#of course these are just my personal opinions

[rafecameronssl4t]

Ferrari's Golden Boy and his Girl || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: ur first appearance in the paddock with Rafe :)

Warnings: noneee

Word count: 1,936

A/n: if you couldn't tell by my pfp of Alexandra, i love her and she's who i imagine when i write these f1 fics but of course its up to you!!!!

MASTERLIST (f1 driver x fem!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The world of Formula 1 was glamorous but intimidating, and you felt the weight of a thousand eyes on you. Speculations about your relationship with Rafe, Ferrari's Golden Boy, had been swirling for months, growing louder with every blurred paparazzi photo and cryptic comment he let slip in interviews.

Coming from Rafe’s hometown in the Outer Banks, you weren’t accustomed to attention from the public eye and a sea of flashing camera. Paparazzi had caught glimpses of you together over the past few months—dinners at intimate restaurants, quiet walks along the beach, stolen kisses on his yacht—but this was different.

This was your official debut as his girlfriend, stepping into the spotlight for the first time. Your heart raced, not from the adrenaline of the sport but from the nerve-wracking reality of being here, surrounded by people who lived and breathed Formula 1. You’d spent countless nights scrolling through social media, seeing how some fans could be—relentless in their opinions, cutting down a driver’s girlfriend simply because they didn’t like her.

It was tough sometimes, imagining yourself on the receiving end of that scrutiny. Would they think you were good enough for Rafe? Would they nitpick your every move, your every word, just to find flaws? The thought had kept you awake the night before, despite Rafe’s reassurances.

Rafe, walking beside you, was as confident as ever, exuding the easy charisma that had made him both a star on the track and off. His hand rested at the small of your back, guiding you through the chaos, even outside the paddock gates, with practised ease. Your hands were slightly shaky as you scanned your paddock pass, “You good?” he asked, leaning down so only you could hear.

His voice was low and steady, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy around you. You glanced up at him. “I think so,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the noise. “Don’t think,” he said, his tone teasing but affectionate. “Just walk in there like you own the place. Because, baby, you kind of do.” He adds, kissing the side of your head.

You couldn’t help but laugh, though the nerves didn’t completely fade. Rafe had an unmatched ability to make you feel like you belonged, even when you doubted yourself. You smooth out your red dress—one he had personally insisted you wear. "You'll match the car," he'd teased, a boyish grin spreading across his face. "And I'll look like the luckiest guy in the paddock."

As you walked past the throngs of fans lined against the barriers, the buzz grew louder. Their cheers grew louder, a cacophony of voices calling out Rafe’s name—and, to your surprise, your own. Phones were raised, the flashes of cameras capturing every moment. Your heart raced, a mix of nerves and exhilaration coursing through you.

"See, they like you already," Austin, Rafe's personal trainer teased gently. His tone was lighthearted, a deliberate attempt to ease your obvious unease. He nudged your arm, grinning as you chuckled softly, trying to shake off the nerves that clung to you. Rafe, ever composed and effortlessly charming, raised his hand in a casual wave to the crowd.

You followed his lead, offering a small, tentative wave and a smile that you hoped looked more confident than you felt. Rafe checked his watch before glancing at the crowd again. “We’ve got time, don’t we?” he asked Austin, though it was more rhetorical than a genuine inquiry. Without waiting for a response, he veered toward a particularly animated group of fans near the front of the barrier.

You stayed back with Austin, watching as Rafe transitioned seamlessly into fan mode. He moved with ease, signing caps, shirts, and posters, pausing for selfies, and exchanging quick banter with his supporters. Your gaze softened as you observed him, pride swelling in your chest. He looked so at home in this chaotic environment, his bright smile and relaxed demeanor making him seem untouchable yet entirely approachable.

Then, as if he could feel your eyes on him, Rafe turned his head to look at you. A mischievous smile danced on his lips as he said something, his words lost in the roar of the crowd. “What’s he saying?” you asked Austin, tilting your head in confusion. Rafe then blew you a kiss with an exaggerated flair, his grin widening when he saw the shy smile it drew from you.

“Rafe, is that your girlfriend over there?” a girl asked as he scribbled his autograph on his photo. Her tone was curious but warm, not laced with the venom you’d feared. Rafe glanced back at you, his smile softening into something almost tender. “Yeah,” he said proudly, not missing a beat. “That’s her. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” The fans erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable as they turned their attention to you.

You froze for a moment, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, but Rafe’s unwavering confidence in you gave you the courage to offer another small wave. “I hope you guys love her as much as I do,” Rafe added, his tone light but sincere. After a few more photos and quick goodbyes, Rafe made his way back to you, his stride confident and purposeful. As soon as he reached you, his arm slipped naturally around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

“What were you saying back there?” you asked, looking up at him with curiosity. Rafe didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering just enough to make your heart flutter. “Just telling them how gorgeous you are,” he replied casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You felt the blush creeping up your neck, your cheeks warm as you let out a soft, embarrassed giggle.

Rafe chuckled, clearly pleased with your reaction, and squeezed your shoulder. The paddock was a whirlwind of activity. Team members darted around, engineers shouted commands, and reporters lingered, waiting for their chance to snag an interview. Rafe navigated it effortlessly, introducing you to key people as you clung to his side, trying to take it all in.

As he prepared to leave for his pre-race routine, he turned to you, the confident façade slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his vulnerability. “You’re gonna be okay?” he asked quietly, his fingers lingering at your side. You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I’ll be fine, I'll hang out with Sofia," You say, glancing back at Sofia who was Rafe's teammate's girlfriend.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead that lingered just long enough to make your cheeks flush. “Good. Because you belong here with me, whether you believe it yet or not.” As he walked away, you felt the cameras capturing the moment, and for the first time, you didn’t feel out of place. You felt proud. Proud to be by his side, no matter how intimidating the spotlight might be.

~

"Rafe Cameron wins the Spanish Grand Prix, and it is a 1-2 finish for the Scuderia Ferrari!" The commentator's jubilant voice rang through your headphones, the words igniting an explosion of joy in the Ferrari garage. The moment the announcement registered, you and Sofia turned to each other, your faces lighting up with pure elation.

Without thinking, you both started squealing, your voices blending into the symphony of celebration around you. You grabbed her hands, jumping up and down like giddy schoolgirls, the weight of nerves and anticipation finally melting away. “They did it!” Sofia shouted, her wide grin matching yours as you both clung to each other, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the victory.

The rest of the Ferrari garage erupted into cheers, a sea of red erupting with applause, hugs, and celebratory fist pumps. Engineers and crew members were already spilling out onto the pitlane, sprinting toward the podium to catch a glimpse of their drivers and bask in the glory of the victory. You could barely hear yourself think over the noise, but it didn’t matter.

The joy was infectious, and you found yourself swept up in the chaos, laughing and cheering along with everyone else. Sofia nudged you with her elbow, her face flushed with excitement. “We’ve gotta get to the podium!” You didn’t need to be told twice. Linking arms with her, you followed the stream of Ferrari personnel down the pitlane. Your heart pounded in your chest—not from nerves this time, but from pride and exhilaration.

As you reached the podium area, the roar of the crowd hit you like a wave. Thousands of fans filled the grandstands, waving Ferrari flags and chanting Rafe’s name. The energy was electric, the entire circuit seemingly united in celebration. The team’s staff ushered you and Sofia forward, guiding you both to the front row, just behind the barriers, giving you the perfect view. And then you saw him, climbing out of his car with a triumphant smile that lit up his entire face.

He threw his arms up in victory, basking in the adoration of the crowd. Your heart raced as Rafe's eyes locked onto yours in the midst of the roaring crowd. His grin widened, that familiar spark of mischief in his gaze, and he pointed directly at you. It felt like the world slowed for just a moment—just you and him, amidst the chaos.

The cameras snapped furiously, capturing the fleeting connection between you both, and a wave of pride surged through you. Without thinking, you blew him a kiss, your smile so wide it felt like your cheeks might burst from the effort. His response was immediate. With a joyful laugh and a skip in his step, Rafe jumped down from his car, making his way toward you as if nothing else in the world mattered.

As he reached you, he pulled you into a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet for a moment, as the crowd's cheers grew louder around you. The cameras followed you both closely, documenting the raw, unfiltered joy of the moment. "You did it, baby!" you exclaimed, your voice muffled slightly by the noise around you, but the sentiment was clear.

Rafe held you close, his arms strong around your back, his helmet still on, the sweaty material of his racing suit rubbing against your skin. He laughed, a deep, satisfied sound that resonated with the energy of the victory. "Couldn’t have done it without you," he murmured, his voice low but filled with emotion. Then, with a playful grin, he lifted his visor, revealing the intensity of his eyes beneath.

You leaned up and placed a quick, soft kiss on his helmet, the action gentle and affectionate. The cameras caught the moment, and you could hear the claps and whistles of Rafe's teammates in the background. You pulled away, giggling shyly, feeling the heat rush to your face as the attention turned to you.

Rafe chuckled and pulled you close again, wrapping his arms around your waist as his team started to gather around, congratulating him, giving high-fives, and sharing the celebratory moment with the driver of the day. But even as they swarmed him, Rafe never let go of you, his hand resting possessively on your back as he basked in his well-earned victory.

[cognitohazardous]

TLDR: A lot of kneejerk anti-ai people certainly do use the energy consumption of generative AI as a gotcha without caring about energy consumption in any other aspect of their lives, BUT kneejerk pro-ai people shouldn't handwave the very real energy cost of gen. AI.

idr how to add a readmore so bear with me As someone with an interest in our energy consumption due to my chosen field of study, I've focused on this a fair amount. The cost in power of generative AI (henceforth just AI) cannot be overstated. Crypto farms, data centers, and AI were using approximately as much power as the country of Japan in 2022 and the cost is only growing alongside the demand. AI companies are also highly secretive about the exact numbers of their emissions. For reasons. Of course the materials needed to build this equipment also requires power, only adding onto to the cost. The physical locations containing these servers is also a significant factor. Each one is approximately the size of an airport. The amount of land that needs to be developed for these is concerning, along with land for new power sources. As we are already chest-deep in a climate crisis and watching environmental protections get stripped away (see the Supreme Court's 2023 ruling that removed protections from most wetlands in the US), we really don't need to add more onto our energy needs for such a largely redundant technology.

TANGENT: We can't ignore our own power consumption in the rest of our lives, though.

Transportation is difficult because the US is a personal automobile-oriented country. Industrial power consumption is over double residential consumption, but said residents are the ones consuming the products of industry (generally (also so much of what is produced is just thrown away before even being bought). The beef industry is a huge culprit, and usamericans love burger more than anything. We consume more meat than any other country. And the sheer amount of corn used to feed this beef is the reason so much of the midwest is farmland. After WW2 there was a scramble to create jobs via industry. The federal government thus proposed to bolster the beef and dairy industry (remember 'Got Milk?'), which would bolster the ag industry. Most of the corn we grow goes to beef and our access to beef product is second to none. I have a lot to say about the beef industry but that's for a different time. The US consumes a ton of energy and I would recommend googling the sources used by your own state. Nebraska is approx. 60/40 FF's and wind, with plans to increase solar in the future. It is important to be mindful and proactive about personal energy consumption, but the energy used by a single individual is also a drop in the bucket compared to Industrial consumption.

This is where AI and your use of it becomes relevant again. Increased demand for AI leads to increased resources dedicated to AI. I'm not saying "don't ever use AI" but I'm also not not saying it. Consumption is a complex web and AI orgs are reticent regarding their raw data. there are a lot of factors that get omitted in tumblr beef and people both pro and anti-ai don't really like doing their own research beyond some tumblr posts they saw that reinforce their opinions.

the phenomenon of people talking about the cost of "AI" in energy and water while ignoring everything else they use that also spends those same things is very telling

you do not know the process behind production of the things you take for granted. you think your computer is a magic box that connects to the astral plane. you never think about the cables and servers and water cooling and electricity cost and the workers who build and maintain the infrastructure etc. etc. except for the thing you don't like and were told the cost was a good excuse for why you don't like it

you also don't think about the cost of so much more. the food you eat, the phone in your hand, etc. you just know it costs an amount of dollars at the store

this isn't about being a morally bad person for not thinking about this. this is about not getting bogged down on the supposed inherent evil of 1 specific thing you were told to hate because it's the only thing that you realize needs to be produced using material resources. and instead becoming a marxist

[centrally-unplanned]

I really enjoyed this video by Angela Collier as someone who is of the "Feynman Bros" generation without being a member of the thing itself. I was of course part of the "XKCD science nerd culture" of the 2000's where he was a valorized figure, but never read any of his books, and generally just wasn't a science person in general so the whole vibe didn't appeal. I certainly noticed the 2010's culture shift where people - rightly so in my opinion - noticed that many of his "anecdotes" were casually misogynistic or harassing. I know both sides of the track here decently well without having any stake in it.

So it was quite shocking to me to learn - spoilers - that Feynman never wrote a single book. Every one of those texts with his name splashed on it is by someone else, and sometimes with quite minimal involvement by him! He had this weird coterie of fans who just loved his stuff so much they collected his anecdotes, recorded lectures, and so on, and made books out of them, often well after the fact. And of course at certain point "cashing in" on the brand took over.

