#wanted to write something that kind of read like a sitcom

[sunnysideprincess]

It was the shirt.

It was the goddamn shirt that started it all.

Bucky had been fine. He had a job. A bunch of lousy, sweet, well-meaning friends and even a decent social life.

There would be a girl or two. Sometimes a man. Other times...

Well he had a cat and a large TV. And every second week, his therapy appointment.

He had an on and off roommate: Tony Stark, millionaire Howard Stark's eccentric spawn. He crashed in whenever he didn't want to go home and Bucky would make a day out of it. He'd cook healthy meals and fruity cocktails. They'd spend the day binge watching whatever caught Tony's fancy. And he would never forgive the little devil for getting him hooked to a cheap-ass monster slasher.

Life was good.

It was easy.

So color him surprised when Steve Rogers decided to throw himself a bachelor's party at Bucky's place. Because the little punk was the first one of their loser gang to be getting married.

"Why my place?"

"Because you're my best friend, Bucky," Steve told him a little too earnestly. Behind him Wilson was wearing a shit eating grin and Nat her devil smile. It set off all the alarm bells in his head so he picked up a fork and stabbed it through Steve's favorite piece of chicken.

"And also you're the only one with a big enough kitchen."

So that was it.

This whole thing with the shirt?—he blamed it all on Steve Rogers and his marriage... Thing.

The party: their loser gang huddled around with booze and enough food to feed a nation, was in full swing and somehow Brock Rumlow was there too.

It was annoying enough when they were just exes. Now he was also a bitchy neighbour and Steve had invited him in after he invited himself. Just. To. Be. Polite.

Except he was also touching Tony with his grimy hands, asking for a tip or two about the best kind of bartending trick.

Tony kept up with it, showing off whatever he'd learned from his part time. If only because he was a sucker for Steve's big cow eyes and didn't want to ruin the party.

But he was clearly uncomfortable.

And that was before Rumlow accidentally spilled vodka all over him.

Bucky, being the good host he was, had distracted Rumlow with Nat (something that would come to haunt him in the future) and then ushered Tony to the bathroom.

He left him alone to stop Wilson from slam dunking Rumlow out of the window and he regretted it a moment later, when Tony emerged wearing the shirt.

That one shirt Bucky usually—if not always, slept in.

It sat on Tony too big. Big enough that he had to roll up the sleeves. Big enough that the collar was sliding off his neck. Big enough that he had to tie it around his waist.

Bucky had made a noise. Something akin to a cat in heat and Tony...

That little shit had given him a sweet, slow smile before pulling down the waistline of his shorts to reveal a hint of lace.

Okay...

So maybe it wasn't just the shirt that started it all.

[alexiswritingstuff]

Everyone can heal.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Gn!reader

Summary: Logan falls asleep in the day room at Xavier's school, you accidently startle him awake and end up getting hurt.

Genre: hurt/comfort.

Warnings: mentions of blood, and descriptions of wounds, mentions of nightmares.

This is the first time that I am writing in a while, so I hope this isn't just straight up terrible.

A/n: this if my first fic for Logan, so like I usually say when writing for a new character, I may not have portrayed him in an accurate way. There might be parts that seem out of character and such, so please keep that in mind while reading!

Anyway, I've watched the X-men movies since I was a kid. And after watching the new Deadpool and Wolverine movie I was put right back at square one. So, here you go!

I hope you enjoy!!

Logan masterlist.

It had been a long few days.

It was one of the first weeks that you had actually tried to be a professor. Of some sort.

Now, generally, you weren't exactly the kind of person that worked well with kids. It was a lack of experience on your end, as you hadn't gotten the chance to grow up with much others.

But you wanted to learn. Or... did.

The main fault was that you had forgotten to weigh your personal life, more so the things you needed, alongside being a professor in a school.

See, there were a few things that you didn't know about your abilities beforehand. Charles managed to bring some to light, and in turn, you had to figure out how to use them: Incorporate them into your training, into your fighting skills.

It was a lot to relearn. And you misjudged just how much it was going take it out of you.

Though, you didn't seem to be the only one.

Logan was practically in the same boat. Maybe even a little worse. I mean, he was good with kids, but working with them was different, especially when it's a whole group of them at a time. He even bailed on his own classes once. Or twice... could’ve been more.

But you couldn't exactly blame him.

This was the man that barely stayed a week anyway. He was always leaving, whether it was for a bar or something else, you didn't know unless you went with him.

He wasn't used to it yet. The change of being alone, pretty much all the time, to suddenly being surrounded by a boat load of people 24/7. It was understandable. Especially to you, which is probably why you had got to know him so well.

It was the end of the day. The sun was tucked far beneath the horizon, blanketing your part of the earth in a complete darkness. Minus the slight light pollution.

The hallways of the schools were empty at this time, each kid, hopefully, getting a good night's sleep for the next day of learning. But you could never be sure when it came to the teenagers.

It meant that there were less things in the surrounding area for the sound of your footsteps to bounce off. And that, combined with the size of the archways themselves, allowed the echoes to ring a lot longer than needed. 

You were on your way back to the day room, having made a quick stop by the kitchen to get more sodas in order to soothe the joint annoyance of having a lack of beer. 

It was where the two of you usually set up for quiet moments like these. There wasn't really anywhere else to go, unless you wanted to be stuck in an empty classroom, or have to sit on a freezing bench. And neither of you had an interest in being near a bed.

The most important factor about the day room, however, was that it had a TV. Which just so happened to be the first thing you heard after passing through the final corridor.

It was distant, set at a cautious volume. It must've been one of those talk shows, or maybe some kind of sitcom, as a chorus of laughter would erupt after almost every sentence said.

Either way, it didn't really matter. It had only been put on for background noise. A sound that would carry the silence whenever the two of you had stopped talking, unsure of what to bring up next.

Though, it seemed it had worked a little too well.

The last time you got a look at Logan, he had resumed his usual position. He was upright, back pressed firmly into the sofa as if he were trying to meld with it, and leant against the palm of his hand that had his elbow digging into the armrest.

Your feet halted in a matter of seconds of turning into that doorway. Your tongue was curled in your mouth, lips parted and remaining so, as your eyes had landed back on the man.

He was lying in the opposite direction. His body was sprawled across the length of the couch, though his feet were cursed to hang loosely over the edge. His muscles looked tense, regardless of the usual relief that sort of position was supposed to give a person. But that wasn't the interesting part.

His eyes were closed.

At this point the condensation on the bottles had begun to grow into little drops of water, joining together, one by one, before leaking onto your skin.

Your steps were slow, testing each of the floorboards beneath your shoes to avoid the ones that creaked like an old door.

Logan wasn't a person who got tired easily. It was part of his mutation, that of which you had learned very quickly, but apparently it had manifested into thinking that he couldn't even feel it at all. I guess you were wrong.

Though, in his defence, he may not have even meant to fall asleep when he closed his eyes.

Eventually, you had made it to the edge of the couch. There was a side table on each end of it, the safest and the closest option regardless of the fact his shoed feet were almost right above it.

You took one of the bottles in your free hand, making sure that your grip was just right, before beginning the descent to the table.

You held your breath, narrowed gaze flickering consistently from the eventual destination to the sleeping man. The concentration had even caused your tongue to poke through your teeth as you took about a step closer--

And then bam.

Right as the bottom of the bottle had touched down on the wood, this sudden guttural sound rippled through the air. It had you stumbling backwards, gaping in the direction of the continued noise that sounded like fear itself.

In front of you, now, was not the same sleeping man. In fact, this man was sat up, though almost hunched over most of his body. His arms were raised, aimed straight ahead, and that happened to be right at you.

“Whoa-- hey!”

He was heaving. Each breath taken almost shook his entire body. And the noises... They were almost like growls.

They were so deep and harsh as they pushed out of his throat one after the other, but his inhales were somehow even worse. It was like all the air in the room had suddenly dissipated.

It wasn't until you heard the seams of the couch starting to rip that you realised his claws were even out, the ends just about digging into the pillows beside him.

“Logan, hey, it's me, okay? Look,” you attempted to call, trying to lower your head so that he could properly meet your eyes, “Look, it's me!” And then he did. He saw you, even if It took a moment for it to actually kick in. 

He was still heaving, his gaze was fierce and his eyebrows never eased. He had even slightly choked on a breath on its way out.

But you saw the way he had slightly leaned back. There was a relief within the swirl of other emotions.

Until his gaze lowered.

Now, at some point in the past few minutes, the other bottle in your hand had been discarded. It most likely hit the edge of your shoe, sending it to roll off into some corner of the room where it would be forgotten about until morning... But it hadn't smashed.

So, why did something sound like it was dripping?

“Y/n.”

By the time your eyebrows had furrowed in confusion, Logan had hurriedly shoved himself up from the couch, his claws shrinking back between his knuckles within seconds. “Shit.”

You were lost. The sudden switch in atmosphere had you just standing there, fixated on the man that was moving towards you with this look on his face. Similar to one of guilt.

“Logan?” You had barely gotten the name out before you suddenly felt a hand on your arm. Your head snapped in its direction, lips parting so that you could ask what the hell was going on. And then he slightly tilted your arm.

There was your answer. “Oh.”

Three marks. There were three lines etched diagonally into your arm, one deep enough that it led the pooling blood to trickle down your skin. How did you not feel that?

“Fuck,” Logan's hand was careful. His fingers were light and gentle as they grazed the side of your arm. Hesitant. His breaths were getting louder again. “I'm…”

“I'm sorry,” he attempted, his voice barely escaping as a whisper, “I'm so sorry.”

His eyebrows were more furrowed than they were before. The rest of his face was sort of scrunched up too, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Or he was disgusted by it.

“Logan,” You tried placing your hand on his closest wrist, but he immediately retracted. He let go of your arm, “Hey, look, I'm fine, okay?” you started louder, more insistent, “It doesn't hurt.”

Logan shook his head for a moment. He took a slight step backwards, his stance heavy. His eyes never moved. “I'm sorry.”

He grunted, the frown taking over his lips deepening for just a moment before his torso twisted. He grabbed the neck of the successfully placed soda, and then just walked around you.

“No, wait,” You tried to reach out, wanting to grasp his arm or even the fabric of his top, but he swerved, completely avoiding you, “Logan?”

You couldn't even make another attempt as if your other hand was away for longer, more blood would end up dripping on the floor. So, your body turned, desperate eyes following the man in a way that was more of a plea than anything else.

