training, I won't have to do too much de-programming of whatever the fuck they taught you."

"Butcher-" You go to stand but when you reach your feet he gives you a look that almost has you wobble back on your heels.

"I ain't asking. It's me or nothing." It comes out as a low rumble that will not be questioned. "Do you want back out there or not?"

It's immediately clear that this situation isn't going to be backtracked now. The cat was out of the bag and you had to choose. Spend your days in mind-numbing paper stacks, shoved off on the sidelines but relatively safe. Or try to mold yourself into something more self-reliant and capable…by putting yourself at the mercy of one Billy Butcher.

There's a heavy beat, as he still stares at you, unblinking. Then finally you nod. "Teach me."

The heavy, steely look finally slides off his face. "Good choice. Now come over here." He waves at the open floor space he's created and uses the other hand to steer you into it. "Sit your ass down here and pay attention. It's a simple mobility drill. I'll show you only once. I'm not here to do fucking jazzercise. You'll start once we're done icing your arm."

Butcher settles down to sit straight legged on the hardwood floor, a heavy hand on your good shoulder bringing you with him. You barely manage to not fall on your ass and mimic his stance. "Make a figure four." He pulls in his left leg so his foot is next to his right knee and you do the same. "We'll change your arm position later but tonight you're gonna cradle that wing of yours to your chest. Point is to not use your arms to get up, but your hips. Shift your ass forward." He crosses his arms and moves up into a kneeling position, left shin and knee posted under him, right foot flat in front, his knee just past a 90-degree angle. "See?"

You mimic him again, cradling your elbow like he said and stop once up off the floor. A small pat - almost a swat - on your back startles you, and at your look of confusion he says, "Up straight, don't roll your back. If your back ain't straight, you're not using your hips." When you straighten up he settles the same hand into the small of your back and slowly pushes you forward. "And that's about as far as you should be putting yourself on that front foot. Combat stance. If I tell you to hold that position, you hold it till I say so. Got it?"

You nod. Seemingly satisfied, he continues. "Alright. Now go in reverse back the way you started." He rewinds, sitting back, straightens his legs and you follow suit. It dawns on you as you do so that moving on bare, hardwood floors is nothing like moving on the padded mats in class.

"Then switch legs and do the same thing." This time he doesn't move, just watches you slowly follow his instruction. You mind your posture this time, pause for a second and glance at him before reversing back to sitting on the floor again.

Butcher stands, taking the bag of pizza rolls out of the cradle of your elbow as he does. "When I tell you to do combat hip drill, this is what you're doing. Understand?" You give another nod and he walks to the mini-fridge to shove the bag back into the freezer. When you shift to stand up he shakes his head. "Nuh uh. You start now. Go."

He moves past you, back to the couch behind you as you start to go through the motions of the mobility drill. "Pick up your pace, move," he says as he sinks down onto the cushions. You pause at the top of the move to look back at him with a bit of a scowl.

"How many am I supposed to do?," you ask, already noting the protest in your tailbone, knees and shins from the contact on the floor.

"Till I tell you to stop," he grins, stretching his arms out across the back of the couch. "And I didn't say that yet, now did I? Chop, chop!"

You glared at his too-happy grin before rolling your eyes and continuing the drill. Back down, switch legs, up. Back down, switch legs, up. Once or twice he has you pause, hold the pose. But the drill continues. Back down, switch legs, up. After only a few short minutes, feeling his eyes on you the whole time, you begin to notice that you're already feeling some fatigue. Clearly, you hadn't fully recovered from class earlier. You feel a little embarrassed that you're already starting to huff. And you can't help but wonder just what the hell did you sign up for?

After another moment or two, you sit up once again, not quite as forward, not as high. You start to sag back down when there's a sudden pressure just between the small of your back and your tailbone, almost throwing you forward and off balance. You totter over the forward knee for a brief second before restabilizing and whirling round with wide eyes. Surely he did not-! 

Oh but he did. Butcher's boot is at your belt line, keeping you posted up. "Hold. When you start again, you keep the pace and move all the way through. You better not half-ass or slouch again. Otherwise…" He taps his toes on your lower back and smirks.

For a brief moment you consider grabbing that damn boot and giving it a good, friendly twist. But the ache in your elbow, and the look in his eye that says he's pretty much read your mind, tells you it's a no-go. You dampen down the urge and he pulls it back as you face forward and hold the up position. A few moments pass before he finally tells you to resume the drill. It's in that moment you know you have your answer.

Hell. You're pretty sure you just signed up for hell.

[queers-gambit]

Hello,I wanted to say I admire your work and hope you continue with your wonderful stories.

I would like advice as a new fic writer myself. How long did it take before your work got noticed. Did/do you have any doubts? I know I have. TYSM for the fics -🍋‍🟩

hey, poppet. thank you for popping in, it's so very kind of you! more advice? fuck yeah, 50 points to Slytherin!

this got a little longer than i anticipated.

new fic writer, huh? so... you're, like, the new sheriff in these here parts? well, i only got ONE thing to say to the likes of you...

that's exciting! welcome! this town is big enough for all of us!

let's jump in -

soooo i've been reading fanficition since i was a kid, right? it's a comfort, it made sense in my brain, and it was something so deeply personal, i never shared it with anyone - friends or family. so this was always very niche to me.

being said, i've been an author most of my life. i've been legitimately published a few times - first when i was about 9/10 and last around 5ish years ago. no, not professionally, i didn't make a cent on those publications. so, i've been in the game for a while - BUT i didn't start PUBLISHING my fanfictions until the past, say, 3ish years?

now, look: technically, i started writing fanfics when i was first hospitalized in my early teens, using a pen and notebook because i was poor and couldn't afford a laptop (no shame, pen and paper are underrated). night shift came every 3 hours for vitals, so, i didn't get a whole lot of sleep - but i was able to write. a lot. it distracted me, it comforted me, and it was 100% mine which meant i never had to show or explain to anyone what i was doing.

i say this to try to illustrate, i didn't just walk on the scene as a writer and BOOM! got all this recognition. i started writing for myself, nobody else.

the thing to remember is that you're not writing for instant gratification - and if you are, you're setting yourself up for failure because it's going to feel stressful and "not worth" because your fics aren't getting hundreds of likes. don't let your self-worth be decided by numbers: height, weight, money in your bank account, fanfiction notes...

however, being said, i fucking get it. first thing i published was HC's about dating Eddie Munson because i had read so many and felt a couple ideas were missed or overlooked, so, i just had this compulsion to write. then, it was this thought of, "well, if i had this idea, maybe other people have, too, or at the very least, might like to read it." so i sat on the front step of my house, overtagged my HC's, and hit publish. it garnered a couple hundred likes within a few hours, then every time i opened Tumblr, there was 99+ notifications. i felt like my soul lifted, realizing, "hey... maybe i could write some more? i have a few other ideas and it feels SO good to be recognized. validate me, internet strangers!"

so, i weaponized my mania and published some more.

but i still struggle with this on occasion. yes, most of the times, my fics warrant X numbers of likes, but i find myself disappointed in the amount of written responses - like comments or messaged praise. i see other authors having full on debates, conversations, theory projections, and being inundated with messages; and think "damn, maybe i'm really not that great since nobody comes around to express their impression; to feed me compliments!" but you see what that is, right?

it's Imposter Syndrome. none of this shit actually matters.

your writing is GOOD whether at 2, 20, 200, 2k notes and the only person who can bestow this title or confidence is yourself. you're the architect, the driver, the artist - so stand by your writing. stand on business. then nothing can touch or phase you; you'll become your own worst enemy and most supportive critic.

nobody's opinion matters if YOU have pride in YOURSELF.

got it? great. now -

here's my advice:

🍒 learn to tag. -> tag your fic appropriately by Muse, fandom, pairing. -> the more tags, the wider the audience it'll reach. -> if i want to read Aemond Targaryen, that's the tag i go to. if i want Daemon, that's the tag i go to. Readers do not want to scroll through Daemon fics on the Aemond tag - so learn to do it properly. -> it's respectful, you know? and it def helps picking up a few followers because they peep you respect the rules.

🍒 practice summary writing. -> give Readers just enough to hook them. -> i recommend just giving the basics so Readers can decide if your fic has the general gist of what they're interested in reading. i like alluding to plot twists in summaries because it piques Reader interest. -> i personally do not read fics that have no summary. i want to know what i'm jumping into, if this is worth my time to read, if it'll satisfy whatever craving i have. -> you can use a trick i learned in a journalism class where newspaper headlines have to be a single sentence that essentially answer "who, what, when, where, why?"

again, tag your fics properly because if i'm looking for angst (in the angst tag) and the summary alludes to something more fluffy, i can move on.

🍒 sharpen your diction and syntax skills. -> diction is your word choice and syntax is sentence structure. so play around with what sounds most natural in your head. -> what words would your Muse actually use? how would they say it? do they use flowery language (like TROP Elrond) or are they gruffer (like ST Billy Hargrove)? -> diction gives stories personalities. i said what i said.

🍒 give "enough" detail in your introduction. -> this is your fic's elevator pitch. -> i like listing: what's the summary, who's the Muse, what fandom, word count, any author notes, and content warnings. it gives your audience an idea of what you're about; like dipping a toe in water instead of diving in. -> a very frustrating feeling trying to read something that you have no genuine interest in but you don't know until you get X% of the way through it. -> again, i can't speak for others, but i won't entertain fics that don't have introductions - or at the very least, summaries.

🍒 get comfortable with your own humility. -> not every fic is going to be a hit. own that. accept that. -> do not gaslight yourself into thinking just because a fic has less notes (or kudos, whatever) it's lesser-than writing.

example: i was SO excited to publish Don't You (Forget About Me) because i thought it was so good. like, arguably some of my better work, but it didn't do well with Readers. it was disheartening but also humbling because while the fic picked up traction, i remind myself that i'm still a fanfic reader at heart and so long as i like it, who cares how many notes it has?

🍒 if you have a story, write that shit. -> don't be discouraged, "oh, nobody is gonna read this, nobody wants this," because who cares about that? you have a story to tell, so write that shit! tell your story! i promise there are people out there that will entertain it!

🍒 praise yourself because if you wait for strangers on the internet to do it, you're not always going to get the response you WANT.

🍒 be kind. -> to yourself. -> to others. -> to me... please 😂

i gave another anon some advice a bit back, you can check that out here if you'd like!

i hope this helps even a little. i encourage everyone to write, no matter what the driving factor. have fun with it, challenge yourself, practice practice practice.

come back anytime, poppet, and when you publish (or not, whatever), send it my way - i'd love to give your work a read! all my very best! i hope writing can do for you what it's done for me.

all my love 🖤

[0dotexe]

Musings-23.exe

This is the second year I've decided to combine everything that has happened to me this year into one big ol' post. I think it goes without saying that this is going to be a long one. Grab your snacks.

What exactly happened this year that was different from the last?

Quite a lot honestly. For starters at the beginning of this year I had a health issue almost reach critical state, which in turn warranted a lot of blood tests and no real answers. As well as a lengthy process of getting dental work done because one of my teeth decided to be a problem child. Which made me be in nerve pain for approximately two months straight. It was hell. I would never recommend this pain to anyone, not even my worst enemies. At the same time, a lot of the issues I was having mentally haven't been nearly as bad as the year prior. Do I still get traumatic flashbacks every once in a while, yes. Do they take hours of my time to crawl out of, not anymore. But I also have come to realize that the memory part of my brain is a bit damaged from everything that's happened, so I'm giving myself more leeway than I used to. I cannot say enough that leaving a bad situation does so much good for oneself, but now with hindsight I can't say that that leaving the bad will initially start off good. There will, as one post so gracefully said it, be a period where you are a caterpillar in its cocoon. You are a soup of emotions and finding yourself. That was me last year. Me this year was surviving a bunch of medical shit, as I predicted.

Anything else?

A lot of this year was me figuring out my place in a lot of people's worlds. Be that reconnecting with old friends, and trying to interact with friends that I had invested my time in thinking that they would treat me the same in kind and getting rejected in the process. A few years ago I stated that my art was worthless on twitter, because I felt because I didn't conform to the trends and standards that everyone in the world and the algorhythms are looking for, that regardless of technical skill, nothing was going to come from the one thing I was good at. It still holds true. In the same vein, I am learning that the same can be applied to my relationship to people who aren't in my immediate circle. It's been very hard to come to that conclusion, and I still hold out hope that maybe people do care about me but they're just too busy to show it, but the reality is I am just a person who people remember by name and how I made them feel, not someone they remember as someone who is and will be their friend. This isn't aimed to the people who are my friends and are probably reading this, this is aimed to the people who won't read this. And I've come to accept that these people will not care about the things I make outside of a passing glance.

Why do I feel this way?

It has been proven not only through interactions through people who I assumed would stay my friends when I moved out, but my family as well. I complain about my family a great deal because the way they should be treating me don't reflect how they actually treat me. The way they treat me is akin to a burden, and in turn that's how I feel my friends see me as well. It's an unhealthy cycle, and maybe someday I'll stop repeating it. But only when I feel like I'm not the only one reaching out to people I care about. I don't want to seem like I'm complaining about what was never guaranteed from the start, but it really does feel like most of the time it's just me, my husband, and my cats against the world. I am more than happy to talk with those who are interested, but I am aware that the way I view friendships may seem a bit different to everyone else's relationship to the subject. I can go into that in a different post.

What now?

All I can do is live. All I can do is create. All I can do is hope that the people who do care continue to do so and that I don't drive them away. That's all. Thanks for reading. ⬖.Exe

[josiebelladonna]

nfts (which… i thought the bottom dropped out on those early last years? why am i still seeing them?)

ai, which… i have no words for

I’m finding young people in 2023 to be very anti-expression, which is kind of weird when you first see it but when you think of all the times i’ve been blocked, ostracized, criticized, slammed, painted the bad guy, you name it, for an opinion, standing up for myself, my own art, a personal story (fluttergrrrl is older but i still wonder what her deal with me is, though) or just something totally trivial like poor phrasing on my part, it makes a lot of sense.

*sigh*. look. i get it. you don’t want to hear bad things about something you made because it’s personal, and more so if you put some painful emotions into it… but you have to let go at some point. you put it online and it has your name on it because you’re the one who made it… but that doesn’t give you the right to steal or to get all up in arms if someone doesn’t care for it. you want a nice balance of the two: it’s public now but it’s still yours. this generation is so toxic because you not only don’t seem to get this but you actively refuse to. i’d say you’ll learn but i’m seeing people only a few years younger than me and people older than me pulling this shit.

memes, memes, and more memes. i said this on facebook yesterday, and i’ll say it here: memes are the subway sandwiches of the internet. you might think you’re doing justice by sharing a meme because it can apparently be weaponized or some shit, but it’s really only adding to the proverbial landfill that is the internet just from the short half-life. people would rather share a dank meme that’ll be rendered uncool in three days but not something i made or one of my friends made. and you wonder why you didn’t go to mcdonald’s instead. i fucking hate memes.

social media is becoming more and more hostile towards artists, especially artists like myself who don’t give a flying rodent’s behind about bullshit like nfts and would just rather make art. facebook is about as anti-art as it gets, tumblr is two bad updates away from being virtually unusable (it’s why i’m not on here as much anymore), how does anyone even use twitter anymore because you can’t find anything that’s trending unless you have an account there and good luck trying to get a foothold on there now unless you’re that kira person, how does anyone use deviantart now, i am not even going to go anywhere near tiktok, and i see things like artists feeling really unwelcome on instagram (it’s been very kind to me, but it’s just the neighbor lady looking out for the vulnerable ones on the street in me talking). i have a little hope for cara but i’m not holding my breath. oh, and the tiktok generation is starting to make ao3 somewhat insufferable.

i feel this existential anger at the sight of the words “content creator”. it’s not enough to call yourself an artist or writer or blogger or what have you anymore, no, you have to ~create content~ shit that’s easily consumed like a meme or a tiktok video or a bandfic that’s a retread of fics from the last 2-3 years and doesn’t really add anything to the fandom, rather than being yourself and making everyone in the room uncomfortable. “content creator” is right up there with calling your wife or your girlfriend your “partner” and neither of you is lgbtq+: there’s just something inhuman and influencer-y about it.

art shops like redbubble and society6 are money-grubbing shitpools that screw over artists for no reason other than to cash in on the popular ones and forget the rest.

maybe i’m just too sensitive. but i want to know where we go from here, art world. i want answers.