Which leads, inexorably, to the fact that it is a little difficult to glimpse the "real" Feynman, because half of the published stuff is just made up. Surely You're Joking is the exaggerated stories of a 50 year old man trying to impress a 20-something dude with how cool he is, telling tales decades after they happened. I had never read the book, so hearing direct quotes from it of Feynman "pretending to speak a language he didn't and being So Clever he tricked his audience" are just...obviously not true? What the fuck are you talking about??? The best part for me is that the book, of stories from the life of a physicist, never involves...other physicists. It is always random people at a bar or hotel. Because, you know, they can't contradict them? The one time he did name someone, Murray Gell-Mann, in a story, Murray objected on the grounds that it was false and they were forced to change it! You had one job and you fucked it up, person-who-isn't -Feynman-pretending-to-be-Feynman-while-writing-the-book.

This is very much a video in my wheelhouse of cultural history - Feynman is just a guy. His brand, like all brands, is manufactured, and so there is a story behind how it was manufactured & why. I think I can see Feynman's rise as part of the general rise of "nerd culture" that accelerated in the 1980's, and the very deep need to both be "pure" nerdy (something finally dropped in the late 2000's) but also cool, to fight back on the rep. A womanizing scientist deeply appealed at that time, one who can Have It All. The idea of being the Smartest Guy In The Room was admirable, not insufferable. Then times changed, and the whole edifice can be a bit cringe. With, of course, a real person behind it all that one has to sift through to see.

Also, you do sometimes look at the past and go "man, people really did act differently back then". And that is true! But part of that story is that people just felt way more comfortable bullshitting you about it. Makes it a bit hard to say how things really were.

[luciferanalyzestar]

Live reaction to Mastermind, ughhhhh.

Spoilers of course.

Gross.

I like this design; she's cute. Shout out to the character designers.

Satan's design is like whatever. Those imp-like horns on the top of his head looks silly. Just more fucking red on top of red. Loveart23's Satan design for her re imagined is peaked.

This shit is fucking gross, please STOP!

This design is bad too and Ozzie's outfit is hideous.

Bee's outfit here is 100% better than her main one.

See Mammon, no one wants you because you are fat and that's gross!!!! >:(((((

Notice that Mammon is the only sin that is overweight and the only one confirmed to be on the asexual spectrum. Levi's design is horrible. Those colors do not go together.

This line would be amazing if Loona wasn't a whole ass adult. This is so melodramatic I am giggling. "I love you guys." Yeah, you threaten to sexual assault them both to Mooxie and stalked them back in season 1. These characters are not "found family". This is the quality of this show now, just ass.

I skipped the song; I'm not listening to that shit. I'm tired of hearing Stolas singing about Blitz, This is a small smile on my face, you know why just look like my username.

YES SATAN!! This shit got me laughing, why he is crying over Stolass?? Fuck him, he is a fetishizer.

This is the FIRST time Stella and Via have interacted....we are at the end of season two. Look guy, she's being EVIL!!!!! and doesn't care about her daughter at all. *eye roll*

What does Stolas even do?? We never seen him do his royal duties, just fucking around with IMP or he is in his mansion.

You want to fuck your sister.

GET IT!! HE EATS A LOT!!!! MAMMON IS FAT!!!!! ISN'T THAT GROSSS!!!!!???????

I WANT TO PUNCH A HOLE IN MY WALL. Viv will never beat the fatphobia allegations. Let fat character exists without doing shit like this.

I notice that all or most of rail thin characters are rarely seen eating food but Mammon and Adam who are fat eat food on the regular.

I'm sending the fandom there too. My new favorite minor character! Thank you, janitor imp. You're a real one for this.

She better not assault Blitz every again.

Why is Blitz bathing him??? This is giving me bad vibes like why????

DROWN!!! Please do us a favor and DROWN!!!

Rating: 2/10

I don't care about Blitz, Stolas, and their relationship. It is boring and bland like dry moldy toast. It being the main "appeal" to Helluva is an awful choice, no one can tell me otherwise. This is why the views have been dropping since the released of Full Moon. The shippers are this show's life support and if they ever become unhappy, this show is tank.

This episode barely kept my attention unlike the previous one. I even paused it to eat some Hawaiian Rolls, and I had more fun eating bread than watching this episode.

The only thing that kept me interested was the small mentions of Lucifer. If did not have a hyper fixation on him, I would probably not finish the episode.

The crew hyping up Vassago by putting him in that pride parade print and other merch is funny because he does nothing. He has no personality out of being Spanish. If something is hyped by Viv or anyone else, it's going to be lame.

We know season three will have more focus on Ars Goetia so he will probably be Stolas' future Latin lover or even worse, a love triangle between him, Stolas, and Blitz. Vassago and Stolas should get together, they both have "ass" in their names.

Viv said this episode is one of her favorites and is self-indulgent. Self-indulgent where??? This is just your standard season two epsiode of Helluva. I thought it was going to be more of a musical episode.

Anyway, this episode is bad in my opinion.

[queers-gambit]

Regular Cream and Sugar

prompt: ( requested ) being cast as the opposite lead to your bane in the next hottest romcom blockbuster comes with unforeseen outcums.

pairing: actor!Bucky Barnes x female!actress!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 8.2k+

note: you know what? this is fire. i don't care for other opinions (a lie, i absolutely do).

warnings: poor references to different real shows / movies / media as pertains to acting for a living. imagination required. explicit language, angst, Lord's name in vain, hurt and comfort, dickhead behavior, explicit content, NSFW, barely edited, happy ending, feelings are hard, depiction of mental health: anxiety, anxiety attacks.

featured fic movie: Anyone But You (2023) -> watch on Netflix featured fic show: Once Upon A Time (2011) -> watch on Disney+

Lights from what felt like a thousand paparazzi cameras flashed in a blinding mirage, a hundred different voices all shouting your name - begging you look this way, that way, to give a smile; show the back of your dress, now the front; to smolder, pout, wink for them. You were mostly immune to the wave of attention, but it still jostled you, even scared you sometimes; posed as more of a looming threat than anything. Yet this was the life you chose, the media you 'invited' no matter how public you were or not online and in person.

Didn't make it any less easy.

You sighed and smiled prettily for the flashing cameras on the sentimental red carpet, feeling a hand glide around your waist; leaning into the affection.

"James," you greeted your costar stiffly.

"Oh, back to James, are we?" He chuckled, hand splayed warmly through the material of your designer dress. "C'mon, honey, I thought we were past all that hostility?" He pointed at a group of cameras, both perfectly peacocked for them; his hand lowering to his suit pants pocket.

You scoffed, "Why would you think that?"

"Just thought we were getting along pretty well, is all."

You sighed and pulled away from him, but let your hand drop into his metal prothetic to guide him along the carpet; dodging people still milling around. The two of you took new poses on the carpet markers.

"Oh, please," you smiled brightly, "that's just good acting. Don't worry, you'll recognize it one day."

Bucky chuckled, "Ooooh, someone's a bit icy today. C'mon, toots, what's got your panties in a twist? You can tell me - "

"Can we just get through the next few hours without mentioning or thinking about my panties, you horndog?" You asked him through clenched teeth, still smiling as if sharing a few inside jokes.

Bucky laughed to himself, "After you, doll."

You sighed and took his offered arm, letting Bucky lead the way up to the designated area your managers were pointing you towards. Bucky charismatically greeted the interviewer, an obvious pompous show to mask the anxiety coursing through his veins. You saddled up to where your team was stationed before the platform, kissing your publicist, Regina, on the cheek in greeting while asking, "You seriously had to fucking match us?"

"It's a good PR look, babe, and blue's both your colors. Just keep smiling," she hushed, offering her hand to help you up the two-step platform. Bucky was instantly doing the same, reaching for his hand as you smiled at the camera set up - reminding yourself it was all for the pursuit of good PR.

"Wow, you two look stunning!" The interviewer squealed slightly, gesturing at the two of you standing with your manicured hand curled around Bucky's meaty bicep. "I love a good matching set, and you two look so gorgeous - very chic, very demure!"

"You think this look is demure?" Bucky teased, picking the lapel of his blazer. "You see these diamonds?"

"Swarovski is pretty loud, draws the eye in," you purred, keeping the conversation going, desperate to step away and watch the premier of the bloody film already so you could leave the event all together. Your diamond-ringed fingers pet your neck and collarbones, bringing to attention the expensive gemstones set in a fashionable web.

"Oh, they look stunning on you!" The woman from E! complimented. "So, obviously - we have the whole matching look down pat. Is this look an homage to the film? Your characters?"

"No, no, just what was thought we looked best in, you know?" Bucky smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist and by far enjoying the forced proximity. "But you've kinda got a whole, you know," he motioned at her all black look, "monochrome look goin' for yah - it's nice! I dig it!"

"Oh, wow, th-thank you," she flushed under his baby blues that your matching fits made pop with an unbearable glimmer. "It's vintage Chanel."

"Totally gorgeous," you complimented, starting to feel the first tendrils of discomfort. "Who're we wearing?" You asked Bucky, "Do you know?"

"I'm pretty sure we're both in Louis," Bucky glanced down at himself before opening his suit to check the label. "I know the shoes are."

You smiled at the interviewer as she continued, "So, I've gotta say, I'm crazy excited for this film, it's the hottest thing anyone can talk about!" You and Bucky offered generic murmurs of thanks, her continuing, "It's all over social medias, there's even some fan edits already out using what they could from the trailers! Fans are really digging the modern-Shakespeare take and the chemistry between the cast. I wanna ask, being the two leads playing into this romantic relationship, how has the whole experience been for the two of you? You haven't worked together, since, what? Some ten years ago or so? When the two of you costarred in Once Upon A Time, right?"

You cleared your throat, "Woah, what a throwback."

"I know," Bucky mused, looking down at you. "We played a couple on that one, too, right?"

You nodded, trying to beat off the brewing chaos in your stomach by answering, "Yeah, however short lived."

"Which, can I say, always confused me - why your character was killed off!" She directed at you. "I loved Alice!"

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you explained, "Oh, I know, I remember reading all these comments after that episode aired, just about how upset fans were. I mean, it was a really quirky take on Alice in Wonderland - so it was kinda jarring to kill off Alice, right? But it was a creative decision I was really excited to undertake, it was my first reoccurring role in a show, first time I got to play a parent, and it was my first big, dramatic death scene."

"Yeah?"

You nodded, "I remember talking with the writers and asking them if we could do it big. They were very okay with it. I honestly miss that show - the cast and crew, everyone was just a pleasure to work with. I'd love to do it again."

In truth, your character, Alice, the lost lover of Bucky's Mad Hatter, was written off the show after a particularly nasty argument with Bucky had you ready to quit and walk off set that very moment. This was a common enough theme: arguments on set between you and Buck, a stark opposite to your scenes together on camera. You're not even sure how it started, just that you and Bucky could never get along after the chemistry read. He was pompous and arrogant and borderline narcissistic; all characteristics that rubbed you the wrong way, hence the inability to get along. So, after brief deliberation and considering you were the one ready to move on, you were to be written off (first).

Of course, you couldn't admit to any of this - it was a horrible look to the public. Especially since it was Bucky you couldn't get along with for the sake of a job, who you now had to convince the world that you didn't despise for the sake of this movie.

"Well," Bucky looked back at the interviewer with a smile, "never say never, we had some good times - "

"On the set of the show or movie?" She asked eagerly. You felt like you could practically smell your companion's desire to change the subject. Neither of you were keen on talking about your time on the show together, not after all the conflict and turmoil that boiled over into today's circumstances.

"Oh, for sure both," Bucky nodded, "but we got to film this movie in LA first for about a month. Then we spent three months in Australia for this movie and it was - yeah, no, it was a lot of fun. The location definitely helped romanticize things. Lot of laughs shared, good memories, fond friendships; lot of really great food, Down Under, too."

You gave a fake chuckle, stomach lurching as your mind screamed that he was lying. Filming this movie wasn't really fun by any circumstance; not when you and Buck couldn't be in a room together without some comment being hurled with malicious intent. Bucky was lying - you knew it, the pretty girl in all black knew it; surely, fans on the internet would know it the moment they saw this interview - or at least, your face.

He was lying. He was lying. He was lying, and it fucking bothered you.

You weren't bothered by the act of lying, per se, but the fact that the pair of you had to lie; the fact that even after a decade, old wounds were still festering; the fact that you knew your feelings for him to be authentic while his were feigned, forced, being effortlessly lied about.

You glanced at Regina, seeing her talking with animation to Bucky's publicist, Gale, and his manager, Toby; as well as your own manager, Darcy, who appeared enraptured with their phone. In a moment, you felt the flood of panic, unable to meet Regina's usually kind eyes; suddenly scanning around the red carpet in distraction as your ears whined a piercing noise. The lights flashed brighter, you suddenly felt hot and clammy; like anxiety's icy hand was creeping up your esophagus, stomach to throat. Your heart hammered, headache brewed, eyes glassy from a sudden wave of panic - and unknowingly, tightened your grip on Bucky's waist. He glanced down at you in concern.