But he never looked back. He continued walking through the doorway, rubbing hard against his temples with a final grunt before disappearing behind the wall.

~~~

The time, at this point, was unclear. The clocks in this school were usually around the learning areas, mostly in the classrooms, which created a sort of guessing game anywhere else.

It was apparent, however, that the sun had just begun to rise. Peeking over the horizon enough so that a bright mist seeped into most of the corridors.

You found yourself back in the hallways. There wasn't a very clear reason as to why than this inability to sit. A failure to be still for seconds at a time, regardless of the tiredness that had started to cling to your skin.

But that was the last thing on your mind.

You kept thinking about it; the previous encounter. It was sort of plaguing your mind, more so how you handled it.

Granted, it was in fact your first time having to deal with a situation like that, and usually you were on the other side. Though this seemed different, like something had just been exposed.

You were aware of the fact that Logan had nightmares. I mean, it was one of the most believable things about him, considering the things he'd gone through. The extent, however, was undetermined.

Until today.

A huff of air sifted through your lips as you attempted to straighten your spine, stretch the accompanying muscles that had grown tense over the past few hours.

The aimless walking was almost nice. The surroundings were mostly quiet, excluding the wind that whistled against the glass of the windows, having picked up some time earlier.

It was that time of year again. The group of months where the weather grew cold and the plants began to change. It almost made the school feel cosy even if there was no heating in the hallways.

In fact, where you were now was the coldest, and it wasn't until you looked up properly that you realised you were about to walk into a dead-end.

Slowly, your feet came to a stop, your lazy eyes blinking hastily in the blaring yellow light, which was starting to mix into this sort of orange.

Your shoulders lowered, a sense of relief filtering through your system as the decision had been final. You were going to go to your room, maybe even get to lay down for a few hours until it was time to teach.

So, you turned on your heel, taking about a step in the other direction as your blurry eyes attempted to focus on the closest doorway, until you could note the surroundings. It was the kitchen.

Now, that door was always open, usually swung all the way back and held by a stopper. But a light was on. Allowing you to properly get a view of the room and what was in it.

More so who.

Your movements had halted right as you were about to take another step.

Logan.

He was sitting at the narrow table at the back, set between the array of windows. His elbows were against the surface of it, one of his hands clasped around a bottle he had just set down. He swallowed, and so did you.

There was an initial pause, seconds taken to calculate the right decision, before you went in. Your lips parted, ready to release the script you had gone over in your head for the last hour--

“I didn't mean to hurt you.”

Instead, you were frozen. The volume of his voice, and the angle he sat at, almost made it seem like the words didn't even come from him. He probably heard you before you had even come down the hall.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Logan–” you tried, but his mouth opened before you could even finish, “Just let me talk,” He hadn't moved. He was in the same position, still holding the bottle, and staring straight forward like there was someone there across from him. “Okay?”

You brought your lips together, placing a hand on the kitchen island to distribute your weight. Logan took the silence as acceptance and he cleared his throat. “I'm sure you already know,” he had begun, sparing the slightest glance your way for confirmation that didn't even need, “about the... nightmares.”

It was as if something in his mouth went sour when he said it, like the words itself tasted bad.

“Some are about the past, you know-- bits and pieces of it, anyway, but…” Logan paused for a moment, both verbally and physically. It only held for a few seconds. And then he sighed. “There are other ones too- Ones... ones where people get hurt, and, I'm…”

“I'm the one doing it.” It was a slow movement, an action that looked like it had to be forced, as Logan suddenly began turning in his seat. He met your eyes with a look that had your eyebrows furrowing all over again, “I'm the one hurting people.”

“Y/n, I'm sorry.”

“Logan,” you started, shaking your head in disagreement with the apology, but he only repeated it. “I'm so sorry.”

You made your way to the edge of the island, pace slowing once round the corner, “Hey,” Logan's gaze had shifted as you moved. It was lower, directed at a specific point. He was looking at your arm.

It had been engulfed by a layer of, hopefully, the appropriate bandaging. An attempt at following the tips Jean had given you from previous injuries.

But it being covered somehow made it seem worse than it was.

“Hey, look at me,” you called, stopping at a good place where you were actually in front of him, yet still a good distance away so he wouldn’t want to back off. “Look at me.” 

The next words only left your lips when he had finally decided to comply. “I'm fine.” you assured, the tone of your voice much lighter than before. But that made the look on Logan's face shift, “I hurt you.”

“It was an accident,” Your response was quick, your voice making it sound so simple. Like the sentence said should’ve been accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders. Logan didn't like that, “Accident or not, I still hurt you, Y/n.” His tone was riddled with this disbelief, as if he couldn't believe that he had to tell you that in the first place.

“And, I'm still here, Logan.”

You didn't understand it. The two of you had trained together many times, each round ending with either one receiving a new injury until your skills developed. Hell, you had been in battle together.

A little scratch was nothing. “It was a mistake-- my mistake. I'm the one who startled you, shit like this happens.” you tried to assure. Logan scoffed immediately, “What-- Does that make it magically okay for me to hurt people?”

“No!” you huffed out, the ability to contain your annoyance dwindling the more he challenged your statements. “No, okay? But-- You know, what-- Look.”

You took a few more steps, the care for all of the previous caution going completely out the window as you grasped an end of the bandaging, and unwinded the material before pulling back the padding beneath.

“See?”

Logan almost looked like he had buffered for a few seconds. He blinked, and then again, and then twice really fast, as if it would change what was in front of him. His hand had even flexed, like he wanted to reach it out, though it remained on the table.

They were gone. Each mark, each line that was carved into the skin had completely gone. Disappeared without a trace. There wasn't even a scar.

“You…” He spoke slowly, his eyes trailing up the length of your arm to your shoulders. And then your face. “You can regenerate?”

“Granted, a little... Well, a lot slower than you-- But, yeah.” you confirmed, wrapping the bandage up in your hands before placing it on the kitchen aisle behind you.

Logan leaned back slightly in a way that straightened his up spine. He brought his legs from under the table and set them in the direction the rest of his body was facing. He had turned right towards you.

“Are you serious?” The complete deadpan had you staring right back at him. You couldn't read the expression, nor the stance. You didn't even know what to call it. “Yep.” You blinked. Logan didn't move a muscle, “You can heal.” 

Now, you could hear it in his voice. It wasn't just a statement, a form of repetition to clarify the new information. He was getting mad.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “I... I don't really know what else you want me to say.” Which was the truth, the whole healing thing was one of the things you had discovered with Charles. 

It's an entirely different process than it is for most anyway, let alone when it comes to Logan. At the moment you actually had to activate the process for anything to heal. But you were working on it.

I guess it just slipped your mind.

“So, you were just willingly acting like a damn damsel?” The lines around his eyebrows deepened the way they usually did when he was getting angry. And they weren't stopping.

“A damsel?” you repeated, even tilting your head as a wordless question, and he just nodded. “You stood there. You just stood there until I came to you-- You didn't even try to stop the bleeding. Hell, did you even notice?”

That look on his face never changed. You hated it. The way it darkened his eyes, or tensed the surrounding muscles. The most bothersome thing, however, was the fact that it was aimed at you. “No,” you started, this time with a deeper voice. “No, I didn't-- You know, why?”

“Why?” Logan commanded, the veins around his neck becoming apparent. It was as if he was trying to win an argument, get the upper hand and serve some kind of justice, like you had done something wrong.

He was supposed to be relieved.

“Maybe, it's because that was the last thing I cared about, Logan!”

The two of you were just staring at each other. At this point, both of you were almost heaving, the past few minutes taking the air out of both pair of lungs.

The expression on Logan's face twitched for a moment, a crack in the anger that usually wasn't breakable. His posture had become more of a slouch as he suddenly decided to lean back a little, like before.

You watched with curious eyes when he then sighed, breaking the held gaze to grab his bottle of soda and bring it to his lips.

It all resembled a puzzle. A constant attempt to find the right piece, the right thought, that would fit it all together. But there was a lack of progress. You were at a loss. 

Was he mad that you didn't tell him? Was he actually mad that you didn't do anything about the scratches? Were you reacting the wrong way? Did he want you to hate him? Were you supposed to?

Or did he think that you couldn't grasp the situation? The severity. The big 'What if?' Maybe he was in fact tired. 

Just a different kind.

You started to move after another few seconds, the sound of your shoes against the tiles piercing through the layer of created silence. It was apparent that Logan was watching, albeit discreetly, following what he could as he took another swig.

Your movements concluded by the length of the table he was sitting at. You leaned onto it, releasing that weight that had started aching both your knees and your feet from standing for so long.

By the time your eyes were back on Logan, his own had snapped away.

You took in a deep breath of the cold air, feeling it hit the back of your throat, your shoulders deflating, “I get them too, you know... Nightmares.”

There was a beat of silence again. A lack of movement, or reaction. And then he met your eyes again. Slower this time, almost hesitant. He set his drink down ,listening. So, you continued, “I wouldn't go about comparing them,” 

“But, I understand enough to know what it's like.”

Logan sort of huffed a laugh after that. Not a malicious one, or in disbelief of the sentiment. He was acknowledging it. “You shouldn't have to.” 

He was back to that whisper of a voice again. It was still deep, and a tad gravely, almost forceful. But it conveyed enough. “Neither should you.. yet,” you paused, shrugging your shoulders, “Here we are.”

This time, the huffed laugh was louder. More pronounced in a way. It left a mark on his lips, leaving them curling at the corners. It fit right in. You wanted it to stay. Maybe a little too much, “At least, now, I get to say that I was attacked by The Wolverine and survived.” 

The comment was a little dangerous, especially if taken the wrong way. In all honesty, your eagerness allowed it to be blurted right through your lips before you could catch it. 

But Logan practically snorted. “Shut up.” he breathed, bringing the soda back to his lips. You pretended that you didn’t hear him, even crossing your arms over your chest, though a grin had slightly appeared, “I could even say that I defeated him.” 

In about a second his eyes had snapped to yours, a singular brow rising as the bottle smacked onto the surface of the table, “Okay,” He swallowed, “you did not defeat me, bub.”

“Oh, really?” you challenged, attempting to mimic his expression. “You were done after one move.”

Logan pushed the chair with his back in a way that had the legs screeching against the tiles. He stood from it, moving about a step to the side before continuing towards you.

“I was distracted.” he pointed out, gaze narrow as his eyebrows decided to furrow in an attempt to support his justification. “Excuses, excuses,” was all you said, accompanying it with a light shrug.

Logan was right in front of you now. He was close, about a step away. Though, the longer he looked at you, his eyes scanning across the skin of your face, that amusement once held had begun to fade.

He became sort of serious, the tension making the lines of his face more prominent all over again as his lips curved into more of a frown.

“I don't want it to happen again.” He was avoiding your eyes now, his own gaze cast downward. They were following his hand as he had brought it to your arm, the fingers of which ghosting across where the marks had been like he could still see them.

“Logan,” you started, your voice quiet yet loud enough that his attention was recovered. The two of you were looking at each other again, this time properly. Your features eased, all of the concern and the previous anger completely melting away.

You brought the hand of your previously injured arm upward, and he watched it until it went out of his vision.

You gently placed your hand on the side of his cheek, your palm pressing into the hair of his mutton chops which brought his gaze back to yours. And then you smiled lightly, just enough that he could see it, “Even if it did, I am not going anywhere.”

There was this quick twitch in Logan's expression. A split second of movement that had almost gone unnoticed until it happened again. His eyebrows pinched together.

Before you could say a word, he had suddenly pulled you forward, away from the table you were once against.

By the time you were up straight, his arms had wrapped around your body one after the other, entrapping you in this warmth that the kitchen could never achieve. It had you copying him as fast as you could, letting your hands land across the skin of his back and the fabric of the tank top.

Logan's head was planted on your shoulder, his hair sort of tickling the side of your face as he tucked himself in further. 

His body slightly deflated after a moment, a sort of gravelly hum of content rumbling from his throat. He obviously wasn’t putting his entire weight on you, the two of you would've tipped over within seconds. But you could feel it.

An extra weight that you were glad to carry.

[blackswan446]

yandere bts headcanons

yan!bts headcanons -- general

cws: mentions of blood, allusions to suicide, mild stalking, mentions of murder

link to m.list

note: i think these are a bit long for headcanons but enjoy anyways i promise im working on wips ily guys so much!! thank u for ur patience <3

kim seokjin ! december 4, 1992

seokjin was a lonely, lonely guy.

he never had any friends growing up. for some strange reason, the world just rejected the poor boy, and anybody that didn't totally oust him never stuck around for long.

he could never understand why. he was caring, he was polite, and handsome. so why did everybody hate him?

because of his unfair reality, it wasn't uncommon for seokjin to form a sort of...attachment...to those who showed him the slightest shred of humanity. you were no exception.

one day, a day that would, unbeknownst to you, shape the lives of two people.