[somehowmags]

thank you for telling me what happened!! vil criticizing rook's lack of manners when talking to trey seems very likely. im also sure vil has quite literally told rook to shut up before, so if he wanted rook to shut up, he'd quite definitely have already made him do so. and yea, i also don't agree with the absolutely soul sucking standards of the industry vil is in because the damage it can do is irreparable but regardless of how any of us feels about it, vil is very much still adamant on remaining in it. so he abides by its standards. i would never comment on anything, appearance wise, that can't be fixed in a few minutes, regardless of our bond. that is where rook and i differ, but only because i don't have a friend who benefits from the type of criticism rook gives and my friends don't require it from me. i tell my close friends things about me i could not say the same for with an acquaintance, because i can rely on the formers acceptance and understanding. rook is the same in that there are more things he's likely to talk about in close relationships because there is the level of trust that permits it; in which case, is vil's trust in rook's reliable judgement.

rook, if you overlook his morbid interest in breaking the boundaries of beast men, almost always keeps a cordial persona in front of others. yes, it could also just be the byproduct of his purposeful attempt for others to think he is less dangerous than he really is. but i really don't think the man who finds beauty in everything would be arsed to make a senseless comment. the most senseless thing he's done (saving vil) was done precisely because he thought the consequences over (putting the dorm in more chaos, losing his role as VH) and was very much ready to face them in return for his goal. he would never tell you about anything you also cannot fix in under a few minutes-- he knows it's not his place to comment on it, and he knows the consequences of it. observant and mindful is his middle name, so he can most likely tell that you're not comfortable about something personal. he'd likely change the topic, provide some words of advice you could easily ponder on or dismiss, or praise you. he'd very likely PRAISE YOU!!! yes, oddly personally at that, but he genuinely finds no issue in most things. it's rather ironic to think rook could respect your boundaries about yourself when he stalks others and inappropriately addresses beastmen and fae, but as hypocritical as his nature is, he's not fat phobic. he's never been one for the most conventional of views. vil supports you in that he helps you reach your goals; rook also aspires to do that, but rook can appreciate the beauty before him in present time more thanks vil can or does. (not to say that vil doesn't at all) so he definitely would have a positive view of you as you are, and the you you could be.

and yea, rook DID, in fact, shit on vil when they legit first met. but again, it's likely due to the part of him that is very intentional. vil did not turn him away, and infact came to trust him deeply, so obviously his judgement about vil's aversion towards him was right. maybe he was just lucky vil didn't beat him over the head with a textbook, but it's been 2 to 2.5 years since then. he's likely grown and developed a degree of manners thanks to vil, especially now that he's a face of pomefiore. sure, he could learn to be more respectful when providing the criticism he does with vil despite their close bond, but if vil really did think he was rude, he would just tell him. rook would adapt and take a different approach in telling him. we all have had similar thoughts about people close to us, but as we had time to process it, we come to realize what they were trying to impart on us potentially negates whatever tone or action they take-- which also leads our appreciation of the sentiment to overpower any feeling of irritation, anger, guilt, hurt, etc etc. rook may not change all his eccentricities, but he's not incapable of change.

i fucking love rook because he's just such a GOOD character?? he so obviously has his perks and flaws, his charms and distastes. that's what makes him so easily to like because he's so obviously not perfect that he feels real, despite his enigmatic nature obscuring any chance we have at fully understanding his character. he's not a good person, but he's not a bad person. he does good things, he does bad things, he does blandly neutral stuff. it may just be bias, but he's one of the most interesting and morally grey characters in twst. i also hate rook the most. i have a mostly love relationship with vil but i HATREEEERSTETE rook. i want to violently hit him with an ikea mug. i want him in a rutsack. i wanna kiss him. he's so ugly he's so gorgeous. also i love the way you draw vil he's so scrimblio

SO TRUE SO TRUE sorry this took so long to answer i was doing hot girl shit (grocery shopping, watching inuyasha) all day but this is so true!!! honestly the only thing i would argue with you on is that rook isn't exclusively weird towards non-human students; he ALSO pulls that shit with humans, like when he shot that arrow at ace, deuce, yuu, and grim during book five to send the message that they were chosen. he's an equal opportunity weirdo!

honestly what intrigues me the most about him is that technically, he's considered a "heroic" character- he has the same light magic that kalim and silver, who are both based on "heroic" characters do instead of everyone else's dark magic. and thats so fucking interesting like...i don't know if i would consider rook or the huntsman from snow white heroic characters exactly. sure the huntsman helps snow white but for us playing the game rook helping neige means WE lose out on a lot. in the end both of them do what they consider to be the right thing but god. i need to hit him with a 2x4 tbh

also thank you! i haven't drawn vil in so long i should draw him again...in 2020 i just could think of a lot more funny jokes about him to draw LMAO now im old and decrepit and i have no ideas

[arcane-vagabond]

Yes to all of this!! Instant gratification has become a serious issue in every aspect of life, and I'm guilty of falling into it too.

In terms of writing, it's exactly what happened with that Tarzan!Bradley fic/collections/series/whatever. I had a fun little thought and got caught up in the excitement surrounding it. Then, when I got farther with it, I realize that I...didn't actually have a plot or direction for it. So, I stopped writing for it because I didn't know where to take it and stopped getting those dopamine hits from it.

Now, the stories you see me update the most often (until we get close to the end of them, in which case I get sad and avoid finishing them lol) are meticulously planned. Maybe not down to the exact detail until I'm sitting down and writing the actual update, but I have a plan for the overall story and ideas for what I want to happen and when.

Jake and Scout's story (DHTN) had a clear set of events, but then I decided to expand their story into two sequels. I paused writing it until I could figure out what I was doing, and I'm glad I did!

Meet Me at the Sea is another one that I'm hyper critical of because I went into it with no planning and didn't develop an actual plot until Chapter Three. I liked the attention it got, but no one really talks about it anymore, and I'm left hating it because I didn't take the time to actually plan it out like I should have.

I love researching for my stories. Not only does it make them more immersive, but as I'm doing research on different topics, I always find something else that has me going "Oh shit? That's actually really cool. Let me see if I can incorporate that into my story somehow!" It's fine if you don't want to put that much effort into it, but if you're serious about honing your writing and storytelling skills, this is how you fucking do it.

I'm constantly having my friends look over parts I'm not sure about because I need to see if my writing is flowing and making sense, that it's portraying and executed like I want it to. I use proofreaders. My friends read my things to double check for me. Are you going to catch everything 100% of the time? Unfortunately, no. But your chances are better when you do these things.

And Morgan is so right! Doing all of these things prolongs the enjoyment of your fic! I still think about DHTN even though it's finished. I smile about my characters and what they've had to overcome. My favorite fics are the ones that I've spent an obscene amount of time planning. Fool's Fare has undergone a few different ending rewrites before I finally settled on one that I liked. We Abide is a story that I've been plotting for about ten years now, y'all are just a test run for the original fiction.

I'm all for everyone trying out new skills and hobbies. But, personally, when I'm entering a new space and trying out a new craft, I'm going to the people who've been doing it for years to see how they do it. I pick up new skills, new tricks, and new tips on how to cultivate said skill and make it my own.

And when people come into a space and post whatever for other people to see, you open yourself up to being seen. No writer on here is going to tear you apart. Any suggestions we give is from a place of wanting to see you grow and be better. I literally went back and read my writing from when I was 14, and I've improved leaps and bounds because I learned from the writing that I DID like and started incorporating it into my stuff.

And quite frankly? When we give out these tips and tricks, and then some anonymous loser comes in and says, "Okay, but who cares? It's not that serious?" It's fucking insulting. This is my craft. This is something I love doing. If you don't want to take it seriously, that's fine, but don't put down something I love just because you don't see the inherent value in it.

Let's talk writing, and how rewarding it can be to do it properly.

I've been thinking a lot, and several of my thoughts navigate back to this post - one of my favourites about fan fiction and why writing is so important.

This absolutely extends to writing style! It takes time to not only write the piece, but re-read/beta it, add punctuation, finesse plot, and double check your grammar! Every time I read through one of my own fics I find something new to tweak to capture the vision, which is part of the 'slow dopamine' the post refers to.

This proofreading process actually prolongs enjoyment of your fic! You get to sit in those scenes a bit longer, have fun figuring out if you should have dialogue that's more choppy or a paragraph with one line to be punchy. In the moment it feels great to just put words on the page and hit publish, but in the long run the more time you spend with a fic until publishing the more connected you'll feel to the story.

Plus then you get to think about the style of your writing!

Writing isn't just words - it's also the visual. How does it look on the page? Is the amount of dialogue you have what you envisioned? Do your scenes have enough description?

Once you've mastered the basics of a high school English class, then you can break the rules! Get creative, have fun, be a rebel in the margins!

Those slow dopamine hits peak now, because you're seeing your entire fic come together exactly as you envisioned - not in a typo-ridden text post that is just a keyboard smash of your brain rot. Now others can enjoy your story just as you enjoy it!

That quick dopamine hit is a one night stand: quick, rushed, and in the moment exactly what you need to itch that scratch. And you may regret it, especially when other's are free to judge it. But taking time to revise your story and really put your best into it? That's the lifelong relationship with a partner who knows you intrinsically and fulfills your needs.

Now you can add a header, pop a little synopsis, and put a 'read more' for good measure before sending into the world!

And if you're upset/scared because you don't know basic English skills and are using this 'quick hit' style to hide behind? READ! Find authors you love and learn from them. Ask others to beta for you and teach you the trade. There's also plenty of online programs like Grammarly that will proofread for punctuation, spelling, and grammar.

It's time for us to get our slow dopamine hits and create content we're not only proud of, but will spark a revolution of spending time on our writing!

You might also be shocked at how much more engagement you receive...😉

[sunshine-zenith]

Okay but like. Ratatouille from Linguini’s perspective tho

You’re some broke, awkward guy in his twenties who can’t keep a job down to the point that you Know that the letter your recently dead mom wrote to her also dead famous friend’s coworker contains Something about giving you employment. So you march yourself down to this fancy restaurant, submit yourself to verbal whiplash, fork over what might’ve been the last thing your mother ever wrote, and become the lowly janitor

Fine, right? I mean, shitty day/week/month/whatever, but you aren’t picky. You have a job, so you can pay rent. Except you accidentally spill like half a pot of soup and you panic. You literally got this job like fifteen minutes ago and you already fucked up. Rent is breathing down your neck so you do the Broke Twenty Something thing where you try to use water to hide the difference, throw in some spices because you have no idea how cooking works, and hope that no one notices despite the fact that one sniff tells you you fucked it up worse.

Then a rat fixes it.

A random rat fixes it.

(You’re broke, you’re mom is dead, and you cook worse than a rat. Imagine that.)

And somehow the soup gets served to a food critic that’s apparently well respected and now you have no idea if you’re gonna be flayed alive by your new boss or given a job you are in no way qualified for. Rent is still a thing.

Then you realize the rat understands human language and knows enough body language to communicate. Then you realize you’re own body is fucking weird because this completely random rat (that you had to explain morality to because he stole some herbs from your neighbor) is controlling your limbs by tugging on your hair. Also you become lowkey famous yourself because the rat is that good a cook.

And you have to go along with it because you need money to eat and not be homeless and you need a job to get money. It hasn’t even been a week.

At least your coworkers are nice enough. You get a crush on one of them and get a crash course on cooking and working in a kitchen and sexism and oh my god like at least three of your coworkers are technically criminals aren’t they?? Also your boss gets you drunk and asks you a bunch of weird questions about pets. You only wanted a job

(The rat makes you kiss the coworker you kinda have a crush on that’s been teaching you everything. What the fuck. You probably have to explain consent to a rat now. Luckily the coworker likes you back and is okay with the kiss, but still. What the fuck)

(Also the rat now seems to have a rivalry with your new girlfriend. What the hell, rat buddy? You’re literally the reason these two are together, and also the girlfriend has been working in the food industry longer than the rat has been alive probably, she clearly knows her shit)

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the rat walks up to you with some documents about how your dead mom’s dead famous friend is your dad. Also your boss did DNA tests on you behind your back (invasive much??). Now you own an entire restaurant because of a deadline in you’re secret dead dad’s will that was like two days away from being moot.

(I dunno about y’all, but I’d need to sit down for like seventy years at this point because there’s like fifty different layers of fucked up here. You grew up without knowing your dad, then you learn you’ve been working at his restaurant. He’s famous and his face is on a bunch of frozen food dishes. Both of your parents are dead. Your mom never told you or your dad about the being related thing for some reason. Your boss did a DNA test on you. You own a restaurant and you can’t even cook. Your new pet rat somehow got this information before you and can apparently read. Your father was a famous chief, your name is literally a pasta, and you can’t even cook. It’s only been a couple months, what the hell)

Now you’re famous and the food critic they lowkey caused your secret dad’s death is after you because he has a weird vendetta going on, and also your rat (who’s like your best friend at this point let’s be real) is acting weirder than usual, but at least you have a better apartment and get to talk about how much you love your super cool and smart girlfriend in public.

Next thing you know, your rat is sneaking other rats into the kitchen, you have to explain that a rat can cook better than you, and everyone quits in the middle of the day (what the heck, one of them probably killed a guy and another was in the circus. The rat thing is weird but like. You can roll with the punches. Why can’t they??)

So while you’re like having a panic attack because of this, your rat unionized his rat friends and now the kitchen is being run by rats. What can you do? You wait tables because what the hell, you’re in way too deep at this point.

(Also, side note, Linguini totally missed out on his true calling as a professional roller skater or something. Dude’s graceless even when he isn’t being piloted by a rat, but on a set of roller skates he’s friggin amazing)

Luckily, your super smart (maybe ex?) girlfriend comes back (even if the whole rat thing is still throwing her off, but hey. It’s prolly nice to have Somebody acknowledge the weirdness of this entire thing without jumping ship). Apparently the food your rat cooks is so good that the food critic that lowkey killed your dad reevaluates his entire life, but now he wants to meet the person that made the meal. What do you do — your (maybe ex?) girlfriend is the only other human here, do you say she made it or do you show him the rat?

You decide to make this Super Important Super Harsh food critic wait hours, then you and your (probably) girlfriend have to show off how you’re weirdly drift compatible with a rat. The food critic just like. Thanks you for the meal and leaves. What do you do?

Also at some point during the night the rats kidnapped your weirdly invasive ex-boss and a health inspector. So yeah, you should probably deal with that.

Then the food critic that lowkey lead to your dad’s death writes this inspirational piece that critizes critics, tanking his own career in the process, only for the health inspector to shut down your dad’s restaurant. But okay, the now ex-food critic now takes the money he made shattering the dreams of other chiefs and invests in your rat best friend’s dreams, and now he’s kinda your friend and you work at the rat’s restaurant with your amazing girlfriend.

All this happened in only a few months. You just wanted a job.

Linguini’s a fucking champion for putting up with all this istg

[arodabi]

okay, i’m finally getting around to writing this, and uhh ill say its for aro week too. this is written as an aro person directed at alloromantic people. when i refer to writing, i’m kind of using it as a general term for creative works. Here’s me throwing my hat in on the question:

Can you ship aromantic characters?

and my answer is,,,,, actually a question. Why do you want to ship aromantic characters? 

I want alloros to realize that for a lot of aros, we do not get to see ourselves represented often. I can actually count on like one hand how many popular canon aro characters there are, and on the whole, none of their identities are respected. people constantly try to weasel their way out of actually writing aro characters, or they just ignore or deny their identity outright. fandom spaces (hell creative spaces in general) are at best not welcoming to aros, and at worst actively hostile towards us. So when the first question brought up when a character gets canonically confirmed as aro is “okay cool but can i ship them???” or “that’s nice but how can i still write about my fave ship that involves them??” i want to fucking scream. its a slap to the face and it shows that people really do not give a shit about aros. you say stuff like that and all i hear is “my fictional ship is so much more important than representing your marginalized minority identity” so instead of me just sitting here and saying “yes you can totally ship aro characters, as long as you’re respectful!!!” i’m saying “can you stop and think why you want to shove an aro character into a romantic relationship at the first chance you get?? maybe you have some arophobia you haven’t worked on?? maybe since we live in an amatonormative world, you’re letting that influence your views??” because that question being the first thing out of your mouth when you see a character you like confirmed as aro? that’s already disrespectful towards aros in my book.

So back to my question, Why do you want to ship aromantic characters? is it because you can’t write characters without them being in romantic relationships? or because you think a character without a romantic relationship is boring? Because if so, that’s a bad reason and it sounds like amatonormativity is rotting your brain. 

Is it because you just really like a ship with the aro character? Because you can write two characters with a strong relationship without writing them as a couple. A strong friendship can hold just as much power as a romantic relationship.

Is it because fuck aros, i will write what I wanna write and I don't wanna write this character with their canon identity? because then you’re just an arophobic asshole that needs to work on your shitty opinions. aro representation is just as important as any other lgbtqia+ representation.

Now if you’re reading this and thinking “well i heard aros can be in queerplatonic relationships!” I want you to think for a second. Are you writing a qpr or are you writing a romantic relationship with the serial numbers filed off? Have you talked to aro people or read stuff actually written by us? because, yes, some qprs can look a lot like a romantic relationship from the outside, but that’s just it, you’re looking at it from the outside. qprs are more than just “romantic relationship with extra steps”, and i think it’s really telling how many times i see alloromantic people saying they’re depicting an aro character in a qpr, not a romantic relationship, but then they never ever make any effort to distinguish the qpr from any other romantic relationship they write or draw. It just feels like qprs are getting used by alloros as a gatcha any time an aro person objects to how they depict (or don’t depict) aromanticism. if you want to write a character in a qpr then go for it! but you need to actually do research, talk to aros, get multiple opinions and not just take the first opinion that agrees with you and run with it.

