#the point is a fucking COMMUNITY how dare you make someone feel there is a barrier to entry

[billdenbrough]

very few things make me as fucking livid as people publicly mocking fan creations. how dare you. how dare you!!! someone loves something enough that they want to create for it and they’ve mustered up the courage to share it.

you don’t have to like everything. you don’t have to find everything to your taste. but equally you are not entitled to having everything being tailored to you. something is not less valid or worthy of existing within the community for your fandom because you don’t think it’s good or whatever. you don’t have to think someone’s characterisation is good, or you might think their shading needs work or their grammar isn’t all that – whatever. sure. you are allowed to have that opinion, but you are a fucking asshole if you express that in public. it costs zero dollars to shut up and make people feel that they are allowed to contribute to their fandom, wherever their experience or skill level is.

people are part of fandom communities because they love it!! fuck!! how dare you make someone feel unwelcome. how dare you make someone feel like the thing they are excited about and love to make isn’t good enough to be part of this community. oh my god

[misayani]

HONEY (R U COMING?) — SE-MI (PLAYER 380)

◜ pairing ... se-mi / player 380 x  fem reader

◜arrogant and bratty reader (044) recruiting se-mi (380) for the second game

𔗨 author's note — wasn't seeing enough fanfics for my baby so ... [lowercase intended]

"i dont see anyone else that's good enough for us" you hear gyeong-su comment with a huff. 

you're currently standing with three idiots—thanos, gyeong-su, and nam-gyu, slightly distanced from the three with your arms crossed against your chest and while your twirl your hair. 

"yo thanos, what are we going to do?" nam-gyu's irritating voice cut through all the noise of other people communicating.

thanos turned to him, his head bopping, motherfucker's high again. "i don't fucking care man, let them come to us. i mean, who wouldn't want to be with the great thanos!" 

both men chuckled as nam-gyu speaks up once again, "what about you 044? make yourself useful, can't just sit pretty doing nothing eh?".

"and you call yourself useful?" you scoff as you turned around to face the three, eyebrows raised. thanos smirked at you as you sighed, "fine, i'll make myself useful. no one would probably even care to join you, even if you begged." 

"you bitc—" nam-gyu would've reached you already if it weren't for thanos holding him back while cackling at the both of you.

with one last huff, you strutted your way to the crowd, scanning around the room for someone who met your personal standards—hot, unbothered, and most specially, a woman. 

your eyes landed on a person wearing a jacket with the number '380'. with a confident smirk, you walked towards the woman whose back is facing you and talking to someone.

"leave." your voice broke their conversation as they both looked at you. you eyes were darted to the boy specifically, him being the one you told to leave.

"w-what?" the boy stuttered, looking at you bewildered.

you furrow your eyesbrows, taking a step closer to the boy, "do i seriously need to get you hearing aids? i said leave." 

the boy scrambled away before you can even take your second step to him. with a pleased smile, you turned to the utterly attractive woman who looked at you with an amused expression.

"join me." short and straight to the point. you were confidently sure that she would just say yes and come with you— surely, who in their right minds would turn down a pretty girl's offe-

"why should i?" she voices out. oh. my. fucking. god is her voice so alluring. her looks already made your legs feel like jelly and then comes her voice?— yes lord.

snapping out of your fantasies, you furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at her with an expression that read 'how dare you?' 

"a-are you serious? why shouldn't you?" you looked at her up and down in attempt to intimidate her, but really just an excuse to check her out.

"can't just expect me to join you after rudely making the boy i was talking to leave, sweetheart." she crosses her arms as she made her way closer.

sweetheart. heat rushed to your cheeks and you scoff, rolling your eyes. 

"what do you want me to do then? he doesn't look like someone who's good enough to join forces with in a death game like this anyways." you rebut. 

"and you think you're good enough?" she smirks at you. before you could even utter another word, she straights up and looks down at you—caused by height difference, making you feel small— and chuckles.

"what's your name and give me one good reason why i should join you."

you told her your name, which made you sound too eager for your liking, before you straightened yourself up and flicked you hair to the back.

 "i'll make sure you win. team up with someone who actually looks like they're capable of winning instead of someone who looks like a lost puppy." your eyes darted to the boy she was talking to earlier who was now talking to other people before returning your gaze to her.

she crosses her arms and brings a finger to her mouth to bite down on and stares at you, which made you scream internally. what the fuck. how can someone be this hot?

after some silence between you two, she spoke up "fine. but if i lose, i'll come for you."

huh. 'come for me?' won't be such a bad idea, right? the thoughts made you smirk as you boldy traveled your eyes over her figure. 

"oh, i think you have me mistaken. i won't mind at all if you came for me" your voice sounded innocent, but your words were laced with an obvious innuendo.

"oh?" she smirks. before you could even let her finish her sentence, you speak up once again to avert the topic.

"how will you come for me if you die anyways?" you roll your eyes to try and hide your flustered state. "which, by the way, you won't. my group is decent, me being the best member of course." 

and as if on cue, thanos and the two made their way to the both of you, his annoying voice dominating the noise surrounding you. 

"there you are doll, been lookin for you." you scoff at his words as thanos turns to face 380, which you still don't know the name of, "and who is this señorita?"

you opened your mouth to say something but 380 beat you to it. "se-mi. she recruited me." she says, nodding to you. 

moanable name. you thought.

"really? another woman? you already make this team weak." nam-gyu yaps as he turns to face you, saliva escaping his mouth. filthy.

you scoff as you step away and point your finger at him, "fucking shut your mouth. you haven't done shit to this team. your ass can't fucking talk." 

before a fight between you two broke out, gyeong-su already restrained nam-gyu. thanos whistles, "well. there's that."

the purple-haired man throws his arm over your shoulders and faced nam-gyu. "let's not talk shit now eh? we're a fucking team!" he yells as he raised his free arm up, "try not to kill each other off, we still have games to play."

nam-gyu rolls his eyes and se-mi watches the scene unfold, snickering.

"now come on my folks, come on." thanos frees you from his hold as he walked through the crowd, arms spread as if bragging, with nam-gyu and gyeong-su following.

your lips unsubconsciously turn into a pout as you turned to face se-mi, who was already looking at you.

"cute." she eyes you up and down and starts walking towards thanos' direction. your mouth opens as if you let out a silent gasp at what she said and just stared.

she realized you weren't following so she stopped and turned her head to look at you.

"coming?" she smirks

oh i'm definitely coming.

@misayani

[meowdei]

Sukuna is not good at apologizing.

And you? You’re not good at letting go of grudges. The end result is a pretty nasty predicament—you’re mad at him, he’s mad that you’re mad at him, and you’re mad that he’s mad that you’re mad at him. It’s a full circle. The start point and the end point meet and you just don’t know where to begin.

He could always apologize, of course—that would be a lovely start. But he won’t. (He really should, though, you think. It’s his fault).

“Hey,” he says gruffly, “scoot over. ‘S my side.”

You’re taking up the entire bed. A petty, childish, and last resort sort of method to keep him away from you for the night because you don’t think you can handle dealing with him in such close proximity. And of course, you certainly won’t be taking the couch, so that naturally leaves only one option: him.

“Hey. Did’ya hear me?” He scowls, looking at you with deeply creased, deeply furrowed brows and an intense glare that makes you want to throw a pillow at his face. You refrain, however—but only because someone has to be the emotionally intelligent one of the two of you, and it certainly won’t be him. “I said move over—I’m tired as fuck and I wanna sleep.”

“Then sleep,” comes your unhelpful reply.

“They teach you this in the first grade,” he smiles thinly, eyes narrowed into slits as he gives you a sarcastic look, “but you actually have to lay down to sleep. Can’t do that if you hog the entire damn bed.”

“I’m sure they taught you what a couch was in first grade, too,” you counter—and as if to double down on your juvenile, stubborn display of spitefulness, you angle your body to take up more of his side of the bed. “Go ahead and use that if you wanna lay down so bad.”

“And they also teach you in first grade that the couch is bad for your damn fucking back, so move the fuck—”

You cut him off sharply with a rather snobby tone. “That’s not in the first grade curriculum. I don’t know what first grade you went to, but maybe that would explain some of the loose screws in your head.”

He’s had enough. Sukuna is not good at apologizing. And on most days, he’s not that good at being a boyfriend, either. Not by the general standards, anyway. He doesn’t say sweet words or coddle you very much. Sometimes, he’s awkward about affection and doesn’t quite know how to initiate physical touch. And, on most days, he can’t communicate his feelings properly, so they tend to come out wrong. Typically, that manifests in rough, unintentionally harsh words.

He’s not proud of it, but it’s not a switch he can exactly flip off in one day.

But one thing he is good at, however, is worming his way into your soft spot, anyway. It’s a very peculiar, very distinct part of you that for some unknown reason, opens up for him and puts up with his bullshit regardless of what that bullshit is. Fifty percent soft, sweet affection, and one hundred percent stupid, foolish devotion.

He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He debates it for a moment—because sometimes even Sukuna doesn’t dare test your limits—before he ultimately decides to go for whatever plan he’s scheming. It turns out his plan involves all two-hundred-something pounds of his bulky, muscled figure draping itself over your body with an exaggerated sigh from him. You flinch, gasping in shock, and he simply gets himself comfortable.

Sukuna is not good at apologizing.

Yet, somehow, he’s even worse at reading the room, evidently. You clearly don’t want him near you, but here he is, arguably closer to you now than he is on the average night.

“Sukuna!” You hiss, trying to push him off as you grumble under his weight, “get off! You asshole, you’re too heavy for—”

“Heavy?” He gasps, “this is considered body negativity.”

“Oh fuck off,” you scowl, “you’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what, exactly?” He asks smugly.

Despite it all, there’s something surprisingly gentle about the way he lays on you. His head is perfectly situated to rest against your collarbone, his hands delicately have your hips in their hold, and half of his body is slotted between your legs to keep a good brunt of his weight off of you.

More than anything, he’s a weighted blanket than he is an aggravating boyfriend that you’re trying to avoid.

“Is everything a joke to you?” You glare.

He glares back. Equally as hard, equally as intense, but infinitely more infatuated underneath it all. “No,” he grumbles, “just don’t like goin’ to bed mad. So ‘m here whether you like it or not.”

Some part of you can’t help but soften at that. A small, fractional, tiny amount of you thinks…oh. Oh.

(And yes, there are certainly better ways to express: I would like to go to bed without being mad at each other because I love you too much, but he’s not perfect. Nowhere near it. That much is a known fact quite abundantly by now. But you know what he means, and in you’re being honest with yourself…well, it’s enough.