seokjin was in your civics class. you never heard much from him, even though you sat right next to him. he was just there, floating in the background, until one day, he was shoved into your view.

it was exam day, and the snap of seokjin's pencil was amplified by the silent room. the young man scoffed in annoyance as the lead rolled away, onto the rough, brown carpet.

at first you almost laughed. not at his misfortune, really, but his reaction. it was like something from a sitcom, but of course you didn't laugh. laughing would be rude, and you were not rude.

taking a thin, pink, glittery pencil from your open pencil case, you wordlessly slid it across the smooth table, the wood making a long scratch sound on the wood. seokjin looked over at the sound, and when he met your kind eyes, and saw your sweet smile, that was it.

reaching out his slender hand to take the pencil, he gave you a smile of his own, a small one, but it was the most genuine one he had worn in months. his heart thumped rapidly in his chest as he picked up from where he left off in his writing. only now, he could barely remember anything, the information now blurred and fuzzy.

from then on, you didn't just sink into the background to him. you didn't blend in with the other mess of college students he saw everyday. you were vibrant, and interesting, and full-of-life.

every time you spoke, he listened as if it were the most intriguing thing he had ever heard. every time you walked, he watched you like a movie. whenever you wrote, he read it like it was a sacred text.

that's all it was, though. just an interested boy studying an interesting girl. he knew he was on thin ice, but never really grasped the thought of what would happen if it ever cracked.

until one day, when he decided then and there to dedicate his life to the subject.

"seokjin, did you get question twenty right? i got marked down for it, but i don't know what i did wrong."

your voice was soft, and curious, and delicately met met his eardrums like hands met fine china.

"i, uh" he stuttered, looking down at the exam paper. unfortunately, he hadn't done well at all on the exam. sometimes he got the feeling the professor had some sort of hatred for him. however, he did get question twenty right.

"yeah, i did. you can look at it, if you want to." he offered, outstretching the paper in his shaky hand.

you accepted, standing next to him and taking the corner of the paper in your hand as you read his answer.

seokjin's heart pounded in his chest. he had never been this close to someone before, the sweet aroma of your perfume and gentle touch on his arm making his mind go hazy.

you nodded. "i get what i did wrong. thanks, seokjin!" you smiled, patting his shoulder as you bounced away from him. he hoped you didn't see the pink blush on his face as you left.

it was over for him, his life as kim seokjin. from now on, he was yours, all yours, for you to love and ruin and coddle and ignore as you pleased.

from the moment your electric touch met him, is when the ice shattered and he took the plunge into the harsh, choppy waters of...love? or obsession?

he didn't know. the line between the two was thin, almost nonexistent, and the ink was smudged by the thunderous waves that crashed around it. but instead of drowning in the icy ocean that surrounded him, he tread the water and swam like a shark.

by far, his favorite thing to do was follow you around. everywhere, everyday, no matter what.

what was the harm? it was fun for him, gave him a look into the life of the one he loved, and he could keep you safe--even from afar.

although it did have its downsides. and of course, the pain was given to him by the hands of other people.

he wasn't a fan of the other people in your life, your piano instructor, your coworker, even the professor in one of your classes. they were too close to you for his liking.

but his perception was botched. he didn't like anyone within six feet of you, so naturally he was biased against everyone.

there were letters, a lot of letters. detailing his love, his devotion, his disdain for the people around you. left in your mailbox, your seat, even in your bag.

some were sweet, just toeing the borderline between cute and weird. but others were just plain graphic, claiming to be motivated by love.

one of them, he even adorned with his own crimson signature. he drew the blood from his left ring finger. after all, it was the wedding ring finger, and the only finger that connected straight to the heart. how fitting!

he also sent gifts -- if he ever saw you linger in front of a shop window, gazing wistfully at an expensive bag, or watched you poke through the selection of plushies in a bin, he would make sure it wound up on your doorstep.

you were confused at first, but as time marched on, your confusion slipped into something closer to fear and concern. but somehow, it still just felt rude to throw out the...loving...gifts that fell into your lap.

and you were not rude.

min yoongi ! march 9, 1993

poor, poor yoongi.

no matter how hard he tried, all get got from his family were demands.

to do more, to do better, to be better.

it was like nothing he could do would ever please them. whenever his fingertips brushed the standard set for him, the bar was raised, just out of his reach.

for a long time, yoongi tried to convince himself that he wanted what his family wanted, that he wanted to become a respected lawyer and take over his family's law firm.

it felt wrong to want anything else, after all, this role was shoved into his lap before he was even born.

but it was when he got to college that he came to terms with the fact that he was not, and would never be, what his family wanted him to be.

all his life, yoongi had been drawn to the sweet tunes of the ivy keys and soft hums of the guitar strings, rather than the scales of justice. it only started as one more activity for him to do, sanctioned by his parents, but it turned into a true passion for him. it turned into an escape.

though it was a very real dream, it was just one more thing that was out of reach for him. all that separated the two was a thin piece of unbreakable glass, the reality so close he could almost reach out and grasp it.

so he tried to move on, he really did, for the sake of himself, and his parents.

but when he was gifted with an opportunity to teach piano to other college students, how could he refuse?!

most of his pupils weren't serious about it. some felt obliged to be there, thanks to feelings put forth by other demanding parents. others just needed an extra graduation credit.

but you just stood out to him.

not because of your musical abilities (though your ability to pick things up so quickly did impress him greatly!)

but because of the way he could let his guard down around you.

you were a chatty thing, unlike most of his other pupils, and you didn't waste any time in asking him about himself.

it took him by surprise, as most of the people he tutored didn't bother to say much to him.

so he told you he wanted to be a musician, but that he was studying prelaw instead. your eyebrows knitted together, your eyes narrowing in confusion.

"but you're so talented. and you want to be a musician. why not just go for it?" you wondered, voice soft and genuine.

your question caught him by surprise. if he were to say something half as radical as that around anybody in his family, he would earn a lecture and a smack on the head. so it wasn't surprising that he had to take a second to formulate an answer that wasn't a defense.

"thanks, [name]," he sputtered, "i wish it were that easy." he sighed, busying himself with the music sheets in front of him. you giggled, the underlying poke in his words flying over your head.

and from then on, his guard was down. for the first time ever. and he just loved it.

maybe, just maybe, if he had gotten that encouraging word ten years earlier, things would be different. maybe he wouldn't have grown to crave it the way he did.

it started small. just a little flame in his heart whenever he saw your name on his schedule.

the flame only grew with each passing week. it wasn't enough, seeing you once a week, it wasn't enough to extinguish the blaze in his heart. he needed to see you every hour of every day.

but the fire within him turned from adoration to anger one night, when he spotted you laughing with a group of people he didn't know.

they were using you, he thought. for your looks, your kindness, your intelligence. he was the only one who really cared for you, he knew it.

so of course, with your well-being in mind, he did his own research on these people. it was just harmless -- he only collected their addresses, their phone numbers, their family members. just in case.

but with every session that went by, of just the two of you playing piano, he found himself falling further and further into this unfamiliar void.

and he decided that he was bringing you with him. there wasn't anybody else who would keep him safe from the demands of his family.

so what if you were afraid of the dark? he would bring you a flashlight. it would be good for you, he absolutely knew it.

he knew it wasn't enough to see you for an hour every week. it wasn't enough to give you the music he'd written for you, with its soft melodies and sweet tunes.

it wasn't enough for him to drape his arms over your shoulders as you played, "adjusting your hands" as your fingers brushed over the ivory.

it was never enough.

and when he saw a some boy think he could put his arm around your shoulder one afternoon, the fire burned so hot there was only one thing left for him to do.

the very next day, the boy walked around campus, his hands sore and fingers in splints.

that same day, you skipped into the music room, and as you were chattering about your week, mentioned your dear friend and his accident and his poor broken fingers.

"that's awful," yoongi muttered, seemingly shocked at the incident, "if i got into an accident like that, i don't know how i'd go on."

the boy wasn't dead yet, but at least he couldn't play you piano.

jung hoseok ! february 18, 1994

apollo himself.

that's what you thought the first time you saw hoseok. with his bright red hair, his pretty face and radiant smile, he was the brightest looking person you had ever seen.

he had been the first to welcome you to your new job, at a small convenience store down the street from your school. he had also been the one to train you, and soon became your closet friend at work.

he was happy, for sure. he was eager, and helpful, and oh-so sweet to you. being around him was like a boost of energy and a jolt of excitement.

"thanks, [name].." he said shyly, after you had told him all of this. "i think you're all of that and so much more." he admitted with a smile, before you were interrupted by the door opening.

he watched dreamily as you rushed over to help the customer, your words sticking in his mind like honey.

he meant what he told you. he wanted to tell you so much more.

that you were unlike anyone he's ever met. that you were the best friend he's ever had. that you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and that he loved you, so so much.

hoseok had always been the floater friend. kind and caring to the point he was the backup plan.

he helped his friends while they were down, caught them when they fell, listened to them cry and complain and rant.

all the while, they rebounded from their troubles, and were back in the game, leaving hoseok there. just waiting in the back.

he thought he didn't mind, he thought he was okay with it. but he couldn't keep ignoring the toll it took on him.

but you were a breath of fresh air. truly unlike anyone he's ever met.

you mirrored him. you took the time out of your life to talk to him, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself answering the same questions he asked the people in his life.

and quickly the memories of late nights spent by himself, long walks down the street debating if this was really worth it, and empty bridges that seemed to beg the same question, were gone and out of sight.

he found himself craving it, your care, your questions, your answers, your love, your hate, your attention, in any way he could get it. he wanted your eyes on him.

and the more time that passed, the more intense his cravings became. so he did whatever he had to do to keep your attention on him.

it started as small things: swiping various snacks and drinks from the shelves for your break, killing the bugs that found their way into the store (he knew you were petrified of them), putting away the heavy boxes and stepping onto the ladders for you -- anything he could do to make you so enamored that you would forget about the world outside of him.

he knew his little addiction was getting serious when he found himself at the store under the cover of darkness, long after you had gone home, shoving bills from the register into his pockets and leaving just as swiftly as he had arrived.

he had to fund his...hobbies...somehow, didn't he?

after all, axes were expensive. so were tarps, and gloves, and garbage bags, not to mention the gasoline and matches.

as much as he wanted to, as badly as he wanted to take a blade to every single other person you had ever talked to, he had to be careful.

after all, if you found out your sweet, sunshiney coworker had done that to the man that had scolded you at the register that day, you would never want to see him again.

the mere thought was too much for him to bear, so he didn't bother thinking about it too hard -- he just did what he had to.

kim namjoon ! september 12, 1994

being a professor was no easy job.

sure, it put food on the table and allowed him to socialize, but sometimes the students were almost too much to deal with.

but there was one thing -- one person, actually, that made it all worth it.

it started on his first day, in a medium-sized civics class, full of students he assumed wouldn't take him seriously and would give him nothing but trouble and a headache.

you hadn't caught his attention right away -- sure, you were gorgeous, but he hadn't thought much of it, there were a lot of pretty girls here.

the thing that had first drawn him was rather trivial -- a small act of kindness towards another classmate, by giving him a bright pink pencil after his had snapped. sure, it was kind, and the first such act he had seen on campus before, but not earth-shattering.

but what really got him was that smile. it stopped him in his tracks, froze him in place, and wrecked him in ways he had never experienced before.

over the course of the weeks, it became evident that you stood apart from everybody else -- for one, you were smart. and namjoon was a professor, so of course he loved smart.

aside from that, you were a sweetheart. and you were polite, and helpful, and funny, and you actually participated -- so many things that everybody else he had in his classes wasn't, that it made him wonder.

what were you doing here? why were you hanging around with a bunch of nobodies when you were obviously so much more? it was clear that you were special, and that he was the only person around that could give you what you needed.

so the only logical solution to this is that he would take you under his wing. he would keep your focus on him and off of the halfwits, so they couldn't corrupt you too. he was going to keep you safe, like any good teacher should.

and soon enough, namjoon found himself in love.

it didn't take long for him to weasel his way into your life -- for someone so smart, you sure were trusting. that didn't bother him, though -- it only made things easier for him.

it started after a particularly long and boring class, when he pulled you aside and asked about your interest in impressionist paintings, eagerly telling you how he had overheard the conversation between you and a friend the day before.

you didn't even get a chance to agree before he pulled six papers from his rather messy and cluttered desk. what were they? three printouts of his favorite impressionist paintings, and three printouts of italian macchiaoli paintings that he thought you'd like.