"Uh, but you know, I think my favorite part of the whole experience was just, uh, you know - getting to spend time with this girl right here," Bucky answered the interviewer's question charmingly, hugging you tighter to his side. You were jolted back into reality, smiling and awh'ing at him sweetly as if listening; evident he had purposefully roped you back in. Your heart clenched at his kindness.

"What about you, Y/N?" The interviewer asked with a bright smile. "Any favorite moments from filming?"

"Oh, um, favorite? No, there's too many - well," you paused, relenting, "yeah, probably any scene I got to do with Jeremy, who plays my ex in the film. He's not entirely who you'd think fits in a romcom, so he pleasantly surprises you in this role. He was a blast to film with, just real easy going."

"Woah, hey," Bucky joked, looking offended but still petting his fleshy hand on your waist for comfort, "how could I not be your favorite part of filming?"

"Jeremy actually learned my coffee order," you reminded with a soft wince, watching Buck pause and then nod dramatically.

"No, no, she's got me there - I could never get it right," Bucky shrugged at the interviewer. "One day, though, I'll surprise her," he squeezed where he held you, his metal finger pointing into the camera, "and that's a promise."

"Oh, please," you chuckled, patting his chest. "I'd like to first see you get my breakfast order right - then we can move onto the more complicated coffee order."

"Okay, first, that's slanderous!" Bucky laughed, shifting his weight on the platform and making the woman interviewer perk up.

"Well, it seems the two of you had a great time on set, and so far from previews, it really shows! I can't wait to see it."

"Have fun tonight," you smiled, Bucky shifting towards the steps and offering both his hands to guide you down. He thanked her repeatedly as you stepped carefully in your heels, approaching Regina and Darcy the moment you were on the carpet again. "I can't - I can't fucking do this," you muttered to them inconspicuously; unaware of Bucky several yards away, listening to his team talk, but his gaze was locked worriedly on you.

"What? What? Can't do what?" Darcy asked, looking mildly alarmed; only then lowering their dinging iPhone.

"It's a lot right now, okay? I'm - I feel - there's just a lot," you tried to explain, voice warbling.

"What? You're, what, feeling anxious? Use your words."

"Yes, Darcy, fucking yes, I feel fucking anxious," you snapped, sighing through your nose; hand tight on Regina's wrist. She readjusted so you were both gripping each other's forearms. "Okay? There's a lot of fucking people and the interviews? Jesus, we're lying straight through our teeth - "

"So, just lie!"

"Darcy," Regina scolded, "let her speak."

"You two know James and I don't exactly get along. So you'll excuse me if lying about how much fun we had playing two idiots in love is giving me the fucking heebie-jeebies."

"Babe," Regina frowned when tears gathered in your eyes, fully aware of your feelings for the amputee, "just breathe, it's okay - "

"You literally lie for your job," Darcy scoffed with a shake of their head. "I don't get why now, all of a sudden, it's bothering you? You and Hugh Grant literally didn't speak a single word to each other outside of scenes when filming for Bridget Jones! Y'all went on to say you were best buds on set! But this is where the truth is gonna trip you up?"

"Oh, my fucking God."

"Yeah, 'oh, my fucking God', is right," Darcy sneered. "I need you to do at least three more interviews - then you can fuck off for all I care."

"There a reason you took extra bitchy pills this morning?" Regina scoffed, looking Darcy up and down with distain.

"No, fuck that, she's been difficult this entire film - "

"Oh, for the love of Christ, Darcy," Regina snarled, "she's not been difficult - she's human. Just because you're an emotionless cunt doesn't mean you get to shame and bully your client."

"Doubt I'm even their client after this," your head shook, finally locating a distant entrance. "Excuse me," you stepped around them and made an immediate beeline for the theater.

You heard shouts of your name, but didn't stop - instead, quickening your step to reach the theater sooner. The door was held open for you, letting you pass swiftly; ignoring the bewildered looks of employees and premier attendants as you hustled down the hall to the gender neutral restroom.

Shoving the door open, you gasped while stumbling onto the linoleum floors in towering heels and swirls of blue fabric feeling tangled around your legs. Your hands blindly and forcefully slapped to the marble countertop of the sink, holding your weight in either hand, pressure caught in your collarbones, trying to regulate your breath from the irregular pattern it developed during your hustle.

"Oh, this is - this is so stupid!" You scolded yourself, huffing and sniffling. "C'mon, girl... You're fine, this is nothing, you can handle it, you're not no bitch. Get your shit together, God, you're seriously this upset over a guy? Fuck's sake... Why?" You asked yourself in the mirror with a glare. "Huh? Why? Why're you so upset? Why're you so hung up on him? It's not like he-he-he lead you on! He's been clear from the beginning! And the sex wasn't even all that good!" But the deadpanned expression that stared back at you made you sigh and roll your eyes, "Yeah, okay, so it was mind blowing, whatever - point is, it's not worth getting this upset over."

You had to pause to take a breath, shaking your head as you continued talking to yourself in a dejected whisper, "Okay, so... You caught feelings. Big deal. You've been rejected by guys before, why is this one so different? Why does this hurt so much more?" The quake to your voice matched the tremble of your bottom lip. So, you answered yourself as a barrage of memories shot to the front of your mind and physically assaulted your brain like a bunch of bullies in an alleyway, "Because it felt real..."

You were the first on set.

Today's punctuality wasn't just good ethics but a direct result of your anxiety. You weren't worried about being late, you wanted to get there early to suss out the set, get a lay of the land, establish exit routes - or any means of privacy - should you need it, as well as privately meet with the intimacy coordinator, Maria, before anyone else got to set.

The director was next to arrive as you finished hair and make-up, wrapped in a robe with a pair of slippers warming your feet; sat beside you to go over a few ideas and logistics of the scene. It was all about being this bright, active, explosive, fiery, hot, passionate, borderline hateful cultivation of your character and Bucky's feud; where after a fight scene, you storm off to your room and he follows, the pair of you giving into your feelings and finally sleeping together.

The camera crew and lighting techs showed up next, ensuring everything was in place and ready to use.

The entire production had been rearranged due to the animosity, tension, and turmoil between you and Bucky the entire filming schedule. After months of bickering and irritation, this was the last piece of the movie puzzle, only reshoots thereafter, if necessary. Which made today all or nothing, where if you did this right, you'd only have to do it once. The resort you were shooting at provided a gigantic, gorgeously picturesque suite; which, in itself, was a blessing as it meant limited personnel in the room with you. So, after getting ready in a neighboring suite, where you were zipped into the same dress your character wore to a dramatic dinner scene, and waiting on the set-suite for Bucky to finish his primping. The techs showed you where the mics were and how the cameras would be angled.

Typically, shooting could be pretty go-go-go, but tonight was supposed to be easy, unrushed. First, you filmed the original fight scene to warm up - where Bucky chases after you and instigates the intimate scene. However, when the sun was lowering into position to sink, the director decided he wanted a couple of shots with the setting sun behind you; his artistic vision something you were meant to follow and not question.

"You good, doll?" Bucky checked as costumes were fixed and you both took your places. The idea was to meet in the middle of the sun shining into the camera; silhouettes taking form as the light was meant to disappear behind you, then reappear when you and Bucky fell into bed behind you.

"Yeah, uh, all good. You?"

"Perfect," he smirked, glancing at the crew. "We're moving at the same time, right?"

"Yep."

"Oh, so, uh, I'm thinking when we go back to the intro scene, we kinda lead into the bedroom? You know? Like, you come in, I follow, but you try to walk away and it leads us naturally towards the bed. That way, when we get to fuckin', it's a little more natural than before."

You just huffed, "You just have a way with words, don't you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you someone that prefers 'making love'?" He mocked with fluttering lashes.

"Fuck no, God, fucking gag me - that's such a cringy term," you scoffed quietly, looking towards the camera crew making their final readjustments.

Bucky eyed you for a moment, thinking those were his exact thoughts and feelings on the term, too. He sighed to himself as the director reminded, "This is just the kiss, then falling into bed - okay? - then we'll reset for the other bits. Yeah? Good? Everyone got it?"

"Good," Bucky agreed easily, you just nodding.

The director squinted to watch on his monitor as the sun hovered, calling action, and watching the two of you meet in frame from either side of the camera. You reached for each other and let your lips meet in an chaotic, highly-anticipated open-mouth kiss; his prosthetic arm curling around your waist as his fleshy one came up in view of the camera to slide from your jaw to the back of your head. Your hands fisted the front of his shirt in a show of desperation; one creeping up to hold his neck for balance as you felt his weight shift. You held on and gave a soft moan while toppling backwards onto the bed, out of frame; but held the position as Camera Two worked the angle from above. "And cut!"

When he pulled back, Bucky's eyes were alight with something you couldn't decipher; breathing the same air for several moments before he was sitting up and helping you do the same. You reset with dampening tear-away panties, tingling lips, and heavy lungs.

You did that kiss twice more to make the most of the sun's position before it was gone; using the authentic change of colors to curate a more romantic aesthetic. You and Bucky agreed the colors of the sunset was a much better look... So, you did the kiss another three times. When satisfied, the techs rest to film the whole of the scene, sending your heart catapulting from chest to throat. Bucky appeared easy, even excited, which for some unspoken reason, really irritated you.

How dare he enjoy this when he was usually an unbearable jackass that made your life more difficult for sport.

First, you were to storm into your room alone, a look of furious defeat marring your expression. Bucky's catches your door, follows you in to defend himself, "Hey! You don't get to insult my character and just walk away! What the hell's going on with you, why're you so upset? We had a deal, we agreed to act like we're together for the sake of this wedding. Now, you've been at my throat this whole time, you refuse to have a civil conversation unless in front of others - it's almost like you're repulsed by my very being here. I'm sorry if that's what's going on, but my best mate is marrying the love of his life this weekend and I'm going to stand at his side! You're going to have to find a way to be okay with that."

He stood in the foyer of your suite as you whipped around to snarl, "I'm okay with you being my brother-in-law's best man, I really am. I'm okay with us being at this wedding, I can fake getting along, being a couple, whatever, that's no problem. But I'm not the one who's been outright malicious! I'm not the one throwing thinly-veiled insults in front of your family!" You let tears fill your eyes, Bucky appearing genuinely disarmed as he took a step forward. Your character was notorious for being something akin to a shrew; but now, in this moment, proving to still be 'just a girl', who had feelings and would cry if she wanted to. "You know what? I wouldn't expect you to understand - so just - just get out of here, go back to dinner, there's nothing left to say - "

"You really piss me off, you know that?"

"Oh, my God! Did you seriously follow me back to my room to continue a fight I already walked away from?" You snarled, tossing your shoes from your feet. "Take a hint and go away. Please. You've done enough for the night."

"You know, you always do this. When shit gets real, you'd rather run away than deal with it!" He followed you closer to the living quarters of the suite, as planned.

"You don't get to say that when you don't even know me!"

"That's where you're wrong! I do know you!" Bucky barked, reaching for your arm to turn you around to face him; releasing his hold when you yanked your arm back with a brewing look of betrayal. "I know you're stubborn and insolent, defensive and reactive. I know you don't give second chances because one is enough, I know you're passionate and criminally independent, that you don't take direction too well because you have issue with authority." His voice softened an octave and the words felt all too real; like it was truly Bucky speaking, "I know you love your family and would do anything to protective them, including agreeing to be my date to this wedding just to give your sister peace of mind for her big day. I know that even when I think I've found a way to cope with admiring the hell out of a woman who despises me, I fuck up and say something I shouldn't. Which I also know, can rightfully set you off. I also know I had one of the best times on our date, before things imploded, and that I've finally met my match - if even just for this week."

"Think that means you know everything about me, then?" You breathed, locked onto his baby blues like a bear trap had hold of your soul.

"I only know one thing for certain."

"What?"

"That I really want to kiss you right now."

There was supposed to be no hesitation in your surge into his chest - so, there wasn't. Knowing you had this shot already and much was to be edited, you and Bucky rushed for one another; clashing in the middle; all teeth, tongue, and spit before toppling into bed. From there, it was a frenzy.

Clothes were ripped off - sending buttons and fabric all around the room. Mics picked up every single sound, no matter how soft or gruff. Soft linen sheets were rumpled and mused, pillows flattened. Hands slapped skin in the search for purchase, lips grazed sensitive flesh not regularly touched, hair stuck to tacky skin, and hips ground into one another like a couple of horny teens. Maria called encouragement, the two of you taking the cues to roll over so you were on top, but still in Bucky's cradle. Every position assumed, Bucky was all consuming; warm, safe, embracing, supportive, glorious.

It went on for several hours; the rutting and kissing and moaning and feigning. It was exactly what they wanted: bright, active, explosive, fiery, hot, passionate. Bucky's body was impressive and it was hard to ignore, causing your skin to flush with ecstasy, mouth to water, and fingers to linger. Your moans turned authentic. Sweat beaded from legit exertion. Everything felt magnified and doubled; legs spread to hold his bare hips against yours, breathing harsher when all you could focus on was the feel of Bucky's bulging cock rubbing into your soaking slit. You swore his own stuttered breathing and moans were as real as yours - but who could tell.