He’s always enough, even when he seems like he shouldn’t be.)

“I’m still mad at you,” you grumble stubbornly.

Your arms wrap around him tightly.

“And I’m still fuckin’ tired and sleepy. What’s your point?”

He tucks his head into the crook of your neck and inhales your scent.

You’re mad at Sukuna. And he’s tired of it. Sometimes, he’s not good at apologizing, and sometimes you’re stubborn about accepting it. In the end, your limbs tangle in bed like this, anyway. You think that’s the only part that really matters.

You sigh, pulling up the blanket to cover yourselves. (Mainly you. He just happens to be there, too, of course. But this isn’t for his warmth, too—it’s just for yours. How cold he is or isn’t through the night is of no concern to you.)

“Night,” he mumbles quietly after some time, “and…and sorry, or whatever. I…well, I just…you know?”

You snort softly at his attempt, giving in and letting your fingers weave into his soft, familiar strands of hair while he relaxes at the feeling.

“We’ll talk in the morning. I love you.”

He smiles a little into your neck. It’s barely-there, but it undoubtedly exists.

“Love you too.”

“A lot, right?” You ask cheekily.

It’s quiet for a moment. You think he’s going to tell you to shut up, or just go to sleep, already. Instead, there’s a hushed mumble of, “yeah. A lot. Now goodnight.”

(You fall asleep rather quickly after that—and admittedly, much easier than you would have if his body was on the couch and not with you.)

Cliche fights before bed that end with a begrudging petty cuddle sesh are my guilty pleasure. My crack if you will

[timmydraker]

Tim had a jumper that doesn’t seem all that special, but to Alfred, Bruce and Dick is incredibly important. Dare they say vital to caring for Tim.

It’s a big wooly thing, once a pale mossy green but now with a hint of brown and white from fading and use. It’s too big for him to the point that the sleeves have to be bunched up when worn and even than they hang over his hands.

It looks like a dress on him, which isn’t help but his naturally slim build.

The jumper is held in such high regard because when Tim puts it on it means that he’s not feeling like he usually does.

His confidence, his snark, his wit, and his mental strength is either hard to reach or impossible.

Tim, in the only instance he actually talked about what was going on when he wasn’t wearing the jumper, said he felt both like a tiny little fish in a giant pond and like his skin was a sheet of paper.

Bruce talked to Dinah about it and said it was most likely a form of mental regression, but Tim refused for it to be called him being ‘little’ or anything that would remind him of being a kid again.

Because he doesn’t act like a kid, but maybe it’s not right to associate Tim Drake with a normal child behaviour pattern. He doesn’t babble or whine or want to watch kids shows like Dinah had suggest he might, but he does go non verbal or only say one or two words in response to pretty much anything.

He puts his jumper on and will just… sit there.

Tim is always moving or thinking, always doing, but when he gets in his ‘jumper state’ as Alfred calls it, he tends to slow down completely and just want to sit somewhere warm and feel the fluff of his carefully maintained jumper.

Sometimes, he seeks out warmth outside of heaters and fires and the sun.

It’s on one of those days when Tim stalks down to the Cave with his jumper on, hair messy over his head and hands held up to his chest in an almost shy manner.

Jason notices him first and simply raises an eyebrow in confusion while Damian scoffs, “What on earth are you wearing, Drake? That looks moldy-“

But Tim doesn’t even look at him, eyes on the floor as he goes over to Bruce at the computer and pokes the older man’s shoulder once before retracting his hand.

Bruce immediately turns and opens his arms, an almost heartbroken look on his face as he lets Tim drawl onto his lap and bury his face in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve got you. Anything in particular or just one of those days?”

Tim speaks in a voice like a husk that Damian and Jason only hear because they’ve come closer and sound travels in the cave, “Janet, birthday.”

Bruce Wayne, The Batman, The Caped Crusader, then fucking coos and kisses his head before rocking him slightly.

“That makes sense. Do you need someone here tonight? I can call Dick or stay myself if you need.”

The two other boys in the room look at each other, shocked to hear Bruce say he will give up a patrol to seemingly cuddle someone.

Tim shakes his head, “Alfred.”

Bruce nods, kissing his head again and saying, “Thank you for coming to me so I can help you. I’m so proud of you for not making yourself go through this alone again.”

It’s not exactly a whine that leaves Tim, but it’s not a word that is Bruce’s answer.

Jason comes forward and awkwardly scratches the back of his head, “I don’t really know what’s going on, but can I like… help or something?”

Bruce smiled as Tim nods against him after a few moments, the boy in his arms turning to reach a hand out for Jason and then strangely patting the hand Jason offers up for him.

Damian, not trying to be rude but needing to understand what is going on, clears his throat and demands, “Explain what is wrong with Drake.”

Luckily Bruce had gotten better at understanding how his son communicates and looks to Tim for permission before answering, “Sometimes Tim needs to… be free of responsibility and just feel like a person for a bit. He isn’t always up for talking and just wants to be around people he trust, and me, Dick and Alfred have managed to convince him to actually come to us when he needs that.”

Bruce smiles at where at where Tim is holding Jason’s hand and swinging it around a bit before feeling over the rough calluses and thick fingers with apparent joy.

Damian frowns a little at his father’s explanation but nods regardless, “Very well, we shall set up the family room for the evening before we head out for patrol.”

Bruce smiled and pulls Damian’s head over to kiss his hairline as he hears Jason mutter, “Weird little guy, aren’t ya?”

Tim hums and pinches his finger and smiling at his older brothers yelp.

[superbpiratesandwich]

It's the Little Things

tags: fluff, angst if you squint, mention of blood and a gun, John acting like the cute little housewife he is, illusion to smut, mention of reader having a period, gender neutral reader, no use of y/n, gluten and corn allergy mention (IBS gang), cussing, one-shot, let me know if i missed any tags/warnings. 

writers note: this is so fweaking long i was debating turning it into a two-parter but then i realized you little cuties probably read smut scenes longer than this so hang tight through the tooth rotting fluff while we all join hands and think about John Walker wearing a ‘Kiss the Chef’ apron and cooking.  

3.3k words (dont look at me like that) 

John Walker doesn't love loud. He doesn't declare his feelings to the entire team, hell, he waited months to tell you how he felt. And even then, he didn't say anything, just let the silence, the way he’d pause on certain words, he let the unspoken speak for him. The main reason (at least this is what he tries to tell himself) is because when Olivia left, he decided he’d never tell anyone how he truly felt, wouldn't let anyone in the walls he so carefully built. But the truth is... the man doesn't know how to get his thoughts out of his head. He’ll blankly stare at you, silently willing you to understand what his poor blonde-haired head is trying to get out.  

He’s tried to think about when he started to fall for you, tried to pinpoint when exactly he fell for you, but for the life of him he can't see it, can't picture the moment he looked at you and said “Yep that's the one I want,” he simply remembers staring at you across the kitchen island, the dim lights of the communal area making your soft features seem almost ethereal, he recalls thinking “Holy shit, so that's why my heart aches.” 

You didn't notice it at first, how he felt about you, you just thought he’d grown a little soft after working with you for almost a year. 

It started with his cooking, John found himself idly cooking for the team, not meaning to make it a habit, but the words “Make dinner for team,” found themselves on his to do list. No one dared to mention the act of casual kindness. Even when Mel visited to see the Tower. “Wow Walker you're making dinner?” She remarked with a surprised tone. You all just glared at her, even with Johns back to the group, you could see his back tense as he registered her comment.  

He didn't cook for three nights, before he realized that, “Nobody in this fucking tower eats unless someone shovels it onto a plate like a fucking mama bird,” he grumbled as he dropped a pan of lasagna onto the table.  

You had mentioned having an allergy to gluten to Yelena on an op, complaining about how hard it is to find good snacks to bring on stake outs. When you came down to the communal kitchen to search for something to eat, that was the moment you noticed gluten free crackers in the pantry, yes, they tasted like chalk, but that was beside the point, who the hell got you gluten free crackers? You wanted to complain about the taste, but the gesture alone made you eat the entire box in one sitting. More gluten free options started popping up around the kitchen, it was only on taco night that you discovered the ‘gluten-free chalk-flavored crackers culprit’.  

John moved around the kitchen with surprising, but not totally graceful, movements. Like a soldier adjusting to a new environment, brandishing a slotted spoon in the stead of an M4. When you entered the kitchen behind Ava, he had glanced over his shoulder at you, giving a soft “Hey,” before nodding to the plate of gluten-free tortillas. You cocked your head at him, before giving a sad smile, “Are those corn?” after he nodded, you laughed quietly “I appreciate it, but I can't have corn either,” To which he rolled his eyes, groaning “Fucks sake, what can you eat?” You laughed but mentally filed away the information that he was in fact the gluten-free snacks appearing bandit.  

Another thing was how he took notice of your off days. The days that you were sloppy on the field, not checking your blind spots, making too much noise on a stealth op, letting bullets graze you when you could've easily dodged them. The ride on the Quinjet was silent, you let your head fall back against the steel interior, trying to catch your breath despite not having had been in a fight for almost a full 15 minutes, you should've been calm by that point. You both knew it. You and John, who had been staring at you from the corner of the jet, didn't turn his head, just let his eyes bore into you from the corner of the blue irises. You beelined off the jet, didn't crack jokes with Yelena or Ava like usual, heading straight for your room.  

You wouldn't have been able to pinpoint the reason as to why you felt so off, you just did. But then again, you were also a mentally unstable ‘superhero’ paired with a bunch of mentally ill criminals—correction, mentally ill ‘ex-criminals-turned-avenger' or whatever bullshit Val cooked up. You were halfway to the elevator when you heard his footsteps behind you, heavy boots thudding against the sleek grey linoleum as you made it to the elevator, pressing the button and waiting. The motherfucker waited until you were trapped in the elevator with him to grunt out, “You good?” 

It was so quiet you probably could've imagined it, “What?” you turned your head. He was already looking over at you, his blue eyes stared back at you, “Are you good?” he repeated his question, cocking an eyebrow. You nod slowly, “Wh-” you're tempted to ask why he was asking, but you opted to just nod, “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine,” you turned back to face the elevator doors.  