“But what about headcanoning a character as arospec?” now i will say before i go into this, i am aro, not arospec, so if an arospec person wants to come in and correct me at any part here im happy to listen. but my problem when alloros bring up arospec identities is a very similar problem to how qprs are often depicted. I remember when Peridot Stevenuniverse got confirmed aro (she did, do not argue this with me) people were jumping over themselves to assure everyone that “a character getting confirmed as aro just means they are any arospec identity” which,, uhh,, not true? i mean if an arospec person wants to see a canon aro character as, say, aroflux, i’ve got no problem, aro and arospec people can do what they want really. but, i do have a problem with all the alloro fans who were spreading this. because, do you really see the character as demiromantic? or are you using that identity to deflect criticism from erasing aro identities? are you actually trying to write a good depiction of a demiro person? or are you just writing normal ship stuff and slapping a “uwu ive never felt romantic attraction until i met you! and now i will act exactly like any alloromantic person!” at the beginning? being in fandom spaces, i do see the occasional fic actually depicting an aspec identity (i say aspec her because aro is so rare that most of these examples i’ve seen have been acespec identities rather than arospec) but like 99% of the time, that’s written by someone who actually shares the identity. before you use our terms and identities to cover your ass when you erase us, consider not fucking doing that. consider listening to all aros and getting our thoughts and input. 

And last here is “but what about romance positive aros?” now i think most of what i’ve said previously can be applied here. the only thing i wanna add is, i think its very interesting that almost every time i see non aros depict aros, they always write them as very into romance, very open to be in romantic relationships, and very quiet about their aro identity. despite the character in canon not showing any of these traits. romance positive aros are good and important, but not every aro is romance positive. there’s quite a few of us that are romance repulsed, and alloros only depicting aros as super romance positive no matter what is suspicious to say the least. if an aro character is shown to be open to participating in romantic activities in canon then of course write them that way. but if an aro character is shown to be uninterested in, or even actively against romantic activities then respect that too.

so, to wrap up my thoughts in this ramble: please ask yourself why you want to ship aro characters so bad, because if the only reason is that amatonormativity has brainwashed you into not being able to write, or draw, or do anything with a character without them being in a romantic relationship, then you uhhh need to work on that, that’s honestly a writing/creative flaw imo. if you like the relationship dynamic between an aro character and another character, consider making them friends. friendship is not less powerful than romantic relationships. nobody is ever too old for the power of friendship trope. If you’re erasing an aro character’s identity because fuck aros, then fuck off somewhere far away from me and work on your bullshit. qprs, arospec identities, and romance positive aros are all very real, very important parts of the aro community, but please talk to other aros about them and actually make an effort to understand how these things work, dont just assume. And also don’t use these things as a way to erase aro identities and cover your ass if get called out. its disrespectful towards all aros.

The most important thing to do before writing or creating work with aro characters is to talk to aros, and not just the aros that agree with you. look up what a qpr actually is, learn how aros experience their arospec identities, talk to aros with multiple outlooks on romance. and if you can’t bring yourself to reach out, at least read through our own writings, whether that’s fiction, or informational posts, fuck, look through our memes if u wanna. Just please actually make an effort.

So, Can you ship aro characters? its complicated. look at trends in your fandom, question why you want to, and do research. Be an aro ally, listen to us. That’s really the most important thing.

[that-disabled-radfem]

Happy back-to-school y’all

I’ve attended and worked at a couple of super liberal universities. I avoid the gender studies departments for obvious reasons and I still had a lecture in which the female prof gave a brief overview of TERFs and proclaimed her hatred of JKR. Being openly critical of gender ideology, the porn industry, kinks, and ‘sex work’ are the kind of things that can ruin your future in academia. Not to mention the fact that any speech or actions that could be labelled transphobic (ie. defining woman as adult human female) can get you a suspension according to many universities anti-hate-speech policies. 

So, here’s a list of small and smallish (small in terms of overt TERFery, some may require more effort than others) radical feminist actions you can take as a university student:

(this is a liberal arts perspective so if you’re a stem gal this may not apply. but also if you’re in stem maybe you can actually acknowledge that women are oppressed as a sex class without getting kicked out of school. idk)

(Note for TRAs hate reading this: One of the core actions of radical feminism is creating female networks. This is not so that we can brainwash people into being anti-trans. This is because female solidarity is necessary for creating class consciousness and overturning patriarchy. It is harder to subjugate the female sex when we stand together.)

Take classes with female profs. Multiple sections of a class? Pick the one taught by a woman. Have to chose an elective? Only look at electives offered by women. When classes have low numbers they get cancelled. When classes are super popular, universities are forced to consider promoting the faculty that teach them

Make relationships with these female profs. Go to office hours. Chat after class. Ask them about their research. Building female networks is sooooo important!

Actually fill in your end of year course feedback forms. Profs often need these when applying for tenure or applying for a job at another university so it is very important (especially with young and/or new profs) that you fill out these forms and give specific examples of how great these women are. Go off about what you love about them! Give her a brilliant review because you know the idiot boy in that class who won’t shut up even though he knows nothing is going to give her only negative feedback because he thinks any woman who leaves the house is a feminazi b*tch. 

(note: obviously don’t go praising any prof - female or male - who is blatantly racist, homophobic, etc.)

(Also if you have shitty male profs write down all the horrible things they have done and said and put it in these forms because once a shitty man gets tenure they are virtually untouchable)

(also also, leave a good review on rate my profs or whatever other thing students use to figure out if they want to take classes. idc if you copy paste your feedback from the formal review. rave about the class to your friends. do what you can to get good enrolment for that prof for reasons above.)

Participate in class. Talk over the male students. Say what you mean and mean it. Call out the boys when they say dumb shit

Write about women. If you have the option to make a text written by a woman your primary text in an essay, do it. Pick the female-centred option if you’re writing an exam-essay with multiple prompts. (Profs often look at what works on their syllabus are being written about/engaged with as a marker of whether to keep those texts the next time they teach the class. If there are badass women on your syllabus, write about them to keep them on the syllabus) Use female-written secondary sources whenever possible. 

(pro tip: many women in academia are more than happy to talk to you about their papers. expand your female networks by reaching out to article authors through email and asking them about their cool shit)

Get your essays published! Many departments have undergrad journals you can publish in. This will ensure more people read about the women you write about and will demonstrate to the department that people like learning about women

Consider trying to publish your undergrad essay with a legit peer-reviewed journal. If you can do it, your use of female-written secondary sources boosts the reputations of the women who wrote those secondary sources. Also this helps generally to increase scholarship about women’s writing!

Present your papers at conferences! Many schools have their own undergraduate/departmental conferences that you can present at. Push yourself by submitting to outside conferences. Bring attention to women’s works by presenting your papers. Take a space at a conference that would otherwise be reserved for mediocre men

Talk to your profs and/or your department and/or your university about mandating the inclusion of female works in classes if this isn’t something they do already

Sit next to other women in your classes. Talk to them. Make friends. Form study groups. Proofread each other’s essays. Give each other knowing looks when the boys are being dumb. Just interact with other women! Build those female networks!

Be generous with your compliments. A female classmate and I were talking to a prof after class and the classmate told me (out of the blue) that I always have such interesting things to say. I think about that whenever I’m lacking confidence about my academic skills. Compliment the women in your classes for speaking up, for sharing their opinions, for challenging your classmates/profs, for doing cool presentations, etc.

Talk to other women about sexist things going on on campus. Make everyone aware of the sexist profs. Complain about how there are many more tenured men than tenured women. Go on rate my professor and be explicit about how the sexist profs are sexist

Be active on campus and in societies. If a society has an all male executive or is male-dominated, any women who join that society make it less intimidating for more women to join. Run for executive positions! Bring in more women! 

(Pro tip: Many societies’ elections are super gameable. You can be eligible to vote in a society election sometimes just by being a student at that university — even without having done anything with the society before. Other societies might just require that you’ve taken a class in a particular department or attended a society event. (Check the society’s governing documents.) Use those female networks you’ve been building. If you can bring three or four random people to vote for you, that might be enough for you to win. Societies have trouble meeting quorum (the minimum number of people in attendance to do votes) so it is really super achievable to rig an election with a few friends. And don’t feel bad about this. The system is rigged against women so you have every right to exploit loopholes!)

(Also feel free to go vote “non-confidence”/“re-open election” if only shitty men are running. Too often people see that only candidates they don’t like are running and so they give up. But you can actually stop them getting elected)

Your campus may have a LGBTQIA+alphabetsoup society. That society definitely needs more L and B women representation. It may be tedious to argue with the nb straight dudes who insist that it’s fine to use “q***r” in the society’s posters and that attraction has nothing to do with genitals, but just imagine what could happen if we could make these sorts of societies actually safe spaces for same-sex attracted women and advocated for our concerns

Attend random societies’ election meetings. Get women elected and peace out. (or actually get involved but I’m trying to emphasize the lowest commitment option with this one)

Write for the campus newspaper. Write about what women are doing - women’s sports, cool society activities, whatever. Review female movies, books, tv shows, local theatre productions. Write about sexism on campus. We need more female by-lines and more stories about women

Get involved with your campus’s sexual assault & r*pe hotline/sexual assault survivor’s centre/whatever similar organization your campus has if you can. This is hard work and definitely not for everyone (pls take care of yourself first, especially if you are a survivor)

(If your campus doesn’t have an organization for supporting survivor’s of sexualized violence, start one! This is probably going to be a lot of hard work though, so don’t do it alone)

Talk to your student council about providing free menstrual hygiene products on campus if your campus doesn’t already do this. If your campus provides free condoms (which they probs do), use that as leverage (ie. ‘sex is optional, menstruation is not. so why do we have free condoms and no free pads?’)

If you’re an older student, get involved with younger students (orientation week and such activities are good for this). Show the freshman that you can be a successful and well-liked woman without shaving your legs, wearing heels, wearing make-up, etc. Mentor these young women. Offer to go for coffee or proofread essays. 

Come to class looking like a human being. Be visibly make-up less, unshaven, unfeminine, etc. to show off the many different ways of being a woman

Talk to the custodial staff and learn their names. (I know there are men who work in this profession, but it is dominated by low-income women) Say hi in the hallways, ask them about their lives, show them they’re appreciated

Be explicit with your language. When you are talking about sex-based oppression, say it. Don’t say ‘sex worker’ when you mean survivor of human trafficking. This tip is obviously a bit tricky in terms of overt TERFyness, so use your best judgement

That’s all from me for now! Feel free to add your suggestions and remember that feminism is about action

[la-undercover-latina]

Greek Temper- Biersack Family

Summary: We know Amber Lee-Biersack suffered PPD after having her daughter Addison was born. But what planted the seed in her head that turned her into a gym rat the second her doctor cleared her?

A/N: I used Google Translate for the one Greek word in here.

T/W: Fighting, Cursing, drinking, and body shaming

January 7th, 2017

Black Veil was celebrating Jinxx’s birthday, and this was the first time since Addison was born that Andy and Amber hung out with the guys in a group without their newborn.

“Happy birthday man,” Amber told Jinxx who gave her a smile.

“Thanks Amber. You know it’s become weird to not see you either pregnant or carrying Andy’s little twin,” he joked.

“Are we sure that the first one isn’t still true?” Ashley murmured, but Amber’s sober ears picked up on it. Especially after about six weeks of learning how to listen for any little peep that the newborn made during the night.

“Ashley, what the fuck did you just say about me?” Amber demanded, anger kindling in her hazel eyes. Ashley acted as if he didn’t hear her.

“Kitten, ju-just chill,” Andy told her with a goofy smile. The two of you tried your best to stay away from liquor unless it was a special occasion. But Andy had already had quite a few drinks and after not drinking for so long consistently, his tolerance crashed through the floor.

“Really Andrew?” Amber demanded, turning her anger towards her husband before sending a text to Ella quickly.

‘Hey, I know it’s a lot to ask but can you keep Addison overnight? I’ll tell you later’

“Oh shit,” CC raised his hands, knowing that Amber inherited her father’s temper when provoked. And the fact that she used Andy’s whole name didn’t bode well for the lead singer.

“It’s Jinxx’s birthday. Don’t make a scene baby girl,” Andy tried to calm her down, not realizing she called him by his legal first name.

“You’re gonna let him get away with calling me fat? While my body is still recovering from pushing our big ass baby out of my vagina!” Her voice started to raise and she was suddenly blocked by Jake.

“C’mon. I need to talk to you outside about Addison,” he told her, grabbing her arm gently and pulling her out of the living room and on Jinxx’s patio.

“Don’t you dare try to defend Ashley,” Amber threatened the one of two best friends of her husband’s band.

“I’m not. I actually did want to ask if you needed me to take Addison so you can take a day for yourself,” Jake offered a smile.

“Oh so you want godbaby cuddles, is that it?” Amber joked, relaxing ever so slightly.

“Please, I get cuddles whenever I want. But I read on Reddit that new moms need time to be themselves again to reduce the chance of postpartum depression,” Jake admitted with another shrug.

“Yeah that would be nice. I’ll let you know once this shit storm settles,” Andy had made his way to the patio. Thankfully Jinxx lived on the ground floor.

“H-hey Jake. Can I talk to Amber?” He asked with a hiccup and Jake flashed a look to Amber who gave a tiny nod. Jake left the married couple on the porch to hear CC and Jinxx bitching Ashley out for being a dick.

“Dude, how fucking stupid are you? She just had his big ass baby. If something happens, it’s on you,” CC’s voice turned threatening, which was a rarity for the drummer who was usually happy go lucky.

“If something happens to my best friend or godchild, I’m skinning you alive,” Jake threatened.

“Maybe you should just go chill in the back room dude,” Jinxx told Ashley, after his eyes wandered to a red faced Amber on his porch. It would be best for everyone if Amber didn’t see Ashley.

“Stop coddling her,” Ashley bit back.

“A little constructive criticism never hurt anyone. Maybe it’ll get her back in the gym. She used to have a banging body and now since she got pregnant, she’s not the same,” he shrugged.

“For a guy that gets so much ass on the road, you have no idea how the female human body works. She’s still recovering from her body being stretched and going through actual trauma. It’s gonna take some time for her body to get back to normal,” Jake snapped.

“What the actual fuck Andy! You let him talk about me like that IN FRONT OF YOU! I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re drunk. You obviously know how to speak considering you used to do whole ass shows drunk off your ass. So why can’t you defend me from that kólos?! (Greek for Asshole)” Amber yelled, her tanned cheeks turning an angry red.

Sign #2 that Amber was pissed without having to see her face: she switched to Greek.

“Baby, you’re being,”

“Do NOT say I’m being sensitive. It was clear as day. Jinxx said that it’s weird to not see me pregnant or carrying Addison in my arms and Ashley literally went,” Amber started to imitate Ashley, stupid face and all.

“Are we sure the first one isn’t true?” Her voice and face went back to normal.

“How the fuck am I supposed to take that?!” Amber demanded.

“I mean baby, you are still a little bi-” Andy remarked and Amber never thought she would see the day but she slapped Andy.

But today was the day.

“Don’t you dare come home,” her voice came out venomous as she opened the glass sliding door and grabbed her purse before heading to the street where she was parked.

She called the one person that would understand what she was going through completely.

“Hey Amber, is everything alright?” Her aunt Taylor answered the phone.

“Hi honey!” Heather spoke from her spot next to Taylor.

“Mama, Mama #2 I’m coming over,” Amber tried to keep the tears at bay, but both moms went on high alert.

“What happened baby girl?” Heather asked and Taylor got up to unlock the door.

“Are you guys at Aunt Taylor’s mama?” She asked and Heather sighed, hearing the note in her baby’s voice.

“We’re at Aunt Taylor’s,” Heather responded softly.

“Daddy isn’t there, is he?” Amber asked, knowing how overprotective Tommy was of her, especially since she got pregnant and still since she gave birth.

“No he and Uncle Nikki are at the studio,” Taylor answered. By now, Amber was pulling into the street that would lead her to the Sixx household. Luckily the roads were pretty empty, relatively speaking for Los Angeles. Also, Jinxx didn’t live far from the Sixx’s.

Amber’s car skidded to a stop and she got out of it with her mascara running down her cheeks and she opened the door, hiccups leaving her lips.

“Amber sweetie, what’s wrong?” Taylor asked when she saw the door open and the new mom come in with mascara running down her face.

“Where’s Andy?” Heather asked, taking a peek through the still open door.

“I left his ass at Jinxx’s,”

“C’mon baby,” Taylor steered her away from the door and into the kitchen, Heather hot on her heels.

“Sit down and hug your momma while momma #2 makes you some tea,” Taylor told her while Heather stood next to Amber sitting at the breakfast bar, and held her shoulders while Amber’s head laid on her mother’s shoulder.