When the director called cut, Maria told you to stay put. You kept the sheet around your chest and dropped back to the pillows, Bucky sitting forward with the sheet around his lap in an attempt to give you both a little room.

"You all right?" He mumbled, shuffling over a little before leaning back himself. You tried not to notice how he didn't deflate, never relaxed; as if cautious to invade your space all of a sudden.

"Yeah, still good. You?"

"I'm good, doll," he smirked. "Kinda warm, no?"

"I'll say," you mumbled, swiping the moisture from your hairline, missing his grin - as if he had caught you in a confession. And perhaps he did, since the air conditioning was on and blasting like in most hotel suites; the pair of you heated from the obvious horniness you were flushed with.

The director wanted a few extra shots of you two in bed; naked, revealing tantalizing skin in provocative poses. You were to look soft, content, in love, docile and blissed; so, you gave it to them Goddamnit. You loathed to admit how easy it was to look at Bucky in such a manner; he was funny, making you grin and crack a few jokes in return, the camera eating it up. You spoke of past jobs and vacations while lounging against one another; discussed fears during a game of Thumb War; compared hand sizes and workout routines; then had more lighthearted familial conversations, such as holiday traditions, while you were balanced bare on top of his equally naked body.

From each position, you were encouraged to nuzzle the other; to kiss; share delicate touches that some how felt more intimate than filming any sex scene.

The director wanted two new camera angles of your intimacy after watching the playback; you and Bucky shuffling into new positions as the cameras were mounted. This provided ample view of your faces whilst rolling around in your romp; looking into one another's eyes as Bucky mimicked thrusting, your hands in his hair, of the concentrated expressions you were both to don. There were better shots of your tangled hands, of the way two individuals melded into one secular entity; of slippery lips forming varying levels and pitches of gasps, moans, and groans that the mics soaked up.

It all looked so real. It all felt so real.

For a moment, the director praised himself on his decision to hold off filming these intimate scenes until the end; watching an authentic cultivation of your real and faked hatred coming together on camera.

It was over with several hours to spare until dawn when few reshoots would begin filming, thankfully being mostly family scenes that didn't involve you and Bucky. If there were any, it was truly because it was necessary - the crew having been overly cautious about getting the scenes they needed the first time to spare everyone the annoyance of enduring another day on set with you and Bucky. The director and Maria watched the footage several times to make sure they had enough footage, granting approval that everything was in good shape and you were free to go.

While Bucky hesitated a moment, you accepted your robe from Maria and scurried to the neighboring suite you had dressed in. You were overwhelmed, confused, annoyed, and horny - so very horny that your immediate first action was to unlace your robe to use the lapels to fan yourself. You sought out the bathroom and grabbed several towels, yelping in shock when the front door slammed shut. Yanking the fluffy material closed, you called, "What is it, Maria? What do you need? What's wrong?"

"It's me," Bucky's voice answered, making your head pop out of the bathroom - only to rear back when Bucky was striding inward.

"Do they need us for something else?" You asked cautiously, holding your robe closed with tight hands.

"No. No, I just... Tell me to leave and I'll leave," he breathed, taking a slow step into your space, "but I really hope you don't because I can't stop thinking about you and tonight - tonight was exactly what I had thought would happen between us."

"Gave the writers your dream journal, did'jah?" You couldn't help but tease. His lips spread.

"More like my actual journal," he shot back, catching you off guard, "'cause I can't get you out of my head, it's fucking with me, doll."

"If you're here to charge me rent for living in your head, you've got another thing comin' 'cause that's a personal problem. Now I need a shower, why're you here, Bucky - what do you want? Use your big boy words."

"I want to fuck you."

"There it is," you seethed, reaching for his own robe to yank him closer until his lips were on yours. And his hands, they didn't know where to touch you - be it your face, arms, ribs, waist, hips, thighs, ass, he was everywhere. Bucky's cock was still hot and heavy against his stomach, snugly between you as he backed you into the counter. But you pushed him back upon feeling him trying to untie his robe, rushing, "Wait, wait, hang on a second, Buck - "

"Shit, I'm sorry," he immediately stepped back, now tugging the tie tighter, "I-I got a little, uh, y-you know..."

"It's okay," you assured, stepping into his chest, taking hold of his wrists in both hands, "hey, you're okay. I was just gonna say wait because I'm not fucking you here where anyone can interrupt us." Before he could answer, you offered, "Give me twenty minutes and meet back at my place?"

He nodded with a softer smirk, hands confidently holding your waist to keep you pressed against him. "Yeah, doll, 'course. I didn't mean to rush you."

"You didn't, Bucky, you aren't. It's okay."

Bucky smirked and kissed you sweetly, holding you by the waist with one hand, the smoothing over the back of your head. After letting you go, he watched you change into whatever you wore to set and grab your belongings, drop a wink, and head for the door. He couldn't help but call after you, "Twenty minutes, doll, I'm setting a timer!"

You laughed before the door shut.

One of the perks of filming at destination resorts was staying there, too. You took the first elevator to the lobby and dialed your best friend as you hustled towards your resident building. When they answered, you instantly unloaded instead of a standard greeting, "Bucky and I are about to fuck and I'm kinda freaking out!"

"Oh, thank fucking God, it's about time!"

"You can gloat later, help me now."

Twenty exact minutes passed in a flurry of reminders to use mouthwash now so it didn't taste like you were trying too hard, advice on what to wear (being just panties and a hotel robe), topped off with your best mate telling you their secrets to irresistible blowjobs. When Bucky knocked at the door, your friend screamed in a rush, "Good luck - have fun - put that emergency Plan B I packed for you to work - oh, oh, protect your cervix - and call me after - I want details! Remember to spit - "

You hung up and left your phone on the side table, scurrying for the door before you could overthink it; Bucky swooping in with the opening door, reaching his hands for both your cheeks to kiss you feverishly. He paused you to let the door slam and blindly set the bolt before crowding you into the wall. You never had time to let your anxiety set, Bucky was all you could comprehend - and my, oh, my - what a delicious infection to take over your mind, body, and soul.

Distracted by the tickle to your palms from dragging them down his cheeks, in shock, you gasped sharply into his mouth when his hands seized behind either thigh to hoist you up his body. You were able to bask in his strength, feeling his arms bulge from strain just as much as you felt his cock bulge from arousal in his jeans. Wet tongues slid against each other to dance a sinful tango as your hands seared into any flushed flesh you could grab, legs locked around his waist to keep balance as he walked to the bed. He playfully dropped you on the mattress, holding himself upright and eyeing the peak of material covering your cunt when your bent legs shifted. Bucky grinned and glanced down at himself, starting to work on the buttons of his shirt from top-to-bottom.

"You changed?" You smiled, sitting up to reach out and maneuver him to the bed so you could take over his state of undress.

"I thought I might take you out first," he admitted, "but then I remembered it's the middle of the night and nowhere's open."

Your heart might've thawed slightly at his endearing effort, yet choose not to comment. You revealed his abs and chest at long last, dipping down to press your mouth in a trail of wet and sloppy kisses from his neck, over his pectorals, and the ridges of his ripped stomach - relishing in the feeling of their contraction when your kisses turned more deliberate and sensual. Fingers nimbly began working on the button and zipper of his jeans, hearing his feet kick off his shoes in time for you to begin wrestling the garments down his hips.

Bucky sat up, crooning, "Hey, hey, hold on." This time, you froze, fearing you did something wrong, but his smile was soft and his hand warm on your jaw. He held you still to bring his lips to yours, controlling the tempo into something slow, easy, and delicately emotional. You matched his energy, just enjoying the feeling of kissing him without the added frenzy of the impending intimacy. He paused, lips hovering over yours, whispering, "As much as I need to fuck you, doll, we got time... I plan on taking my time with you."

It was sentimental. Raw. Pure. Unexpected and intimidating.

Fucking Bucky was nothing short of pornographic; the man built like a mountain, cut like a boulder, and hung like a horse, yet still so fluid that everything he did felt intimate and emotional. Like it was truly to the two of you finding home in the other; two lost pieces of a puzzle, reunited, fitting together to create an image of euphoria. He was dedicated to your comfort, insistent on your pleasure, adamant about your orgasms; able to take direction, but not needing it, motivated by evidence of your bodily pleasure; emboldened, driven, invigorated by any inkling of your enjoyment. It was all you wanted and exactly what you needed, encouraging the pair of you through multiple rounds, positions, and orgasms.

To your shock and astute pleasure, Bucky was the kind to engage in pillow talk. He laid on his back, hand behind his head, other idly toying with your hair or tracing patterns on your skin as he asked questions or answered yours. It was easy. It was simple. It was effortless and disarming. Arguably, it had been one of the best sessions of your life due to Bucky taking his time in discovering the way your body ticked instead of just chasing his own nut like plenty of other lovers. He seemed satisfied. Content. Even cozy in your bed. You thought you could grow accustomed the sight of his bare chest and stubbly smile from this angle, curled against his hairy leg with your mouth dangerously close access to his perpetually stiff member.

Like a fool, you thought this was a break through in your relationship - be it professional or personal, you didn't care. You just felt the tides shift, for the wind to change; something warming your heart and pleasantly churning your stomach. Dawn broke and you had dozed into a nap on your costar's chest; not due on set for your shoots until early afternoon, able to get a couple hours under your belt after not getting a wink all night. Bucky laid under you, soothingly letting his fingernails scratch into the slope of your spine, both content to just exist in your bubble for a while longer. However, when you awoke to your alarm, it was to an empty bed, chilly sheets, no note, no evidence another person had even been there.

You should've known better...

"Because it felt real," you trailed off in a broken whisper, laughing cruelly at yourself as a manicured finger lifted to swipe under your nose and remove the first traces of snot. "Because I thought it was real for him as it was me..." A scoff coughed from your lungs, "I thought we had a breakthrough of sorts, like-like-like an understanding. I thought he saw me, finally... But it was all a lie, wasn't it?" You sniffled, bending at the waist to rest your elbows on the counter and hold your face in hands.

Behind you, the door suddenly burst open, ricocheting into the wall - causing you to gasp shrilly and whip around in shock. Bucky stood there panting, looking bewildered and confused, soon wincing when he clocked your state of shock he caused. "Shit, sorry, sorry, doll, I was - I didn't mean - I was worried and thought something was wrong - "

"So, you came barging into the bathroom like a madman!?" You snapped, hand to your chest - clutching methaporicnhal pearls.

"Yeah, you know, not my best moment, but I was worried," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, I really didn't mean to frighten you, I was a little hopped up after talking to Regina - "

"Okay, okay, James! Just - for fuck's sake, please, please, can you just leave, leave me alone - can you please just go!? Get outta here, please. I'll be out in a minute, just leave me alone. Please." You were trying too hard to stop this - to stop the way your heart fluttered and stomach sank, to stop your emotions from being real, to stop your mind from conjuring his all too perfect face at inopportune times - so, of course, the universe had to send the very bane of your existence after you during an anxiety attack.

You needed to be alone.

"No," Bucky answered fiercely.

"'No'?"

"No. You're obviously not okay and I can't just leave knowing you're upset. Look, hate me later, but I'm not leaving you alone right now."

Your head shook, a sardonic smile blooming brightly; giving a sort of disbelieving chuckle. "Seriously? Of all people? You? Fucking you? You don't even like me, so why're you really here, James? The fuck do you want?"

"All right, down girl, I come in peace," he couldn't help but snap; defensive that his act of kindness was under such scrutiny.

"Yeah? If that's the truth, then remove yourself, please. You don't need to be here, interrupting my search for said peace."

"Why is it so hard to believe I'm here out of legitimate concern?"

"Because you don't think about anyone but yourself."

"Okay, ouch - "

"You know what? I'm not tryna fight, James, I don't want to do this, okay?" You cried without letting any tears fall down your cheeks, beyond frazzled in that moment. "I don't want to do any of this, actually - this whole bloody premier, the interviews, all the pictures! People lying, people yelling!"

"Okay, okay, just take a breath, sweetheart, hey, hey." He took a step towards you, "Why's tonight making you feel this way? Huh? What's going on? You've done premiers before, what's different about tonight?" He asked softly, seeing the tears surface again, how your hands couldn't stay still anymore. You began to pace in front of the sink; cracking, threading, unthreading, twiddling, and twirling your fingers.

"You! It's fucking you, James!"

"Bucky," he corrected stiffly with a sigh of disappointment, keeping himself still to watch you pace with words caught in your throat. He didn't push you, somewhat afraid of getting his head bitten off again.