The air changed when you said that you could practically hear his eyeroll, his resignation to be a pain in the ass, “You didn't seem fine back there. You don't seem fine now.” He counters. Your shoulders dropped, you shook your head, “Walker. I am fine. Okay? I swear if you ask me if I'm PMSing I'm gonna lose my shit,” You scoffed. A beat passes, the doors chimed open as he shrugged, walking onto his floor, “Are you?” He asked, the doors close before you could respond, but he smirked as he saw the formation of the middle finger on your hand. Later that night you found a small grocery bag of...sigh pads and tampons. The worst part? He was right, you were PMSing like a mofo, cramps hit hard the next morning.  

You started to suspect something else was afoot with him when you realized he’d only really talk to you. Yes, he’d bullshit with Yelena and Bucky, bicker with Ava, roll his eyes at everything Alexi said, and would just shake his head if Bob said anything dumb, but he’d try his best to not come across as an asshole to you. Yelena pointed it out on an op one day. 

The two of you sat in a black truck, tinted windows, with her mouth full, hand reaching into the bag of chips sat between you, perched on the console,  

“Why-- only--” you laughed softly at her attempt to speak. “Huh?” you asked.  

She nodded, swallowing the bite before repeating herself, “Why does it seem like Walker only talks to you?” 

You stared over at her for a long while, took a bite of the sub in your hands before shrugging, “He doesn't only talk to me,” she shook her head, “Mm, he talks to you more than the rest of us, he doesn't even... how do you say that? He doesn't act like an asshole with you like he does with the rest of the team.”  

You laugh, replying as you stared out the windshield “He’s still a major asshole,” You assured her. “Just saying-” you would never know what she was going to say, because the building you both were assigned to stake out had just had the entire fourth floor bombed.   

After your conversation with Yelena, you started to see even more things that made you realize something may be there, in the unspoken words between you and the blonde super soldier. How only you seemed to be able to convince him not to rush a plan, the way the two of you always found your way into a conversation, no matter where you were. In the middle of a gunfight? You two discussed the newest episode of some shitty tv you watched when neither of you could sleep.  

But the day you didn't show up to the Quinjet when bucky announced departure over comms? Walker was panicked, he tried his hardest to not let it show as he stood at the walkway that slid out the interior of the steel jet, now fired up and ready to take off. It was a difficult mission, one that required the entire team. Artillery bots, automatic fire and aim, latching on to anything with a heat signature and releasing hundreds of rounds into it, a pain in the ass to take down. He called your name over comms, asking Yelena, Ava then Alexi if any of them had seen you out on the field, when they all tried assuring him that you'd be walking down the city street any time now, he took off.  

He didn't know why he just knew that he needed to find you, he felt this innate want, no a need to know that you were alive. He yelled your name, jogging then sprinting down streets, his boots hitting the pavement with heavy thuds. His voice was raw as he came to the edge of the city, the street leading into a large highway, where life continued to happen, cars honked at each other as they travelled. He tried to keep his heartrate steady, trying to make his superhuman ears tune in, trying to find you. Then he heard it, a hiccupping cough, a ragged breath before a small groan floated in the air. He whipped his head so hard he was surprised he didn't hear a crack.  

He bolted down the street, the sound of your coughing leading him to a small alley. He didn't freeze at the end of it like they show in the movies. The main character stuck in a state of shock as they’re eyes find the one they care about covered in blood. No, his feet were moving before he fully registered it was you, like his body knew you before his mind did. He sprinted to your heaving body, his eyes scanning you, trying to pinpoint where all the blood was coming from. The second his hands hit your side you jolted; tears pricked at your eyes at the pain. You looked at him in silence, coughing up more blood. 

“Shit,” is all he managed to get out, his large palm pressed against the wound, “You’re gonna be okay, you're gonna be okay.” He said it twice, like the second time was for him more than it was for you. He pressed his comms on “Barnes! Yelena! I need help! They’re hurt!” His voice was laced with panic; he couldn't hide it anymore and that terrified him even more. You passed out moments before Yelena rounded the corner, helping Walker get you into his arms without jostling your wound too much.  

Walker must’ve been a helicopter parent, because the way he treated you when you were out of the med bay, after a two-week mandatory bed rest, was akin to the way one would hover over their kid playing with fire. Every time you turned the corner, he just happened to be in the same room as you, never acknowledging that he was following you, but when you got up, he counted to ten (usually he counted to thirty) before getting up and following you out of the room.  

He’d make your favorite foods every night for a week, don't even bother asking how he knows what they are. You had hobbled down to the common floor without him, for once, just to smell something that shot you back to your childhood, your mom hovering over a pot, the fragrance filling your nostrils gave you an instant shot of dopamine. He’d give you your plate first, ignoring Alexi scowling at him as he was warned to leave leftovers which magically ended up in your fridge.  

It came to a breaking point when you were almost completely healed, your side no longer aching, just a dull throb, like a bruise that made itself known whenever you twisted.  

It was early, or late, depending on the person, and you found yourself in the kitchen, digging through the pantry, which was empty. You were a little disappointed, you couldn't blame John for not restocking it, it's been a rough few weeks, Val sending the team on ops around the world like you all are her personal superheroes... well, you are technically. Still, the soreness in your body felt bone deep. 

“What’re you lookin’ for?” John’s voice cut through the haze of the morning, your thoughts interrupted by him. His voice surprised you, rough from sleep, a hint of a Georgian accent creeping into it. You look over at him, your eyes grazing over his form like you had all the time in the world. His voice matched his appearance, rough, sleep-worn, blonde hair mussed from tossing and turning no doubt. A soft navy shirt on his broad chest, somehow the man wearing it made the material look softer.  

“Nothing... just hungry,” you shrug, turning back to the empty cabinet. You hear keys jingle, “Going on a run, text me what you want,” He grumbles, picking up his keys off the counter, acting like him running out to the grocery store at 5:43am is normal. You step towards him, “Hey. No. You don't have to, I'm fine, I should probably wait a few hours to eat actually,” you offer, feeling guilty for making him feel like he has to run out. 

The blonde stares at you for a few minutes, the look on his face speaking for him. It screams ‘are you dumb?’ like even the notion of him not going and getting you something to eat was possibly the dumbest thing he had heard in the last year. You shake your head, “You don't have to run out this early, Walker, I’m fine seriously, I'll survive a few hours without food.” you laugh, trying to make him realize he doesn't need to go. “You’re hungry.” It's not a question, a statement rather. “I mean... yeah but I'll be fine,” you counter, “Don't be stupid. I'm going out, text me what you want,” he turns and heads for the elevator. You jog towards him, “Hey, hey, wait, just... I'll go with you.” you offer, he turns his head as he presses the button to call the elevator. “Fine.”  

The walk around the grocery store is quiet, given that it's not even 7am. He walks ahead of you, you don't see how he checks in random reflections to make sure you're still following him, or the way his ears strain to hear your steps quietly padding behind his. It all feels oddly domestic, the two of you shopping together like this is natural. You stare at his back for a while, taking note of the way the muscles move under his soft shirt, rippling like waves as he reaches for something or turns the cart. God forbid he reaches for something on the top shelf, your eyes dart to the dark blonde hair trailing down his abdomen, disappearing under his sweatpants. You catch a glimpse of his V-line, taunting you like some sort of forbidden fruit you can never have. You force your eyes onto the carton of milk in the cart so he doesn't catch you staring.  

“You don't like these.” Again, a statement as he holds up the box of gluten-free crackers that had appeared oh so long ago. You furrowed your eyebrows, knowing you ate the entire box out of sheer guilt, “What?” 

“You didn't like this brand.” He shrugs, grabbing a different brand. You pause for a moment, following him as he continues pushing the cart down the aisle before you grab the box out of the buggy. The wheels of the cart stop squeaking, he turns around to see you put the box back, grabbing a different brand. You show him the label, “This brand is good,” you mumble softly, now standing next to him. He stares down at you for a moment, noting the label as he continues walking down the aisle, putting your favorite chips, sweets, drinks, and other essentials for the common kitchen pantry in the cart.  

Later that night, as you both sit on the couch, re-watching his ‘favorite’ western Rio Bravo (he has about 5 westerns that are all his favorite), you glance over at him. You can't help the way your eyes skate over his profile, the way his hair falls, freshly dried from a shower, free of gel or hairspray, the blonde strands looking more and more soft, almost inviting you to run your hand through them. The crooked line of his nose, like he broke it when he was younger and the cartilage never quite healed right. The way his jaw juts out ever so slightly, forming a discreet underbite, mostly covered by his beard. His features are oddly delicate, like something you'd see in a statue carved out of marble. The lights of the tv flicker on his face, making his blue eyes seem more vibrant, especially when you realize they're staring back at you.  

You’re not sitting close enough that it's obvious you're staring at him, but your close enough that he raises an eyebrow, “What?” That infamous gruff voice makes you smile softly, “Why did you- why are you-” you find it hard to put into words what he's been doing for you, the cooking, the snacks, the care, the concern, the overall protectiveness. He continues to keep his eyebrow arched, keeping silent. Then you notice it, not only the slight upward turn of his lip, but the tinge of fear in his eyes. You just stare at him, blinking and looking at his chest before your eyes drift back to the movie. He doesn't question it when you move closer, simply hangs his arm around the back of the couch. If anyone walked in, it wouldn't look like you two were cuddling, just two teammates watching a movie, comfortable next to each other on the couch.  

After the movie ends, neither of your move, you just sit there. Your head slides until it rests on his chest, your body turning. You tilt your head up to look at him, his blue eyes already looking down at you. His left hand comes up to cup your cheek, his arm moving to wrap around your shoulders. “Don't ask.” He mumbles, his nose bumping against yours. You don't say a word; you just tilt your head until your lips meet his.  

Its soft, tentative, like he's still afraid you're going to pull away and get up. He pulls away, staring down at you, his lips a hairs breadth away from yours, his eyes searching yours before he moves back in. His beard scratches softly at your cheeks, your hand coming up to splay on his chest, the soft material of his shirt warm beneath your palm. The kiss slowly evolves, your mouths melding together, your head cocks to the side as you push it closer to his. You let out a soft hum as you feel his tongue prod at your lips, you gladly open your mouth, relishing in the taste of spearmint and something salty on his tongue. Your tongue slides over his, your saliva mingling with his.  

You both move in unison as you hear the chime of the elevator, moving apart a few feet. Alexi’s loud footsteps thud down the hallway, stopping at the entry way to the living room. He stares at the two of you, he may be a stupid motherfucker, but he could see the mussed-up state of your hair, both yours and Johns lips shiny with spit, the way you both were fighting to get your heartrate under control.  