“Sweetie,” Heather started before her best friend cut her off.

“Heather, hold off until she gets the tea,” Taylor told her best friend softly while the water boiled and she grabbed the chamomile tea bags.

Amber pulled her phone out of her pocket when she felt it buzz.

A picture of Andy and her holding Addison filled the screen and Amber tossed her phone on the counter.

“The fucking voicemail can take that,” she growled. Once it did go to voicemail, Heather peeked at it to see a text from Ella.

“Baby, Ella said she’ll keep Addison overnight for you. She’ll just need more milk to last her,” Heather started to rub circles into Amber’s back.

“Alright sweetie, some chamomile tea,” Taylor slid the mug of tea to Amber and she got up to give Taylor a bone crushing hug.

“Thanks,”

“It’s completely alright baby,” Taylor told her, before Amber pulled away and sat down taking a sip of tea.

“He let Ashley call me fat,” Amber finally spoke. The dynamic mom duo were just going to wait until she was ready to talk to find out what happened.

“What?” Heather asked, not being able to picture it in her head.

“Ashley needs to be taken out back to find his own switch,” Taylor growled, her own protective nature coming out.

“Not until after I hit him with a car,” Heather added.

“So what happened before that? Last I knew, you guys were celebrating Jinxx’s birthday at his place,” Taylor prodded while Heather continued to rub Amber’s back and ensure she kept drinking the tea.

“We were. Jinxx made a joke how it’s weird that I’m not pregnant or holding Addy. And then,” she took another sip.

“The fucking kólos said that I still looked pregnant,” Tears welled in her hazel eyes and Heather brought her head to her shoulder.

“Baby I’m so sorry,” The moms didn’t have to know any more to put the missing pieces together. Andy didn’t stand up for his wife.

“I’m his fucking wife for the gods sake. Had someone done that in front of daddy or Uncle Nikki, that person would be six feet under,”

“You’re not wrong baby,” Heather continued the circles before looking at Amber’s phone to see another call from Andy.

“Yes?” Heather answered.

“H-hey Heather,” the frontman was shitting bricks, getting sober pretty fucking quick. The fact that Heather answered his wife’s phone meant there was a ticking clock above him before his father in law and Nikki found out. He knew he fucked up when Amber slapped him so hard it just stopped stinging a few minutes ago.

“Put his ass on speaker,” Taylor ordered, ready to deliver a verbal ass whooping.

“Andrew Dennis bless your heart,” Taylor mumbled under her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose before continuing.

“How fucking dare you let that little asshole talk about Amber and not defend her? After all y’all have been through, for you to just stand there with your thumb up your ass,” Taylor demanded, the southern coming out strong. For the most part, she’d lost her accent, but it always came out when she was tipsy, sad, or pissed.

“Heather, Taylor, I’m-”

“We’re not the one you need to apologize to,” Taylor spoke before hanging up.

—-

“Shit,” Andy mumbled, looking at his phone.

“So are you a dead man walking?” CC asked, stepping outside to see Andy pacing and as pale as a ghost.

“Not yet. She’s with Heather and Taylor. When Tommy or Nikki find out about this, I will be,” he spoke.

“Plus they’re right, I should’ve stood up for her. She’s my fucking wife and mother of my child,” Andy ran his hands down his face.

“Yeah you should’ve. Amber shouldn’t have felt the need to leave. I will say though, the little Greek got you good,” CC commented. The red handprint was still vibrant against Andy’s ivory cheek.

“Has the princess not calmed down yet?” Ashley asked, stepping outside and grabbing a smoke.

“Dude, you called a new mom fat. I’m surprised she didn’t go all Tommy Lee on your ass,” CC remarked, before sitting on one of the patio chairs.

“She still probably will the next time she sees him. And if I’m going down, you’re going down with me,” Andy looked at his bassist, not knowing if the love of his life was going to forgive him or not.

“You better hope to God that I don’t lose my wife over this,” Andy growled before grabbing his phone and calling an Uber to Taylor’s. He needed to see her.

—

After twenty minutes, a car pulled in front of the Sixx house and Taylor peeped through the window.

“Aw hell nah! Amber baby, go get me my belt or a hanger from the closet,” Taylor told her before cracking open the door.

“Boy, you better hope you got a tennis bracelet in your pocket for that poor girl,” Taylor spoke as she saw the frontman get out of the Uber.

“Andy, you’re so lucky Tommy and Nikki are at the studio,” Heather told him, coming to stand beside Taylor. It was almost comical. With Andy standing at 6’4 and the moms standing at 5’5 and 5’3, they had to look up at him.

“Please, can I see her?” Andy asked, his voice cracking as tears filled his eyes.

“That depends,” Heather crossed her arms.

“On what?” Andy asked.

“If she wants to see you,” Heather told him. Taylor walked back to the couch where Amber was sat texting Ella about what happened, and how the moms had it covered.

“Baby, Andy’s here and he wants to see you. Your momma and I told him it’s up to you. You can always stay here as long as you’d like if you don’t wanna see him,” Taylor offered.

She would never want any of the kids to feel like they had to stay in a situation where they didn’t feel 1000% loved.

“Yeah, bring him in. But can you and mama sit in the kitchen and listen in?” Amber asked softly.

“Oh that’s what I was planning on doing anyway,” Taylor smiled and kissed the top of her curls before walking over to see Heather still guarding the door and opening it farther so Andy could enter.

“C’mon Heather, let’s give them space,” Taylor said quietly as she steered the fellow mom to the kitchen. The blonde’s face looked outraged until she realized what Taylor had planned.

Andy stepped into the living room to see his wife staring at the ring he put on her finger three years ago and the band he put on her almost two years ago.

“You know, if there was one person I counted on to fight for me, it was you,” The young woman’s voice was calm and still, and Andy knelt in front of her.

“I’m so sorry baby. Please forgive me,” Amber looked up from her ring and saw genuine fat tears in Andy’s oceanic eyes.

She’d seen that look before.

She’d seen it on her father’s face twice.

Once immediately after her mother told him she wanted a divorce and the other when it happened with Pamela.

“I’m not leaving you,” she told him softly. Every fiber of the frontman’s being wanted to pull his wife in for a bone crushing hug, but he knew better.

“I’m not going to leave you. But I’m not going to stand by and let people disrespect me like that and have you just let it slide. That’s bullshit and you know it. I’m kicking Ashley’s ass and there’s nothing any of the guys are gonna be able to do to stop me,” Amber wasn’t afraid to go after a man.

While her father loved her immensely, it also extended to having taught her how to fight if need be.

Plus, when she started developing anger problems, Tommy and Heather signed her up for martial arts classes to try and give her another outlet that would serve a dual purpose and teach her self defense.

So along with her having been taught the Mötley way to fight, she was also taught the discipline of martial arts.

“And if he makes another comment about it, I want him out. I know the guys are getting sick of his shit too. He’s been acting like a Prima Donna since Wretched and Divine. Hell, he didn’t want to do the Bryan interview the night before the record came out because he felt he was too good for it,” Amber finished her rant, not having taken a breath through that rant and now her tanned cheeks were red from no air rather than being upset.

“I promise kitten,” he told her and held out his arms and Amber tossed the blanket to the side, pulling her husband into a tight embrace, her arms wrapping around his neck.

Taglist:

@youlightmeupfinn

@buckysimp101

@kata1803

@hallecarey1

@midsummereve1993l

[yourmcu]

Forgotten (CONTINUED VERSION)

Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader, Peter Parker x Stark!reader (platonic)

Request:

Hello i love your story could you do angsty tony x daughter reader. Wherein the reader has a twin brother and Tony and the avengers prefer the twin brother and becaus of that, the reader became rebel and badass. She always getting trouble and almost drop out student. The avengers and her father were seem disappointed and dont know what to do. Not until the reader involve into car accident and she's critical injured. The reader also slipped to coma. Everyone is devastated about the reader conditione. And they realized that the reader only rebel because she wants to get attention from them. It depends to you what the end come, I just want a full angst this week and I hope you dont mind my English. Anyway I hope your alright.

A/n: y’all wanted it, I finished it :)

Word count: 3,984

(more notes at the end!)

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort? bad writing of an anxiety attack, accident, knife, hospitals

read it on ao3!

gif not mine! credits to the owner^^

Being a genius/billionaire/superhero’s kid doesn’t always sound nice like it usually does.

You were one of the Stark twins, the other half being your brother, Ethan.

The both of you showed signs that you inherited the commonly known Stark trait (intelligence) at a young age. But Tony mostly focused on his son, showing him all his inventions and gadgets, teaching him everything he knew while you on the other hand, were being babysat by Happy or Pepper, sometimes Rhodey.

You tried so hard to get your father’s attention but he always had his excuses:

“I don’t have time for that.”

“I’m busy with Ethan right now.”

“Maybe later.”

At first you didn’t mind if your brother got all the praise and attention. It wasn’t until your mid-teens that you really started to feel left out and ignored.

You were left to frown when the other Avengers never found anything interesting about you, just like Tony did. They all liked Ethan better. The topic of him being the next Iron Man when Tony retires is getting exhausting.

There was this one time when Tony announced that they were all going out to dinner since Ethan got, yet again, a full set of A’s on his report card.

“Did you get my card?” You tapped on Tony’s shoulder lightly.

He gave you a side glance, “ah shoot, I forgot. I’ll go get it tomorrow.” Then returned his attention to your brother.

But he ended up forgetting again the next day and you had to convince your teacher to give it to you instead. Your marks had A’s, but littered with B’s as well, of course that was no match for your brother’s perfect marks.

And that sort of scenario wasn’t just a one time thing, Tony forgets to pick up your report card every. single. time. The messed up part was you and Ethan literally attended the same school, he was just in a more advanced class than you.

As time passed, Tony went from ignoring you to getting annoyed and pissed at you for everything you did. In his eyes, you were always in the wrong. And the reason? You didn’t know.

“Dad? Can I borrow Bruce for a minute?” You knocked on the glass door of his lab to get him to look up.

He didn’t, but responded, “kinda busy with him right now.”

You looked at your fractured arm, regretting your decisions. “W-well, Ethan was training with Nat, and... and he wanted to try the new moves he learned on me. He went a little hard and - I think my arm’s broken, I just wanted Bruce to check it out-”

“Goddammit!” He shouted after you heard a glass shatter. Bruce covered his face with palms, muttering an ‘oh no’.

Tony glared at you, striding to where you were standing. All that was left for you to do was to brace yourself for what was about to come. “See, this is why we never let you do anything with the team,” he spat. “That right there?”-he pointed to your arm-“that’s on you. Things go wrong because you’re in the way!”

“I’m... I’m sorry-”

“Just get out of here.”

Your arm remained untreated after that.

Then Peter Parker came into the picture. Friendly guy, he was actually nice to you. Him and Ethan got along right away when Tony first recruited him. The fact that he treated Peter better than you made you even more miserable. It made you think he never wanted a daughter in the first place.

You first met Peter when he accidentally entered your room without warning, thinking it was the bathroom. Cliche, but that’s what happened.

“It’s on the first door to your other left,” you stated.

“Yeah, yeah okay, thanks,” he turned around to leave but stopped to look at you again. “I’m Peter Parker, by the way.”

“Y/N Stark.”

Peter’s eyes lit up at your last name. “I... I didn’t know Mr. Stark had a daughter - no offense! It’s just-”

You sighed and waved him off. He didn’t even notice the similarities you had with your twin. “It’s fine. I get that a lot.”

After many events of being, to be blunt, treated like shit, you finally had enough. You neglected your studies, only went to school when you felt like it (which was rare). No one cared your grades anyway, so what’s the point? You became a whole new person, you surrounded yourself with the wrong sort of people, causing you to dabble into smoking and alcohol.

Since you were always in trouble, you could recite Cap’s detention speech at school by heart now.

The principal of your school wanted to see Tony to talk about your behavior. Normally he’d make an excuse not to go if it wasn’t that important but he got flooded with messages from the school, so he couldn’t say no.

You had your legs crossed, sitting across from Tony who had his eyebrows furrowed as he listened to the principal. For some reason you didn’t feel nervous. “Y/N barely attends her classes. I’ve seen every attendance. Are you aware of this, Mr. Stark?”

Tony only maintained his usual relaxed posture and avoided your gaze.

“Some students have also seen her smoke in school grounds. We gave her a few weeks suspension for it, but it doesn’t look like she’s learned her lesson.” They pulled out a couple boxes of cigarettes from the desk drawer. “We found these in her locker.”

“You went into my locker?” You shot up from your seat. “You can’t just do that!”

Tony cleared his throat and got up, gripping your wrist. “I’ll take it from here - will that be all?”

On the way out he doesn’t say a word to you, only that his grip on your wrist got tight as you near the car.

“So,” he started the car. His voice was calm, but it screamed that you were in deep trouble. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

You sighed and slouched in the passenger’s seat, crossing your arms. “I’m... sorry you had to know...?”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna be honest with you here,” Tony still doesn’t look at you. “When I found out I had two kids, I got worried about Ethan.”

You let out a snort. Of course he would.

“I didn’t want him ending up like me. But surprise surprise, my daughter did instead.”

“I’m not ‘ending up’ like you, Dad-”

“Then what do you call - this,” he referred to you. “What, you’re just gonna waste your life, drop out of school? You’re a fucking mess, Y/N, and here I thought I raised you right. Sometimes I think: why can’t you just be like your brother?” He had a hard grip on the steering wheel as he drove, the way he spoke affected the speed of the car greatly.

You opened your mouth to speak but you couldn’t fine the exact words you wanted to say. “I... well, I’m sorry I’m not a goody two shoes like him!”

“That’s not what I-”

“Please, that’s exactly what you meant.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Look, I’m grounding you until you pull yourself together, understand?” And he did. He gave new orders to Friday when the both of you got home. You weren’t allowed to leave the compound without Tony’s permission.

Were you giving up that easily? Of course not.

You were on your laptop for the rest of the day, hacking into Friday’s system, the security to the elevator and the entrance. That night, your executed your plan and everything went smoothly.

“This is why you never underestimate me,” you sighed, deactivating the hack once you were out of the building.

Your friend who was picking you up was already waiting a few blocks away from the compound. “I hope you’re cool with me staying over for a couple days.”

“If a bunch of Avengers come and destroy my place to look for you, I’m not going to be friends with you anymore.”

You laughed at out, “oh trust me, they don’t care.”

----

The next day no one noticed your absence, nobody did for another two days. Tony just assumed you were mad about your punishment, so he didn’t think of it much.

Not until Peter came to the compound on the third day, wanting to hang out with you.

“Whatcha got there, Pete?” Ethan asked.

“Star Wars movies. I wanna watch them with Y/N - she could use some company, don’t you think?”

The older Stark twin shrugged, “yeah, I guess she could.”

Peter then headed to the elevator and stopped at the floor where your room was. He knocked on your door and waited a bit, after a few minutes of silence he knocked again, still nothing.

“Y/N? Is it okay if I come in?” He called out. No response. He hesitated a bit, for all he knew you were probably changing or something, or you could be in danger. He went to open the door anyway. “I’m coming in, I’ll close my eyes just to be-”

To Peter’s surprise, your room was empty.

----

You were at a 711 parking lot, waiting for your friends who were buying supplies for a house party. You gave them your wallet, not really caring about anything anymore. Your phone was starting to pile up with messages and missed calls from Tony, Edward and Peter, occasionally from the others as you scrolled pass more.

Without thinking you threw your phone to the ground, cracking the screen, breaking it completely. They’d be able to track you through it now that they know you ran away. You really had no intention of coming back. You weren’t wanted, what’s the point of going back?It’s early but you’ve had a few drinks already. You weren’t sure if breaking your phone was a good idea but there’s one thing you’re sure: you didn’t care anymore.

You didn’t have to turn your head to see who just arrived and ambushed your friends inside the store. They ran out and left you behind. The sound of webs coming out of his shooters was enough for you to tell.

“You shouldn’t be here, Peter,” you sighed defeatedly.

Peter gently took a seat next to you, not removing his mask since you were in public and handed your wallet back. “I don’t understand why you left.”

He took in your awful state. His suit scanned how intoxicated you were, estimated how many cigarette packets you’ve had. His frown deepened at the information.

“I care about you. We all do. Mr. Stark’s not going to stop the search party until you come home.”

You rolled your eyes at the term. “Stupid search party – pathetic – I’m not coming home anymore, Pete-” you slurred and tried to get up but stumbled back, almost twisting your ankle but fell to Peter’s side. “Ow.”

He sighed, struggling to get ahold of you since you always pulled away.

“Stop being so stubborn, okay?”

“If you don’t like my stubborn fucking ass then maybe you should just leave,” you stated. “I’m not wanted there. I got the message. I didn’t run away just to be fucking found.”