"It's just you," you continued as if he hadn't spoke. "I honestly don't know what I did to make you hate me to this extent, but I can't stand it - especially after everything! I mean, I know, I get it, sleeping together shouldn't have meant anything - but I guess you're just a better actor than I am! There, okay? I said it, you're so much better than me because I-I can't just pretend and lie about what happened between us - not us, not this time! And I hate that it's fucking with me this bad, but it's everything right now, okay? It's the matching outfits and the touching - so much fucking touching, James, for fuck's sake! I know we're supposed to be posing for photos and playing this role of two people who actually like one another, but holy fuck, it's so much touching - so many photos, so many questions, so many recollections and memories, and so much lying - I fucking hate that we're lying about us - "

"Hey, hey, hey," Bucky soothed, suddenly materializing in front of you and holding both your arms, but let go when you reared back, "woah there, I don't hate you. It's quite the opposite, doll, but you need to take a breath, please, try to-to-to calm down and I know you're not supposed to tell women that, but I don't know what else to say right now. Listen, it's not lying for me, all right? It's not lying, it's me using wishful thinking as a coping mechanism."

"W-What?" You put some distance between you again by stepping back into the furthest corner of where marble counter met wall. Exhaustion pitted your bones, hollowing them; adrenaline flooding your system after your anxiety made you feel defenseless. Tears fell without thought or realization.

Bucky's eyes were soft, his brows crinkled in concern, lips gently twitching before speaking, "I just, I realized how fucking rude I've been to you - I mean, it shouldn't matter that you never called, I could've! You know? Phone's work both ways, so, I just started thinking how much of a dick I've been - "

"What're you talking about?" You asked, tears slowing but still dribbling. "J-James, what're you talking about, I didn't call? Why would I have called you? You left me! You left. That was a pretty clear message to send."

His brows now hooked towards his nose in confusion, "What do you mean, I left?"

"After we slept together."

"Oh, baby, you think I skipped out on you? I went to get us breakfast and coffee..." he purred, taking a slow step towards you, "But when I got back, you were already gone, on set. I thought you'd leave a note, but you didn't, so I didn't really think to linger in your hotel suite. I thought maybe you'd call or text me when you got back, but when you didn't, I figured you were busy and waited, then figured you regretted us being together."

"Wait... Wait, wait, wait, what? Hold on, y-you went to get us...? Hold on, what? I'm still playing catch up."

Bucky stood in front of you, gently pulling you from the corner just to lean in the middle of the marble with his hands warm on your waist and ribs.

"Yeah," Bucky grins, "I went to get us breakfast. Toasted plain bagel with eggs - scrambled, of course - extra cheese, and you prefer bacon to pork sausage, but only if it's extra crispy and if they don't offer turkey sausage. You like either maple syrup or Sriracha," Bucky's hands flexed to a sudden bruising grip, hoisting you onto the counter, "depending on your mood." You were stunned into silence, heart pounding; allowing him to hike your dress skirt over your thighs, then spread them only so he could stand between them, "And of course, you like both hot and iced mocha lattes equally with regular cream and sugar. Because you don't trust all baristas to get your portions right, you like keeping additional cream and sugar on hand in case it's not enough - which is why you think your coffee is complicated, because you go based on taste instead of color or measurement."

Your smile was genuine, curling your hand under his jaw to caress tantalizing stubble; holding around his neck and shoulders to remain close. You hushed, "I know that shouldn't impress me, but it does..."

"As long as you stop crying, baby, c'mon," he whined gently, "I can't stand the sight."

You nodded and sniffled, looking down as your foreheads met; gently fiddling with his diamond-crusted lapels. "For the record?" You whispered, noses nuzzling, "I don't regret it..."

"Good," he matched your tone, "'cause I don't either. But I do regret how I've treated you... I'm really sorry, doll. Maybe if I wasn't such a dickhead, we could've had these last 6 months together, huh?"

"Probably not, weren't you on location?" You snickered, caressing his cheek and keeping his forehead on yours as your tears dried and reality came back into hand.

"Oh, like you weren't?" He smirked. "Hey, I gotta question for you."

"Hm?"

"Can I take you to dinner? Please? You know, do this properly? We kinda skipped some steps."

You pulled back to look at him, laughing, "Could I clean the mascara off my face before you ask me out?"

"What mascara?"

"Oh, please - "

"Nah, seriously, baby, you look perfect, I promise, whatever Jessie used 's gotta be waterproof," he grinned, hand reaching up to hold your cheek sweetly, thumb sweeping away your tear tracks.

"How do you know my make-up artist?"

"I might follow them on Instagram," he shrugged casually, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now, I know this great pizza place, right?"

"Uh-huh...?"

"And I think you'll love it. C'mon, baby, lemme take you there."

"Where is it?"

"Not... That... Far..."

"What does that mean? Bucky, what're you plotting?"

"So, the pizza place, right? It's technically in Rome - but - "

"Bucky! Hell no - "

"Hear me out!"

"We're not going to Rome!"

"Hang on, just listen to me, baby, okay?" He purred, gripping your hips in a bruising grip to drag you to the edge, "Let's get this premier done, right? And after, you and me go to the airport - I'll have my people get us tickets, Regina can grab your passport, you know? And let's just get away for a little bit, said you've never been to the Amalfi Coast."

You laughed sarcastically, "Yeah, okay, sure."

"You think I'm joking?"

"A little bit."

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you to suppress his own grin; lapping his tongue against yours. "Just say yes, doll, c'mon, lemme make up for my dickhead behavior, huh?" He pleaded quietly.

You hummed, kissing him again, answering against his lips, "Yes, to all of it."

"Yes?"

"Yes - " You squealed in laughter when Bucky surged forward to kiss you again, this time, out of sheer relief, pure joy, and unrestricted excitement.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

[selfdesructivedisaster]

YASSS. So I don’t agree with all your points but I’m so happy to be having these complex moral discussions about my favourite musical!!!

To preface, I think you’re 100% right about Glinda obviously being the more selfish one of the two. To imply otherwise was dumb on my part lol.

To start at your first point, i don’t think having more justifiable motivations makes someone more or less selfish. Yes Elphaba only wants to be normal so people can stop judging her based solely on her appearance, but if anything id say this is a more selfish motivation than just wanting social status and fame. We often confuse selfishness as a bad thing, but when you’ve been ostracised and hated your whole life like Elphaba has of course you’d be mainly concerned with changing that. Her motivations in act one as a character are entirely for personal gain, to be see as normal. As to where Glinda who only wants status and love just because she likes it (my superficial queen) . it isn’t as intrinsic to her character as being accepted is to Elphaba’s character. Like, if you took away their selfish attributes: Glinda would definitely be changed, but Elphaba would just be an entirely different character!

To your second point I do think you’re partially right! Elphaba doesn’t want Glinda to ruin her life just because, she just wants her to fight against the injustices relating to animals! And the social isolation and hatred that would follow is just a byproduct of doing that! But here’s where Elphaba’s selfish tendencies shine the strongest in my opinion. Elphaba is so morally high and just that she’s is looking past social consequence and only focusing on political justice. She is ignoring how big of an ask this is and ignoring how doing this morally right thing would be a personally awful thing for Glinda. It’s selfless of her to fight for the rights of marginalised people because it’s going against her OWN initially selfish motivations but then going around and asking someone to do the same is selfish because even though Glinda also cares about animals, she has no obligation to ruin her life to help them out. asking this of Glinda even though she knows how miserable a life like that would be for her, is a selfish ask!

Now with all that being said you are 100% right that during Defying Gravity Elphaba goes through a change in her character that makes her more selfless than Glinda. But I think ignoring her initially selfish and self-centred roots takes the nuance out of the situation 

By having Elphaba make a personally selfless choice it really contrasts the selfish choice she’s asking of Glinda.

This metaphor is a little out there so bear with me— what if a vegan asked their meat loving friend to also be a vegan because they both hate the exploitation of animals. Who is more selfish? The vegan asking her friend to do something they would obviously not want to do? Or the friend continuing to eat meat despite hating the exploitation?

There’s no right answer because they both have their justifications and rebuttals!

I don’t believe Glinda’s decision was a wrong one because putting morality over personhood is an objectively difficult decision! Even tough I 100% agree with Elphaba’s decision to fight against the wizard despite being hated for it; i don’t think I could do the same!

Anyways this is super long and sorry I was just so passionate about ur response lol. I really hope you respond to this because I would love to hear your opinions feedback!

I love how inherently selfish both Glinda AND Elphaba are as protagonists. But where one gets praised and admired for it, the other gets demonised and hated.

People always attack Glinda’s decision not to runaway with Elphaba, but no one acknowledges how overtly selfish it is to ask that of someone.

Elphaba is asking Glinda to throw her ENTIRE life away for her. To be ostracised and hated all throughout Oz when she knows full well how badly Glinda cares about what people think of her.

And while Elphaba is used to such ostracisation, Glinda is not.

It is an equally selfish decision refuse Elphaba request. To perpetuate corrupt beliefs you don’t believe; in order to be accepted and validated by people in power.

They’re BOTH in the wrong, for entirely different reasons. It was an impossible situation with no right answer. And I’m sick of people acting like Glinda made the “ wrong choice ”

[rainecreatesstuff]

right not to get ahead of ourselves but I’ve had the best idea for another life series:

Past Life.

They start off with the normal traffic life system, but other than that, no rules or mechanics other than the very basic ones. Every session, a number of players are randomly selected, and randomly assigned different life seasons. Until the end of the session, they are to play exactly as they would if they were in that season.

Of course, the interpretation of this is entirely up to the individual players. I imagine for most seasons they would be given the actual mechanics for the time they’re playing that season. For example, if someone gets assigned secret life, a task will pop up in their inventory. Limited life players are playing with the clock system until the end of session, double life players are linked to their soulmates (maybe their previously assigned one, maybe a completely new one). Last lifers can gift lives, and maybe have a chance of being assigned boogeyman as well.

Like I said, it’s completely up to the players how they wanna interpret the prompt. Maybe to one person, it just means playing with a new set of rules and mechanics, maybe others decide they are fully embodying their character from that season, and their current alliances and grudges are null and void. Maybe some players tell their allies and others decide not to.

This would not only be a fun return to earlier mechanics and perhaps even character dynamics, it would also return the series (in my opinion) to feel more pvp oriented. You don’t know when your teammate might suddenly become a whole different person and stab you in the back. As well, you don’t know what rules other teams are playing with. Maybe you’re not allowed to team a red with a green, but others are. Maybe you, at times, don’t even know that killing someone will actually drop them, cuz it won’t if they’re on a clock. And if you’ve got the secret life heart system, well, do you keep that a secret? Do you tell people that when you lose health, it’s gone for the session? Is it safer or more dangerous?

I feel like we’re at the point now where a sort of nostalgia cycle is starting to hit people for third and last life especially, and we’ve also seen so many different mechanics that i think some people are starting to feel like it’s distancing itself too much from the original series. I feel like this would be a really fun way to sort of roll back and revisit the older seasons, and might give people who are feeling a bit less connected to the newer mechanics a sort of connection and closure with the older seasons so the creators can move on with bigger things.

Of course, probably none of this will ever happen, but I genuinely think it would be so cool and fun both in a narrative sense and a meta sense.

[simplyraeblue]

King and Captive

(Hunter and Hunted Spin-Off) read here

a chance meeting with Sukuna quickly turns into a nightly routine you can't escape. as the lines between game and something more blur, you start to wonder—how long can you keep playing, or will Sukuna make you his next conquest? !Sukuna x !femreader

chapter warnings/tags: swearing, drinking, use of "princess", not much of anything this part tbh. eventual smut warning tho of course ( • ᴗ - ) A/N: THE SPIN OFF IS FINALLY HERE! of course, because I'm obsessive I've already written 3 full parts... I suck at writing beginnings though, so bear with me as things are a lil slow in my opinion! I hope you all enjoy it as much as you enjoyed Hunter and Hunted; and be prepared for MORE smut cause its SUKUNA OF COURSE.

index part one | part two

part one word count: 2,762

Christmas had come and gone, and you had stepped into the new year with an even angrier outlook on life than you’d had before. sure, last year had been rough; you’d been cheated on and promptly dumped for someone else, and the bittersweet icing on the cake was when you found out your ex had gotten engaged over the holiday season. you’d done what any sane person would do – drank away your feelings.

the past few weeks, your friends could often find you at the bottom of a mug, angry eyes watching as you toyed with the coaster at any bar you’d walked into. you need – no, wanted – vengeance. you imagined the look on your ex’s face if you ran into him with another, maybe hotter, guy on your arm. men these days were only looking to get their dicks wet, how hard could it be to snag one?

you came to realize it was incredibly hard.

any man that gave you the time of day seemed to be scraping the bottom of the barrel, consistently sleezy and looking like they hadn’t showered in days. or worse, still lived in their mother’s basement. the men you worked with were no better. constantly watching your ass as you walked by, attempting to slyly cop a feel in the break room, and so on.

so, here you were, walking down the street to a pub around the corner from your job to grab a drink. you had a one-track mind for this sort of thing, oblivious to your surroundings until two men stepped into your path to stop you.

“excuse me.” you muttered as you took a step to the side, trying to go around them. before you could get back to your mission one of their hands reached out and snagged your wrist. ugh, more disgusting pigs. “I’ll ask you once to kindly let go off me.”

“c’mon pretty, we just wanna talk t’ ya.” the bigger, burlier one gave you a sly grin that made your skin crawl.

“yea, walking around with a skirt that short we couldn’t help but notice ya.” the one holding your wrist tightened his grip slightly. your frown stretched down your face as you took a moment to assess the situation. what was it your friends always said? right – be loud, draw attention, scream fire and whatnot.