“Ah ha! I knew it! The undertones were sexual! Yelena! You owe me twenty dollars!” He yells out as he turns and heads back to the elevator.  You groan and hide your face in the blonde's chest, hearing him laugh softly, his fingers pushing your hair behind your ear before leaning into it and whispering, “Wanna make sure Yelena knows she owes him twenty bucks?”  

[hardknifeplays]

'*•.¸♡ relationship with könig: headcanons ♡¸.•*'

tags: gn!reader x könig, he's older than you, mostly domestic, nsfw-ish!

NOTE: Please do NOT repost anywhere | reblog, likes, and comments are appreciated! ♡

✧ the beginning of the relationship was a bit difficult, he was so used to the hard and rough military life. knowing he has a higher rank in his team, he treated you like you're his subordinates, not his partner.

✧ he was too commanding until you snapped and brought him back to reality one day. you told him that when he's with you he's not supposed to act and/or treat you the way he treats his soldiers in the field.

✧ that was the first time he saw you snapping at him, and it scared the life out of him. he never thought someone whose figure was so small compared to him could be THAT fiery and going against him.

✧ he was a bit pushy and almost always forced you to do whatever he suggested (about anything, really), and let's say he was not on his best behavior back then. you realized you shouldn't let a man step on you like this, especially when you're his partner.

✧ you dared yourself to be more vocal and direct to him. it worked; you told him where he was wrong and how you wanted him to improve next time. sure, he still made some slip-ups but he definitely got better.

✧ he told you he was sorry for the way he treated you, he was never good with communication. he never wanted to be mean to you, and you saw major changes within him from that point.

✧ he started to show his gentle and clingy side, you almost forgot that this is the same man who was a little too stern to you a few months ago.

✧ morning sex is a MUST, inhaling your natural scent from behind while his hips are drilling against your ass is the best way to start a morning.

✧ his love language is eating together with you. either eating some meals made by you, made by him, or even take-outs, he always wants to eat with you. if you're not hungry? well, he can tell his stomach to hold the hunger a bit just for you.

✧ this man LOVES dirty jokes and puns you throw at him. always get him all flustered and red like a fucking tomato. run your mouth, sweetheart, this Austrian giant is head over heels for you even more! ;)

✧ he's becoming more and more vocal and open about his feelings and thoughts to you, despite feeling extra anxious whenever he did so. soon he realized that you're here to listen to him, and not to judge him.

✧ the most romantic moments happens after work, you're serving him a cup of coffee or tea while he's resting himself on the dinner table. you two will spend the rest of the evening talking about your day, his day, and sometimes some gossips in your or his office. drinking tea while spilling some tea, if you will. 🍵

✧ the man is a massive science nerd 😅 he's subscribing to youtube channels like michael reeves, kurzgesagt, and NileRed. he'd love to watch science documentaries with you until both of you fall asleep.

✧ he loves it when you rely on him. need some new, exclusive collector edition books? he's here to pay, even the hardcover ones! need new lipstick or makeup? take him to sephora and make yourself pretty with his cash, darling. need new PC components? he'll spoil you and make you an amazing PC setup!

✧ besides the material things, he loves you even more when you cling to him like a baby koala when you're anxious or feeling unsafe in general. he loves being a big man for his dearest love.

✧ he's quite busy, and his line of work is highly demanding for his presence. he's a colonel, leading missions and he even goes to his office or shooting range on weekends or holidays. his hard work paid off, and he kept being promoted to higher positions.

✧ loves it when you asks him about his job. what is he doing? what is a “human battering ram”? he's willing to answer some grime questions from you, e.g. is he becoming insensitive to see gruesome death? is human blood really THAT red and fresh? is he afraid of the ghosts of the enemies he had killed? etc.

✧ sometimes he comes home looking frustrated, and it scares you a bit. worried that he'd back to his old self, the overly stern and authoritarian asshole. but then you know that his frustration is not directed at you, but rather to whoever the hell managed to piss him off at the office.

✧ you can soothe him in two ways: calm him down by talking him out through it and bathe him (unless he requests some alone time to sort his thoughts), or being his obedient fucktoy for him to release all that pent-up anger. you choose :)

✧ he'd consume you whole if he sees you with bodycon dress or any tight clothing. it turns him into an animal.

✧ always asks for pictures whenever you're away from him. say things like, "i want to see how well your dress/shirt is hugging your figure, love." ; "you'd look gorgeous with that makeup/style."

✧ plenty of nicknames for you: feisty firecracker, honeybee, sweetface, schnucki (means 'sweetie' in german), schatz, Schmetterling (butterfly), my love, my darling, my dearest angel, my sweet, ... etc.

✧ if you happen to be someone from outside of german speaking country, he'd teach you some german. mostly curses and dirty words, though. hehe.

✧ he'd love to bring you to his hometown in salzburg. he'd take you to makartsteg (lovers lock) bridge and seeing the mountains, and he's so excited to introduce you to local foods and drinks.

✧ he'd love to be your biggest motivator whenever you feel lazy to do something. got some homework or tasks you need to finish, but didn't want to? he'd say, "do it and I'll reward you in the bedroom, schatzi."

✧ if you two are already talking about marriage... he'd be so nervous about meeting your parents, especially if you have extremely different cultures as him. he's a grown man with a great income that surely can sustain you two, which you're sure that your parents wouldn't mind about.

✧ his biggest concern about starting a family with you is your safety, knowing how often he's deployed. being one of the best operators in his team meant he'd constantly be called to missions, sometimes to a region or country that you'd never heard of before. he always tell you to pray for him, so he can come back to you alive AND intact.

✧ he wants three kids. and if that's too much for you, he won't complain either. he just thinks that three is a sweet spot for him.

hehe that's it! hope you enjoy this as much as i do.

━ sincerely, hardknifeplays.

[avelera]

(Writing Advice) Tips for Writing Dialogue

I would never, ever give unsolicited critique on a fic and I would never, ever out a fic I'm reading as being the one I want to critique.

But it gets so much harder when the edits I want to offer are really simple ones. Like, when I know where the author stands in their growth and I can see so clearly what their next step would be and I just aoiruoairoiariowaurwouARGH want to point out one little concept that will elevate their story by lightyears but since I do not know this person I don't dare because you never know what advice is going to be absolutely crushing to someone and entirely unwanted.

SO, before I explode, I want to give the advice I would offer.

This is specifically for people who find themselves writing really long paragraphs of dialogue between two characters that feel sort of unnatural when read aloud. Dialogue that is very "on the nose" ie, characters say what they mean and they say EVERYTHING they mean in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination. It's open, clear communication to a fault and sounds very unnatural as a result.

The thing is, I don't want to tell people not to do that. Actually, writing out EVERYTHING the character could say is a GREAT first step! But the second draft should involve whittling down all of that into the most powerful or gripping parts of that paragraph. And I want to discuss how:

(Note, sometimes that is the pleasure of the genre that the author is going for! Sometimes in fic, the canon characters are so bad at communicating that it can be pleasurable just to write them fucking talking to each other for once.)

But, if your goal is to eventually write more naturalistic dialogue and also dialogue with a bit more tension and momentum to it that really pulls the reader along and makes them feel immersed in the world, you should keep in mind that most people don't say everything they mean in conversation. Even when people are being carefully, deliberately, perhaps even drunkenly entirely open with each other, they often speak in fragments or need to backtrack to clarify a point.

However, most people don't say everything they're thinking, especially if it's very vulnerable, because of things like fear of rejection, or pride, or even because they have their own goals that might be disrupted if the other person knew everything. Sometimes, there just isn't time for a big sit-down where all the feelings come out!

However, this isn't about small-talk, which is a bit more self-evident that it shouldn't be paragraphs long for every exchange. Fiction tends to thrive in momentous moments, moments that tend to be a bit rare in real life but that stick out in our minds forever.

For example, fiction revolves around couples realizing their feelings for each other far more often than any one person would experience that moment in their life. So in fiction we heighten and elevate these really powerful moments and we love exploring them as readers.

SO, when I'm stuck on ALLL the things characters could say to each other in a really charged moment, but I'm not sure what the best thing would be, I don't hold myself back. I just let it all out. I open a pair of brackets and say:

Bill says, [I love you. I don't know how to say it because I'm 20 years old and scared and I've never been in a relationship before, but I do. You've been my best friend my whole life. I think you're the most beautiful and amazing person I've ever met. If you reject me, it would destroy me. But losing you as a friend would destroy me even worse. So I feel like I have to play it cool for a variety of societal pressure reasons but also to protect my heart and my pride. I want to open the door a bit, I want to hint that I like you, but I don't want to risk it if I overstep. I'm not ready to take the leap yet if there's even the slightest chance it won't work. Maybe we could try getting coffee?]

Then I'll go back through and bold the lines that are most powerful to me, the ones I really want to keep, as seen above. Then I mull over that for a bit and try to put it into more naturalistic speech. Something like,

Bill says, "Yeah, well... you're pretty cool too, I guess. Maybe we could grab coffee sometime. Try that new place that just opened."

^^^ Obviously this isn't award winning dialogue but what I would hope to capture with it is a young, insecure person who is leaving a lot of openings for plausible deniability, who isn't overcommitting to a love confession that could get their heart stomped on but is tentatively advancing a compliment and a desire to spend more time together at a plausible location for either a date or just friends hanging out.

The rest of what's deleted from the paragraph is now a secret that they're trying to hide. And secrets tend to be very powerful in fiction and performance. It makes the audience mentally engage with what they think is hidden behind those words. It leaves space too for more conversations between the characters.

Maybe over coffee a bit more of that entire paragraph comes out, which pulls the reader along through the story. Maybe each time they hang out, a little more comes out after that, because most people don't give their love confessions in one huge block the minute they realize they have feelings. And the anticipation of getting to the moment where the whole hidden paragraph is revealed also pulls the reader along and makes them excited (hopefully) for that moment. It makes them keep reading your story to reach that moment.

Anyway, TL;DR: writing out a whole paragraph of everything your character is thinking for each line of dialogue, everything they could possibly say, is GREAT for the first draft! You don't want to lose a potentially juicy and powerful line just because you edited yourself too soon.

But in the SECOND draft, before you publish, dialogue gets a lot more powerful and compelling if you whittle it down to be more naturalistic, to hold a bit back, to allow a bit of mystery, especially with big emotions and confessions that would be hard or scary for a person to reveal, that might encompass the actual plot or subplot of your story (for example, getting to a love confession could be the plot or subplot of a slowburn romance, so you want to sort of piece that build-up out and not just dump a whole confession on the first page, unless that IS your goal!).