Peter stared at you for a moment. He didn’t know why you got grounded in the first place, how you got here and why you didn’t want to go back home. There was something off in the father-daughter relationship, he knew that, but it was news to him that it was that bad. That bad for you to waste your life, to run away. He always thought Mr. Stark was an awesome parent, the way he was treating Ethan, and him…

“It’s unfair,” you ranted. “God, if you only knew how pathetic I feel whenever he tells me off. I’m always annoying to him - not just to him, to the whole team, I’m always wrong in everything I do and it’s honestly tiring? What the fuck do I have to do just to feel loved and wanted?”

You went on rambling while Peter tried to comfort and deny every negative thing that came out of your mouth. He didn’t believe any of it, but the way everyone’s been treating you. He hated that he didn’t notice sooner. He could’ve defended you.

“I have nothing against you, I really don’t,” you sighed. “But you should be grateful they’re treating you perfectly.” You got up and strode to the opposite direction, mentally cursing because your friends ditched you and you has nowhere to go, phone destroyed and everything.

But you were staying true to your word: you didn’t have any plans to go back to the compound. You were going to figure your life out on your own.

“Y/N, I… I’m not leaving you alone out here!”

You were so fed up of the spider-ling. How good he was, how perfect, how Tony clearly wanted him more than you, how he always wanted to do the right thing, because none of you expected what happened next when he went to grab your shoulder. The action was so sudden that it Peter didn’t have time to avoid it.

Knife, shoulder, really deep.

Maybe it was just how wasted you were, because he knew you would never do anything like that.

“You’re really annoying, Parker,” you muttered, not wasting any more time watching him stumble out of shock and pain, sprinting across the streets.

With his uninjured arm, he shot webs while trying to pull the knife (the blade wasn’t even visible anymore on how deep it was) out of his shoulder. There was a loud bang, and Peter never sprinted so fast in his life, not caring less about the pain and blood, because what mattered most was your safety. When he got there, you were far from safe.

-----

A week went by. And during those seven days Tony was on edge, I mean, how can be calm at a time like that?

Peter managed to show up at the compound the same night, breathless and shaky. His state made everyone worried but he wasted no time telling Tony what happened. He got you to the hospital, making sure you were being sorted out right before leaving to break the news.

Tony didn’t think twice and went to the hospital where you were admitted, not listening to Peter’s apologies and leaving Steve to sort everyone out on what they should do.

They didn’t expect you to show signs of waking up after only a week since the accident got you mangled up, it was mostly a blow to the head and as expected, you slipped into a coma.

Right, what happened: an awful timing really, not sure if Peter’s the one to blame but he accidentally stuck you to the ground with his webs, and it just so happened a car was driving at a fast speed – there you go.

Tony made sure you got the best treatment possible. He even went and asked Strange if he could do all the surgeries needed, but he declined, claiming he couldn’t anymore despite the sympathy he felt inside. Instead he asked the best doctors he knew, but still helped out sometimes in any way he could.

You took a breath, trying to open your eyes but the blinding lights of your room and them almost feeling as if they were glued shut from not being open for so long prevented you. You also tried moving your hands, only to feel a warm one rest on top of it, you finally opened your eyes.

“You’re awake,” Tony mumbled, rubbing a thumb on the back of your palm soothingly. “You’re awake and you’re okay.”

“Mr. Stark?” Peter called out, spotting his mentor sitting outside the room where they were doing the final surgery on you. It was his first time visiting, seeing as the knife wound was worse than he thought. “I’m so sorry, I-“

“What happened?” Was the only thing Tony said, not looking up to look at the kid. Peter stood there for a moment but told him everything that happened.

After that and after he made sure you were okay, resting in your room and everything, he let Natasha look after you for the night and headed back to the compound.

The kid would never lie to him but he had to see it all for himself. The Spider-Man suit caught everything through the baby monitor protocol. From when he arrived to the convenient store, when you told him countless of times that you weren’t coming back, and when your drunk self ranted about what you felt.

“What the fuck do I have to do just to feel loved and wanted?”

“He seemed to like both of us equally when we were younger,” you sniffled. “Of course he would, but… my brother just turned out to be special and talented and,” you frowned, “he’s all Tony ever wanted for a kid. Maybe I reminded him of the chick he fucked, I don’t know – must be it, right?”

“Y/N, you’re just as special as-” Peter tried to reason but you threw him a glare. Tony could see the pain and heartbreak in your bloodshot, tired eyes. One that said you didn’t want to hear anything like it anymore. You didn’t want to believe it.

“The thing is, they only want you when you’re gone. Missing. Dead,” you shrugged. “I can take a hint, you know? My only family hates me. My only family doesn’t want me. Now you – all of them – are looking for me… why?” Peter flinched at the loudness of your voice. You truly were broken.

Tony fast forwarded, it didn’t clearly show how you got hit, but he had enough anyway. He wanted to make things right with you. He could only hope that you make pass this, hoping that you’ll let him make it up to you.

“It’s not too late, you know,” Steve said from the entrance to his lab. “Y/N is strong. She’ll make it.”

“Why am I not dead?” You croaked, looking at your father with an anxious expression. You letting out another shaky breath as you struggled to move and look around. “I should be dead. Why am I here-”

“Take it easy-”

“Don’t you understand?” You felt your throat aching, breath quickening. “I don’t want to be here!”

“No, you’re okay. Y/N you’re okay,” Tony tried to calm you down when he saw the lines in your heart monitor go up and down in rapid pace. 

“I’m not - no I’m not - not okay,” you struggled to let out. It felt like you were choking on your own breath, getting harder and harder to breathe by the minute, soon tears started to prick your eyes. “I don’t want to be here!”

“Tony, what's going on?” Steve bursted into the room with an alarmed but calm expression.

“Call Strange. Anyone.” He told the captain but his eyes never left you. He rubbed a part of your arm that wasn’t injured soothingly in attempt to calm you down. “Just breathe for me, okay? I’m here and you’re okay.”

Something about the softness and encouraging look in his eyes made you nod eventually and follow his breathing patterns. He held a glass of water for you to drink, holding your struggling hand softly to get it out of the way.

He’s never looked at you like that before.

Most of the time he ignored you, most of the time he looked at you at anger or annoyance when you’ve fucked something up.

“There we go, we okay now?” You looked away and nodded lightly. That was enough for him. Tony wanted to let you know how sorry he was so bad, but thought against it, at least for now. He was scared you might start freaking out again.

Stephen entered the room with the doctor, the other Avengers following closely behind. The amount of people in the room overwhelmed you a bit, but you were strangely calm because of how your father’s acting. Soft and caring, it made you feel safe.

Both doctors concluded that you had some sort of amnesia. In English, your past memories were blotchy, all of them even from your childhood. Again because of the blow to the head it was already expected. But you remembered the recent ones clearly, which was the reason why you avoided looking at Peter and his patched up arm.

Which also meant it was possible you didn’t remember all of the pain you felt concerning your family. It was unfair on your part.

Strange insisted that you stay a few more days, or one more week, just to run tests and make sure you get enough medicine and stuff.

They decided to see how bad your memory loss was.

“I did that to you,” you still refused to look at Peter completely. “I’m sorry, Peter.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Peter gave you a smile.

You moved to the next person. Red hair, seemed to give off a friendly but civil nature. “Natasha? You’re Natasha.”

The Russian merely smiled and crossed her arms.

“Steve,” you stated, moving to the next person. “You always read old books in the kitchen.”

Steve chuckled, nodding to confirm.

“Ethan,” you smiled as you looked at your twin. He gave you a small wave even if he felt as guilty as Tony about everything even if he wasn’t the one to blame.

You stared longer at the next person, almost shoulder length dark brown hair, he’s wearing a jacket to cover his metal arm but you knew it was still there.

“Ducky?”

Peter let out a giggle, so did you brother.

“It’s Bucky, doll,” Bucky smiled, covering his face with his hand to suppress a chuckle as the rest laughed.

“Oh, right, I’m sorry,” you let out a weak giggle yourself.

You meet Tony’s eyes again, the softness still there.

“Dad,” you stated. “You’re my dad. Tony.”

No, you didn’t completely forget how he treated you. You knew he was annoyed with you, which lead you to think that you did something that made him act that way. “Am I bad?”

Tony’s hopeful expression dimmed. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

You shrugged. “You’re mad at me, I just… I guess it’s just not clear on why.”

Steve thought it would be best for everyone to head out for a bit so he ushered everyone out of the room except for your brother who took a seat at the corner.

“About that, it’s about time we talked, yeah?” Tony sat on a chair backwards beside your bed. It made you nervous, but you were reassured. “You’re not in trouble, don’t worry.”

He exhaled, resting an arm on the top rail. “You deserve so much better. I should’ve treated you better,” you opened your mouth to ask but he continued. “Look, I haven’t been fair with you and it’s a problem. You’re smart, talented and beautiful. I figured you needed to hear it more often because it’s true. What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. I really am.”

Your bottom lip involuntarily trembled. “You – you really mean that?”

“From the bottom of my heart.”

You sighed, a genuine smile plastered on your face. “Thank you. And I’m sorry if I was a pain in the ass-“

“You never were,” Tony shook his head. “You always did your best and I really should have acknowledged it more. Give me a second chance?”

“Of course.”

Tony smiled, getting up and planting a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Everything in life was so much better after all that. Tony treated you and Ethan equally, same goes for Peter. The other Avengers were nicer, not the kind of nice that was almost fake, but it was genuine. All of them were. And you were thankful.

----

TAGLIST: @contanto-que-voce-me-queira @angeldreineedshelp @legendarymcnuggies @zoeyserpentluck @vienmiaprendere @alainabooks143 @hessogxlden

DID ANYONE MISS ME? BC I MISSED THIS PLACE

I highly doubt anyone’s still waiting for this, it was an unplanned hiatus I’M SO SORRY but I decided to post anyway :))

also I hope this wasn’t underwhelming, that’s one of the reasons why I was hesitant to do this but I hope its good heh (I’ve included the parts from my first post as well, just so it feels like a full fic)

WAIT I ALSO HIT 300 FOLLOWERS? INSANE. THANK YOU. I MEAN IT.

[thunderheadfred]

💥Bakugou HC's💥

Aged-up pro hero Katsuki for all of these. Some NSFW beneath the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

He’s scary good at everything he tries. Every. Single. Fucking. Thing. It’s infuriating. Has zero patience when other people can’t immediately master a skill. Never let him teach you anything. Not that he’d offer, nerd.

He WILL offer, though. A lot. He can’t believe you still can’t Do That Thing. Tsh. Like THIS. You're gonna hurt yourself, Dummy.

But hold on. Of course you have unique skills of your own. You work hard to improve yourself. Trust me, he's the first person to notice. He doesn't praise anyone lightly, so when he raises his eyebrows and whispers he's impressed, your heart will go thermonuclear.

Perfect spelling and fully punctuated texts. Never uses abbreviations. Employs a grand total of four emojis, all of them angry faces. Constantly leaves you on read. He's busy, dammit.

Doesn’t smile or laugh in public (except sarcastically). His real smile is a crooked, fragile thing. Never make him feel self-conscious about it, or you might not see it again for weeks.

He does not talk about his private life to the press. Ever. Will K.O. rookie reporters who can't keep their big mouths shut.

HOweVER: he's intensely kind to his fans. There is a whole photographic sub-genre of little girls in cosplay hugging Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight like he's a Disney Princess.

Too smart for his own good. Emotionally hyper-vigilant. Overthinks every interaction to hell and back. Will act like he's not listening but actually hears every single word in a ten-block radius.

INSECURE AF. 110% convinced he will never be good enough. Terrified of his loved ones leaving him behind. Does he do anything to assuage his fears? Like... talk to anyone about it? Hell no. That would require admitting he has fears to begin with.

Seeing people upset makes him upset, especially if he doesn't know how to fix it.

The epitome of being mean because he cares. He genuinely does not seem to comprehend that monosyllabic grunts and lopsided shrugs are not actually that comforting.

Because he was such a brat growing up, he wants to make up for it now. Sort of. In his own way. Look, he's trying, okay?

He smells - so - good. Obscenely good. He doesn't wear cologne; are you joking? There's the burnt-sugar caramel candy smell of his quirk, for starters. And since he sweats deadly ammunition, he showers and wipes himself down almost constantly. He always smells clean. Like a fucking meadow.

Never got that growth spurt he was hoping for. He’s a short man - not even THAT short - but he has a Napoleon complex anyway. If you’re taller than him, the collars of your shirts will all be stretched out. He’s constantly dragging you down to his level. He will assert himself all the fucking time; the pissing contest is never-ending. Don’t wear tall shoes unless you want him to drag you around on a leash. If you’re shorter than him, that’s good. That’s very good. He likes that.

He’s an incredible cook, but everything he makes is a nuclear fire challenge. Adapt or starve.

- - - - -

Dating

Makes artisanal, nutritionally flawless bento lunches for both of you. When people assume his S.O. makes them, he gets fucking pissed. Damn right your co-workers are jealous of my cooking.

Your pet name is Dummy. Don’t like it? Fine. You can be dumbass.

There will be zero PDA in this relationship. His hands are shoved so deep in his pockets you can’t even try.

Intensely private with the press. But with his friends, he will brag about you nonstop. Bakugou Katsuki has the most talented and attractive and intelligent S.O., and anyone who doesn't recognize that is blind. Were you assholes even listening?

A mutual buddy definitely recorded one of these drunken brag-rants and sent it to you for safekeeping. Do not let Katsuki find out about it, unless you enjoy having an ash pile for a phone.

Gets jealous about everything, at least at the start. He calms down eventually. Kinda. He stops saying shit to you about it, anyway, because he learns to trust you. But anyone who so much as looks at you in a too-friendly manner will get the death stare of a lifetime.

He’ll throw all kinds of temper tantrums and the two of you will argue about every tiny fucking thing. He’ll scream out car windows, he’ll ball up his shirt and gnash on it. But he will never raise his voice at you. He’d rather die than make you feel unsafe.

Honestly, the constant bickering is really just... uhh... passionate communication. Eventually you both hash out the important things. You'll learn how to step around his landmines and actually make your points, and he'll learn to open up. A little.

Once you meet his mom, Katsuki starts to make a lot more sense. His family just... emotes like that. Eventually, you and his dad form a spousal support group consisting of exactly two lifetime members. He teaches you the Bakugou family semaphore you need to survive a long-term relationship.

Katsuki can dish it out but absolutely cannot take it. The only person who can level with him about serious issues without explosive fallout is his dad. Or, on a lucky day, Kirishima.

If you give him a legitimate criticism (even gently!) he will take it about as gracefully as a knife to the gut, because it confirms everything he hates about himself.

To your never-ending shock, you’ve made him cry. Yes, CRY! You monster! More than once! His lip gets all *trembly* and his eyes get all *watery* and all you want to do is hug him, but. No. He’ll storm out and wander around for a few hours before coming back with the problem perfectly solved.

He always takes your advice to heart. No, he will NOT talk about it, stop asking.

Gets mad if you don’t snuggle him on the regular. Will drag you into his lap with a pissy little grunt. There might be two seats on this couch but you will not be needing both of them.

Takes pictures of you while you sleep.

Takes even more pictures of you when you're awake but think he's out of the room.

He looks at all these pictures when he's away on high-stakes jobs. He gets all bleary eyed and sleeps in a salty puddle without you. NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW.

You don’t have to meet him at the door or anything, but when he says “I’m home,” you’d better answer fast. If he doesn’t know your precise location in 0.05 seconds, he will assume you’ve been kidnapped. He never checks the fridge for notes. Never assumes you've gone down to the konbini for a snack. No, it’s kidnapping every time.

A terrrrrrible bed partner. He goes to bed at senior citizen hours and will never fuck you after sundown. He snores SO loud. Runs hot and sweats through the sheets. Slaps and elbows you in his sleep and aggressively spoons you with his loud, sweaty body. You WILL want to suffocate him. Separate bedrooms aren’t such a horrible idea......

BUT HANG ON, because in the morning he transforms into an honest-to-god angel. He's half awake, his guard is non-existent. Morning Katsuki is a doting kissy-faced marshmallow man.

If you can wake up before the ass-crack of dawn, he will pamper the fuck out of you. You are royalty for one (1) hour only, and he is your bleary-eyed slave. You want a cuddlefuck? You got it. Hugs? Kisses? Take as many as you need. You want a perfect, fluffy, NON-SPICY omelette with a heart drawn in ketchup? Here it is, gorgeous.

Then he gets in the shower and the spell is broken.

- - - - -

💥bang BANG💥

Let’s get the obvious out of the way: this here is an ASS. MAN. He'll spank you with his quirk; doesn’t matter if you’ve been good or bad. Wants to see you wince when you sit down later.

Likes pounding you face down with a vice grip on your waist.

Unfortunately, even with all that said... he doesn't exactly have the feral beast sex drive you were expecting. He’s married to his work and has the fuddy-duddy habits of a once and future valedictorian. Only fucks you when he has the time and energy to fully dedicate himself to it.

But ohhhh. Shit. When it's time? It's TIME. The man will rush for nothing. Stamina for days. Making you cum as many times as possible is a point of pride. Yeah, you passed out once.