it continued from there -- nearly every single class, he pulled you aside to show you something he'd thought you would like, or ask your opinion on an era of literature. sometimes he would even give you something to keep, like a book or pamphlet.

it wasn't long after he started chatting to you about romance languages and ancient poetry did his friendliness become favoritism, at least in his eyes.

it was just subtle things, really, like boosting your grades just enough to avoid suspicion, looking the other way if you were late, and making sure to call on you first in class discussions.

he knew there was a line, though, and he made a point to never cross it.

except for the tracker he had put into your phone, one day after he had collected it for an exam. he knew it was excessive, borderline stalkerish, but to him, it was necessary.

he couldn't have anything happening to his little genius, could he?

and obviously he knew exactly why the boy who you had given the pencil to, and who could now not stop ogling at you, had suffered a major academic crisis in his civics class.

but that didn't count. he couldn't help it if the line kept moving forward.

poor namjoon. the more time that passed, the more frustrated he got.

you were smart. how could you not see it? did you ever see him treating any other student the way he treated you? when was the last time he gave anybody else a book of victorian-era artwork, or a collection of unfinished poetry?

and what irked him the most was watching the same people he wanted to keep you away from be all friendly and close to you, while all he could do was pat your shoulder, smile politely, and stand on the sidelines.

namjoon was smart. he knew he wouldn't be able to settle for this much longer. sooner or later, he was going to have to act, for your good and his own sanity. it was wrong, and it was strange, but he couldn't help it. he needed more.

park jimin ! october 13, 1995

jimin was nothing short of a sweetheart.

your closest and dearest childhood friend, your story began at the park, when you saw him sitting on a swing, kicking the mulch around and looking alone.

being the little social butterfly you were, you skipped over, sat on the swing next to him, and started talking, and that was that.

you stuck together all throughout childhood, high school, right up until you both left for college.

"promise me you'll call? and text? and visit me?" he pleaded, his hands resting on your shoulders.

you nodded and smiled fondly. "all the time, mimi. just watch, you'll be sick of me in a week. i'll call you every day." you promised, leaning up to link your arms around his neck and hug him for the last time in what seemed to be forever.

you had kept your promise to him, he knew you would, but he couldn't help but feel empty. like there was a broken, gaping hole in his heart, causing the life to spill from his body.

he knew there was something brewing, feelings that were went beyond friendly, even beyond romantic. feelings that, if he expressed him, would make him seem so messed up that you would never speak to him again.

he had felt them for years, and deep down, he knew what they meant. but he ignored them. he looked away, shoved them out.

and that's what he would keep doing until there was absolutely nothing left for him to do anymore.

it wasn't easy for him, and hadn't been easy for a lot of years.

he was ever the romantic, but of course you didn't know that. his pure love and adoration appeared to you as nothing more than him being a good friend. but in reality, the only thing he was doing was getting as close as he could.

bringing you your favorite snacks when you hung out was as close as he could get to bringing you a bouquet of flowers and a love note everyday.

retelling childhood memories and embarrassing stories to make you laugh when you were sad was the closest he could get to holding you in his lap and rubbing your back until you felt better.

letting you test out makeup and skincare products on him in the store was as close as he could get to your face without pulling you towards him and kissing you until you couldn't think straight.

as innocent as he came across, he knew something more sinister lurked underneath it all. and he felt it stir, whenever you mentioned your professor and your shared love of the humanities, or your coworker who embodied the sun, or the barista at your local coffee shop who had mastered your favorite coffee.

it was like something else washed over him, something that ignited a blaze in his heart so hot that even he was scared of getting burned.

what was weirder is that jimin was usually so pure. for god's sake, he still put both your names into those cheesy internet love tests. he still gave you a family together in the sims. he still wrote your initials together, surrounded by a heart bubble and a sweet message on the corner of every paper he could find.

but the thing that took over his senses was the polar opposite. it gave him awful, twisted, murderous thoughts. it tormented him, day and night, knowing that something like that existed within him. it scared him.

and it only got worse when you broke the news that a mystery someone had taken a liking to you, and was showering you with gifts and notes and everything else a sweet girl like you could ever want.

that was when it took over completely. that was when something inside of him snapped, shattered, was torn to shreds.

he knew that he couldn't hold up anymore. this was his call to action. he had to do something, he had to act, and if he didn't, you would be gone forever.

he wasn't going to stand by. he couldn't stand by. not anymore.

kim taehyung ! december 30, 1995

taehyung was mystery. at least, to you he was.

he moved in to your neighborhood during your freshman year of high school, and not once in the last four years you lived there before college did you ever hear a word from him.

you didn't even know his name, let alone his age or school. from your guess, he was about your age, and based off the school uniform you had seen him in a few times, he went to some hoity-toity private school on the other side of town.

the only thing that you knew for sure were that his parents were strict. like, really really strict. they hardly let him out of his sight, and a few times you had walked past the house and heard them loudly lecturing him on the importance of studying and how he could have fun when he was established.

what you obviously didn't know was that taehyung was fascinated by you.

he had seen you within the first week he had lived next door, and something about you had him hooked.

you were fun, and loud, and had a lot of friends, and were the opposite of everyone else he had ever gotten to know. and of course, his parents lectured him about you, telling him to "stay away" and that you were "careless and a bad influence".

but he couldn't peel his eyes away from you, even if he wanted to. he just couldn't look away.

pure curiosity was the reason he started peering through your window when you were in there -- never while you were changing though, that would make him feel like a bad person. but as you laid on your bed, scrolled on your phone, hung out with friends, or listened to music, his gazed always traveled to you.

the reason he started was curiosity. but the reason he stayed was pure fondness. he came to love watching you, observing your habits and behaviors, almost like he was living his teenage dreams through you.

it was also the reason he started to become a bit more...active in your life.

nothing crazy, after all, he lived under a hawk's eye, and there wasn't a whole lot he really could do without being chastised for it.

he wanted you to know, though, he wanted you to know how much he really adored you. he would send you flowers, whatever was in season, and various goodies from cute online shops, sometimes even sweets from a fancy bakery, and putting it all under the name of an aunt he didn't even know if you really had.

although he couldn't be sure all the time, he was fairly certain his fake aunt persona was working -- judging from how you would go upstairs and happily open the package, taking out whatever was in there and excitedly showing it to your friends on video chat, he assumed you were none the wiser to the reality.

as time went on, though, he found himself increasingly unsatisfied with just watching you. like a viewer who wanted to live in their favorite tv show, he wanted to be in your life. and the fact that he couldn't do that pained him worse than anything he had ever experienced. so, he coped.

one night, clad in a black hoodie and mask, he silently slipped out of the backdoor without rousing his parents from their sleep. it was surprisingly easy, making him wonder why he hadn't done this in the past.

he crept over to your first-story bedroom window, peering through the glass. he couldn't make out much since it was so dark -- but he could faintly see your sleeping form, wrapped up in blankets and surrounded by plushies.

it was almost too easy, how he slid open the window and hopped in. his heart was pounding at this point, the thought of waking you almost scaring him into going home.

but he didn't. he stayed, tiptoed around your room, looked at your desk, which was cluttered with pictures of you and another guy, whom he recognized as a close friend of yours, and read through your school notes.

your handwriting was beautiful, he noticed, the swoops and curves of the letters looked more like ancient artwork rather than history notes. he felt a surge of excitement as he saw your white leather desk chair, the same one he had fondly watched you spin around in for what felt like hours on end.

he felt like a kid in a candy store, as he rifled through your other belongings, flipping through books and poking through your jewelry as he fought the urge to steal anything for himself.

just as he was just making himself at home in your room, you stirred noisily in your sleep, causing him to practically leap out of your chair and clamber back out the window -- but not before blowing you a kiss.

it wasn't the last time he would do that, in fact, nearly every night he found himself back in the warm embrace of your cozy room. it gave him a taste of not just your life, but the life of a normal teenager. the life his parents had robbed him of.

and he wanted more.

you left for college a week before he did. and the first night you were gone, he found himself at the now-locked bedroom window. an awful sense of dread bubbled up in his heart as he realized the reality: you were gone. he had lost you.

he vowed to himself that things were going to be different next time. that he was going to change. and that by the time next fall rolled around, neither of you would be going back to college.

jeon jungkook ! september 1, 1997

jungkook was young.

well, the youngest person that worked at the coffee shop. which was surprising, seeing as it was located right by a college campus.

his job was fairly robotic -- greet the customer, take their order, and make the occasional drink.

however, there was one really, really good part of his job, and it was the fact that he got to see and talk to you almost every single day.

the way your hair fell over your shoulders, the way you smiled and greeted him, your cool nails, your decorated wallet, everything about you intrigued him, made him want to see you more.

in reality, the only thing he knew was your name. other than that, you were a total stranger. so how could a total stranger captivate him in such a way?

he didn't know. he was just young and in love. and shy, which is why he refused to make the first move. he would never recover from a rejection like this.

but that didn't stop him from acting like he was your one and only. nothing could stop him from doing that.

and he fell hard -- so hard, in fact, it wasn't uncommon for him to wake up from a dream in which you had been the main character, or for him to think of you when he saw a cool bag or drank your favorite coffee.

but no matter how intensely he loved you, he had to accept the fact that to you, he was and would always just be the cashier from the coffee shop.

it didn't get to his morale, though. in fact, it motivated him. he was determined to stand out to you, to stay in your mind as much as you were in his, to the point where you couldn't take it anymore and would finally ask him out.

so he worked.

some of the things he did were innocent, like watching hours of youtube videos on how to craft your drink perfectly, slipping in a free pastry here and there, and even looking up love potion recipes online. of course he knew they weren't real, but that didn't stop the fantasy from playing out in his head.

and some were...a bit sly.

sometimes, he'd get to work a bit early, just so he could hide the ingredients to your favorite drink, which meant that when you came in and his coworkers were inevitably scrambling to find the ingredients for your order, he would get more time to hear your pretty voice.

he even started collecting the little things you left behind -- receipts with your signature, straw wrappers, even pocketing some of the coins you gave him to pay for your drink. these little artifacts lived in their own museum in his locker, which his coworkers just thought was messy.

but one day, something happened that made him realize he had to step up his game, or be miserable forever.

one day, you came in, except you weren't alone. there, in a place beside you which should have been his, there was a boy. his hair was a vibrant red, he wore colorful streetwear and had a smile that could only be compared to sunshine.

but he didn't care about that. who was this guy, and why was he with his girl?

tongue-in-cheek, and with a fake smile plastered on his face, he suffered through taking your order as normally as he could. but of course, he wasn't going to let this freak get away with something like this.

so as he prepared the drinks, he made yours perfectly, just as he had seen online. but for your little friend, he quietly slipped in a clump of salt, stirring it with the straw and handing them both to you with a smile.

he couldn't help the feeling of satisfaction that swelled in his chest as he watched the happy boy's expression contort into one of confusion and disgust with just one sip of the drink.

but later, on his break, he brooded over the incident. who was he? why was he with you? was he going to take you away? what if you never came in again?

as the thoughts swirled around in his head, it became obvious that something had to be done. he needed you all to himself, and it was going to happen by any means necessary.

[scoupsahoy]

i wanna talk about The Ship War going on right now in the 911 fandom (largely on tiktok and twitter) and i'm not a bnf especially in this fandom (and i wouldn't want to be) but i'm kind of hoping people on both sides are willing to read this post anyway because i cannot be the only one completely turned off by it

i finished writing this so i wanna clarify: this is officially aimed at buddie shippers (i am one of you) because i genuinely want to have meaningful discussion and also i'm not exactly defending tommy here. but! i think if bucktommy shippers were interested in reading, there is stuff in here for you too

i have to split this up into sections which is annoying but i won't be able to make any sense without sections so. sorry

1. pre-tommy buddie shipping

so like a lot of people i knew about 911 and buddie entirely through tumblr osmosis, and there was a general attitude of confidence: buddie WILL become canon. if it doesn't... something something. i don't really know the season 6 finale was hard for a lot of you. and after watching, i do really understand why. but.

from an outside perspective, this fandom attitude was nothing like i'd ever really experienced before. i stopped watching supernatural around season 11, several years before gaycas, when confirmed bisexual dean was genuinely outside the realm of possibility.