Trimming down a huge paragraph to one line of dialogue also makes for snappier, more dynamic dialogue overall, even if the content isn't as emotionally charged as a one-in-a-lifetime love confession.

[holylulusworld]

Gap Filler (2)

Summary: Lack of communication leads to fallout.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, Walter being a douche, break-up, mentions of break-ups, amends, angry reader, unplanned pregnancy

A/N: A short drabble to the miniseries.

Gap Filler (1)

Walter feels like he’s losing his mind. He’s pacing the room, driving the lab assistant crazy. She huffs and shakes her head. Not only does Walter ask for an unauthorized analysis, but he also gets on her nerves.

“Sir, the results won’t come faster if you keep on walking holes into the ground. It will take as long as it takes.”

“I’ll be back in half an hour and need the results by then,” he huffs and turns to leave. “I know you’re not happy that I called in a favor. This is an important, life-changing event. So please, hurry up. I need to be sure if I bring something for the baby too.”

She furrows her brows but says nothing. Three years ago, Walter did her a favor without asking questions. She will do the same for him to pay him back and to be even with the grumpy detective.

“Half an hour,” she nods. “Got it.”

“…and?” Walter expectantly looks at the lab assistant. He never felt so much pressure on him before. Not even while on the hunt for a killer. “Please tell me you have the result for me.”

“Here.” She hands Walter the results. “Now we are even. Never ask me to do something like this ever again. I could lose my job.”

“If you forget about the test and the results, we are even.” He looks at the results. His heart jumped for a second before he remembered what he said to you only a few days ago.

“Detective.” She nods and turns back toward her equipment. “You shouldn’t waste more time. She’s on the way to start a new life far away from you.”

Walter huffs. The last thing he needs is someone telling him that he fucked up big time. He already knows there’s no way you’ll forgive him.

“Can I help you, sir?” The clerk at the shop asks. She’s looking at Walter standing in front of a shelf. He looks left and right, unsure what to buy. “Sir?”

“Hmm…” Walter dips his head to look at her. He has his arms crossed over his chest as he tries to decide on a gift hamper. “I need a gift for…” He sniffs and looks back at the shelf. “…my pregnant girlfriend. It should say, I’m sorry and happy to become a dad at the same time.”

She frowns. “You want to apologize with a baby gift hamper? Sir, I don’t know your girlfriend well, but that’s not the best gift for an angry pregnant woman.”

“How do you wanna know?” He cocks his head to watch her look at the shelf herself. “I want her to know that I’m happy about the baby and that I’m sorry for saying all those stupid things.”

She huffs now. “You are always sorry, aren’t you? Men are all the same. Do you believe a half-hearted apology and a random gift will make things up to her? How dare you come back to her to do it all over again!”

“Whoa, I didn’t ask for your opinion or help. If you’d excuse me now,” Walter angrily says. He glares at the clerk, pissed at her cocky attitude. “Whatever crawled up your ass is not my fault or problem. Nice customer service.”

He’s too angry to focus on buying anything at the shop. Walter storms out of the shop, squaring his jaw. The young woman at the shop wasn’t wrong. Walter hurt you beyond repair, and this can’t be fixed with a fucking gift hamper.

“I’ll take two, no, three of these.” Walter points at the flower baskets. “No, this is stupid. Give me your prettiest bouquet of peonies. She loves them.”

He looks around the flower shop, frowning deeply. There’s a beautiful orchid and a large cactus next to it. Walter shakes his head and laughs. “An impossible match,” he murmurs before pointing at the plants. “I changed my mind. I’ll take these two.”

Packing up your things to move out of your home feels wrong. You learned to love your apartment and turned it into a cozy home for you.

Not so long ago, you had hoped Walter would move in with you one day.

All your hope got shattered the day he told you Rachel is back and that he wants to try again. Your heart broke, and you mourned the life you could’ve had if only Walter felt the same.

Now you’re going to raise the life growing inside of you alone, far away from the friends you made and your beloved home.

“Well, this can’t be helped,” you murmur while rubbing your belly. There’s no swelling yet, but soon enough people will know you’re expecting. “We are going to do this all on our own, bean. Don’t worry. Your mommy is going to give you all the love you’ll need.”

For a few moments, you allow yourself to be sad about the breakup. You cry, you scream, and then you get up to pack up a few more things.

Walter is a nervous wreck. He paces in front of your apartment, the cactus, orchid, and a baby gift hamper in his arms.

“Fuck,” he curses. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Walter curses himself for being a fool. If only he knew that you never wanted to leave him for a better position.

How could he be so blind? How could he not see that your feelings for him were true?

His instinct should’ve told him you are not going to leave him. Instead, he ignored his instinct and listened to the nagging voice in the back of his mind.

“FUCK!” One last time, he takes a deep breath before knocking at your door, using his right elbow.

“Hello, what can I—” You stiffen when your eyes meet Walter’s blue eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I should ask you the same!” He huffs. “I told you so often to not open the door before checking who’s on the other side.”

You huff. “This is how you want to start this conversation? Really, Walter?” He smirks when you put your hands on your hips to glare at him. “What brings you here? Do you want to make sure I’m leaving? Maybe Rachel needs a new apartment, and you want mine.”

“Baby,” he hesitantly says. “Rachel is not, and never will be, a part of my life. She wanted to return for a few months, but we didn’t stay in touch. I lied, believing you want to leave me too. I was hurt and believed hurting you would make me feel better.”

You narrow your eyes. “For a smart detective, you are dumb as a brick.” Slamming the door in his face, you huff. “FUCK YOU!”

“Baby? Uh—will you at least let me explain things? Please?” He knocks at your door again, using his foot this time. “Y/N, please open the door. The cactus is poking my chest, and the orchid looks like it's scared of me.”

You’re tempted to open the door, almost giving in as he keeps talking. “No.”

“Please, at least take the plants. You see, the pretty one is you, soft and sweet. The large, ugly beast is me, rough and grumpy. Even though they are so different, he loves the pretty orchid.” He sighs deeply. “And he hopes that the pretty flower loves him too…”

Walter listens closely. He sucks in a breath when you curse behind the door.

“Baby, I know about the baby,” Walter continues. “I know what I did and said was unforgivable, but please talk to me…”

[hms-no-fun]

you were on cohost? i guess too late now, how was it for you?

cohost had its fair share of problems and i could often find the community there a bit too tumblr-core fingerwaggy if you know what i mean. but the site's dead now so it's kind of a moot point. what i find myself reflecting on most these days are the positives.

first, no numbers. i think their no numbers policy was probably a bit over-aggressive, but it quelled some of the rat race popularity contest aspect of social media that often makes it so tedious. i liked their tag tracking system, their robust content warning options, and the absence of infinite scroll. what i miss most about cohost is that their text editor supported CSS, which led to people programming elaborate text effects and puzzles and games in-site that harkened back to the days of flash animations. there was something in this combination of elements that drew out a rebellious creativity in users.

cohost came at a time when social media was across the board feeling terrible (and it's only gotten worse hahaha), particularly as someone who makes shit that relies on you clicking links that take you away from the website or app. algorithms hate this and punish it. users also just seem kind of lazy and disinterested in using the internet so much as letting the internet happen to them passively. but when a post of mine went viral on cohost, people engaged with it. it wasn't just likes and shares, it was comments and additions. it felt like a place that (at its best) encouraged actual conversation and the development of new ideas among like-minded peers. when my posts did well and i included a donation link, people gave me money. it felt genuinely like a website that COULD support professional blog work in a way that was more customizable even than substack yet still RSS friendly, and the Following tab which let you easily see posts of specific users was a REVELATION, like a mini RSS reader within the website itself.

but the enterprise was unsustainable for various reasons (not all of them outside the dev crew's control) and the haters got what they wanted. now our big social media alternative is bluesky, a website that dares to ask the question "what if there was another twitter?" the answer is that it fucking sucks. i hate microblogs so much dude, why on EARTH are we still acting like these disambiguited 300-character-limit posts are the most preferable means of social communication online??? why would you set out to make a better twitter and then deliberately choose to replicate literally every aspect of the user experience that encouraged low-information high-drama conflict fabrication? WHY WOULD YOU MAKE A VERSION OF TWITTER WHERE YOU CAN EASILY LOOK UP THE ACCOUNT OF EVERYONE WHO HAS YOU BLOCKED AND IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE A FEATURE NOT A BUG???????? i just don't get it. i don't even get the optimism of the early adopters. i've seen people decry the post-election decay of the platform like "of course the cishets come in to ruin a community that was defined by trans & queer people" i'm sorry HELLO???????? from literally day zero bluesky was aiming to be a hands-off centrist IPO-friendly tech startup, there was never anything structurally embedded within the platform itself to keep this kind of decay from happening, you just happened to be on there when there were dramatically fewer users most of whom were curious tech enthusiasts. seriously, how have we not learned this lesson yet? you can't define a digital culture by the vibes of random user behavior! unless you have LAWS and GUIDELINES whereby you fucking BAN people for being shitheads, unless you enforce an actual code of conduct and punish bigoted speech and design a system that encourages constructive conversation, you are always always ALWAYS going to wind up at unhinged facebook boomer slop!

the death of cohost and the utterly predictable decay of bluesky are a big part of the reason why i've been posting so much more on tumblr. this is like the last bastion of anything even remotely resembling the old web, with its support of longposts and tagging and how easy it is to find random hobbyists doing cool shit you never knew existed before. like, yeah, you have to search that shit out and tailor your feed to not drive you crazy, but that's what i like about it!!! i am an adult with agency who understands that life is complicated and as such i expect to have to put some work into making my experience with a website positive! but in the hellworld of the iphone everything is walled garden apps for aggregating content where the content and its creators are structurally established as infinitely replaceable and uniquely worthless punching bags to be used and cast aside. everyone's given up on moderation and real jobs don't exist anymore especially if you happen to work in the "creative economy" IE are a writer or critic or artist or hobbyist of literally any kind. we've given up on expecting anything from the rich moneyboys who own and profit immensely off of the platforms whose value we literally create!!! especially now with the rise of "AI" grifters, whose work has ratcheted good old fashioned casual sexism and racism and homophobia up to levels not seen in such mainstream spaces since the early 2000s.