“oi, get your fucking hands off me!” you shouted, tugging your wrist against the firm hold.

“what do ya expect when ya dress like a whore?” one of them snapped as they stepped closer. you were only dressed for work; skirt that came down mid-thigh, button up blouse that covered every inch of your skin, so how was this outfit whorish?

“she’s got a mouth on her, huh?” they nudged each other as you struggled to get free. with your free hand, you made a fist and pulled it back. you wouldn’t be able to seriously injure them, that was for sure, but you could at least distract and get away.

“I said leave me the hell alone, twatbags!” you shouted, fist shaking but staying firm in a pulled-back position. if they made one more move, you’d muster up the courage and hit one of them.

suddenly, both men went wide-eyed in front of you and your wrist was released from it’s prison. hah, so my scare tactics worked, you thought. you’d have to pat yourself on the back later for this achievement. “aw, little ole me got you boys scared? looks like you’re about to wet your pants.” you smirked, crossing your arms in triumph.

until their eyes traveled from you, to over your head.

“these guys bothering you?”

your body tensed at the deep, baritone voice from behind you. so that’s what had the men backing off – but that scared? whoever was behind you had to be huge, like a wrestler or something. you imagine big, bulging muscles and a towering figure, and you gulped.

“I believe she asked you to leave her alone.” whoever was behind you continued, and with each word you almost shivered. his voice exuded strength, even something like anger laced in his tone. or was it just annoyance? “oh, forgot to add the twatbags part. that was a good descriptor.”

the two men stepped back and the other man stepped forward, now standing slightly in front of you. you dared to scan his figure – not a body builder, but definitely not small. he wore a black compression tee that showed off his muscles, and you could see the tattoos running all across his skin, intertwined and connected everywhere you looked. your eyes caught on his light pink hair, slicked back but disheveled on the sides as if he’d been running a hand through the strands.

“while I’d love the entertainment of watching her take a swing at you, I don’t think you want to see what happens if you retaliated.” the man merely crossed his arms before looking down at you. he did in fact tower, maybe just over you but he was still above average height. something flickered in his eyes as they met yours, and you could only stare at him speechlessly.

he hadn’t even had to do anything before the men scoffed and walked away, albeit hurriedly like a fire had been lit under their asses. you and the man watched as they scurried down the sidewalk, and you finally let out a sigh when they disappeared from sight.

“thanks for that. although I’m pretty sure I had it covered.” you felt him look at you as you watched the distance – double checking that they were in fact gone before you left the protection of the stranger.

he chuckled lowly as he shook his head. “looks like you did. but, I thought I’d provide backup just in case.”

but before he could continue, you were already walking away in the opposite direction of the two men. all you had wanted was a damn drink, and by god you were going to get one.

you could hear the faint echo of footsteps behind you, but you tried to push it out of your mind, focusing instead on the door to the bar in front of you. with a swift motion, you yanked it open, stepping inside and hoping to lose the stranger following you.

but when you heard those same footsteps following you in, your patience snapped. you turned around, irritation bubbling to the surface. “are you following me?” you demanded, locking eyes with the man who had been trailing behind you. “do I need to be worried about you too?”

he just chuckled, his casual demeanor only adding to your annoyance. “do you think I owe you something now?” you shot back, trying to keep your tone serious, though it was clear he didn’t take you seriously at all.

his laughter echoed in the small space; a mocking sound that only made your frustration grow. “actually,” he said, his voice steady, “I came back to finish the beer I left to save your ass.” he gestured nonchalantly at a knocked-over bar stool and the half-empty drink sitting nearby, the remnants of the drink he’d been enjoying before the whole mess began.

the heat of embarrassment crept up your neck as you processed his words. “oh.” you mumbled, feeling the awkwardness seep into your skin. "sorry. considering the kind of men I’ve just dealt with, I didn’t know if you were some sleazeball too.”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “sleazeball? you sound like my little brother,” he said with a smirk, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

you couldn't help but throw a jab back. “then he has good taste in vocabulary.”

the man’s grin only grew wider, clearly amused by the bite in your tone. his eyes glinted with something like genuine entertainment as he took a step closer. “my name’s Ryomen Sukuna, by the way,” he said, his voice dripping with casual confidence.

you narrowed your eyes, studying him with suspicion. there was something about the way he carried himself that set your nerves on edge. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable giving my full name to a complete stranger,” you replied, your tone a mix of caution and defiance.

Sukuna simply shrugged, as though your response didn’t faze him in the least. “but I just introduced myself, after acting as your knight in shining armor, I might add.” he gave a lazy stretch, his posture relaxed as he leaned against the bar, his gaze fixed on you as if daring you to challenge him further.

you didn’t back down. “that doesn’t mean I know you now,” you said, your eyes still narrowed. you turned away from him, flagging down the bartender who had just started to clean the counter. “a drink. whiskey, neat,” you said, your voice firm as you slid a few bills across the bar.

normally, you wouldn’t dare drink hard liquor on a weekday at five o’clock, but goddamn you needed it now. your nerves were on edge, but a stronger feeling had settled within you since the start of this particular conversation.

he was unbelievably attractive. pierced ears, tattooed skin, and a smile reminiscent of the devil across his lips. so so not your usual type. but then again, your type had cheated on you. Sukuna’s presence was almost overwhelming – strength, confidence or cockiness – the air stilled around him like it was intruding his space.

Sukuna watched you with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “then get to know me,” he said, his voice low and almost coaxing, as if the idea of you refusing was an amusing thought to him.

you didn’t hesitate in your response. “buy me a drink and I’ll consider it,” you shot back, your tone playful but laced with a challenge. you’d be damned if you’d make it that easy for him, knowing all to well the type of men that seem to flirt with you always turn out to be disgusting.

he raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your boldness, but said nothing as the bartender set your drink down in front of you. it was clear you weren’t going to make things easy for him, but that only seemed to fuel his curiosity.

you were already fascinating him. from Sukuna’s first look at you, ready to stand your ground against two grown men, to now acting defiant against him even as he could see the tension in your shoulders with every sentence you spoke. were you feigning confidence or was it real? he liked the way you talked back to him; it made the conversation more entertaining, and he eased into it with pleasure.

Sukuna’s eyes never left you as you took your drink from the bartender, the smooth amber liquid catching the dim light of the bar. he didn't immediately respond, just leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, a thoughtful expression playing across his features. for a moment, you wondered if he was going to let the challenge slide.

then, to your surprise, he pushed off the bar with a slow, deliberate movement and took a step toward you. his presence felt heavier now, more intense. heat rolled off of him and over you, his cologne drowned your senses. “a drink, huh?” he mused, his voice taking on a playful edge, like he was toying with you. “that’s all it takes to get you to talk to me?”

you took a sip of your whiskey, cringing at the burn as you met his gaze head-on. “depends on the drink,” you replied, the hint of a smirk curling at your lips. you had no intention of giving in that quickly, not when he still felt like a puzzle you weren’t sure you wanted to solve.

Sukuna chuckled softly, the sound deep and almost predatory, like he was enjoying the chase. “I think I can handle that,” he said, raising a hand to signal the bartender. his attention briefly shifted to the man behind the counter, but when it returned to you, his expression had softened, just a fraction, though the amusement never fully left his eyes. “is whiskey your usual, then?” he asked, his tone suddenly more casual, almost conversational.

you tilted your head, considering him for a moment. “I’m not sure it’s the drink I’m worried about,” you said, leaning in just slightly, your voice quieter now. “it’s the company.”

he gave you a look that said he wasn’t fazed by your words, not in the slightest. "trust me," he replied smoothly, "I’m better company than most people you'd find in this place."

he wasn't wrong. there was something undeniably magnetic about him, an energy that drew you in despite your better judgment. you could sense there was more to him than what he was showing, and a part of you couldn’t help but wonder what he was really after.

the bartender placed a fresh drink in front of Sukuna — a glass of something darker, likely whiskey as well, and more expensive than the one you had just ordered. Sukuna didn’t touch it immediately, instead shifting his stance so he was fully facing you, his eyes now narrowing just slightly, as if sizing you up. like you were a snack he wanted to take a bite out of.

"alright, I’ll bite," he said, his voice a low murmur as he watched you closely. “what’s your story?”

you took another sip of your drink, your gaze never leaving his. “maybe I’ll tell you,” you said slowly, deliberately, “but it’s going to cost you more than just a drink.”

Sukuna’s lips curled into another half-smile, his confidence never wavering. “I’m up for the challenge. what’s the price?” his tone had shifted again, all business now, but there was still an edge of that playful intensity behind it.

for the briefest moment, you almost felt like you were playing a game with him, something neither of you had agreed on but that you both instinctively understood. you hesitated, eyes scanning his face for any hint of vulnerability — but there was none.

“get me another round, and we’ll talk,” you finally said, giving him a sly smile that matched the gleam in your eyes.

Sukuna didn’t need another word. he turned away, reaching for the glass, a quiet satisfaction in his movements. he knew the game was far from over, but there was no doubt in his mind that he’d be the one to win it.

you lifted your eyes to meet his, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and caution. he was still an enigma, his expression unreadable, his posture relaxed but with an edge that hinted at something more dangerous beneath.

“you’re a man of few words,” you observed, your voice playful but with an undercurrent of challenge. “or is it that you’re waiting for me to spill my life story?”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your attempt to provoke him. “I’ve got all the time in the world,” he replied smoothly, voice low and even. you could feel his eyes on you, studying you in a way that made you want to pull back, but also something else—a curiosity, maybe even an unspoken challenge.

you took another sip, avoiding his gaze for a moment. “and what’s in it for me?” you asked, your voice steady but carrying a hint of sarcasm. “why should I bother getting to know you?”

Sukuna’s smile deepened, almost like he was savoring the moment. “because,” he said, his voice now tinged with something a little darker, “I’m not just any stranger. and I think you’ll find out, sooner or later, that I’m worth your time.”

his confidence was almost infuriating, but you couldn’t deny that something about him intrigued you. maybe it was his audacity, or maybe it was the mystery that clung to him like a second skin. or possibly, that he could be the hottest man you’d ever laid eyes on. either way, you weren’t ready to walk away just yet.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” you replied, a small challenge in your voice, but this time, there was a flicker of curiosity in your gaze too.

Sukuna met your challenge with a steady, unwavering stare, his smirk never fading. “then I guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out, won’t you?”

it wasn’t an offer. it wasn’t even a question. it was a promise. and whether you liked it or not, you were beginning to realize that you might just be caught up in his game—whether you wanted to be or not.

it wasn’t an offer, or even a question. it was a damn promise. whether you realized it, you were beginning to get caught up in his game – it was inevitable.

⊹. ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . taglist: @mangiswig @aldebrana @ravester @marie-is-in-the-dark @makingtimemine @sorahatake @osohchoso @csolya I tagged some people that interacted A TON with Hunter and Hunted who I appreciate so so much ; so if you were tagged and would like to be removed just let me know! ♡ I hope this fic is as loved as Hunter and Hunted! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

[light-alexandria]

hello, system community!

i’m trying to find information/hear personal experiences of systemhood from others, if any of you would be so kind as to help me!

particularly, i would like to hear from those who identify as endogenic or otherwise non-trauma formed systems. of course, i would love to hear from trauma-formed systems as well! it’s just that i am one, and so that’s the community i have been most involved with & heard from already.

feel free to DM me anonymously if you don’t want to share publicly. i won’t post anything. my aim is to hear from others so that i can form my own opinions, figure out the right direction to go for independent research, and to simply understand others more.

thank you very much in advance, and i hope you all are having a wonderful day 💙

(please be mindful & respectful with what is said if you reply publicly. i am looking for open discussion, not arguments or hate.)

[jarl-deathwolf]

EXCELLENT!

Ooo that is a lot of FANTASTIC information, I pulled up a document and got to work taking notes. I'll have to spend some time sorting it out into a handy reference sheet but even as-is this will help a lot.

I'm really glad I asked because this includes a lot of details that I wouldn't even know to ask, like the acidic/neutral/alkaline distinctions between forests. Between that and the wet/dry divide, now I can look at a map of around where the characters are and sus out roughly what they're looking at. It really does take away a lot of the stress when

Better yet, it gives me options so I can pick some possible environments to suit what I need in the story. Like choosing a wet forest if I need treacherous terrain, or a Celtic Rainforest to enhance the splendor of a moment.

Best of all, this gives me a vocabulary of things that I can then look up references for, and a bank of plants and animals I can pull up to add life to a scene.

One thing I've really struggled with in this story has been giving the region its own distinct feel compared to other woodlands. Which is doubly important since the entire story revolves around people desperately trying to save it (and their culture) from being destroyed by colonization and conquest.

That section was pretty thorough, so I'll have to digest it for a while before I've got more questions there.