i was a tjlc believer. i was an episode 4 conspiracist. i have been delusional about gays on my television screen before. so i was really apprehensive at the way buddie fans were moving. not only was buddie GOING to happen, but if it didn't it would be a failure of the network and the showrunners and the actors and it could have been the greatest love story ever told and shipping was not ENOUGH. it had to be canon in order to matter. shipping anything else was fruitless and offensive. this was what i was seeing. and i was like. well there's no way that's going to happen

and then season 7 started airing and there was this reignited hope

and then 7x4 aired.

2. the birth of bucktommy

so i started watching 911 after 7x4 aired. a lot of people did. i'll be honest i did genuinely think that eddie was out and gay and i was like "oh shit is it finally happening??" and then i realized it was some other guy and spend like 4 straight days tumblr deepdiving into it

like i said i was almost exclusively following buddie shippers so my consensus was like. buck and tommy are cute but it's obviously (TO ME) a steppingstone for buddie. after watching the entire show i do still feel that way.

here's the thing though: shipping isn't about what is going to be canon. i'm a marvel fan. my first fandom was fucking icarly, okay, my track record of shipping non-canon couples that actually end up together starts and ends with nbc sitcoms and even then barely. shipping to me is about character analysis and smooshing barbie dolls together with my friends. shipping to me is putting some guy in a blender and another guy performing frankenstein experiments on them

it doesn't matter to me actually that a ship isn't going to end up together, even if i like them. i'm not saying some bucktommy fans don't overstep certain boundaries (that i'll get into) but a FAIR BIT of them know this. a fair bit of them were buddie shippers and a fair bit of them still are. and there's a reason theyre put off

3. social media discourse

the first real piece of morality discourse came from tiktok. i won't namedrop this creator but if you're on tiktok you know who i'm talking about.

this person started the tiktok talking about something that i genuinely do agree with: fans who love tommy but hated all of buck's ex girlfriends should probably perform some self-reflection on the very real misogyny problem in 911 fandom and fandom in general. this i am 1000% behind. a call-in of sorts: hey guys! check yourselves! it is really easy to fall into misogyny especially with gay shipping. though i will argue that buddie shippers could stand to do the same thing (looking at you, people who write fanfic where ana flores is ableist for no reason)

they went on, however, to say that bucktommy shippers Must only like bucktommy because they are a gay ship, And Also Therefore, these people Must Be gay fetishists, as the only reason you would like bucktommy over buddie is because you just want to see men make out with each other. You People don't like gay shipping in the Correct way that i do, you like to gay ship in a nasty fetish way (only slightly exaggerating). you saw that buck and tommy kissed online and you watched the entire show just to watch men make out with each other which is Bad And Wrong.

aside from the fact that this person also literally started watching the show after 7x4 aired (and like i said so did a lot of people. one would think this is a morally neutral thing to do), this struck a nerve with me. this take (which was repeated ad nauseam by everyone in their circle) is just plainly irresponsible.

it is inappropriate to suggest that someone is like. morally reprehensible for *checking my notes* shipping a canon television couple. is tim minear a gay fetishist for writing the bucktommy kiss? is the average viewer a gay fetishist for going "oh i didn't see that coming! they seem like a nice couple"? is my mom a gay fetishist? are you calling my mom a gay fetishist??

this is an argument that i've seen happen in a billion different ways over the past decade and a half of being in fandom spaces by the way. are women allowed to read gay fanfiction? what about gay porn? what if they get off to it? are they allowed to write it themselves? what if they're not straight? what if they're not women? was casey mcquiston fetishizing gay men when they wrote red white and royal blue? is the romance genre allowed to exist with gay men and straight women in it? do you have to check everyone's gender or sexual identity at the login page for ao3 and tumblr dot com to determine if it is morally okay for them to participate in fandom at all?

and then there was the comparisons between bucktommy and buddie fic stat breakdowns: bucktommy's are writing more smut And That's Bad and buddie fans are writing stories with plot And That's Good.

it. is. irresponsible. it is oversimplifying. it is judgmental and above all else it is irrelevant. people could like bucktommy because they think they're hot or because they think theyre interesting or because buck realized he was bisexual or because they think tommy has potential as a character. it is a ship. creating a dichotomy where one ship is the morally good thing to ship and one ship is the morally bad thing to ship is irresponsible and not in the spirit of fandom.

morality and purity conversations in fandom are like. an entirely different can of worms to talk about and this is going to be long enough already. but bucktommy shippers shot back with the same energy:

if you don't like bucktommy then you are homophobic because tommy is gay

i did see quite a bit of this argument because a number of people that id been following did get into bucktommy and i do still follow and like these people

i covered most of my feelings about this type of argument above but to reiterate: it is possible to like different ships without making it a morality competition. it's disingenuous and annoying.

especially that brief stint where people were saying that the bucktommy shipname was a slur against gay men. you can just not like it. you can just not like it and have it end there. it's an ugly shipname but you don't have to make it a moral issue.

especially because then buddie shippers pulled out the trump card:

4. the tommy problem

because these people just watched the entire show in like four weeks (again, neutral statement, i did the same fucking thing) they remember tommy from hen and chimney begins. and. okay

i'm not about to be taken out of context here. i watched bp's video when it came out, i think what was said was wrong, i'm not about to say that being racist was like. cool or excusable 20 years ago. i think there is a discussion to be had here about this though. there's a reason i'm typing this out carefully:

i want to say firstly that there IS a conversation to be had about the social landscape in 2005 and especially pre-obama america for the purposes of a bunch of 20 years olds who were not alive or fully conscious yet. people told casually racist jokes (casual in that they are told casually without intent for violence, not that they are not violent. all racism is violence) and there were fewer social ramifications for those racist jokes in 2005. that does not make them Magically Not Racist. they were. it was not okay. it was, however, Extremely Common. does that make it okay? no.

i'm saying that largely because it seems to ME that tim or whoever wrote that particular episode wrote that joke to paint a picture of where the characters are in the story. chimney is not under bobby. he is not being treated with respect. he is 15 years in the past (from when the episode aired. whatever) it is different. it wasn't supposed to matter who said it

(it did matter and it does matter that it's tommy who said it by the way. because that's like. the universe of the show)

(though my theory - and i'm just being stupid for a sec indulge me it's 3am - is that tim and ryan both LOVE writing in guys named tommy. seriously i've been rewatching glee and when i watched 911 i noticed this too that there are so many characters that we never even meet named tommy. abby's ex for one. my theory is that tim wanted to bring in some guy named tommy for buck's awakening and he realized he already had one. lol.)

SECONDLY. sorry that was longwinded. secondly, i am a person who believes that people are capable of change. 20 years is a long time to grow. even as an adult. again, this does not excuse racism, but it is important anyway.

this is all theoretical but i want you to walk with me: it is possible for a 20-30 year old closeted gay white man with a homophobic captain pre-obama to pick up and not experience consequences for inappropriate comments and casual racism and even be seeking out a parent-like validation from someone who encourages it AND THEN, after 20 years wherein he realizes he's gay, comes out of the closet, i believe it is POSSIBLE for him to unpack his internalized racism, apologize, and grow as a person

obviously these are fictional characters but it is important to my fucking philosophy of life that people are capable of change and having empathy or understanding that in fictional characters is so fucking baseline.

it is important that we as a society can agree that someone's behavior, ideology, and/or biases can change. that like. that just HAS to be possible.

caveat #1 that does not mean that any people of color who are fans of the show have to like tommy or even forgive him (or even like. hen and chim lmao it's kind of clear to me that at least hen doesn't) and i am not going to tell them to

caveat #2 i also understand that there is no explicit acknowledgment of this on screen (i think this is because tim forgot which i find funny but like i said. it still matters that it's tommy regardless of intent) and because of that there technically is nothing To forgive

ALL OF THAT TAKEN INTO ACCOUNT.

even if we are assuming that tommy has learned nothing and has not changed at all. the leap from "tommy is/was racist" to "shipping bucktommy or finding tommy interesting Makes You Racist" is heinous to me.

sometimes people like characters who are shitty people. some of you like tony stark. sorry

it's ridiculous to me because there are plenty of other reasons to dislike bucktommy that doesn't like. vilify random people on the internet. he's not even framed as a particularly good boyfriend! we don't even know if they're boyfriends, for one thing!

i've been complaining about buddie shippers for this entire time but i literally am one of you and that's what pisses me off. you threw the first blow in the morality competition and you are bigger - and you KNOW you are bigger because you are proud of the fact - and you are winning.

you are right about a lot of it: tommy isn't a good guy. there is an active racism problem in this fandom. there is a misogyny problem in this fandom. but by and large buddie shippers have been in the game longer and have much larger followings and there is nasty shit i'm seeing which brings me to

5. social media discourse 2 electric boogaloo: twitter edition

twitter is a cesspool in the best of times but i have seen some shit in the past two weeks that makes me never want to write fanfiction for this fandom or even interact with most of the fans ever again. and i'm serious

there is a big buddie fanfic writer who is like. beloved. if you read buddie fanfiction you've read their work for sure. they started writing bucktommy and buddietommy fics around april. and people are being so nasty about them on twitter it is actually fucking embarrassing.

AND LIKE. god. fandom etiquette is so simple.

when i first started reading buddie fanfic the first thing i noticed was how many fics are locked. and i was like "i wonder why that is"

just look at these tweets. i have kept the author's handle here uncensored but please be normal do not bother this person. i'm sure their ao3 comments are hell enough already

what the fuck is your people's problem i'm serious

i'm like actually appalled. this is embarrassing. this isn't even the most embarrassing thing i've seen buddie stans do recently and it is NOT uncommon. it is not small accounts. you guys are the majority. these tweets have hundreds of likes.

i don't give a shit what this person was writing. i actually don't care. their fics are locked. they write for free.

to take someone's fic outside ao3 is considered bad fandom etiquette. to talk about an author where they don't have an account is generally considered bad fandom etiquette. to complain about fanfiction openly is bad fandom etiquette. i don't care if this is y'all's first fandom. in what world are you going to take to twitter and openly complain about someone writing fanfiction for a ship you don't like.

if i were them i would delete all of the buddie fics or never write buddie again i'm so serious. this is so ridiculous.

and this is sort of the nail in the coffin for me, seeing this tweet the other day:

this tweet has over a thousand likes

this is a larger fandom issue as of recent with the use of like. mental health terms as insults but it actually fucking disgusts me!

i looked at mark's twitter. it's pretty clear to me that he's a troll/having fun/provoking people on purpose but on TOP of that his tweets get at most 35 likes. i checked and this tweet got 21 likes. and over a thousand likes calling him schizophrenic. 24 replies doubling down. 25 retweets. 47 quote tweets. 62 bookmarks. over a thousand likes.

and buddie shippers are the good guys

it is ridiculous to me that as a fandom buddie shippers have created a space where it is impossible to have a meaningful discussion about fandom misogyny, racism, of homophobia because everyone who disagrees with you is morally opposed to you, and yet it is this side of the fandom with enough traction and support to openly bully and mock these people that you have decided are morally reprehensible.

6. in conclusion i'm sorry i know no one read this

fandom in general post-covid has become less of a community based in sharing creativity and the love of something (and i know this intimately as a kpop stan lol). online spaces in general have become something i don't recognize or want to participate in. which sucks. i've been here for a long time.

i know there's not really any way for that group of like 5 or so tiktokers that complain about tommy ad nauseam to see this or even take it seriously. i know there's not any way for those people on twitter to magically understand fandom etiquette or just block the people they don't want to see.

everyone would be happier if they just. blocked and moved on. i know i would. and i have! in a lot of cases. there's a reason i blocked out the names on those tweets (note: i blocked mark's twitter handle. the person who screenshotted it so he wouldn't be notified and then called them schizophrenic did not. because they do not care) because it's not about THEM it's about the whole fucking thing.

and a lot of these people want to be mad. it's why they're so hung up on tommy. like i'm sorry if any bucktommy fan is still reading this but GOD TOMMY HAS BEEN ON SCREEN FOR LIKE TEN MINUTES TOTAL IN THE ENTIRE SHOW. HE DOESN'T EVEN MATTER. JUST ADMIT THIS IS ABOUT A SHIP WAR. IT ISN'T ABOUT HOW GOOD OF A PERSON YOU ARE OR ANYONE IS. IT'S JUST A SHIP WAR. and they want to be miserable. they want to sit in their little echochamber of morally upright big name fans and they want to provoke bucktommy fans into saying something shitty and they love it because they don't really fucking care about the show.

you know how i know? because tommy is the least important part of chimney begins. that is in the best 3 episodes of this entire television show and none of y'all have anything to say about it. because you're just as obsessed with tommy as they are.

[socgf]

the outsiders bts tea from rob lowe's book: part 1 (casting)

okay i am reading rob lowe's autobiography and taking notes on anything the outsiders related! this first part is some personal background as well as the casting for the outsiders.

i know some of this is already common knowledge about their audition process but i thought rob had some interesting insights/ways of describing it so thought i would share. 😁 also i am recording every word he says about matt dillon because that's my man