You’re gonna need those days off when he’s done with you.

That dick THICC.

Sends unsolicited dick pics. Only after you’ve been dating a good long while - he doesn't show that shit to just anyone. But yeah, don’t check your phone at work. He won't cum without you; those pictures and videos are time bombs. You better get home. Now.

Physically dominant as FUCK, but won’t verbally degrade you unless you ask. Well, let’s be honest. Unless you beg.

Praise him and reap the rewards. A long hard ego stroking will get him off more than touching his cock ever will.

Will grab your hair and fuck your throat. Will also stop immediately if you need him to.

The two of you have safe words and gestures. Even for vanilla stuff. He’s paranoid about scaring or hurting you. He insisted you both sign a color-coded ‘love contract’ that he meticulously formatted in a word processor. When you gave him guff about it, his blush was the darkest crimson you’d ever seen.

Coin-flip: he will sometimes be unbelievably gentle in bed. Doting and affectionate, taking perfect care of you. Like, it’s baffling. There’s no warning, the switch just flips. When you want him to be extra-rough and mean, he’ll sweetly worship you instead. For hours.

Bonus: he likes being penetrated. But of course he’s got a complex about that too. Super intense power bottom. You will never fuck him hard enough. He’d like to see you try. Hit his prostate just right and he might literally explode.

You'll live happily ever after but he will say he loves you out loud exactly once. Maybe. If you're lucky. And you're both about to die.

[redhoodieone]

You’re so Lucky!

A/N: Hey y’all! Here’s another sexy story that was a request from the amazing @jasontoddslut! Enjoy my peeps!

Warnings: Language, Bad Relationship with Ex-Boyfriend, Smut, Voyeurism, and Jason’s Goddamn Dirty Mouth!!!!!

It was bound to happen. She couldn’t deny this was going to happen sooner rather than later. If she believed they that they could get through their issues and be happy like they once were, then she’s a real fucking idiot.

Gabi still couldn’t believe it though. One minute she was trying to calm Bobby down and the next, he’s screaming at her and telling her to get the fuck out of his apartment. He was in a bad mood to begin with. He’s a mechanic and he’s always tired when he gets home. He was expecting dinner to be ready and maybe have his loving girlfriend of three years rub his back since his shoulder pain is getting worse.

But no. Gabi made the mistake of asking Bobby where he was tonight as soon as he got home.

What set him off was her telling him to calm down. She should have known though.

You should NEVER. EVER. Tell an easily angry guy to calm down.

Because that’s like telling fire to not burn people. Or telling a baby to not cry.

She should have known better though. It’s no surprise Bobby’s into some serious shady shit that the low life Gothamites meet up sometimes at night in casinos or nightclubs. She knows they do illegal shit like selling drugs, ordering weapons from other countries, and maybe even kidnapping young women and children.

And Bobby had participated in the ordering weapons category.

How Gabi found out is another story: she knows for damn sure that Bobby once brought home fifteen state of the art total militia AK-47 guns. Bobby had foolishly asked Gabi to go get some important documents from his huge safe; totally forgetting the weapons were in there about five months prior.

Why would a normal mechanic need such weapons?

Gabi had decided to never bring it up. Bobby would either deny or lie about it. His temper had been getting worse right about then and she knew better.

But he wasn’t always like this. Oh, no. Bobby was a funny, laid back, and loving type who worshipped the ground Gabi walked on before they even started dating. But after two years of living with each other, things changed.

Simple as that. Things changed.

Gabi always wondered how things could just...change. So easily. The fact that it could happen in the blink of an eye frightens her sometimes.

Just like Bobby’s hidden anger. She never knew a hilarious and sweet guy could have the rage of a bull.

Bobby never hit her though. He always made sure to slam his fist against the wall beside her head, though. He was the type to yell and belittle Gabi as if she was a little girl.

But she wasn’t a little girl. She was a 23-year-old woman who moved in with her boyfriend so fast that she began to understand why her parents and friends disapproved of her choices and relationship.

I just had to learn the hard way, Gabi thought to herself.

She doesn’t know why she’s trying to think of sayings that relate to this experience. The point is, Gabi knows she seriously fucked. With Bobby only giving her ten minutes to pack whatever truly mattered to her, she had to hurry the fuck up.

The moment she made it outside the apartment building, all Gabi could do is replay her questions that she asked Bobby.

Where were you tonight?

Were you with someone?

What did you do?

Why can’t you tell me what you did?

Are you hiding something from me?

Are you getting into dangerous things?

No wonder Bobby kicked her out. Gabi should have never put her nose in his business. And now, she’s practically homeless. She knows it would be embarrassing as hell to go back to her parents’ house because of what they told her before getting involved with Bobby. She also knows her friends would treat her horribly, with the “I told you so” stares and lectures. Gabi was certainly running out of options just as the rain began to fall.

There was one person she could go to, who would never turn her away.

However, Gabi hasn’t spoken to this person in about a year because of her relationship with Bobby as well as this person’s own relationship with their significant other.

But Gabi knew Y/N was a good person, a good friend. She was a sweet person, with a big warm heart and she would never turn her away.

With nowhere else to go, Gabi walked alone in the rain all the way down to high class side of Gotham.

By the time Gabi gets to the high-class penthouses, she has to call Y/N to let her inside. Of course, Y/N excitedly tells her to come up, and Gabi immediately starts to feel somehow relieved that Y/N hasn’t changed at all.

As Gabi finally makes it to the correct floor, she sees Y/N waiting by the door, where Gabi assumes is where Y/N lives. Y/N is wearing a red and black flannel pajama pants and a thin black tank top. Gabi also notices Y/N’s barefoot, and her hair’s in a messy bun.

She must have just woken up. I’m so sorry, Y/N, Gabi thinks to herself.

But none of that matters when Y/N meets Gabi halfway in the hall where they collide in a tight, warm-hearted embrace.  Y/N smells like a woodsy, musky cologne, most likely from whoever she’s seeing with now. Maybe they were snuggling up against with each other until Gabi had called and asked if she could come over.

“Come inside. You must be freezing!” Y/N says, releasing Gabi from her hug and pulling her arm towards the front door.

Gabi follows on shaky legs, completely overwhelmed by seeing her longtime best friend. Y/N giggles and leads Gabi inside the penthouse. Gabi instantly is hit by the aroma of vanilla and musk, the smell of intimacy and seduction.  Her eyes take in the red and black walls and décor, some exquisite art pieces, and the big space that is more comfortable and warmer than most homes she’s ever seen.

“Welcome, mi casa es tu casa! Seriously Gabi, babe, make yourself at home. There’s absolutely no rush to leave. You leave when you’re ready, okay?” Y/N says seriously.

“Are you absolutely sure? I really don’t want to impose or put you and your boyfriend out,” Gabi confesses.

Y/N leads Gabi to the long, cherry red couch that is facing a huge flat screen TV. Gabi sets down her duffle bag and takes a seat next to Y/N on the couch.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Jay and I insist you stay here until you figure out what you want to do, okay?” Y/N says, before she turns around to get comfortable to face Gabi.

A vanilla candle is lit on the coffee table. Gabi’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I didn’t...interrupt something, did I?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t! I was just setting the mood in the living room to be more...comfy,” Y/N admits, with a chuckle. “Jason just got home a few minutes ago and is taking a shower. He should be done by now.”

As if on cue, they hear someone walking down the hall and towards the living room. He stops near the couch. There in all his glory, well half-naked glory, stands Jason Todd, God’s greatest creation of man...at least that’s what both girls were thinking.

“Gabi, this is Jason, my boyfriend,” Y/N proudly introduces Jason to Gabi. “Jay, this is Gabi, my best friend in the whole wide world.”

Still dripping wet and fresh out of the shower, Jason at least has a white towel wrapped around his waist; hiding his goods that Gabi wanted to see so desperately. He’s really tall, must be 6’2 or something close to that. She takes note that Jason is all man: there’s absolutely nothing that screams “boy”. Gabi inhales hard when she watches his large hand run through his soaked dark hair. The other hand holds the towel tightly around his hips.

“Hi,” Jason smirks at Gabi. She notices his eyes are green, almost like emeralds. He smiles at her, even his white teeth are perfect. “So, you’re Gabi. Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

“She-she has?” Gabi chokes out. Why is it so hot in here? Why can’t she speak?

Her eyes zero in on the droplets of water running down his strong as fuck built chiseled chest and perfectly sculpted abs that she really wants to lick and bite his skin.

Holy fuck...

Gabi scolds herself for thinking such inappropriate thoughts about her best friend’s boyfriend. Even though Gabi’s never fantasized Bobby this kind of way, she realizes Y/N’s lucked out. Bobby wasn’t in shape or even remotely attractive like Jason.

“Of course, she has. You’re one of her best friends, and I’m happy to finally meet you. I would go over there to shake your hand and properly greet you, but I’m uh...not exactly dressed yet,” Jason chuckles, and almost seems shy now. “I’m gonna go get dressed real quick so we can talk.”

You don’t have to. You can stay the way you are. You can even drop the towel, Gabi thinks improperly.

Y/N smiles softly at Jason as they watch him leave. True to his word, Jason returned in a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt and took a seat next to Y/N. Throughout their comfortable and pleasant conversation, Gabi truly sees the way Jason cares about her best friend. Midway through their talk about what happened to Bobby, Jason clearly was paying attention and rubbed caressed Y/N’s thigh when Gabi recounted the latest scary fight with Bobby. Whenever Y/N looked shocked or worried, Jason made sure to calm her down through touches, forehead kisses, and whispers words along the lines of love, probably.

It almost makes Gabi jealous. Y/N’s life is clearly so much better than what Gabi had going on for herself. Jason seems like the perfect gentleman; always does and says the right thing. Gabi’s never seen a man pay so much attention to a woman before. Not only did he offer Gabi his advice and opinions on getting a better and more affordable apartment on their street, but Jason even voiced his hatred for Bobby, and even went on to criticize the man for treating women so poorly. He even made a joke about finding the man and breaking his legs; making Gabi and Y/N laugh their asses off and making the energy around them fun again.

But for some reason, Gabi couldn’t help but notice that Jason wasn’t laughing as hard as she and Y/N were. It almost seemed like Jason was serious about breaking Bobby’s legs, but Jason wouldn’t do that. She was sure of it.

He wouldn’t, would he?

By the time midnight came, the three of them stood up and decided to go to bed. Jason even surprised Gabi by giving her a hug and telling her that she can stay in their guest bedroom for however long as she wants and needs.

“I’m serious, kid. Don’t even worry about it. You mean so much to Y/N, and so therefore, you mean a lot to me, too,” Jason had said as he pulled back from their hug.

Gabi was speechless to say the least. She didn’t want the hug to end. He felt so good in her arms and he smelled so fucking good.

But it was bedtime now, and once Y/N and Jason had shown Gabi the guest bedroom, they went off to bed to let Gabi get comfortable. It wasn’t long for Gabi to quickly clean herself up and put on some plain pajama shorts with a tank top. As soon as she turned off the light, she was amazed by how big and comfortable the bed was. She figured it must be new and is probably the first person to sleep in here. In just a few minutes, exhaustion took over and Gabi fell into a deep sleep.

Her throat was dry. That’s what awoke Gabi at two in the morning and made her climb out of bed and go search for a bottle of water. She made sure to tiptoe out of the room and walk slowly and quietly to the kitchen.

As soon as Gabi made it to the end of the hallway, she stops dead in her tracks when she hears moaning. A woman moaning.

Her mind registers that it’s Y/N moaning. But why is she moaning in the living room?

Curiosity forces Gabi to peek out into the living room and see what’s going on, despite the logical part in her mind is screaming at her to have some respect for her best friend and her boyfriend.

But being a pervert outweighs being a prude.

Gabi is utterly shocked to her core when she sees her best friend straddling Jason’s lap. On the red couch where they sat a couple of hours ago, Gabi sees Y/N and Jason making out heavily. She couldn’t unsee it; she wants to keep watching them.

Gabi even sees the vanilla candle is lit again, after Jason had blown it out before they all went to bed.

But all Gabi could see is Jason’s fingertips digging hard into Y/N’s exposed flesh from where her tank top is pushed up above her bare tits. Y/N shamelessly moans in between the evident delicious kisses, and grinds against Jason’s apparent bulge.

Gabi quickly notices an isolated leather recliner that’s against the wall near the hallway. She throws herself down, sinks into the chair and watches the practically live porno show in front of her.

Jason pulls back from the deep kiss, revealing his red, swollen lips from where Y/N’s been biting and sucking since the beginning. He rests his head back against the couch and looks up with hazy, lustful eyes as Y/N grins down at him. She bites her bottom lip and pulls up her tank top, removing her top completely from her body.  

“Fuck...what the hell are you doing to me, sweetheart?” Jason asks breathlessly. He runs his hands up Y/N’s back and moves them to her front where he reaches for both her tits.

“I’m slowly...and softly killing you,” Y/N says, closing her eyes and moans when Jason gently grabs both her tits in his hands; her breasts fill his hands perfectly.

“I’d say...” he says, before sighing contently when switches from pinching her nipples to squeezing her tits before he sits up straighter and pulls Y/N’s body closer to lick and suck her sensitive nipples.

“Oh, fuck...oh Jay...feels so good,” Y/N moans louder than before. She whimpers and continues to rub herself against him. “I need to cum...please make me cum, Jay...”

Jason pulls back from her chest and gazes into Y/N’s eyes. “You wanna cum, doll? Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, please...I need you so bad!”

“No, I don’t think you need to cum,” Jason teases, before he pulls off his own t-shirt. “Now, I’m going to take off the rest of your clothes, but if you touch your pussy, I ain’t going to fuck you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Y/N snaps. Her cheeks are flushed from being aroused.

Jason smirks at Y/N’s frustration.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, sweetheart. I’m going to check how wet you are,” Jason explains, as he raises Y/N off his lap to pull down her pajama pants and panties; leaving her completely bare on his lap. “If you’re soaking wet, then I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be feeling me for days. But if I have to make you wet, then that means I get to do whatever I want to this pussy.”

“But-”

Jason runs his hand up Y/N’s thigh until his fingers glide over her bare pussy. His fingers gently push inside her, he can feel the wetness, but wants to see it for himself.

“Stand up and put your pussy in my face,” he demands.

“What?”

“I want to taste your delicious pussy right now. Don’t make me get up and literally put you on my shoulders to eat you out,” Jason threatens.

Y/N slowly moves to stand up carefully on the couch. Her legs are shaking, but Jason quickly grabs her to hold her steady. He doesn’t waste any time, and he dives into her pussy as if he’s a starving man.

“Oh fuck!” Y/N cries out.

Jason’s tongue on her clit is what she wants the most right now. He squeezes her thigh and flicks his tongue side to side until Y/N fears she’s either going to fall back or fall over him.

Y/N notices one of Jason’s pull up bars is above her. How convenient.

She grabs a hold of the bar to hold herself up just as he decides to slip a finger inside her. Holding herself up allows him to remove a hand from her thigh. He takes the opportunity to slip another finger inside and pumps them in and out fast.

Y/N’s body trembles when Jason curls his fingers and strokes the sensitive wall that he’s mastered so well. He can tell she’s close. She must have been excited earlier when they planned to stay in last minute. He manages to look up at her and he can see she’s barely holding on.

“You’re so close aren’t you, babe? You taste so fucking good that I want you to cum on my face. I want you to be my dirty girl tonight,” Jason says as he finger-fucks her harder and faster than before. “Are you going to be my dirty girl tonight?

“Yes! Fuck yes! Just-just make me cum, please!” Y/N cries out desperately, needing the push that Jason could only give her.

“You are my dirty girl. You love it when I make you cum with just my fingers and mouth. But I bet you want my cock right after, huh?” Jason asks, chuckling darkly when Y/N’s eyes roll back when he speeds up his fingers inside her. “You wanna ride me, don’t you?”

“Yes-yes I do...” she’s panting now.

“Okay, I want you to cum in my face and then quickly get on my lap and ride me. Fast, slow, hard, whatever, you pick. I just want to feel your warm, tight pussy around my dick, okay?” Jason says, quickly shoving his sweatpants and boxers down to his feet. “Fuck...give me your pretty, tasty pussy, sweetheart!”

And then Jason finally gives in. He pulls both her thighs to bring her pussy to his face. Y/N whimpers when he licks all around her wetness, and he hums in approval when he feels her hand stroking his scalp and pulling his hair, while she continues holding herself up with only one hand now.

The vibration from his humming helps her reach her release. He continues to thrust his fingers inside her and sucks her clit until she gushes in his face.

Y/N manages to silent most of her orgasm, but it didn’t help when Jason continued to lick and suck at her clit to swallow most of her juices. Once her body relaxes, she lets go of the pull up bar and drops down to the couch. Y/N quickly straddles Jason’s lap until her pussy is hovering above his hard cock.