i like tumblr because i don't have to use a third party app to get & answer asks at length, and because it is a visual artist friendly platform where i won't be looked at funny for reblogging furry postmodernism or transgender homestuck OCs. it is a site that utterly lacks respectability and that's what makes it even remotely usuable. unfortunately it also sucks! partly it sucks because this place was ground zero for the rise of puritanical feminist-passing conservatism in leftist spaces, so it's like a hyperbolic time chamber for brain-melting life or death discourse about the most inconsequential bullshit you could ever imagine. but it also sucks because it's owned by a profit-motivated moneyboy who has consistently encouraged a culture of virulent transphobia and frequently bans trans women who call this out. so like, yeah, this place is cool compared to everywhere else, but it is exactly like everywhere else in that is also on a ticking clock to its own inevitable demise. the owners of this website will destroy everything that makes it interesting and will EAGERLY delete the nearly twenty years (!!!!!!) of posts it's accumulated the instant it will profit them to do so. this will be immensely unpopular and everyone will agree it's a tragedy and it won't matter. the culture and content of a social media platform is epiphenomenal to its rote economic valuation. i mean, obviously it isn't, zero of these massive tech companies would be what they are if so many people weren't so eager to give their time and labor away for free (and yes, writing a dumb dick joke on tumblr IS a form of labor in the same way that doing a captcha is labor, just because it's a miniscule contribution in an economy of scale doesn't mean you didn't contribute!), but once a tech company reaches a certain threshold its valuation ceases to be tethered to anything that actually exists in reality.

all of which is why i remember cohost with a heavy heart. yeah, it was imperfect. it was also independently owned, made with the explicit goal of creating a form of social media that actually tries not to give you a lifelong anxiety disorder so it can sell you homeopathic anti-anxiety sawdust suppositories. for the brief window of time when it was extant, i was genuinely hopeful for the future of being a creative on the internet. part of why i spend so much time on godfeels, a fucking homestuck fanfiction with no hope of turning a profit or establishing mainstream legitimacy, is that my readers actually ENGAGE with the material. what brought me back to using this website consistently was precisely the glut of godfeels-related questions i got, and the exciting conversations that resulted from my answers. meanwhile i put so many hours into my videos and even when they do well numerically, i barely see any actual engagement with the material. and that is a deliberate design choice on the part of youtube! that is the platform functioning as intended!! it sucks!!!

what the memory of cohost has instilled in me is a neverending distaste for the lazy unambitious also-rans that define the modern internet. i remember the possibility space of the early web and long for the expressiveness that even the most minor of utilities offered. we sacrificed that freedom for a convenience which was always the pretense for eventually charging us rent. i am thinking a lot these days about what a publicly funded government administrated social media utility would look like. what federal open source standards could look in an environment where the kinds of activities a digital ecosystem can encourage are strictly regulated against exploitation, bigotry, scams, and literal gambling. what if there was a unionized federal workforce devoted to the administration of internet moderation, which every website above a certain user threshold must legally take advantage of? i like to imagine a world where youtube isn't just nationalized but balkanized, where you have nested networks of youtubes administrated for different purposes by different agencies and organizations that operate on different paradigms of privacy and algorithmic interaction. imagine that your state, county, and/or city has its own branch of youtube meant to specifically highlight local work, while also remaining connected to a broader national network (oops i just reinvented federation lmao). imagine a world where server capacity is a publicly owned utility apportioned according to need and developed in collaboration with the communities of their construction rather than as a deliberate exploitation of them. our horizons for these kinds of things are just so, so small, our ability to imagine completely captured by capitalist realism, our willingness to demand services from our government simply obliterated by decades of cynical pro-austerity propaganda. i imagine proposing some of this stuff and people reacting like "well that's unrealistic" "that'll never happen" "they'd just use it for evil" and i am just SO! FUCKING! TIRED!!!!

like wow you're soooooo cool for being effectively two steps left of reagan, i bet you think prison abolition and free public housing are an impossible pipedream too huh? and exactly what has that attitude gotten you? what've you gained by being such a down to earth realist whose demands are limited by the scope of what seems immediately possible? has anything gotten better? have any of the things you thought were good stayed good? is your career more stable, your political position more safe, your desire to live and thrive greatly expanded? or do you spend every day in a cascading panopticon of stress and collapse, overwhelmed to the point of paralysis by the sheer magnitude of what it's cost us to abandon the future? you HAVE to dream. you HAVE to make unrealistic demands. the fucking conservatives have been making unrealistic demands forever and look, they're getting everything they want even though EVERYONE hates them for it! please i'm begging you to see and understand that what's feasible, what's reasonable, what's realistic, are literally irrelevant. these things only feel impossible because we choose to believe The Adults (and if you're younger than like 45, trust me, to the ruling class you are a child) whose bank accounts reflect just how profitable it is to convince us that they're impossible. all those billions of dollars these fuckers have didn't come from nowhere, it was stolen from all of us. there is no reason that money can't and shouldn't be seized and recirculated back into the economy, no reason it can't be used to fund a society that is actually social, where technological development is driven not by what's most likely to drive up profits next quarter but by what people need from technology in their daily lives.

uh so yeah basically that's my opinion of cohost lmao

[mythals-whore]

Some thoughts on fandom engagement

Post got long but TL;DR engagement is low, Never Ever Stop Creating! fandom is community and everyone needs to participate

extended thoughts and personal anecdote under the cut:

For writers:

I have turned off Kudos emails from ao3. I found myself checking my email and feeling discouraged when I didn't get them. So i turned the emails off so I wouldn't know I wasn't getting them. Even now when I go to my dashboard, I specifically do not look at the bottom of the work to see those numbers.

This is not me telling you to do the same thing. It is easier said than done, and I understand that. But that's what I had to do to have a good time.

Because for a little while, posting made it less fun. I felt like people didn't like it. I was being overly critical of myself, couldn't write more than three sentences without feeling like I was garbage and my work was garbage and I should just quit. I would post a chapter and then immediately want to take the whole thing down. But then I realized...

I have about four half-finished projects in my WIP folder. I have written like 500,000 words that no one has ever read. Because I had fun doing it! Because I enjoy writing!!

And the point of this isn't to say writers shouldn't want or expect engagement. That is not at all what I'm saying!

What I am saying is that if you enjoy writing and you find that posting your work is making you feel unmotivated, discouraged, and you're not having fun anymore it is okay to take it down. It’s okay to make your work private for a while. It's okay to turn off Kudos emails or even comments. Whatever you need to do to make it fun again, do that. If you enjoy creating, please do not let the lack of engagement stop you!

It's been really helpful for me to find a community of creators! Without the support of @thedissonantverses @flowersforthemachines and @basedonconjecture I may have deleted my work months ago!

And that said, if you want someone to read your work, there are so many people (including and especially me) who would love to read and promote you! Participate in WIP Wednesday and Writing Weekend! Promote your own work!! Promote other creators' work! This is how we build community!

For readers:

If you love fanfic, and fanart and fandom in general engage with it. The urge to take down your work is real! And not unique to me! If writers don't get kudos or comments or replies on tumblr, they will delete their work. If there's a fic you find, and you enjoy it but you don't engage with it do not be surprised if you log on one day and it isn't there anymore. Or if it gets orphaned. Or if they simply stop updating it.

Fandom is meant to be a community. The whole purpose of it is to enjoy the things you enjoy with other people. If you're consuming free work (be that fanfic, fan art or something else) and you're not liking or reblogging or commenting then those people will stop sharing it.

And my personal take, while we're here: I do not get it.

I do not understand why there are people out there who do not jump at the chance to directly engage with authors and artists who make things that you enjoy. You can tell them personally how much you like their work! You can ask them questions! You can send them your unhinged ramblings on The Character.

And before anyone comes to my replies and says: I never know what to say ))):

Here is a non-comprehensive list of 10 slightly unhinged things that I've actually commented on fics (some edited for brevity)

I am chewing on glass.

bye i’m putting my fist through the wall 😭

These two are consuming my every waking thought

That ruined me i fear. I have passed away

THIS IS LITERATURE. absolutely tore my heart out.

You are sick in the head my friend

Im gonna sip on this sentence a while.🤌🏻

how could you do this to them? writing about this in my burn book brb

A) You absolutely cooked here B) how fucking dare you?

 kicking my feet and giggling!!!!!

And this isn't just for ao3/fanfic writers. Fanartists deserve love too! Artists love feedback!! The more unhinged the better!! Tell us we're evil! Quote our work back to us! Tell us you're smashing through walls like the Kool-aid man! Tell us that our work is making you scream and cry and blush!

No one is expecting you to leave several long paragraphs with an actual annotated review (not that that wouldn't also be welcome). Comment! Engage! Community is the whole point!

This also goes for finding Tumblr mutuals, by the way. If you want to make friends with people on here engage with their content! Like their posts! Reply to them! Send asks and messages!

Stop being afraid to enjoy things! That is like...all we are doing here.

[epiphainie]

can you please talk a little about buck's sexual health history (including fuckboy era and maybe a learning curve and eventual clipboard buck mentality) how he's long been practising safe sex and gets regularly tested etc etc before meeting tommy - but also his self care and awareness after commencing gay sex 👀👀👀

i love that you're asking me - i hate it when the characters put on condoms in fics me - this lol

okay, starting with teen buck, which is when i imagine he lost his virginity, i don't think he really grasped or cared about safe sex. more specifically, he was like 15 and the girl he slept with (if you can call a four minute encounter at a house party that) was a bit older and promised she was on the pill, and buck, being stupid and a horny teen and totally unprepared, was like good, because i don't have a condom. luckily nothing happened but it was just a very fortunate situation.

he obviously started carrying around condoms after that. as someone who was actively having sex. another headcanon but i think buck was the first guy for a lot of girls in high school because he was sweet and charming and safe. like he was a little fuckboy before he even legally made it to the legal age but girls didn't really mind that. obviously all he knew was to put on a condom and let the girls get comfortable but that was like 90% better than his age peers.

this obviously followed him to the one year of community college he actually managed but other than being safe and nice, buck's also incredibly peacocky and readily influenced if it means he can show off and feel some sense of pride that he innately lack so the occasional spontaneous sex stuff where he had to forgo the condom happened. like what was he supposed to do when his buddies dared him into chatting up the hottest girl in the room she went "itsfineitsfineitsfine" when he realized his condom was expired and also she was already naked? what was he supposed to do the insanest chick he ever met taunted him into fucking her at the edge of a roof and bare?

now this totally got worse during his intercontinental hobo-ing and fuckboy-ing. fucking the daughter of the owner of the dude ranch behind the stables? sure. letting a girl finger him with the hands she just put inside herself? well they're on the lima beach and it's romantic. barebacking her? her boyfriend asked!

i think the fire academy would be where he kinda gets a bit smarter about this. either because he's not dumb and he's here in los angeles now hoping to make something out of himself so he can start acting like an adult. or because he has an STI scare that freaks the fuck out of him and he decides right there and then that he's having safer sex eventho he's still having hookups. i don't think he'd get very clipboardy about it from the get go but he'd absolutely start getting tested more regularly and saying no to stuff. then a year and some change later ofc abby would happen and we know that totally makes him reconsider why he feels the need to have sex the way he does and while fixing his relationship with that, he'd change his relationship with how he has sex as well. actually it's nice to have a little checklist to track his sexual health! also turns out it's fun to be able to reassure people tho some find it unsexy when he recounts his test results during foreplay.

and i think gay sex would be just an extension of that. by the time he realizes he's bi and wants to have sex with men, i think buck has a pretty healthy approach to sex. still freaky but not unsafe! but also, buck's a true slut at heart, it's just there, so after they reach a point where sex doesn't feel like tommy leading him, buck would take them into the territory where they're being nasty. they're exclusive, they're both on prep, they're adults for fucks sake, tommy, can you please breed me now or else

[scopophobia-polaris]

Why are the christian mormon etc Zelda fans so obsessed with Skyward Sword Link? Have we ever figured this out?