ch 1-8: early life and acting idrc

at 15 rob gets a role in a tv sitcom, "a new kind of family” - this is when he first starts being seen as a teen idol, he's only 15 and getting fan mail from men in jail asking to see him shirtless :( and girls chase him around and basically jump him, they steal his shoelaces (?) he writes a lot about how he hates this ear piercing scream of teenage girls

he moves to santa monica and becomes friends with the LA actors crowd, mostly through his high school - he’s friends with the sheens and penns, robert downey jr, emilio estevez

charlie sheen is a freak and sometimes wears a bulletproof vest to school and is a huge conspiracy theorist but we knew he was a weirdo

but the tv show flops and he has trouble landing acting gigs for a while, he feels like a has been at 17, thinks of doing something else with his life, is ready to go into usc

in december 1982, he’s told he can audition for the outsiders - it’s basically his last chance

ch 9: the audition process part 1

LA auditions: tom cruise, emilio estevez, tommy howell

every male actor in hollywood between ages of 15 and 30 were being asked to audition

coppola didnt even know the outsiders existed until one middle school liked the book so much that they petitioned it to be made into a movie and he was like okay

rob says s.e. wrote the outsiders set in the 50s? maybe a writing mistake but i think that’s so funny if he actually thought it was in the 50s this whole time

rob sees emilio at the soundstage for the audition among 25 other actors, the audition is nothing like he's seen before, emilio is wearing a ‘ridiculous looking pompadour’ and rob asks him wtf is going on, emilio is like “hey what can i say it’s francis” - his dad genuinely almost died of a heart attack working for coppola on apocalypse now

side note the filming process of apocalypse now is absolutely INSANE - sickness everywhere, a tapeworm coming out of martin’s driver’s mouth at one point, playboy bunnies were just written into the film etc

everyone is leaving the auditions miserable except for this one guy who comes out all happy, telling rob and emilio that francis sent all the actors away except for him - rob describes him as friendly and funny but having a robotic, bloodless, focused intensity (tom cruise btw)

francis keeps switching everyone’s parts and having them read each others parts in front of the other actors

tom reads for sodapop randy darry and dally!

rob reads for sodapop and randy

emilio reads for sodapop and darry

the auditions have this insane setup of a table with a small light and 4 chairs in the middle of a dark room, everyone who’s not in the scene is circling around watching- he describes it like a boxing match

he says tom looks like he wants to bash his brains in and steal his role from him

1st lineup: dennis quaid as darryl, scot bayo as sodapop, tommy howell as ponyboy

tommy is so lowkey he doesn’t seem like he’s trying, but also seems very real and authentic, he looks like a baby

tommy is stonefaced and cool the entire time he’s watching others, they can’t believe he’s only 15

mickey rourke comes in and rob says he looks dirty and homeless lol francis worships him

2nd lineup: rob and tommy play their respective roles with john laughlin as darry

robs entire career lowkey rests on the soda crying monologue, he’s only able to cry because he sees tommy’s eyes water for him (aw)

francis gets mad at some of the actors for pronouncing soc as sock LOLLLL

the role of sodapop is most coveted after ponyboy, it’s supposed to be huge, romantic, with the big breakdown scene at the end - he will bring this back later i assume with how he was upset about it being cut

NYC auditions: matt dillon, ralph macchio

they fly to new york for the next round of auditions

on the flight together rob tommy emilio and tom are ‘working a cute stewardess for alcohol’ lol and become friends - this is like the LA squad

the new york actors make up the other group which is kinda fighting for roles against this LA group, they’re tough, intense, serious

the actors stay at the plaza hotel and they’re told they need to share rooms

as soon as tom hears this he calls his agent and rob literally does an impression of him “uh paul? they’re making us share 😠” he is certain this is not right and wants this fixed asap, he’s already a diva

the boys go out to times square and get super drunk

next morning is what rob calls the east coast vs. west coast acting brawl (screentest time)

rob’s impressions of the other actors below:

matt dillon

matt is already a huge teen idol, he’s pretty intimidated by him

he’s reading the part of dallas - “and by reading i mean reading, he’s holding the entire script with his eyes locked on the text” - idk what he means by this i thought this is what they’re supposed to do.. whatever

after a while he puts it down and is paraphrasing completely, adlibbing, making up dialogue while the other actors try to keep up with him

he can’t tell if francis told him to freestyle it or not - if so, he’s got the part locked in and if he didn’t, then matt dillon has “dangling, clanking, scary big elephant balls”

ralph macchio

he recognizes ralph because they were competing for a part in ‘eight is enough’

describes him as a tiny kid, bro is 21

he says it’s clear he’s the front runner for johnny

ralph says him and matt have only been reading for their respective parts and have been doing so for days (together btw) (it’s clear the dally-johnny dynamic is very important to francis)

this is very interesting to me!!! how everyone else was so in between parts and matt and ralph were just. locked in from the start. and paired.

tom comes in and is asked to do sodapop, he is nailing the breakdown and rob’s like ‘i’m done that’s it’ - he is a force to be reckoned with

then tom stops in the middle of the scene!! and says “this just isn’t working for me i’m sorry”, francis lets him try again but it doesn’t hit so that’s how he loses the role basically

rob does the scene and crushes it

that’s all for chapter 9, no one is casted yet. the only greaser not mentioned at auditions at this point is patrick, i assume he will get to that + diane lane + others in the next part though, and it’ll also cover the dynamic between the cast once they already get the roles

pt 2 coming soon hopefully some more juicy stuff 😋

[ginnsbaker]

Maybe You Were The Ocean

Summary: Wanda was... an open-ended chapter in your life.

Word count: 6.3k+ | Tags: Heavy Angst, Character Death, Bittersweet ending

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by @gingiesworld:

Y/N and Wanda have been together for a while and Pietro calls Y/N one night, needing a lift home from a friends party. On that night they get hit by another drunk driver and Pietro dies on impact. As time goes on and the other driver is arrested, y/n still blames themselves for Pietro's death. Even though Wanda continuously tries to tell them otherwise but they won't listen. They then yell at her "why don't you blame me? You should hate me for your brother dying." Before walking out. Can be either a happy or sad ending buddy. Whichever you decide

Author's note: I changed some minor details in the request, hope you don't mind Gingie. Thank you for this gut-wrenching monster, it allowed me to practice writing in past tense (so out of my comfort zone lol). Title is from "black flies" by ben howard, listen to that as well when you read ;)

Masterlist

-

Now

You haven't been to something like this in what seems like ages.

That something being a wedding.

And if you were to keep count, you'd realize you've been to more funerals than weddings in your lifetime so far.

Your best friend looks like a goddess in her white dress—and anyone with eyes can see that the groom is the luckiest man on earth.

You’re fixing your hair in front of the mirror when she approaches, wearing a smile that you’ve never seen on her, a smile you’d never be able to put on her lips yourself. It’s a smile reserved for him—that lucky bastard.

She gently taps on your shoulder. “You’re going to make me cry if you keep looking so stunning,” she teases, her voice light with laughter.

You chuckle, your eyes meeting hers in the mirror. “It's your day, and nothing can overshadow how beautiful you look.”

“Promise me something,” she says suddenly, her bright eyes locking onto yours.

“Anything,” you reply without hesitation.

“Promise me that you won’t stop looking for this kind of happiness. Promise me you'll find someone who puts that same smile on your face,” she whispers.

Your throat tightens, words caught somewhere between heartache and hope. “I promise.”

Then

You were eight years old when you moved to a new neighborhood.

At that age, it felt like the scariest thing that had ever happened to you. Your parents divorced, your mother got full custody, and once the judge made that call, she packed up everything familiar and moved you to a new state: New Jersey.

It was what she could manage back then. This place was nothing like the spacious suburbs you remembered, and your new apartment building seemed no bigger than your old living room back in California. The place had just one bedroom, and it was hard to tell where the dining area stopped and the kitchen started.

You resented her in the way a child might, not fully grasping responsibility or consequences. You were upset she took you away from your friends and the comfort of your old life. You didn’t see back then the bruises hidden beneath her shirt, the ones your father left. You only learned about them when you turned eighteen. By then, your resentment had faded long ago.

A week after moving into that aged building, you encountered the twins next door, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff. Initially, you met Pietro when his mother sent him over with some food to welcome you and your mom to the neighborhood. It wasn't until you and Pietro became inseparable friends, spending every possible moment together, that you met Wanda.

When you did meet her, you weren't fond of her. She seemed aloof and mostly kept to herself. Unlike her expressive brother, Wanda seldom voiced her thoughts, making conversations with her feel uninspiring. 

You and Pietro often clashed with Wanda over the television. You both wanted to play video games while Wanda preferred her sitcoms. Pietro would let Wanda watch her shows briefly before forcefully switching channels just to annoy her. Eventually, Wanda would retreat to her room in tears, and Pietro would steel himself for a reprimand when their mother returned home.

You would give Wanda a piece of chocolate because you felt bad, but you never asked Pietro to stop, fearing he might stop being your best friend. In return, Wanda would lend you her pocketbooks you’d never quite finish.

You hadn't realized it back then, but that dynamic would continue well into your teen years. With Pietro stirring up trouble left and right, you being caught in the middle, and Wanda, from a distance, observing you with cautious interest—perhaps wishing it had been her who brought the welcoming food instead of her brother.

Now

The wedding isn’t going to start for another hour. There have been delays due to the weather.

With the archways and open corridors adorned with blooming flowers and drapes, the venue looks nothing short of magical, even with the looming clouds. From where you stand, you extend your arm, letting the light drizzle kiss your skin. Each droplet feels like nature's way of playing with the day's emotions—adding both melancholy and charm.

Someone nearby remarks, “You know it's considered good luck when it rains on one's wedding day.”

You merely smile politely in response.

“Are you a friend of the bride’s or the groom's?”

“The bride,” you reply.

“Oh, fantastic! Maybe you can convince her to finally see she’s way out of his league!”

You shake your head at the joke. It’s not even the first time you've heard it today.

Then

It wasn't until you were fifteen and Pietro, seventeen, that the troubles you found yourselves in became more serious. 

It had also been a few months since Pietro introduced you to drugs other than weed. At first, it was just an occasional joint passed around at a party or behind the school building. But Pietro wanted to try riskier substances. You weren't as keen but didn't want to be left behind by your best friend.

One evening, after trying something a bit harder than usual, you and Pietro were wandering the streets, laughing way too loud. In his intoxicated state, Pietro suddenly swung at a parked car with his bat, smashing it. Almost immediately, patrol lights shone bright, and stern police voices could be heard from almost everywhere. Pietro got cornered, but sheer panic made you bolt. Ditching your best friend felt terrible, but the terrifying thought of jail—especially knowing the mess it'd be for your already stretched-thin mom—made you keep running.

Still shaken, you made your way to Pietro's apartment, knowing you had to be the one to tell his mother. Her reaction was a storm of emotions—anger, fear, desperation. She demanded you stay with Wanda while she went to confront the nightmare at the police station.

“I think I'll just head home,” you murmured to Wanda, not wanting to impose any further.

She glanced at you, her eyes searching. “Have you had dinner?”

You hesitated, then lied. “Yeah, I ate earlier.” The truth was your mom had been away for work for three days, and the fridge was almost bare. 

The small home you came to know felt overwhelmingly spacious as you sat alone, burdened by the guilt of having left your best friend behind. But mere minutes after sinking into your worn-out couch, a knock came at your door. Opening it, you found Wanda, a bowl of steaming paprikash in her hands and a soft smile on her lips.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she said.

Your face lit up in relief at the sight of the food, more grateful than you could express. Just as you were about to thank her, your stomach betrayed you with an embarrassingly loud growl. Wanda let out a genuine laugh, and for a brief moment, you felt like a burden had been lifted.

“Guess I was right,” she teased, handing you the bowl.

As you eagerly began eating, Wanda settled opposite you, her expression growing serious again. “What were you two even thinking tonight?” she asked softly.

Swallowing, you sighed, “I tried to stop him, Wanda. But I couldn't talk him out of it.” 

Wanda looked down, her fingers playing with a loose thread on the couch. “I don't blame you,” she finally said, her voice gentle, “I never do. In fact, I sometimes wonder how much worse he might've been without you around.”

A moment of silence hung between the two of you before Wanda whispered, more to herself than to you, “I'm so worried about next year.”

Curiously, you looked up from your food, "What do you mean?"

“Pietro's turning eighteen. He was supposed to get a baseball scholarship, but with this run in with the police, that’s probably hanging in the balance now…” she trailed off.

Your heart sank. You had known Pietro had big dreams tied to that scholarship, dreams that now seemed to be teetering on the brink. "And what about you, Wanda? What's your plan?"

Wanda took a deep breath, and her face lit up slightly, “I got accepted into Columbia. It's amazing, really. But…” She sighed, looking down, “Even with the scholarship they offered, I can't afford it. Plus, with everything going on, I think I need to be here, help Mom out, you know?”

“That's tough,” you whispered, feeling a pang of sadness for the bright future she might be putting on hold.

She nodded, “I'm thinking of starting work and maybe attending community college for a bit. It's not Columbia, but it's something.”

“That's... that's just unfair,” you whispered, setting down your bowl, your appetite momentarily forgotten. “If there's anyone who deserves to be at Columbia, Wanda, it's you.”

Wanda looked up, her eyes filled with something you didn’t recognize.

“I wish things were different,” you continued. “I've always thought of you as one of the most intelligent people I know. And not just smart, but kind... genuinely kind.”