Anyway, getting into more specific comments, as well as the map, below:

(map by @noanieactuallydrawingalot) So this is the continent where the stories take place as a whole. I may or may not have made the Fells (Fantasy Wales) something like five times as large as its real counterpart. Here is more specifically the Fells, with the three big rivers named (I assume there are many more rivers and small lakes, these are just major ones) and the historic realms of the Fells marked out

I've tentatively named some broader regions, but I'm not confident about those just yet. Red dots denote major cities. The yellow line is where the old empire's borders were - those five Fellish realms are still fully under foreign rule, with four more ruled by Marcher Lords, which is just more tenuous foreign rule.

Let me know how I did with the geography and such! I've done a lot of free time studying and took a college course about it, but things like the effects of ocean currents and wind patterns always tripped me up. Anyway, I'm glad I ended up pretty close with Old Man Ash. I think he would be fine with the informal version - the other name he gets called in the story is Grandad, so I get the sense he cares more about people being comfortable in his presence than formality. Although keep me updated on if your inlaws have a different opinion - I'll need to contact my editor to update the PDF, so I'd rather do that just once. With what you said about broadleaves being exclusively what makes up the old growth forests, I wonder if that would mean that all Dagfolk would be based on broadleaves? 🧐 Since I'm sending pictures, here is the (now properly named) Hynafwr Onn:

(art by dinwardo over on twitter)

Before I move onto the next thing, just a quick question: I have another Dagfolk (like Grandad up there). His current placeholder name is the Great Oak, and he's considered the wisest and most powerful of the Dagfolk. A personal friend of King Arthur.

I don't suppose you'd have a suggestion for a name?

I am delighted that you bring up bards because I made the main character a Fellish bard by the name of Llywela ferch Marared. She plays a crwth and I like to have her make subtle references to Welsh songs like Sebona Fi and Yma O Hyd. I gave her uncommonly red hair to imply a connection with Annwyn.

(I realize that's not the usual spelling of Annwn, but I chose it so I wasn't directly cribbing mythology and making it harder for people to learn about those myths) I also have some commissioned art of Llywela, plus the Lady of the Lake and the Merlin analogue, for what it is worth. You mentioned faeries with the peat bogs. I don't think faeries will be making a huge appearance in this story (mostly just one knight), but I'd be glad to hear about Welsh-specific faerie lore if you've got it on hand.

You also said that cheeses were a big Welsh cultural touchstone. Are there Welsh specific varieties that you can tell me about? And what sort of dishes are they made into?

Also on that train of thought, you mentioned a plant that flavors mead - would that be the go-to alcohol of choice, or are there others floating around? Both for a lord's table and what you might find in an inn.

And thanks again for the response, this really has been a treasure trove of great information for me!

Hi hello! I'm writing a story in my original world, set in a Fantasy Wales. A King Arthur Returns type story, if that matters.

I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about Welsh ecology? And possibly also some cultural details?

Thanks ahead of time! And I understand if you decline or don't respond!

YES OH MY GOD YES HELLO

[alexanderwales]

The push for "person-first language" came from the 1983 Denver principles published by the organization "People with AIDS".

We condemn attempts to label us as "victims," a term which implies defeat, and we are only occasionally "patients," a term which implies passivity, helplessness, and dependence upon the care of others. We are "People With AIDS."

This makes sense to me, and it's mostly because the formation "AIDS people" is, instinctively, ludicrous. But this is because "AIDS" isn't an adjective, and there's not a great adjective that we can use in its place, and because there's not a great general term for "people with AIDS" or other formation. Some of this is also just "if the condition is stigmatized, then any term that refers to it will grow stigma".

But then "person-first language" started to spread.

I think it's defensible to have people write "an alcoholic man" rather than "an alcoholic", and I do accept the argument that writing "an alcoholic" in some way essentializes the condition of alcoholism. I don't think that this is some massive improvement, and there are definitely some very untested Sapir-Whorf theories that we'd need to be true for this to be best practices (and the replication crisis should give even more pause than normal), but sure, "homeless people" rather than "the homeless", this is not egregious in my opinion, I can go along with it.

But what a lot of person-first language prescribes is different. It's "a person who is blind" rather than "a blind person". And this runs into the problem that in English, we put adjectives in front of nouns as a matter of course. We say "the cute black cat" rather than "the cat who is cute and black", just as a default.

So there are, naturally, a lot of arguments about this, and a lot of them are premised on shaky sociological studies and linguistic arguments about what goes on in someone's head when they say a thing.

When you say "blind person" are you putting the blindness before the person? When you say "person who is blind" are you making an awkward, ungainly sentence that sticks out and others? Which construction is more alienating? Which one is inclusive? Which more closely aligns with the fundamental reality of the adjectival trait?

And of course some people feel the urge to try to cut the Gordian knot and say "ah ha, let's ask people what they prefer", but I think in practice this doesn't really work, because different people prefer different things, and there isn't always a consensus, and also ... do we really want to have to memorize what every different group prefers, if there were consensus?

I had a section here where I listed out every major American organization and their preferences (if they had one), but it wasn't very funny or interesting, just sort of monotonous, but it would suffice to say that there's a lot of disagreement and/or mixed preferences, and if you're not talking to or about some specific person, it's a crapshoot. The National Federation for the Blind is pretty insistent on "blind people" or "the blind", with a number of articles having come out in strict opposition to person-first language. The Deaf community likewise seems to have a fair amount of opposition to person-first language, for most the same reasons.

So one-on-one, if you're talking with a friend or coworker, you let them lead the way, but if you're writing a letter to the editor, or a blog post, or talking to or with the general public, there are two standards to use and a complex morass of discussion about what's "preferred".

Personally, I loathe the language police, but as I hope I've made clear, I do like playing language detective.

[petalsonmoon]

one touch but you felt enough... you are in love.

(writing so i don’t think about the manga. for the wellness of my mental health. thank you for reading <3)

there's this thing shouto does

it's all too fresh. you can't even tell what you guys are.

shoto is a very sincere yet blank person. you can't read in his expression what he's feeling nor can you interpret his little actions. but if you ask him what he thinks about something he’ll express his opinion in the most clear and gentle way possible.

the course to what you both are now it's werdly cute. you noticed this little something he did because, well, who didn't notice the presence of shouto todoroki? he's the personification of kindness and quietude and tranquility. turns out these definitions created the most beautiful person you've ever seen.

and by noticing the details you noticed the overall and by doing that you two ended up getting closer and closer. you could rely on him to come to your dorm to tell you dinner was ready and be right there by your side during it and you would find him during his training or studing sessions to give him a water bottle. you would’ve thought that with a quirk like that he'd remember to drink it, right? he didn't.

you two would find easement in each others patience and honesty. it's actually being there for each other and not jumping any steps and boundaries that made you two unintentionally friends.

so on third year todoroki, being his straghforwardly serene person that he was, appeared in your dorm and cofessed to you how he had an affection for you for quite some time now, how much your time together was heightening to being the most comfortable he's been with someone and asked you if you wanted to stay by his side from now on.

those were his words. like, c'mon.

so you said yes. that you very much feel much calmer in his presence and would be absolutely happy to be by his side.

that was 2 weeks ago.

since then you noticed this little thing he did.

which is funny, to perceive a slight action from someone whose words were his main character.

and you wait for it to happen at least three times before saying anything.

right now you were in the communal space, sitting in the sofa while your remaining colleagues were still stretching after a 2 hour movie and chatting the plot away,

it was summer so the air conditioner was on. a few glasses with only ice could be found on the coffee table.

you were next to shoto, by his right, smuggled between him and furniture’s arm. you turn to look at him and gets irritated how his profile is so fucking powerful.

“do you like fantasy movies?” you whisper to him. he thinks about it for a moment.

“i like them” he replies, gazing down at his hands. “but they’re not my preference.”

“and what would that be?” you start fidgeting with your fingers, very slighly.

he takes a deep breath and squint his eyes for a second. he turns his eyes to you and you have to seriously fight your lungs to not hold it’s breath just because your heat leaped a beat.

“romcoms.” he says under his breath, expression clearly blank.

you pinched your lips trying not to let the chuckle escape. it makes sense, actually.

“can i ask why?”

“they’re very entertaning.” he comteplates softly “not too much going on but you can always have a great time and even a good laugh.”

he finishes his thought and looks away, satisfied. you can’t help but feel your body sink in fondness.

“that’s true. they’re always nice.” you reply.

“what about you?”

“my favorite genre?”

he nods and looks at you again.

“i would say...” you look down and think how you’d already know the answer. would he think less of you for being too different from his likes? “drama? with a bit of suspense in it?”

he nods in response and you don’t feel his eyes on your face anymore. you’re both looking at your hands.

“it makes sense.” he concludes after a moment and you look up at him, intrigued. “they’re always very interesting.”

tou let the little smile in your mouth win and checks around discretely, after seeing only a few people far in the kitchen you leave a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

the little smile also make an appearance on his face for a millisecond.

 “i also really like animation.” You say.

his eyebrows go up for a second. “yes, some of them are really impressive.”

“they have a way to make hugs so beautiful and comforting...” you let it out before even thinking. that’s just how comforting it was being with him.

“oh. the studio ghibli embraces, isn’t it?” he completes.

“yes! it’s really profound somehow and sometimes a hug like that is all you need.” you look away and shiver. it is hot but you did not go well with air conditioners. the temperature people tend to feel content at usually was the same one where you needed to be in a hoodie. but that was a unimportant fact that would die with you.

“hm” he replies “i think princess mononoke is my favorite one...”

“it makes sense.”

he turns to you once again, expressionless. “does it?”

“uhum.” you feel your body shivering again “it’s very humane and important...”

“what else?” he whisper.

“and emotional and romantic... it’s perfect, really.” you hold his gaze, already wanting to stay there forever.

and then he does it.

right when you conclude your description you feel his fingertips slowly touching yours with such tenderness and delicacy you’d almost miss it, if you didn’t also automatically felt your body warming up to the exact condition for you to feel perfectly comfortable.

“oh, shouto...” you let it espace, feeling like you could cry. you didn’t say a word about your issue but he noticed. he noticed you.

he interlocks your fingers and takes your knuckles to his mouth, placing a warm and short kiss there.

“it seems to me that it’s your favorite movie too.”

you move your free hand and position it in the back of his head, your fingers starts moving sweetly and he closes his eyes.

you take the opportunity to kiss him. he immediately responds and kisses you completely. his kiss is slow and patient and sure and you feel yourself melting in your feelings for him. your hand on his head makes sure to intensify the kiss and shoto lets a delicious and lovely sound escape his throat.

you pull back for a second. “i’m feeling a bit lightheaded.”

his eyebrowls furrowing and his eyes sparkling.

“like i’m in a romcom.”

[femconstellation]

What are y’all’s opinions on the Drew Afualo situation?

For context, a white lesbian made a video saying how there could never be a lesbian Drew because the content Drew makes about men is accepted better because she is straight, meanwhile if a lesbian makes similar content about men, she will be harassed on the basis of her being a lesbian. And while straight female creators also experience harassment for talking negatively about men, lesbians experience harassment even from the straight women who love content like Drew’s but cannot accept similar content from a lesbian.

Drew responded, saying that it was dismissing that she is a woman of color and indigenous, so becoming famous wasn’t easy for her. She acknowledges her straight privilege, but she says that the original video was saying she had it easy when she doesn’t. People then began to attack the lesbian who made the original video saying that she was dismissing a woman of color.

The white lesbian made a video replying to Drew’s comment saying that she is a fan of Drew and was not insulting Drew at all in the video, but she meant it to mean that straight women will receive support when talking negatively about men, but when a lesbian does it, she receives harassment, and she has been the victim of harassment often due to being a lesbian who talks negatively about men.

A lot of people are criticizing the white lesbian, saying she is talking from a place of privilege and that it isn’t easy for Drew at all. A lot of people are also criticizing Drew, saying she misconstrued the original video as an attack when it was criticism of straight privilege.

My personal opinion is that I absolutely understand why Drew is defensive about being mentioned in a video claiming she has privilege, but it is not wrong to acknowledge that a straight woman has privilege over a lesbian on the basis of sexuality, and when Drew’s content is about hating on men, of course her sexuality plays a part in the audience she has. She doesn’t have it easy at all because she is a woc, but she would have it harder if she was a lesbian woc. And the original video wasn’t an attack on Drew at all. I watched it, and it was just making the point that straight women do have it easier in conversations criticizing men than lesbians. I think the mistake was mentioning a specific name, though. Because Drew does face a lot of harassment. But I am also coming at this conversation from a place of white privilege, so of course I might be missing something.

[bookskiver]

Tmr characters at school (in my humble opinion):

Newt minho and gally are a trio in PE

Gally takes the sports way too seriously he defo shouts at other students, looking like a tomato by the end of the lesson

Minho is once again just there for a good time. He's effortlessly good at all sports whilst simultaneously caring about none of them (except running of course (and for some reason i feel hockey)) he's the pe teachers fav and for that reason he can get out of any trouble, he defo uses this to his advantage. Also... he gets girls (it's me I am girls)

Newt is just the chill version of minho, does not give two shits about sports but is really good at all of them, hes mainly there to mess around with minho.