.

So, i think this may be a form or projection. Zelda games are very simple.

And that Simplicity can lead to many diffrent interpretations. You wonder why facists like simple good vs evil stories? It doesnt make them think, they dont have to have empathy, they get to feel good about getting rid of the other no matter ehat that other is, and there CAN be a very easy evangelical reading of SkSw.

So, SkSw's Sidequests are all tied back to Batreaux, you get gratitude crystals when trying to turn him human and you help the community out, it's nice!

So here comes the reading. SkSw is a game where Link only helps others to get Good boy points to turn a "Demon"(Batreaux is not a bad person. He just looks scary, he looks scary because Demon is his race, yes demons are referred to as a RACE in the Zelda series) to a Human and then go Serve God.

There are some very selfish people in the world who will talk about being a "good Christian" and then do everything Jesus said not to do. And i think it's very funny the most loud people in this Fandom who claim to be christian are the LEAST Christian out of all.

“So when you give to the poor, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be honoured by men. Truly I say to you, they have their reward in full. “But when you give to the poor, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving will be in secret; and your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you. Matthew 6:2-4

And also I'm gonna say this, but mother fucker you CANNOT say the Bible hasn't been changed a million times by human hands and human opinions, look how many versions there are on prostelatizing and STILL you get Chritians saying it was Jesus telling them to convert to him, mf he was Jewish. Learn your fucking history.

All of SkSw is planned by Hylia, basically everything, all the temples, where boxes are placed, why the silent realms are a thing, it's all a test, God has a plan for hik and it was decided before he was born.

And Hylia raised Skyloft and left the other races, including the Sheikah, on the surface and rose the Hylians to eden to protect them from the apocalypse, Hylia did a Rapture.

She took ONLY her chosen people, the ones who belive in her, it doesn't matter if they were good or bad they go because they're Hylian. And if you know what American Evangelicalism is like, southern Baptist FORSURE, you can sin sin and sin but if you are a Christian who believes in God? It doesn't matter if you commit a crime, if you repent you're saved and go to heaven no matter what. Hell, some people believed that if Hitler repented he got into heaven and that's just it, he's in fucking heaven

So now I'm gonna talk about the idea of Worldly people.

Its just everyone else, you could be doing everything "right" feeding and clothing the poor, caring for the sick, being kind to thy neighbor honoring thy father and thy mother but if you don't see yourself as a christan? Instant hell. It doesn't matter if you're "good" As long as you're Christian, there is a reason why there are so many sexual abuse in so many congregations. But that also has so much history and bullshit to it, it's not simple and I aint getting into it.

Oh and it find someone saying ALL Christians don't you fucking dare, im talking about very specific forms of this hypocrital shit. There truly is no hate like "christain love"

So, Sky is a warrior of the faith in a straight relationship with the human embodiment of God, and abandons all others to serve her and is now the ancestors to the royal family, he's been rewarded for his good deeds, helping the community wasn't to help the community, it was to get one more sinner to convert.

And...I can tell horror stories about people being loved bombed by christains to try converting them, apprenty the gays are so insidious but being a minor a bunch of games as an adult to talk to them about god over the internet is.....okay?

Basically, there is a reading of Sky as a selfish Christian.

And it doesn't help when First Hero through Fandom osmosis is still RELEVANT and even if he got retconned by the game having the plot it has, many people latched onto him (wife included)

And he had his la pieta moment

So like there are connections, Madas is a martyr of the faith, told by God to do it and he did. He did the thing a lot of toxic male christains want to do, die for their fucking faith.

But you know, they freak it when they hear Allahu Akbar, because that's terrorism but what we do it its our faith, and how dare you criticized us for the murder of George Tiller, that wasn't a murder, that was for God and therefore....okay :)

I could say more but honestly i started talking about the mindset, look i grew up catholic in the south and was around a lot of evangelicals when I was in public highschool.

So i wanna end it with this, I dont want people saying all Christians because that's not true, I hate it when people try to sall "all" about anyone, no matter race religion sexuality and gender, I fall into this out if anger a lot and I want to tell people it's okay if you get angry, just remember that...if you're in the Zelda fandom. Don't just block someone cuz they have Christian in their bio or do I aikt your dad, but I think it's better to find out someone's opinions and see THEIR ACTIONS before making judgment.

[thegnomelord]

Ahh I love the food thing that you got asked <3 food can have such a special place in our lives it's so precious

Ya think Hound develop concerning eating habits due to Makarov? Due to the whole stressful situation

I just want someone in the 141 to cook him a meal, filled with love and care, maybe Hound is in the kitchen watching them cook it for his own security.

I just want him to have a nice meal 😔

-🐙

I do feel like Hound would have some food hoarding habits or just distrust about eating something he didn't make himself. It wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten drugged through food...

But the 141 making food communally would be a fun idea lol so here's a quick brain fart :D :

You feel out of place. Well, you're always out of place, but you feel especially out of place sitting at the table while Soap and and Gaz busy themselves by the stove, Price humming to himself to the side as he gets the mugs to make tea. Ghost sits next to you grumbling under his breath, both of you in 'time-out' — you hadn't done anything (save for not being trusted around anything sharp), it's Ghost that had gone and microwaved beans in the can. Now Johnny swears up and down the microwave is possessed.

Your eyes flicker between Soap and Gaz, watching them cook you don't even know what. The only British 'cuisine' you know of is the cremated steaks Price would sometimes make you before. . . that. But nothing the two are making smells nearly as bad as the charred hockey pucks Price would feed you and Simon.

"Hey!" Your brought out of your thoughts in time to see Kyle swat away Price's hand with his spatula. "Don't you dare cap! I'm not about to get rained on because of your bad cooking." You hadn't considered Gaz could take charge, too soft in your eyes, but you're surprised by how tight of a ship he runs when he's by the stove.

"Alright, alright." Price huffs while Ghost lets out an amused huff. He's not quite laughing, but you can see the subtle tremor of his shoulders in silent laughter.

That gets Soap to point a spoon in Ghost's direction. "Oh yer one te fockin' giggle. Mr. 'ah cursed the damn microwave with me beans'."

"Sod off." Simon grunts, but there's no edge to his words. Soap tuts, but soon enough starts off rambling about something you're not quite able to follow along to when your eyes once again focus on where their arms are, how they move, paying especially close attention any time they rest them by their sides (even though realistically you doubt they'd try to drug the same food they'd eat).

You still tense when you feel Price's hand on your back, only now noticing that you'd started hunching your back, your shoulders raised closer to your ears. "You're alright, straighten your spine, sweetheart." His voice is calm, his hand warm as he applies gentle pressure on your back until you straighten back out. "There you go, good man." He rumbles, hand going up to ruffle your hair before he pulls away before his touch can turn into stinging pain to your skin.

You blink as a plate full of food is placed in front of you. The food smells good and doesn't look like it had been cremated, made with care you don't deserve. "I. . ." You don't know why but your throat feels clogged, like someone had poured hot tar into your mouth and forced you to swallow, the collar around your throat constricting your breathing even more.

Simon's shoulder bumps into yours, "If you don't eat that I will." The childish threat makes you breathe out a small laugh.

"Aye, the bastard's like Henry the hoover, he'll eat anything." Soap supplies as he sits down opposite of you with his own plate. Though you get the impression he's talking about himself when he stabs a sausage with a fork and almost inhales the entire thing.

"Mhm," You grunt, taking the fork. "I don't doubt it." You stab a piece of black pudding. It tastes earthy, but the small coppery tang of blood sizzles down your nerves, but fuck it tastes good.

"Look at that, is it good?" Kyle chuckles as he watches your facial features shift as you swallow the food, his own face that of pride like he already knows your answer, but you nod your head all the same.

[bambisnc]

do i wanna know? [ft. j.sc]

@ sungchan : i FUCKING dare you to pull this blanket one. more. time. @ y/n : your wish is my command cutie 😋😝

pairing : significant annoyance!sungchan x f!reader genre : fluffy + crack cw/tw : there's only one bed :O + swearing + uneditted wc : 1K LETS GAUUURR

the newest addition on your list of things you despise about jung sungchan : how he felt no qualms at all when breaking the ONE rule you had established.

do not cross the boundary of pillows you had meticulously arranged on the queen bed that you had the misfortune of sharing with him i.e., stay away from you as much as possible.

another addition on your list was the way his arms were wrapped around your waist in a way that caused your chest to be pressed against his back in a far too intimate embrace for someone who rarely let go of any opportunities to pick (petty) fights with you. 

the fact that a small part of you, the same part which kept trying to make your breathing just a little quieter so as to not wake him up, wanted to simply go back to sleep just so you could stay enveloped in his comfort for a little longer is completely irrelevant. 

when you think back to the events of the previous few nights, you can’t help but feel slightly murderous intentions towards your so-called best friend, yujun. 

it’s all her fault, really, if you think about it. 

why did she have to go and find a boyfriend? especially when said boyfriend, shotaro, just so happened to be best friends with the literal bane of your entire existence.

why did they have to book a romantic getaway and then end up being busy when the date of the trip arrived? and why, you asked the heavens, why must they have given both you AND sungchan keys to the room??

the lack of communication between the couple was definitely going to be the reason for your untimely demise. 

so far, the one sole highlight of your trip had been the utter shock on sungchan’s face when you walked into the lobby of the fancy hotel, late evening. you’d greeted him with a tight smile, in an attempt to act civilly. 

that went downhill rather fast. but to be fair; you did have your reasons...