She took in your words, the distance between you two closing slightly. “Thank you,” she murmured, her gaze never leaving yours.

Then, with a flash of resolve, she inched closer. “There's something I want to do,” she began, her voice a whisper. “Something I've wanted for a long time, but it never seemed right. I don't think there'll be another perfect moment, another chance. Not after tonight.”

Before you could process her words, she was leaning in, the space between you disappearing. Your eyelids dropped, and for a heartbeat, everything else melted away as her lips met yours.

For the longest time, nothing made sense to you. That was, until Wanda Maximoff kissed you.

Now

Your best friend's walk down the aisle feels like the longest part of the ceremony–at least to you. The sight is so magical that time seems to stand still. When you snap back to reality, the priest is asking if there's anyone in the crowd who wishes to object to the marriage.

Nobody breaks the silence which lasts a mere two seconds. It's a rarity these days for anyone to object. They only happen now in movies. Modern weddings are more intimate, almost closed-door affairs. The guest list is meticulously curated, ensuring anyone with a complex history with the bride or groom remains absent.

You watch the ceremony unfold, every word, every shared glance, making you feel more trapped by the promise you made earlier. You'd promised to chase that very kind of happiness, the kind that was unfolding right in front of you. Yet as you watch, there's this nagging feeling at the back of your mind, asking if you ever really will.

What they have feels like a world apart from where you're seated. 

You try to be genuinely happy for your best friend, and on many levels, you are. But you–you’re the last person to believe you deserve even a fraction of such a miracle.

Then

The kiss, as Wanda had promised, never happened again.

At least not for the duration they remained neighbors. Soon after, she and Pietro moved to another town for their studies. As for you, you and your mother also moved shortly after their departure, to a nicer neighborhood that’s closer to Manhattan where you also transferred schools.

For five years, you didn't see either of them. No calls. Nothing on social media. But that didn't stop them from occasionally drifting into your thoughts. Especially that memory of your first kiss.

That was until one night, while dining alone in a midscale Soho restaurant, you looked up to find Wanda as your server.

She wore a simple black uniform that most servers donned, but she carried it with an elegance that made her stand out. For a moment, you thought she didn't recognize you, as she professionally presented the menu and described the evening's specials without missing a beat. But then, as she was turning to leave your table, she paused and looked directly into your eyes.

“It's been a long time,” she said, her voice becoming more familiar as she shed her professional facade.

You nodded, struggling to find the right words. “Yeah, it really has. I didn't expect to see you here.”

She smiled, a little sadly. “Life takes us to unexpected places sometimes. I... well, I needed a job while I finish my degree.”

You both chatted briefly, catching up on lost time, but Wanda was called away to attend to other patrons. As she bustled about, you found it difficult to focus on your meal, your gaze repeatedly drawn to her fluid movements around the room.  Every so often, your eyes would meet, and she'd offer a fleeting smile, a touch of color rising to her cheeks.

After a while, you signaled for the check. Wanda was quick to bring it over, her fingers brushing against yours as she handed it to you.

“How's Pietro?” you asked tentatively.

Wanda hesitated, her eyes betraying her composure. “He was released from prison about a month ago,” she began, taking a deep breath. “It was tough, but he's doing better now. Trying to change, you know? And he... he misses you.”

Baseball never happened for him. College too. You wished you hadn’t lost your connection together. Perhaps you could have made a difference.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured. “Life just... took over.”

Wanda nodded with understanding, but remained silent.

As you prepared to leave, Wanda slipped a note along with your bill. It read, “It was good to see you again. Maybe we shouldn't wait another five years?”

Beneath these words, Wanda had also written down her phone number.

-

You waited a total of three days to call Wanda.

Wanda was... an open-ended chapter in your life. It wasn’t that you hadn’t been with other women since she stole your first kiss, but she remained a persistent afterthought in every relationship of yours that ended. 

It didn't help that you'd left a bookmark in her chapter, aware that revisiting it had the potential to alter the trajectory of everything.

The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered, “Hello?”

“Hey, it's me,” you hesitated for a moment, wondering if she would recognize your voice after all these years, “From the restaurant, the other night?”

There was a brief pause, then her tone softened, “I hoped you'd call.”

You were grinning so hard that it didn’t occur to you that you hadn’t responded to her in a while when she gently teased, “Took you long enough.”

“Three days isn’t that long,” you defended with a slight chuckle.

“Well, in the grand scheme of things, no. But in the context of us? It felt like an eternity,” she admitted.

And it truly felt that way. Finding Wanda over the past several years hadn't been impossible or even especially hard. Yet, both of you had consciously let things drift. You had navigated through college, and Wanda, well, she'd been engaged in whatever endeavors she had pursued.

But that night, it felt right to call her. And you hadn’t realized you were waiting to find her again.

You and Wanda scheduled to meet some time during the week and the conversation should’ve ended there. But neither of you wanted to hang up, and Wanda quickly asked about your college experience and the new neighborhood you'd settled into after their departure. By the time you both ended the call, nearly two hours had passed, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

It was evident; the bookmark you'd placed hadn't lost its page and it was easy to ease once more into its pages.

Now

The sun has set when the newly-wedded couple finally arrives at the reception.

You're seated at a table filled with strangers, but your best friend made sure to place you next to a woman she's been raving about—one she's suggested more than once you should date.

Her name is Natasha and she’s gorgeous beyond words. She's so striking that you find yourself wondering if she's even your type. Typically, you've steered clear of people who seem universally more attractive than you, a defense mechanism to sidestep lingering insecurities from over the years.

But as she leans into your personal space, you can’t help but respond to every question and laugh at every joke she throws your way.

Maybe it’s safe to let yourself enjoy this, even just for tonight.

Then

It was scarcely two weeks since that encounter with Wanda at the restaurant, and there you were, in her bed.

It was cramped and the air conditioning kept failing many times during the day. 

But you didn’t care. 

You had known this woman for almost your entire life, and you'd waited just as long to be in her bed like this: with your arm growing numb under her weight, her head resting on your chest, and your nose buried in her hair.

She stirred slightly, her fingers tracing patterns on your chest. “Did you ever think...?” she began, voice hesitant.

“Think what?” you prompted, adjusting slightly so you could see her face.

“That we'd end up here, like this?” she whispered, her eyes searching yours.

You smiled, thinking back. “I don't know if I let myself think about it. But I hoped.”

She chuckled softly, her breath warm against your skin. “I had a feeling you'd say that.”

The sheets beneath you were thin and had seen better days, but it didn't matter. The world outside, with its faint hum of city life, seemed so far away. Yet, the world outside seemed irrelevant. All that mattered was the rhythm of her breathing syncing with yours and the warmth of her body next to you.

Every so often, she'd shift, mumbling half-formed sentences that would make you chuckle.

“Is the penguin wearing a bowtie?” she murmured in her half-asleep state.

You laughed softly. “What penguin?”

“The one in my dream,” she mumbled, snuggling closer to you. “He's quite the gentleman.”

“Sounds like a classy penguin,” you teased.

She smiled faintly, her eyes still closed. “He reminds me of you, in a way.”

“Oh? So, I'm a penguin now?” you quipped, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“In the best way,” she whispered, pulling you closer. “My dapper penguin.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Only you would dream of something like that.”

“And only you,” she murmured, lips against your chest, “Would be there in that dream with me.”

-

While Wanda seamlessly reintegrated into your life, with Pietro, however, things weren't as straightforward. His past, speckled with run-ins with the law and a battle against addiction, made you and Wanda wary of him, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You could tell he was on the mend though, especially when six months into your relationship with Wanda, Pietro was able to hold a job for that same duration. Yet, his living situation with Wanda was far from ideal. Their apartment was snug, to say the least. His room was barely big enough to fit his bed. 

You wished you could help, but with college expenses looming over you, your hands were tied. The thought of asking Wanda to move in with you played on your mind constantly. It seemed like the ideal solution: she would have a more stable environment, and Pietro could fully occupy the apartment, giving him some semblance of independence.

“What do you think about moving in with me? I know it's soon, but…” you asked her one night in the quiet confines of your dorm room.

“I don’t think I’m allowed to live here with you,” Wanda said, a bit amused at your suggestion.

“I didn’t mean here,” you replied. “I meant finding an apartment for the two of us.”

“That’s just adding more expenses, Y/N. I can’t let you do that when you can stay here without any costs,” Wanda countered.

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. “It's not about the money, Wands. It's about... us. Having a place of our own. And it would also give Pietro the whole apartment.”

Wanda's eyes met yours, searching for a hidden meaning. “Are you saying that because of Pietro? You think he's a burden?”

You quickly shook your head. “No, no, it's not that. I just... I see how much you worry about him.”

Your fingers found hers, lacing together as you both sat on the edge of your bed. “I get it,” you began, exhaling softly, “But I thought about Pietro too. He’d have the apartment all to himself. More space, more independence.”

Wanda's eyebrows knit together in concern. “And what if he…” she hesitated, searching for the right words, “Relapses or needs me?”

You tightened your grip around her hand. “We wouldn't be too far, Wanda. And maybe giving him that space and trust will help him more than you think.”

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I know you're thinking of what's best for all of us, but Pietro's situation has always been so... fragile.”

Wanda looked at you, her eyes filled with emotion. “I'll think about it,” she whispered.

“Take your time,” you replied, pressing a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Whatever you decide, I'm with you every step of the way.”

“Promise me,” Wanda said, her eyes hardening, like she’s on the verge of tears or something worse. “Promise you’ll be with me always.”

You leaned in, brushing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Always.”

Now

“It’s not everyday you find the person you’ll be spending the rest of your life with.”

Short and sweet, but that's your whole speech, cliches and all.

“I never thought I'd see the day,” you start, nodding towards the newlyweds with a smirk. “But hey, miracles happen.” You raise your champagne glass. “To two people who finally figured it out. Cheers.”

Your best friend laughs, rolling her eyes affectionately at you. “Trust you to keep things real,” she murmurs, clinking her glass with yours.

And that’s when you see her, amongst the cheering crowds.

In the middle of all the people, she stands out. Always has. It doesn't matter where or when, you can always spot her. Your heart skips a beat, just like it always does. It's like everyone else fades a bit, and she's the only one in focus.

Wanda Maximoff. 

Pristine in a scarlet trumpet gown, her hair pulled into a tight, strict bun. A few stray tendrils of hair have escaped the bun, framing her face in a way that gives her an almost ethereal quality.

As you take a moment to really look at her, you notice the fine details. The way the light catches the small diamond earrings she wears, making them shimmer just so. The delicate curve of her collarbone, revealed by the gown's off-the-shoulder design. And her eyes—always her captivating eyes–that hold an entire galaxy, scanning the room until they land on you.

The shock in her eyes mirrors yours, and for a moment, everything else blurs. Your legs wobble, threatening to give way beneath you. The room's atmosphere grows thick, or perhaps you're just struggling to catch your breath.

Beside you, the bride and your best friend, Maria, notices your sudden change in demeanor and follows your gaze to its source. 

“Are you okay?” she asks.

You manage a shaky head shake in response, pushing through the crowd to escape the room. But you can hear Maria, not too far behind, calling after you.

Then

“So, Maria,” Wanda began once your friend had left and it was just the two of you in the cafe. You had been so keen for the two of them to meet. But with Maria spending a whole semester in Germany as an exchange student, their only prior meeting had been a brief video call that interrupted one of your dates with Wanda.

“How did you two get so close?”

“Did I never tell you about that?”

Wanda shook her head, taking a sip from her now lukewarm cappuccino.

“Freshman year. We were looking for this book and it only had one copy in the school library, and believe it or not, we reached for it at the same time,” you recounted with a wistful smile.

Wanda's face shifted ever so slightly, a change you didn't quite catch.

“We both really needed it badly, so we promised to take turns using it, and we ended up studying together for weeks.”

“That sounds like something out of a movie,” Wanda mused, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

“It kind of felt like that,” you admitted, laughing softly. “From bickering about who would get the book on Mondays to sharing our notes and coffee breaks. Before we knew it, we were inseparable.”

Wanda hummed, her eyes flitting restlessly around you.

“What is it?”

Wanda shrugged. “Nothing.”

You frowned slightly, knowing her well enough to see past her facade. “Wands, come on,” you coaxed. “Talk to me.”

She looked away for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “It's just... it's hard sometimes, hearing about these memories you shared with someone else, when I wish I had been there with you.”

“Wanda,” you began gently, “There are moments in your past that I wasn't a part of. But what matters is now. Right here, with you.”

She sighed, her posture deflating a little. “I know. It's silly, isn't it? To be jealous of a close friend of yours.”

“If it makes you feel this way, then it's valid, no matter how silly you think it might be,” you assured her.

She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. “Growing up, our worlds were confined to that same apartment building. The people, the routines, everything was predictable. And now... being out in the world, seeing you connect with others, it's just... intimidating. And, honestly, a little scary.”