“Spit on my cock, doll. Get it nice and wet,” Jason says, as he watches Y/N spit in her hand and stroke his thick cock until he’s nice and ready for her. “How are you going to ride me, sweetheart?”

Y/N slowly looks up into Jason’s dilated, misty eyes. “Deep. Hard. And fast,” she says.

Jason swallows hard but is able to quickly smirk up at Y/N before she takes full control. “Then ride me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my cock like the dirty girl you really are.”

Y/N finally lowers herself onto Jason’s cock, all logic and common sense flies out the window. Whenever his cock was deep inside her, they both tend to lose themselves and the world around them. Because whenever they were connected emotionally and physically in their bubble, nothing else fucking matters in the world.

When Jason fills her up completely, they both release a content sigh. They usually take their time in the beginning, mostly because of their fears whenever Jason leaves to work as Red Hood. But since they’re both so horny and want to cum sooner, they’ll have to just take their time during round two.

“Fuck me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself silly on my dick,” Jason moans, but he and Y/N laugh at the “silly” part, when he realizes that’s not very sexy.

But Y/N understands and slowly lifts herself up his lap until just the tip of Jason’s cock is inside her. She keeps a steady pace, lifting herself and lowering herself, until their rhythm flows. Within seconds, Jason helps her by holding her hips tightly and thrusting his hips in time with hers.

“Your cock is so big inside me, Jay. You fill me up so good,” Y/N moans and rides him a little faster; wanting the head of his cock to rub hard and relentlessly against her g-spot. She guides one of his hands off her waist to move towards her pussy, encouraging him to rub her clit. “I wanna cum again, Jay.”

“Yeah? You like ridin’ my big cock, you dirty girl? You want me to fill your pussy with my cum?” Jason asks, watching Y/N’s tits bounce while she rides his cock faster than before. He can’t help himself, he uses a free hand to pinch her nipple and leans in to bite and suck her breasts, until he puts his hand back to her hip to guide her thrusts. “You want me to fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes! Yes, please!” Y/N begs.

“Okay, my dirty girl. I’ll give you what you want.”

Well, Jason knows now that this is going to end fast, but he refuses to let it end without Y/N cumming hard again. He squeezes her hip with one hand and the other hand rubs her clit fast in messy circles. He begins to pull her down to meet his thrusts, fucking her harder and faster with everything he’s got. The squelching sound from his cock fucking up into her wet pussy becomes more noticeable, especially when their skin-on-skin slapping gets louder and harsher that echoes in the living room.

“Fuck...Y/N, you’re getting so tight. You feel so fucking good baby,” Jason pants hard, completely sweating and keeping his fast and erratic pace to get them to their releases. “Fuckin’ cum on my big cock, sweetheart. I wanna feel you cum so bad. Please cum for me, again.”

Y/N keeps her eyes on Jason just as her orgasm hits her hard; she squeezes and gushes around his cock, she calls out his name. Jason thrusts harder in her three more times, as he finally cums hard inside Y/N, calls out her name as quietly as he could. Y/N collapses against Jason’s chest, despite being hot and sweaty, but he doesn’t mind. He wraps both arms around her and holds her while they regain their breaths and can function normal again.

Y/N doesn’t see the loving smile Jason gives her as he kisses her forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, and hugs her tighter.

She looks up at him and smiles. “I love you, too.”

Before Y/N can lie her head against Jason’s chest again, she notices Gabi sitting and watching them. Y/N jumps up and covers her breasts with her arms, causing Jason to jump in panic and turn around to see what’s going on.

“Gabi! What-what the hell are you doing there?!” Y/N cries out in embarrassment. She can feel her cheeks are getting red again.

Gabi slowly gets up from the chair and makes her wave into the kitchen. She finds bottled water in the refrigerator, takes one, and goes back into the living room where Jason and Y/N are still frozen in fear.

“I-I was thirsty,” Gabi answers, even though she knows it sounds like a lame answer. She walks backwards until she reaches the hall. “And-and then I saw you guys, and then I couldn’t stop watching. I’m sorry, Y/N...Jason...”

But before Gabi leaves, she points a finger at Jason and smiles. She even chuckles. “But-but in my defense...he’s really sexy! He’s fucking gorgeous, Y/N, and you’re one lucky bitch! You’re so lucky!”

But Gabi is right about that.

Y/N is lucky...because she has Jason.

[capricorn-stark]

Protégé

pairing: red hood!jason todd x robin!reader, slow burn 

warning: swearing

a/n: for context, this is somewhat loosely based off of Battle for the Cowl (2009) which I definitely recommend as a read! 

There was something about falling that you would never, ever get tired of. 

Ever. 

Probably.

With the wind whistling in your ears, your hair floating up in a million directions, and your limbs seemingly weightless as the buildings and lights blurred into one endless streak of color, the rush of adrenaline that ran through your body right before your grappling hook shot out and you landed quietly on the concrete was about a million times better than any sparring session back at the cave. 

You grinned as you straightened, rather proud of the fact that you had actually managed to land so smoothly without nearly paralyzing yourself. Again.The landing was something you had been working on for a while now.

You could practically hear Bruce’s voice ringing through your head after your little stunt, lamenting on and on about how you had more important things to focus on during patrols, and you let out a sigh as you ran down the backway of the nearly empty streets. 

The heavy man who had been bound up with a decently made gag and one of Bruce’s fancy tech pieces (Batcuffs, maybe? Something else with Bat smacked in front of it?) grunted beside you. 

“What? Not like you had someplace to be.” You grabbed the back of his rather tacky-looking spandex suit to drag him along back to where your mentor was supposed to be.

Despite your (many) disagreements and his (many) criticisms of your hand-to-hand combat skills, attitude issues, and pretty much everything else relating to you, Bruce had actually still allowed you to go off on your own tonight. It might’ve been because he wanted a few hours of nothing but beating up petty criminals by himself for stress-relief, it might’ve been because he had started trying out that whole independence thing with you a little more (even though you were still only permitted to be about five blocks or so away), it might’ve been plot-convenience - but either way, you appreciated the gesture.

It didn’t take long for you to pull your new friend over to what should’ve been your rendezvous point with Batman, letting the man drop with a dull thud and a grunt of protest against the concrete as you glanced around for the other man. You weren’t particularly concerned by the fact that the Bat himself wasn’t there yet - after all, he was the goddamn Batman. He’d show up eventually. In the meanwhile, you decided to go over the information you had gotten on the criminal with you. 

Just for the sake of it. Bruce would make you go over it anyways.

“Drury Walker, thirty-two years old, found him trying to mug someone in a back alley and make an escape. Called himself…” you paused, looking down at his sorry-looking outfit for a few moments while he looked up at you with murder and vengence in his eyes. “...Killer Moth.”  

“Killer Moth?” A completely new voice repeated in disbelief, causing you to immediately whirl around to face them in a fight stance, heart racing at a million miles per hour. The guy in front of you had his hands up in the air, his face concealed with some sort of red knock-off Iron Man helmet. He was gonna get copyrighted by Marvel Studios. “Shit, sorry,” he started at the sight of you, still leaning up against one of the walls. “I was supposed to make a wholeass dramatic entrance, but you said his name was Killer Moth and that-” The man made a noise that was either a sharp cough or a laugh of some kind. “-sounded so fucking lame I couldn’t help myself.” 

Despite the fact that you were definitely in some sort of major trouble with this new guy, he really did have a point. Even Killer Moth himself would’ve been embarrassed by how trash his name was, if not for the fact that he looked like he was on the verge of an aneurysm - understandably so, since the new guy had produced not one, but two guns out of apparently nowhere. 

“And let me guess,” he continued, pointing one of them at your head, his tone still all-too light and easy. “You must be the Bat’s brand-new Robin.” 

Now this is where most people would've shut up and proceeded to be complicit with the dude holding two guns. But Batman hadn’t seen reason and made you his (sort of) partner because you were like other people. Hell no.

“Do I look like a traffic signal to you?” It had been the very first of your amendments with Bruce. You would not be fighting crime looking like a literal traffic signal or, at best, a clown from Haly’s Circus. And the tiny green shorts had to go. “Or Robin Hood?” The guy had a rather awkward pause where his gun sort of dipped. Killer Moth was looking between you with wide eyes. “Do I?” 

“I guess you kinda got a point.” You huffed and he raised his gun again, getting more in-your-face as his already angry-looking helmet somehow managed to look angrier. You weren’t exactly sure how a helmet could convey so much emotion. “But you work with Batman. And I heard you went by Robin.” 

Okay, so you couldn’t make him change the name, but you had agreed it would be more of an honorary thing.

“It’s complicated.” 

Using such a phrase as an excuse to escape from situations you didn’t want to go into was one of the many things you had learned from Bruce in your five months of training. Somehow, that seemed to trigger the guy further.

“So you do work with Batman.” 

Before he could do something actually insane, you had managed to push the gun pointed at your head away from you, using his brief second of surprise to take it out of his hands, kick him in the chest, and round back on him with it in hand. 

“And what about it?” 

As cool as you thought you might’ve sounded didn’t cover for the fact that you were still nerve-wracked about what was happening right then. Especially after the guy started to dramatically slow-clap like some sort of evil thespian in a high school drama. 

“Not bad, Robin. Not bad.” He looked at the gun in your hands and grinned. “If you weren’t Batman’s new replacement sidekick, I might’ve believed you had the balls to use that thing.” 

Now, you were an excellent fighter. You had to be, after your excessive training with the guy who had literally mastered about every martial art in existence during his (give or take) five year-long mission to find himself. Plus, some personal experience. But fighting someone like this guy? Built like a tank and padded up in a whole lot of armor and packing an assortment of knives, guns, and even a damn taser you got a first-hand taste of?

You fought hard, but about five minutes and another round of the taser later, you saw the knock-off Iron Man helmet staring down at you before the world went black.

~*~

You woke up in what you assumed was the self-dubbed Red Hood’s safehouse of sorts. 

“How the hell did he rope you into this shit?” he demanded with what you could only assume was him glaring at you through the helmet. Probably some expression that made someone look all angsty and annoyed - which was fair, since he had been trying to drill you for information you straight up refused to give while bound (way too tightly) to a chair for quite some time now. Rather rude. “Let me guess. You watched your parents die.” You stared at him before shrugging.

“Nope.”

“Oh, so they just went ahead and died somehow. Untimely accident caused by some psycho bitch in a Spirit Halloween costume.”

“…nope.” 

“They abandoned you as a child.”

“No, they didn’t - does divorce count?” 

Red Hoodlum’s hands kept clenching and unclenching while he stood there, staring at the wall behind you in silence. From the way his chest kept rising and falling, you were tempted to believe he was practicing breathing exercises amidst his rather violent twitching. 

“Divorce - what the hell is your trauma supposed to be? Why did he pick you?!”

“Hey, just because my trauma doesn’t include people dying doesn’t make it any less traumatic,” you scoffed in response, knowing you were absolutely right about that. Your middle school guidance counselor had said so (and it’s true, ladies and gentlemen, trauma comes in many forms!). “Kinda rude to assume it didn’t affect me somehow.”

He seemed rather abashed at that and you heard him clear his throat a little. 

“...right, yeah. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted - can you loosen these ropes a little? It’s starting to kinda hurt.” 

“Do I look ten? That’s the oldest trick in the book, I’m not gonna-”

“I’m not going to run, just loosen the ropes a little.” He still looked like he didn’t believe you. “Come on, I don’t think I can outrun your guns.” As in his literal array of guns tacked up to the wall behind him, not his gigantic biceps. 

And you weren’t too worried about being held hostage by him, either. You figured you had ten minutes tops before Batman burst in through the doorway, ready to give you a lecture on why straying from the specifically designated parts of Gotham he had let you traipse around was a terribly stupid idea. 

“No.” He was already walking towards the door, because apparently, he had enough of trying to interrogate you. 

“Hold on, I feel like my wrists are actually about to start bleeding or something - where are you going?”

“Keep talking and I’m gonna get the duct tape.” 

“Is that a threat?” Sounding more confident than you actually felt should eventually make you more confident. Eventually. 

The Red Hood sucked in a breath, stopping by the doorway and turning to face you, reaching into his pockets to get what you assumed was either a gun or duct tape when you both startled from a sudden crash. The man in front of you was already whirling around with two guns positioned to shoot when you heard the familiar voice of someone else.

“Hold your fire, soldier. I’m not here for you.” A pause. “Or I wasn’t, but now I kind of am.”

Apparently, Batman was too busy to save you. Now, you got Nightwing. 

And as much as you liked Nightwing, that still kinda stung. 

[cevans16]

I Could Not Live Without You

Summary: Bucky almost loses you on a mission

Sorry this is a long one! Lots of fluffiness though :)

You and Thor were sitting in the back of the conference room horsing around with a thumb war. 

“You’re such a cheater” you discreetly yelled at him. 

“You are mad that I am winning little one” he teased you

“Little one?! Should I demonstrate that I am a strong demigod just as you!” you yelled a bit louder

“Thor, (Y/N)! Keep it down!” Steve yelled over to you two. You received dirty looks from the rest of the crew until you finally calmed down only for you and Thor to start messing around again.

“(Y/N) if you don’t listen so help me-” Tony was the one to yell at you this time. You looked up at him to be met by a stern expression from the genius man. Tony and Thor were your best friends so getting a certain look from either one of them would calm you down

“Sorry Tony” you whispered back to him. 

“As we were saying - for this mission it will be Thor, Sam, (Y/N) and Bucky” Tony listed the names causing you to groan at the last one

“Is there a problem?” Tony asked

“Yes, HIM” you replied motioning to Bucky. Since you two met, Bucky was never nice to you, he either ignored you or always had to critic something about you.

“Well, Wanda and Vision are on their honeymoon so I see this as a team bonding exercise since you two can’t seem to get along” Tony peered at you. 

“I get along with everyone else, he seems to have a problem with me” you replied. 

“Come on doll, it’s one mission, if I can tolerate you everyday, I’m sure you can tolerate me for a few” he said winking at you causing you to roll your eyes back.

“Whatever are we done here” you said getting up from your seat to start packing. 

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

You were settling yourself inside the quinjet, you and Thor were the demigods so you were practically there as an extra asset for Sam and Bucky. 

“Want some cashews?” Bucky offered you, you rolled your eyes at him again.

“No thanks” you said walking away from him to sit next to Thor.

“You know both and I don’t know much about Midgard however I think he likes you” Thor said winking at you

“Please don’t” you quickly replied to his comment

“Ohhh but I know you DO like him, Stark said so himself” at that you scoffed.

“What! No! Damn you Tony, what did he say?” you asked Thor narrowing your eyes at him.

“I overheard you and Stark speaking about him” he said motioning over to Bucky. You remembered that day perfectly.

“I think you have a thing for him, don’t you (Y/N)?” Tony picked on you

“NO! He’s rude, a know-it-all and gosh that stupid long hair needs to be chopped off” you quickly replied defensively while fixing a nanotech knife you had built with Tony.

You turned around to look at Tony who was raising one of his eyebrows at you with a smirk slapped on his face.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing” he chuckled

“I think Manchurian Candidate has a crush on you too but I could be wrong---actually I am never wrong” he continued.

“What do you mean?” you asked curiously

“Well for starters, its like in elementary school, boy likes girl but wants to seem cool so he picks on the said girl which in this case is you” he said poking you with one of his tools

“You don’t see it but he always looks over at you when you are not looking, asks where you are when you are not around, that sort of stuff” Tony explained.

“I mean maybe you two should give it a shot” he shrugged

“Not in a million years Tony” you said walking out of the lab, only to bump into Bucky himself

“He’s never been nice to me so why should I do the same” you told Thor. 

Thor didn’t say anything, you and him leaned back against the wall to take a quick nap before arriving to your destination.

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

“Hey....we’re two minutes out so suit up” Sam said shaking you out of your sleep gently

“Thank you Sam” you said getting up from your seat to grab your equipment

You grabbed two small pistols placing them on each thigh holster, your earpiece from Sam, you placed your sword behind your back and picked up a rifle to head on out.

“Are you sure you can handle that?” Bucky teased you

“I can handle more than that Barnes” you sternly replied

“That she can Bucky, don’t forget she’s a demigod” Sam said, “I do have to ask though, where did you learn to shoot because I’m sure there aren’t guns on your world” he asked 

“Well I train profusely with Nat so I think I’m pretty set in having the best teacher you can get” you explained, Sam nodded walking out the quinjet to lead the way.

“Okay, on my lead, Buck and (Y/N) you go left, Thor and I will head to the right on my signal.....go” Sam led away

“You have my six right?” Bucky asked you

“No shit, you’re part of the team” you replied, the genuine comment surprising Bucky

“Plus I don’t want to deal with Steve’s reaction if you were to be gone forever” you added

Well that was too good to be true Bucky thought to himself. 

You were both deep inside the building where there was Sokovian evidence about new mutants

You were beside Bucky when you heard a loud gunshot, immediately reacting quicker than Bucky due to your demigod senses, you pushed Bucky out of the way causing you both to fall down to the first level, you felt your left arm break. A bullet had hit you on your left rib, without hesitation you shot back to where the bullet had come from, you had great aim killing the suspect instantly.