…they were threefold. 

first, when you mentioned that you wouldn’t feel too comfortable asking the reception for an extra room and asked him to do it for you, he went off on some kind of a rant saying he wasn’t obligated to do anything you told him. 

when you pointed out that with how defensive he was being, it was almost as if he wanted to share a room with you; he only rolled his eyes and pushed his tongue against his cheek in that ever so annoying way of his. 

you could’ve almost sworn he said something about being .. denser than a .. neutron star? okay astronomy nerd

second, over the days, sungchan had for some reason taken to being stuck to your person like glue. he followed you all over as you were exploring the facilities of the hotel and eventually even dropped in on what were supposed to have been quiet meals where you basked in the delight of your own company; all the while spitting out teasing quips and comments to you.

and there were those out of nowhere, not-so-fleeting touches of his too. playful (??) little shoves, moving your hair away from your face (in an obviously condescending way. right?) etc. you chose to not pay much attention to those.

until, that is, the kitchenette incident occurred. 

while trying to pour yourself a glass of water (because how would you be able to properly pay back each and every one of sungchan’s infuriating actions if you weren’t hydrated?), you can only assume you’d somehow been blocking the narrow walkway into the room. 

which had then led him to move you to the side with a hand on your waist, almost as if with practiced ease. 

no you did not take almost a whole day to process this.

but the third reason is the one you can safely assume to have been the most fatal for you.

the way he insisted on not letting you take the couch but also refusing to sleep on it himself. 

c’mon we’re both mature, smart people he’d said we can sleep in the same bed for a couple days, no? unless.. you think you won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself, hmm~?

you had thrown a pillow right at him; to wipe off that infuriating smirk off of his face. 

it didn’t work at all. -

the warmth of the sunlight streaming in through the windows coaxes you out of your reverie. all of your senses are suddenly hyper aware of how soft sungchan’s skin feels against yours and how the soft breaths he lets out against your neck have your hair standing on end.

you’re especially aware of how his grip around your waist tries to pull you in closer, as if you weren’t already millimeters away from basically becoming one with him. 

he shuffles around a bit more before you realize he’s waking up.

you immediately allow your eyes to close and attempt to relax all your tense muscles to look as if you were still asleep. maybe you just can’t bear to face how he would react.

“y/n….?”

he still hasn’t moved his arm.

“what are you- SHIT.”

there it is. he pulls away like you’re somehow physically hurting him. 

“oh thank god you’re still asleep. lord knows you wouldn’t have hesitated to actually fight me if you were awake right now.”

…. is he not aware that he’s quite literally 6’1 and with muscles for days?

“i just…” he sighs “i wish i could just hug you properly. preferably after i confessed and you accepted to let me be yours.”

what. 

“i suppose, in my heart, i technically already am. i just wish you could be mine too.

………..

….. y/n ….? i could've sworn your face didn’t look this red earlier? ……………

oh my god.”

he’s gentle with his movements as he moves your body so that if you were to open your eyes you’d be face to face with his. 

“you’re awake aren’t you?”

notes : ill be honest this was originally meant for chanhee.... but sungchan broke into my house (mind) and said i think tf nawt! + [m.list] song rec : do i wanna know - arctic monkeys

𐙚 . regulars : @x0llaz @nicholasluvbot @totheseok @mellowdyverse @fae-renjun ⋆

[throwawayhero]

hii!! could u please do headcannons for katsuki in a relationship with a trans man reader?? Tysm!!

Of course lovely! And thank you so much for sending in a request! Please feel free to correct any mistakes that I make, but I'll try my best! I wasn't exactly sure how to make the hc's specifically relationship orientated, so it's sort of a thin line sorry! c/w; afab, lgbtqia+, course language, menstruation, no quirks mentioned

He honestly had no clue you were trans when the two of you met for the first time. He had no reason to. And tbh, he didn't give a fuck when you told him. He sort of just.. shrugged and moved on? Nothing more, nothing less. But if you weren't already out when you met him and you realised how you truly felt a bit into the friendship.. he still didn't give a fuck! He accepted you, obviously, and he 'encouraged' you, in his own way, to test things out.

"Okay? Fuck does that have to do with me?"

He especially liked helping you pick out clothes. When asked to go with you to go clothes shopping, he would complain and tell you to get someone else to go with you.. but he would still grab his keys and rush you out the door (: (That's why your style is majorly inspired by his.)

When you told him what your new name was, he immediately said that it was better than your other "shitty ass" name. He also changed your contact name as soon as he could.

When you got your first masc hair cut you didn't tell him beforehand, so when you bumped into him and surprised him with it he stared at it for a good minute with a frown before saying that it looked better than the "rats nest" you had before. Bonus points if you did any form of bleaching and/or dyeing it, he says it makes you look less boring.

"At least now you look like you actually have a personality."

If he catches someone calling/referring to you by your deadname, whether it was intentional or not, he's onto their ass IMMEDIATLEY and he is NOT polite about it. He will sass them tf up.

"Who's that? Oh, you mean ****, right?" "Come again?" / "Excuse you?" / "Pardon?"

Kinda had no idea what binders were before you told him what they were used for. Insisted you got ones with cool designs and called you boring for getting solid colour ones only.

Genuinely became so much more involved with the LGBTQIA+ community because of you. His first Mardi Gras was a night he will literally never forget, for both good and bad reasons. If you dare MENTION a feather boa, he'll start having flashbacks.

He doesn't put that much thought into his sexuality. He's just the type of person to not gaf, yk? Call him what you want, he wasn't gonna sit there and confirm or deny. He just knew that he had been attracted to girls and guys his whole life, regardless of the extra stuff.

When you got your period for the first time around him he was pretty neutral about it. When you mentioned the dysphoria it gave you he did try his best to console you, but it just ended up making you laugh. He really did try to keep you distracted, even if he struggled exponentially. He let you use his Netflix to watch a movie/TV show while you hung out. ACTUALLY understood that cramps hurt like a bitch and gave you pain relief and snacks.

"Jeans cannot be comfortable for you right now, ya masochist."

Went with you to every T-shot appointment. He wasn't obvious about it but he always made sure that his hand was there for you to hold if you got paranoid about the needle hurting. Noticed the effects quicker than everyone else and claimed that he "won" at being the most supportive.

"You guys suck at this."

He helped you save up for top & bottom surgery and surprised you with the rest of the money you needed on a random Tuesday night. He'd never admit it but he "almost" teared up at the sight of how happy you were that night. And you'll pretend like you never saw the tear roll down his cheek.

[genderqueerdykes]

complaining about whiny Amab people is literally all that post is. "You don't have to fall into a sassy gay man stereotype" way to misgender and stereotype transfemmes.

I used to follow you and it makes me feel so unsafe knowing how much disdain you have for TMA people.

hello, i am a trans woman. who are you even referring to? "TMA people" is not a cohesive group of people, that doesn't mean anything. that's literally everyone. literally everyone can be affected by transmisogyny. that is not a group of people, that is quite possibly almost literally everyone. there is no cohesive group of "TMA people". like who are you even talking about here? cis gay men? effeminate cis men? feminine trans men? genderfluid people? intersex people? like who are you referring to exactly?

if you seriously think that pointing out genuine, dangerous behaviors in other people is "disdain" for them, then i don't think my blog is for you, anyway, so you are better off unfollowing. disliking someone's actions and behaviors is not the same as disliking them as a person.

this is the exact reason why i'm speaking up about issues within the transfeminine community. people seriously have gotten to a point where you literally cannot criticize transfems and trans women without being told you hate all trans women and transfemmes. this line of thinking is the exact reason why i'm writing these posts and answers. this is not okay. this is why trans men and mascs are terrified to speak because if they ever dare to say ANYTHING about transfeminine behavior, they're told they hate trans women instantly.

trans women and transfemmes are not immune to criticism. we just aren't. we've created this extremely dangerous echo chamber where Trans Women And Femmes Are Right About Literally Everything All The Time Forever And Are The Only Ones Allowed To Talk About Anything! which has fostered an environment where people tell literally everyone else to shut the fuck up about their own identities and only let transfemmes and trans women speak.

transfemmes and trans women also have to accept criticism when it comes to how we interact with other trans people. we are not special.

we do not deserve to get to walk and talk over other people. criticizing specific transfeminine behaviors does not mean you "hate" or "disdain" transfemmes. what, trans women and transfems are allowed to sit around on this website all day long and shit talk transmascs and trans men and loudly and proudly proclaim that they hate trans men, and nobody cares about how they """hate TMES""" but the second someone criticizes a trans woman or a transfemme about how they literally treat other people as subhuman and that's hating someone? trans women who literally hate trans men don't get called out for being violent and shitty, but a trans woman pointing out that other trans women are literally abusing people is "disdain for trans women?"

we seem to think on this website that criticizing tranfemmes = hating them and it's the most unhealthy thing i've ever seen.

if we create and environment where transfemmes and trans women can never be criticized, ever, we're setting ourselves up for disaster, which is quite literally where we're at now. you have to snap out of the mentality that you have to listen to every. single. thing. a transfeminine person or a trans woman says without questioning it and just accept it as fact. trans women and transfemmes can be wrong sometimes. trans women and transfemmes can be assholes sometimes, too.

what we're doing right now is pushing the idea that if you EVER criticize a transfemme or a trans woman, that you're evil and hate trans women. you are the exact reason why i am speaking up about how transfemmes and trans women are not poor defenseless little waifs who can never hurt anyone else ever. trans women are not inherently harmless because we're women. criticizing a BEHAVIOR does not mean you hate the person- you hate their actions. internalize this. stop getting instantly emotional and offended the second you see an ounce of criticism. that's not a good knee jerk reaction to have. you are terrified of open, honest conversation if that's the case.

i'm not sure how else to say it, but supporting and loving transfemmes and trans women does not mean letting us literally hurt other people and get away with it scott free. supporting trans women and transfemmes does not mean allowing us to do literally whatever the hell we want when it comes to how we treat and address others.

please feel free to unfollow if you don't like that i'm pointing out that transfemmes and trans women are literally people and are literally not immune to being assholes deserving of criticism. if you seriously think that, you are part of the problem right now. reassess how you think. "TMA people" isn't a cohesive group of people. who are you even talking about? that's such a massive group of people, i'm not even sure you're aware that "TMA people" isn't just trans women and transfemmes.