When he gets his limp minho is AGGRESSIVELY PROTECTIVE if anyone makes fun of newt he will "accidentally" shove them to the ground and make them eat a mouthful of AstroTurf

And he doesn't get in trouble bc he's the favourite lol

Newt also gets girls... but he doesn't want them he wants the awkward art and theatre kid doodling in the corner of the classroom THOMAS GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE

Thomas outside of school is a certified yapper, but in school, he is sworn to a vow of silence

Newt always chooses him first in PE because he doesn't want thomas to be the last one chosen (and also because he wants to watch thomas do sports newt I know what you are)

Teresa is straight A's and works really hard for them, she's all the teachers favorite and all the students least favorite (they're just jealous teresa 🙄🙄🙄) she has an academic rival (not romantic please😭) and that person isssssssss drum roll please.........

Frypan 💀

And frypan has no idea about this rivalry. He is effortlessly smart, does not revise, and occasionally bunks but still gets all A's. He's also chill with everyone at the school and can keep up a convo with anyone

And teresa gets PISSED

In her mind frypan is out to get her and hates her guts when really he barely knows of her existence

Chuck cannot catch a break bro

He's a year 7, been there less than a year and has been pelted with a panini on more than one occasion (wonder who would do that GALLY)

He cannot leave the cantine without his food being smacked to the ground

Wherever chuck walks, an spilled pot of pasta follows (GALLY)

He sits in the art room with thomas and yaps away whilst thomas draws (he's not technically allowed in there bc he's not an art student, but the teacher feels bad for him)

Alby is a beast at english. He doesn't talk to anyone, not bc he's shy but bc he doesn't fucking like them. Alot of the younger years think he's a teacher

Brenda is top set PE

She's also super into PE theory but doesn't like that class as much bc there's not that many girls in it and she wants to make some more girl friends bc SHES SICK AND TIRED OF THE PICK ME ALLEGATIONS AT THIS SCHOOL

She gets them bc her friends are mainly men (she hangs out with the newt minho gally group) so people just assume she's "not like other girls"

But then she gets into a HEATED debate in English about feminism and people lay off

Sonya INCREDIBLE at art hangs out with thomas alot people think they're dating when really he's dating her brother HAHAHAHA

[wendigoruble]

✨️Info dump on my reagent oc, Gen✨️

Basics:

Full Name: Gen E. Ricc

Nickname(s): Coward, Rat, Stalker

Age: 25

Height: 5'8

He/She

Past:

Gen is basically the ideal person that Easterman would look for. He had a homelife in which he didn't perceive himself to have any inherent value to those around him. He very much felt forgotten in his own life and would typically spend time alone.

Once old enough, he would go on to work various odd jobs until stumbling across a flyer for the Murkoff charity. She was quick to apply and was soon taken to the Sinyala facility.

Present:

Gen has a reputation for being one of the biggest cowards in the program. So much so that it earned him that nickname. She frequently hides during trials and will refuse to aid other reagents out of fear. You do not want to do a trial with him. He'd be awful.

It's quite honestly a miracle that she hasn't been kicked out or killed.

No one really knows why she's allowed to stay when she doesn't actively make progress and just seems like a dead end.

Outside of this, she generally tries to come off as happy and helpful to others, as much as she can anyway. She will go out of her way to comfort others to the best of her ability, especially during post trial periods. She wants to make everyone else feel cared for and included.

Prime Asset Relationships:

☆Gooseberry:

Due to lingering memories of her past, he has a deep fear and discomfort about Gooseberry. Seeing Phyllis and Futterman as bickering parents more than anything else. He doesn't like the cursing, swearing, or harsh tone, and not even that soft voice can make him come around. He will avoid Gooseberry at all costs. The drill aspect of it all doesn't help either.

Because of the extreme avoidance, Phyllis has no opinion of Gen.

☆Coyle:

He doesn't find Coyle that charming either. Mostly, he's just annoyed by him and his comments. Though he does heavily fear the possibility of being electrocuted so it's another situation where he tries to avoid him as much as possible.

Again, due to avoidance, Coyle doesn't really have an opinion on Gen outside of just his general distaste for reagents.

☆Franco:

No one knows where it started, but Gen will actively seek out and stalk Franco throughout any trial they have together. Of course, she keeps her distance and wants to remain out of rage of lupara, but that doesn't stop her from trailing behind him. She likes listening to the things he says and how he moves. She's drawn to his fragile shell of confidence.

She's so good at stalking him that she can be an informant for other reagents because of it.

Due to a lot of personal issues Gen faces, he can't really discern between physical or emotional affection. If you ask him how he feels about Franco, he's likely to say something along the lines of "I don't know I just do, he's shaped." He can't really explain his attraction at all.

He will passively aid Franco if he's hurt, but mostly in the way of just throwing bandages or meds at him before running away.

Franco sees Gen as a pseudo-friend and toy to some degree. Entertaining enough not to shoot on sight and not to let him die, but will also frequently rough him up and use him as a ██████. Gen feels that this is a replacement for physical affection and accepts it gladly. This leads to a lot of embarrassing situations, though, when Gen has to leave any trial that had to do with him.

[chippedshake]

Ponyboy's narration pt. 2

Okay so.

I was going to make one post about all of the characters from the Outsiders as narrators but then I started with Ponyboy and saw it was too long a post. Then I started writing Ponyboy in two parts: how he influences the reader and what could've brought him to being an unreliable narrator, but I started with the how and saw it was too long a post.

So this is the second post about Ponyboy’s unreliable narration

This is the post where I talk about how Ponyboy influences the reader (i.e. what tehcniques he / S.E Hinton uses to change the reader's perception), and now this post is about what aspects of his personality brought him to be an unreliable narrator.

Just as a warning: almost everything I'm about to say is subjective (although heavily based on logic) and based on the way I interpret a character.

So without further ado:

What has brought Ponyboy to be such an unreliable narrator?

First of all, we have to consider that Ponyboy's only human. As I mentioned in my first analysis, I wouldn't be able to recite the conversation I had with my friend at the bus stop this morning, much less one from several weeks ago. When Ponyboy writes his English theme, it's been at least a couple weeks since Johnny and Dally died (I saw a detailed timeline somewhere; if I find it I'll link it), so everything has a certain degree of uncertainty.

But that's not the interesting part, because not all first-person narrators are known for being unreliable, while all first-person narrators have this degree of uncertainty that comes with everything being a recollection of facts.

I think that Ponyboy's unreliability can be boiled down to two main points: low self-esteem and struggling with social cues.

Struggling with social cues is a bit simpler to explain, so I'll start with that.

As I said in my other post, Ponyboy states his opinions as absolute facts. But often his opinions are misguided: he thinks Dally doesn't love anyone, and Darry doesn't care about him, both of which are eventually proven wrong. Those are both conclusions he got from taking interactions at their face value, not realising what the other two were thinking.

Darry yells at me? He must hate me. Dally doesn't show his love? He must not feel it.

Since the narrative corrected him on a couple times he failed to read social subtext, we can't assume he's right the other times he tells us what a character is thinking with absolute certainty. He could perfectly well be wrong, only he hasn't been corrected yet.

This is most evident with Johnny.

I think everyone in the fandom pretty much agrees that Ponyboy mischaracterises Johnny, portraying him as much weaker than he really is.

Some examples of Johnny's characterisation:

He was the gang's pet, everyone's kid brother.

...

"Me and Johnny'll come," I said. I knew Johnny wouldn't open his mouth unless he was forced to.

...

Then for the first time, really, I realized what we were in for. Johnny had killed someone. Quiet, softspoken little Johnny, who wouldn't hurt a living thing on purpose, had taken a human life.

I'm not saying that Ponyboy is 100% completely off when he characterises Johnny because that would be stupid. I have no authority to say he's wrong because Johnny doesn't exist and I don't personally know him.

I do however think that Johnny isn't exactly like Ponyboy says, simply because he was proven wrong with both Darry and Dally, so I have no reason to believe him about Johnny. It probably holds a nugget of truth, or is a reasonable misinterpretation just like Dally and Darry, but isn't the complete truth.

Now this is bridging into full-on speculation territory, but I think that Johnny changed how he was around Ponyboy. As someone who is currently sixteen and has an almost-fourteen-year-old little brother, I am not my real self around him. Of course, the situation is different, but I think that when you interact with someone younger than you, there is a conscious or subconscious filtering process.

Johnny might be quiet, but being quiet doesn't have to mean being the gang's pet or everyone's kid brother. Ponyboy probably misinterprets his silence for a sort of weakness or softness that I personally don't think is there.

Does that classify as a tangent? I think that classifies as a tangent. Idk guys I just love Johnny. I should dedicate a post just to how characters are mischaracterised and how I think they really are.

*adds to drafts*

Anyways...

Where was I?

Right, Ponyboy not understanding social subtext and social cues.

Basically, I think that there's a lot of times where he thinks someone means one thing and he's just drastically misinterpreted what they mean, only he never realises he's wrong. Not all that deep.

Now for the good stuff: Ponyboy's low self-esteem.

Why do I think he has low self-esteem?

Because I have low self-esteem and project onto my favourite characters

For a variety of reason, really. First of all, I have never met a teenager that is genuinely not insecure at all. Everyone’s uncomfortable with how they look and insecure about their abilities, and I think every teenager would be a very unreliable narrator as well as an insecure one.

And, well, Ponyboy is at the very least humble because

I get put into A classes because I'm supposed to be smart

It drives my brother Darry nuts when I do stuff like that, 'cause I'm supposed to be smart; I make good grades and have a high IQ and everything, but I don't use my head.

Ponyboy, at least at the beginning of the book, only ever says he's "supposed to be smart", not that he's actually smart. Cherry says he's smart. Darry says he's smart. Soda says he's smart. But Ponyboy never says he's smart.

Now, there's a lot to be said about how Ponyboy views intelligence (writing one post just brings me to fifteen other ones I want to make), but I think that even assuming he views intelligence as a negative trait, there are lots of ways to say "I'm smart", at least one of which shouldn't remind him of the negative connotations. "I'm good at school", "I'm school smart"; if he wanted to avoid saying "I'm smart", there were other ways.

 There was another column about just Darry and Soda and me: how [...] I made the honor roll at school all the time and might be a future track star. (Oh, yeah, I forgot — I'm on the A-squad track team, the youngest one. I'm a good runner.)

Ponyboy only ever tells us he regularly makes the honor roll and might be a future track star when it's absolutely indispensible. He doesn't like to brag about his accomplishments, much like someone who doesn't think they're important accomplishments.

He tends to devalue his own accomplishments and strong spots while exacerbating others'. (heh did you see that I used exacerbate in a sentence and it sounded natural)

We've all laughed at how much he waxes poetic on Soda's looks, but that is an example of him bringing attention to someone else's positive traits while mainly paying attention to his own flaws. He criticises his own looks in the opening monologue while constantly complimenting Soda's. He says he has a good build but he's still small for fourteen and talks a lot about how much muscle Darry has.

That isn't to say he doesn't criticise other people, he does, but he's constantly comparing himself to others and using their virtues to point out his own flaws in the most teenager form of self-hate I've seen.

I think the most interesting and possibly compelling argument for Ponyboy's insecurity lies with how it ties into the narration.

Ponyboy tells us that Steve, Dally, and Darry hate him at the beginning of the book. He thinks that three out of six people in the gang hate him.

That's nice.

Now, Dally and Darry are proved to actually care about him, but with Steve we're just left with the original assumption.

Let's take a look at the evidence, shall we?

I liked Steve only because he was Soda's best friend. He didn't like me — he thought I was a tagalong and a kid; Soda always took me with them when they went places if they weren't taking girls, and that bugged Steve.

...

Steve shook his head. "Me and Soda are pickin' up Evie and Sandy for the game." He didn't need to look at me the way he did right then. I wasn't going to ask if I could come. I'd never tell Soda, because he really likes Steve a lot, but sometimes I can't stand Steve Randle. I mean it. Sometimes I hate him.

...

Steve flicked his ashes at me. "What were you doin', walkin' by your lonesome?" Leave it to good old Steve to bring up something like that. 

That's it. That is all the evidence we have that Steve dislikes Ponyboy.

Ponyboy's opinion when he's introducing him, a supposed "look" (might I remind you that we've established that Ponyboy cannot read social cues), and Steve being... worried about him? In a way Ponyboy doesn't like?

Where have we seen that before?

(In case you haven't figured it out: that's exactly what happened with Darry)

And every other time Steve appears, there is absolutely no reason to think he dislikes Ponyboy. They seem friendly even.

Am I saying Steve is never annoyed at Pony? Absolutely not. If my best friend's little brother tagged along to all of our hang-outs, I'd be pissed off too. But there's a big difference between not wanting someone three years younger than you to tag along when you hang out with your best friend and genuinely hating them.

But if you have low self-esteem, you look at any signs of someone being lightly annoyed at you and take that to mean that they hate you (speaking from experience).

What this means for the storyline is that Ponyboy will undermine his own abilities and give the impression that his relationship with other people is worse.

So, in conclusion, Ponyboy is an unreliable narrator because

He's only human and can't be expected to remember everything perfectly

He is very, very bad at reading social cues and understanding subtext, so these are often mis-explained

He has low self esteem and therefore undervalues his own virtues and assumes other people have lower opinions of him