You felt pain, worse than what a normal gun shot would feel like. When you took out the bullet to saw that it was Sokovian made, this bullet was different you thought to yourself, this wasn’t going to kill you but you knew it could’ve killed a human being. You felt yourself drifting away into a deep slumber, you could hear Bucky yelling for you.

He got up slowly from the nasty fall, made sure the coast was clear, he then knelt down next to you placing you onto his lap.

“No no, (Y/N) WAKE UP! WAKE UP!” he yelled over at you repeatedly.

You looked up at him giving him a soft smile, “Give this.... to... Wanda, she’ll know” you tried your best to speak and then it all went pitch black.

“Bucky! (Y/N)! You guys okay?” Sam yelled over the earpiece

“I’m okay.....(Y/N) has been hit, she’s...down” Bucky said in disbelief, he couldn’t believe the girl he was in love with was dead and he never got the chance to tell you how he felt about you.

He picked you up cautiously, walking back to the quinjet sadly.

Thor was the first one to look at you, he looked over your wound, opening your vest open. “She’s not dead but we need to take her back quickly” he said to Sam and Bucky

Sam nodded heading to the pilot chair to fly you all back home.

Bucky tried not to cry but his tears betrayed him

“She pushed me out of the way” he sniffed

Thor placed his hand on Bucky’s shoulder to calm him down, “She would have done it for anyone, it’s not your fault” he said sitting down next to him

“I never told her how I felt about her” Bucky whispered

Thor smiled at the sound of him saying that, “I knew it” he teased Bucky

“I’m sure everyone did except her, I was an idiot in not showing it in the correct way” he explained

“She’s not dead Bucky” Thor said.

“How do you know?” he asked

“Well for one, I can hear her heartbeat, it’s very faint. And I’d know if I have lost a best friend” Thor explained. 

The rest of the flight back home was quiet.

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

“Let me see her!” Tony yelled running over to you.

“She’s not dead Stark but we need to check on her wounds, it’s the one on her left rib and she has a broken left arm” Thor explained

“I called Dr. Cho, she should be here soon” Tony nodded at Thor

Tony looked at you, you looked peacefully asleep, he had felt his heart drop when he heard about you. He couldn’t lose his best friend. He wiped away a tear before pushing you over to the emergency room. Bucky followed quickly behind.

“Barnes you can’t be here” Tony said to him

“I’m not leaving her Stark” he replied firmly. Tony looked over at him, eyeing him up and down, he knew it, he knew Bucky liked you. He would save the teasing for another time though, first he had to save his best friend. 

“She also said to give this to Wanda, that she would know” Bucky said handing over the bullet you had placed in his hands.

Tony looked over at the delicate item, how did something so small take down a demigod like you.

“I’ll call Wanda once (Y/N) is out of the emergency room” Tony confirmed.

After what felt like forever, Dr. Helen Cho finally arrived, she looked over at you, replicating your own cells to heal the wound on your rib, it wouldn’t look the same but it was enough to stabilize you. Once she was done with surgery, they wheeled you to the recovery room.

“She looks like she’s asleep peacefully” Nat sniffed looking at you. 

“Yeah she does, how did it go wrong?” Steve asked

“She took the bullet for Barnes” Nat said, this surprised Steve, he in fact thought that you hated Bucky but he was very appreciative that you would protect his own best friend as if he were yours.

“Don’t look so surprised Steve, she would do this for anyone of us. Besides she has a soft spot for Barnes” Nat smirked

“That I have heard” Steve chuckled. 

“Will you two shut up, I feel bad enough as it it” Bucky interjected

They stood there a little bit longer, Nat and Steve headed out, Nat stopped by Bucky, “You should get cleaned up Barnes, it’ll take a while”

“I’m not leaving until Wanda gets here” he replied, with that Nat left Bucky alone with you. 

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

Wanda and Vis had to cut their honeymoon short

“I’m sorry Wanda but (Y/N) told Bucky about the bullet that hit her, Banner and I have been trying to figure it out but-- I wouldn’t ask you to come back if it wasn’t serious...this is my best friend” Tony choked out at the end. 

“Tony....don’t worry, Vis and I understand, we are heading back , I have a clue on what that bullet could be” she replied calming Tony down over the phone.

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

Nat and Maria were visiting you again, Maria hadn’t seen you until now. 

“She looks like a sleeping beauty doesn’t she” Nat said, “even with all the debris....maybe we should clean her up, I know she would flip if she saw how dirty she was” Nat laughed at the thought of you

“You’re right, hey Barnes, you have to walk out” Maria ordered him 

“I’m not lea-”

“You have to leave, wait outside for Gods sake, take a shower, she is in good hands and she needs privacy while we clean her up” Nat said

“Fine” Bucky got up from the chair next to you, giving the girls a stinky eye. He quickly went to his room to shower. Although he wouldn’t admit it, the girls were right, he definitely needed a shower. 

Once he was done he went over back to the room they had you in, Nat and Maria were quick to clean you up. Your hair was brushed back, it smelled like subtle lavender, your face was clean and makeup free however your long eyelashes still stood out to him, your clothes were changed. Nat was right, you looked like a sleeping beauty, it hurt his heart though to see you this way. 

Bucky sat down next to you again, Nat handed him a tray with food.

“I know you haven’t ate so here” she said before walking out the door.

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

Throughout the next few days, everyone else came in to check on you while they weren’t on missions. Thor and Tony checked on you the most, Bucky never left your side unless it was to shower. He felt a sigh of relief when he saw Wanda come inside the room.

“How is she?” Wanda asked looking over at you

“She’s been the same since” Bucky replied

“You look tired Bucky” she said to him, he replied with a faint smile. 

“So what is it?” Tony asked her as he came inside the room followed by Thor.

“The bullet can kill any one of you except-” Wanda was going to explain

“Except demigods and mutants, they use these to knock them out however it sends you into a deep sleep, not a peaceful one though” Banner interjected, he was now followed by Steve, Nat and Clint who had been on leave with his family

“He’s correct” Wanda smiled at him, “Pietro and I never got hit by one of these thankfully”

“So if it’s not a peaceful sleep, why does she look like it is?” Clint asked, “Sorry, I got here as soon as I could”.

“Well it’s more of a battle within, whatever your worst fears are, your past that haunts you, it’s all alive in your sleep” Wanda said

“Oh god” Tony said, he knew what your past was, a traumatic one, you were reliving it and there was nothing they could do about it

“So how do we bring her back?” Bucky asked

“It’s not a how can we its when will she” Wanda said sadly, “I think I may be able to get into her head though, give her some kind of signal” she added

“Sure, it’s not like you haven’t done it before” Nat teased her

“Can you?” Steve asked, Wanda nodded closing her eyes as she placed her hand on your head gently. 

Wanda saw your worst fears; losing Tony, Thor, losing anyone on the team. She saw your past; your dead family, dead friends, everything. She backed out of your head immediately, trying to suppress a cry.

“Honey, it’s okay” Vision soothed her

“She’s going through hell....I have to bring her back” she said, walking over to you again. 

This time she was able to contact you, “(Y/N) you have to wake up, this isn’t real” she explained to you in your dream. 

“I can’t yet Wanda I have to finish this mission” you replied

“There is no mission, you’re in a dream”

“NO.....Tony is gone and I couldn’t save him” you cried out

“It’s a dream....come back to us” Wanda pleaded

“I will Wanda, when I am done here, I will” you said

Wanda was brought back to reality. 

“She’s not ready yet” she said walking out of the room, “she will wake when she is”.

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

It had been over a month since you were out, everyday the team had a routine to check on you, Bucky never left. 

He was observing you, your eyelashes, he was deep into your face that he didn’t realize you had opened your eyes. 

“(Y/N)?!” he yelped

You looked back at him, fluttering your eyes slowly, sensitive to the light. Then you sat up fast looking over to Bucky, your face in panic.

“Where’s Tony?!” you yelled

“He’s with Pepper” Bucky stammered still recovering from you being suddenly awake

“Don’t bullshit me Barnes, is he alive?!” you said

“Yes! Why would I lie about that, I’ll call him” he said quickly getting his phone out to dial Tony

“She’s awake” was all he said before hanging up

He leaned closer to you, squeezing your hand, “Honey” he said to you

You scoffed at the nickname, “Who are you and what have you done to James Buchanan Barnes?” you asked curiously

Bucky laughed, he slipped at the nickname, “I’m sorry (Y/N)”

After five minutes Tony came into the room, you looked up at him, feeling your breathing come back to normal to see that Bucky wasn’t lying to you.

“Tony” you choked out pulling him in for a tight hug. You felt your tears fall down your face, you were happy to be back after the nightmares you were dreaming of. 

“I dreamt you were gone and there was nothing I could do and it was so awful” you sobbed into his shoulder. Tony soothed you, rubbing your back softly.

“There there, look you are snotting all over my shirt so obviously I am not dead” he joked causing you to laugh. Bucky had missed that laugh more than anything.

“It was so horrible” you said looking back to him

“I know, Wanda explained to us” he replied, “I’m glad to have you back” he said pulling you in for a hug this time

“You know I mainly missed you wanting to kill this one all the time” he said motioning over to Bucky, “Thor and I were here a lot but this one never left your side” he said giving you a kiss on your forehead, “I’ll let the team know you’re awake, Morgan has been dying to see you but we chose it was best for her not to see you in this state, calm down, I’m in one piece” he said heading out. 

You were still crying, so many emotions were all over the place. 

“I’m sorry about this” Bucky said

“What? No this isn’t your fault Bucky” you said

Bucky’s breath hitched at you calling him Bucky, you had never called him that.

“I would do it again if I had to” you added, giving him a small smile.

“She’s BACK!” Thor came in yelling with a bouquet of flowers, “I missed you so much, we have so much to catch up on!”

“How long have I been out for?” you asked afraid to know the answer

“Over a month” Thor said

Each Avenger came in to greet you back to reality. Every single one giving you the strongest hug you had ever received from any of them. Somehow they also each seemed to mention that Bucky had always been there beside you, that was odd to you but you thought back to what Tony and Thor had said, it couldn’t be though. 

“Auntie (Y/N)!!!” Morgan yelled throwing herself onto you, Pepper and Tony were quick to scold her

“It’s okay.....I’m okay guys, I missed you baby Stark” you chuckled at her excitement giving her a kiss on her head, “are you ready for our monthly date, rumor is we are backed up on two now” you said, Morgan nodded as her smile grew bigger. 

Bucky loved how you were always extra gentle with Morgan, he loved seeing you with kids, you were like a magnet to them. 

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

The nightmares came every other night, even though you were out for a month you didn’t feel rested.

You showed up late to your first meeting, apologizing profusely for doing so, everyone was extremely understanding since the word had spread that you were still recovering. 

You were dazing in and out of the briefing, looking over at Thor to your right who would always give you a smile. After the meeting was finally over you asked him, “Hey so baby Stark and I are going to our usual, want to come?” you asked

“I would love to but Jane and I have plans” he said, “but I can cancel them”

“No no don’t do that....you and Jane are back! That’s amazing Thor” you genuinely said, you knew how in love he had been with her. 

“(Y/N) can I talk to you?” you heard Steve call you 

You nodded at him, “Tell me everything once I’m done” you said to Thor.

“Hey Steve, I’m sorry again about being late I’m-”

“Don’t worry I’m not here to scold you, actually I want to thank you for saving Bucky’s life. That could’ve killed him” he said sadly at the end.

You pulled Steve in for a hug, “I would do it again if I had to Rogers, I would like to think that someone would save my best friend too” you said. 

“I gotta go, baby Stark is waiting for me” you smiled

“Usual hangout for you two?” he asked smiling

“Yep, I’ve been away for too long” you walked away to get ready with Morgan

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

You were saying goodbye to Tony and Pepper while you and Morgan headed out the compound. You bumped into Bucky, to be honest you noticed he was around more but you never thanked him for being by your side.

“Where are you ladies off to?” Bucky asked with a smile

“We’re going to the aquawium and ice cweam Mr. Barnes” Morgan answered, “would you wike to come with us?” she asked 

“I’m sure he has other things to do Morgan” you said politely

Bucky looked over at you and Morgan, then back to Tony and Pepper.

“I’m okay with it” Tony said loud enough for you to hear

You laughed at his comment, “Well Mr. Stark said it was okay...really Bucky you don’t have to” you added

“Actually it would be my pleasure” he replied

“YAY! Auntie (Y/N) and I always have fun” Morgan said

Now the three of you walked towards the car garage, you normally took Pepper’s car since Morgan’s car seat was in it. You buckled her in and were about to get into the drivers side when Bucky stopped you.

“I’ll drive” he said

“I can drive Bucky, I’m not hurt” you replied

“(Y/N), you have a cast on your left arm” he asked pointing at it. To be fair you had indeed forgotten about your broken arm.

“Fineeee Barnes here” you playfully threw the keys at him.

He opened the passenger door for you to get inside the car, as he walked over to the driver’s side Morgan spoke.

“I think he wikes you” she giggled

“Morgan not you too” you laughed

Thankfully she didn’t say anything else once Bucky got inside the car. “So uhmm I don’t even know where we are going” he said a little embarrassed,

“Bless you, well first we’re going to the aquarium and then Dairy Queen” you said

“Off we go” Bucky said putting the car in drive heading towards the aquarium.

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

The ride to the aquarium was quiet besides Morgan talking away, she was very much like Tony in that sense, Bucky caught onto that. 

“I thought we left Stark back home” he half-heartedly joked

You laughed at that, looking over to him, “We did but we have his mini version back there”

Bucky looked back at you, he looked at you differently, this was the first time either of you had hung out without anyone else on the team being around. Morgan seemed to be enjoying both of your company.

The trip around the aquarium was always fun when it was you and Morgan, having Bucky around only added onto it. He would hold Morgan up to see the fishes closer, you would hold her hand to touch the starfishes, you all walked around like a normal little family.

You were going to take a selfie with Morgan when Bucky offered to take it instead.

“Here stand in front of this glass wall” he advised, Morgan and you complied, you knelt down by her side smiling for the picture.

“I can take a picture for you guys, stand right next to your girls, young man” an older lady said to Bucky. Bucky blushed at the lady, not knowing how to tell her that you guys weren’t together. So he handed her the phone and walked over to you and Morgan, you were trying your best to not laugh.

“You have beautiful women here” she added

“Thank you mam” you replied once she took several pictures of you all.

You took the phone looking at the pictures; you, Morgan and Bucky did in fact look like a cute little family. 

After the aquarium you guys headed off to Dairy Queen, Bucky was going to the local one but you let him know that you and Morgan went to a specific one that overlooked the city.

You all ordered your personal favorite ice creams then walked over to a bench that was on the dock. You sat Morgan between you and Bucky, all three of you quietly overlooking the beautiful skyline sunset. 

“I had fun today, you should come more often Mr. Barnes” Morgan said

“Thank you, I had fun too, call me Bucky” he said to her.

Once you all were done you headed back to the car, Morgan asked you this time if you can sit in the back with her, you agreed to do so, you often did when you were with Tony and Pepper, she called you her car buddy. Somehow you and Morgan dozed off on the way back to the compound. You were awaken gently by Bucky.

“Hey, we’re home” he said softly

You rubbed your eyes, yawning again, smiling at Bucky.

“Sorry I don’t know what happened” you said unbuckling your seatbelt. You got out from the car to carry a sleeping Morgan out to her room. 

“Here I got her, you can lock the car” Bucky said as he placed Morgan into his arms.

You guys walked up to the compound, first to drop off Morgan with Tony and Pepper.

“She’s knocked out, yay” Tony joked as he grabbed his daughter from Bucky. 

“The pictures of you three were so sweet and cute” Pepper said, she pulled you over discreetly, “You two would make a cute couple” causing you to blush.

You all said your goodnights, Bucky walked you over to your own room which was a floor below.

“Thank you for this day, that was a lot of fun” he said to you

“Nahhh its all Morgan, she gets it from Tony” you teased

Bucky stopped you in the middle of the hallway, “Look I’m sorry about always being a dick to you. I thought that by doing so my feelings for you would fade away and they sure didn't’” he laughed nervously, “I can’t thank you enough for saving my life, I will forever be in debt to you. After almost losing you, it scared the fuck out of me” he said trying not to cry, “I realized that I could not live without you so I have to ask, will you forgive me for being a jerk and will you go on a date with me? It’s okay Morgan can come along” he joked causing you to laugh.

“Ehhh I wasn’t too nice to you either, you don’t owe me anything Bucky...like I said I would do it again if I had to. As much as I hate Tony and Thor being right, I like you too Bucky. I want to thank you for being by my side even though I wasn’t there to see it, it helped knowing someone else was there for me too. Yes I will like to go on a date with you” you said smiling back to him.

Bucky knew in that moment that his life would get better with you in it, he couldn’t wait to see what the future held for both of you.