You paused, smirking a bit. “You know,” you began, but Wanda cut in, “What?”

“It's just...Do you even know how happy you make me?” you said, a bit sheepishly.

She looked like she was about to say something, but you quickly added, “Seriously, Wands.”

Wanda blinked, clearly taken aback. “You have this strange way of turning things around,” she said with a soft chuckle, her face turning a shade pinker.

“Because I love you.”

Neither of you had said it up until now. And it’s quickly evident that it was the right thing to say, at the right moment.

She took a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting with her cup. “You always jump in headfirst, don't you?” Then, looking up into your eyes, she added softly, “I love you too.”

You grinned, feeling a weight lifted. “Took you long enough.”

Now

The grand ballroom doors open with a soft whoosh, the muted melodies of a string quartet drifting into the cool night. You step out quickly, breathing in deep gulps of fresh air, your heart pounding against your ribcage. Memories of Wanda Maximoff, which you've tried hard to keep buried, surge to the forefront of your mind.

Maria, noticing your abrupt exit, quickly follows you out. “Hey,” she calls out softly, her heels clicking on the stone path as she reaches you. “Are you okay?”

“Why is she here?” you exclaim, the pitch of your voice inching towards a sharp octave.

Maria gently grabs your arm, offering solace. “I had no idea she'd be here. I promise. She must be someone’s plus one.”

You swallow hard, trying to steady your suddenly spinning surroundings.

“Y/N?”

“I'm okay, Maria,” you say, forcing a weak smile. “Sorry about this. It's your wedding, and you shouldn't be out here with me. Go back, enjoy your day.”

She looks conflicted, torn between staying by your side and going back to her new spouse and guests.

After a moment, Maria steps forward, enveloping you in a tight hug. “Promise me you'll be okay?”

You nod, hugging her back. “That’s too many promises in one day. But yeah, I’ll be okay.”

It’s just Wanda, you tell yourself.

Just the girl who could always bring out that special smile in you—the same one Maria had when she said, “I do.”

Then

The call came unexpectedly in the middle of the night.

You and Wanda had been dozing in her room for a few hours, following a particularly exhausting fight that concluded with even more exhausting—and mind-blowing—make-up sex.

“Hello?”

“Y/N!” You instantly recognized Pietro’s voice. “Hey, listen, can you pick me up? I'm at a bar,” Pietro said, his voice tinged with guilt and slight slurring. “I... I swear I didn't do anything. I got promoted to store manager and I treated a few colleagues to celebrate. I'm a bit tipsy so I... I'm sorry to bother you.”

There was a pause, and you ran a hand through your hair, exchanging a glance with Wanda who now sat up with a worried look.

“Which bar?” you asked, trying to keep yourself calm.

“Mike’s Tavern,” he mumbled, sounding embarrassed.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your keys from the nightstand. “Alright, I'm on my way. Stay put.”

Wanda frowned, her gaze conflicted. “I want to come with you,” she said, her brows furrowing together in concern and sleepiness.

“You should stay,” you said, sliding into your jeans. “It's a bit of a drive to New Jersey. You've had a long day, and you need to rest. I'll handle this.”

She bit her lip, torn, but finally nodded. “Please be safe. Call me if anything happens, okay?”

“I will,” you said, leaning down to give her a brief kiss on the forehead before making your way out.

-

You didn't call Wanda on your way back from New Jersey, but not because nothing occurred.

Rather, something did happen, and you weren't conscious enough to make the call.

-

You and Pietro made it to the hospital.

Wanda was an emotional wreck, grappling with the challenge of dividing her attention between her brother in ICU and you being wheeled into a separate ward.

An hour later, she didn't need to decide any longer.

Pietro Maximoff's time of death was called just as you started regaining consciousness.

-

The days following Pietro's death were a blur. You'd wake up, immediately feeling the weight of the world pressing down, your every moment drenched in guilt in the form of alcohol and, sometimes, your own vomit. 

Though you weren't close to Pietro anymore, he was slowly turning his life around. And while a drunk truck driver caused the accident, your own haste to get back to Wanda made you reckless. 

That choice haunted you daily.

That choice made you believe that Wanda hated you in secret.

You began avoiding Wanda, her presence a haunting reminder of the brother she lost and, in a twisted way, the brother you felt responsible for losing. The relationship you cultivated turned into something that only existed as a label. Otherwise, it didn’t exist at all. It faded, just like the gash on your face that you acquired from the accident.

Nights blurred into days, and sometimes, it was hard to tell which was which. Friends would find you in bars or on the rooftops, looking worse for wear, lost in your thoughts. Yes, Wanda grieved, but she was also lost without you by her side. She yearned for your comfort, your grounding presence; instead, all she got was your voicemail.

The breaking point came on an evening when she didn’t hear from you for two weeks. On a hunch, she decided to visit your dorm room. The last thing she expected was to find Maria there. While the situation was innocent enough, to Wanda's overwhelmed and grieving heart, it felt like a betrayal. Maria, sensing the rising tension, made a hasty exit, leaving the two of you alone.

Wanda's eyes glittered with rage and sadness. “Is this it?” she demanded. “Is this how we handle grief? You shut me out and bring her in?” 

You looked away, the walls you had put up to protect yourself now seeming like a prison. “It's not about Maria,” you murmured, your voice empty, almost lifeless.

Wanda's red-rimmed eyes searched yours, looking for a glimmer of the person she loved. “Then what is it? Why do you keep pushing me away?”

“Why don't you blame me?” you suddenly screamed, tears blurring your vision. “You should hate me for your brother dying!”

For a few moments, there was a deafening silence, interrupted only by your quiet sobs.

Wanda's hands cupped your face, forcing you to meet her eyes. “I've never blamed you. Not once.”

You remained quiet, refusing to let Wanda lift your chin from your chest.

Wanda continued, “Life is a series of 'what ifs' and 'maybes'. You can't control everything. And neither can I. We both lost him, Y/N. I don’t need more loss by losing you too.”

“Maybe you already have,” you whispered, finally looking into her eyes.

Wanda's voice cracked, “You can't be serious. What are you saying?”

You felt drained, worn out. “I don't know how to be us anymore, Wanda.”

She looked devastated. “So you're just walking away? Because we're hurting?”

You just wanted to be able to breathe again. You just wanted all of the pain to end, even if it meant letting her go.

Wanda's face crumpled, her voice rising. “So, that's it? You're just giving up?”

You could barely muster the strength to speak. "I just think... maybe it's easier this way."

“Easier for whom?” Wanda yelled, unable to hold everything back any longer. “I don't need easy, Y/N. I need you. But if you're so set on this, then be honest with me.”

You took a deep breath, your throat tight. “I think we need space, Wanda. A break.”

For a moment, it looked like Wanda might collapse. She took a step back, her gaze cold and hard. “You think a break will fix this? Fine. But don't expect me to be here waiting when you come around.” 

Without another word, she turned on her heel and left.

The last image of Wanda Maximoff etched into your mind as you closed her chapter.

Now

You half-expect her to seek you out after you left the reception. So, when the familiar scent of Wanda’s perfume wafts over, you keep your back turned, taking a long drag from your cigarette rather than acknowledging her arrival.

“Can I bum one?” she asks, her voice softer than the last time you heard it.

You hand her a cigarette without a word, watching her closely as she lights it. Her fingers, slender and pale, bring the cigarette to her lips, and she takes a long drag, exhaling with a sigh.

She looks so different, yet so achingly familiar.

Her hair is red—a detail you missed earlier. But now, standing this close to her, you can pick out everything that’s changed about her.

And you hate how good you are at doing just that.

For a few minutes, both of you stand in silence, letting the smoke swirl around in patterns before it gets carried away by the wind.

Wanda breaks the silence. “It's been a while.”

“Did you know it was Maria’s wedding?” you ask, finally gathering the courage to look at her.

She hesitates, exhaling a plume of smoke before admitting, “Yes, I did. But explaining to Steve our... complicated history and why I'd refuse to be his plus one seemed harder than just going with it.”

“Steve?”

She looks down, taking a moment before murmuring, “Steve’s my fiancé.”

Your eyes instinctively flit to her left hand, landing on the glimmering diamond ring. It's large and hard to miss, and you almost want to laugh that you hadn’t noticed before.

There’s a long pause between you both before you find your voice. “Congratulations, Wanda.” And to your own surprise, you genuinely mean it. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, an action you still find so endearing after all these years. But you’re not supposed to find anything about her endearing anymore. They’re not supposed to make your heart race. They’re not supposed to make you feel light-headed with desire.

It hits you painfully just how possible it is to stand mere inches from someone, yet feel oceans apart.

Wanda takes a deep breath, releasing it shakily. 

“You know,” Wanda says, her voice soft, “I never really got to apologize for how things ended between us.” She shakes her head slowly, tears forming in her eyes. “I was angry, hurt... lost. And when you tried to come back, I was already seeing someone else. By that time–”

“–so much has happened and I’ve hurt you too much,” you finish for her, a pained smile on your lips. “I’m sorry too.”

Wanda's breath hitches, and for a moment, she's transported back to your dorm room. She's spent a long time wondering what might have happened if she had stayed. But that choice belongs to a different timeline, a version of her that might have been braver than she feels now.

You pause, glancing at your hands before meeting her eyes. “Are you happy, Wanda?” A part of you hopes she's found happiness, yet another selfish part wishes she hasn't—because if she hasn't, maybe there's still a space for you in her life.

Wanda meets your gaze, her eyes shining with a clarity you hadn't seen in years. “I am happy,” she confirms softly.

The unexpected rush of emotion tightens your throat, and your eyes mist over. But you fight it, forcing a big smile that wrinkles the corners of your eyes. 

“That's great, Wanda,” you say. Your heart aches a bit, thinking how happiness can feel like a double-edged sword.

Reading your expression, she asks, “What about you? Are you happy?”

You promised Maria you won’t stop looking for the kind of happiness that brings people together. 

So, now you hang onto the hope of that promise. 

“Getting there,” you answer, the corners of your mouth lifting ever so slightly, “I will be.”

[custardcrazy]

Hi! If ur still taking requests for Ted Logan atm can I ask for super fluffy headcanons or a oneshot where he has a s/o who’s his exact opposite personality-wise (like they’re grumpy, sarcastic, cynical, and just has that “I hate everyone but you” attitude with Ted). Basically the black cat to his golden retriever. Thank u if u decide to do this!!

we've a star

summary: opposites do attract. (gn!reader)

wordcount: 1.2k

A/N: whoops, I think I projected a little. thanks for requesting!!

It was comical, how different you and your adoring boyfriend were. 

It was a comparison that many pointed out, if they didn't know either of you too well. Ted was generally optimistic to the point of obliviousness. He was cheerful, goofy, and was physically incapable of being rude to anybody; it wasn't hard to see that he was an all-around good guy. And the complete and utter truth was that you weren't any of those things. Blunt, pessimistic, always having a hard edge to your words. 

To an outsider, it seemed impossible that people who were completely diametrically opposed in terms of personality and demeanor could be in a relationship in the first place. After all, there was that old saying: "opposites attract", but that usually didn't work outside of the movies. Differences brought conflict, and the more things people had in common, the better. 

However, any of your mutual close friends would know of your insane, ridiculous soft spot for your partner-in-crime. 

Maybe the fact that Ted was so sweet was why you couldn't bring yourself to be truly mean to him. Maybe it was why you were still so incredibly attracted to him. Usually people who weren't so bright just got on your nerves, and you didn't have much patience for morons. But Ted was a special case. Sure, you teased him, but it was never anything more than that. And somehow, every time he screwed up doing something it was just cute. Nothing else. 

At first, it caught you off-guard. And it still did, but you were kinda used to it by now. 

Speaking of now. 

Your legs were propped up in his lap, and he was hunched over somewhat, scribbling on a legal pad that he probably had taken from his dad's office before he and Bill moved in together. His bangs kind of obscured his eyes, and you observed admiringly how now and then he flipped his head back in order to get them out of the way. He always had nice hair. And yes, it was as soft as it looked. 

Bill wasn't in their apartment at the moment, as he had left maybe two hours ago to go hang out with some buddies. He'd asked you and Ted if you wanted to go -- you liked Bill, of course, but the same couldn't be said for that particular group of people. The thing you wanted to do the least right now was talk to people. Or socialize with people at all. 

Ted wasn't people. 

Reclining back on the sort of disheveled green couch, which was probably suffocating under all the pillows, you briefly turned your attention to the TV. But you only got a quick glimpse of whatever cheesy sitcom was on before Ted broke the companionable silence. 

"Babe?" He turned the legal pad towards you, and the page he was using was covered in the chicken scratch otherwise known as his handwriting. Oh, he was brainstorming lyrics again. "Does this phrase in particular come off as too … crazy?" Brow furrowed, he pointed to a sentence. "I know you know that this song is supposed to be most ludicrous, but I don't wanna cross a certain line." 

"Duh, you and Bill decided to call it Trapped In Clown Land," you pointed out.

"It's a metaphor, babe!" He announced cheerfully, unphased by your dry remark. 

Sitting up to squint at the page, you realized that with how fast he'd been writing, his usual scrawl had degraded even further. Normally, you could pick out a couple letters and move from there, but it was impossible this time. 

"Uh, Ted, I can't read that." You poked him in the side with your toe. "Translation, please." 

He smiled, scratching the back of his neck. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry, babe." Lowering the pad, you noticed that even he had to focus a little to read what he'd written. 

"Shoes too big to fill / Out of fashion, but he's coming in for the kill," he recited slowly. "Something like that. Might reword it later, but I'm usually no good at rhyming stuff." The aura of self-pride radiating from him was palpable, and you reached out to ruffle his hair. He didn't protest, beaming a little. 

"I think it's fine." Shrugging, you leaned backwards again. "The big clown shoes reference is kinda direct, but just enough so it comes off as clever." For a guy who'd almost flunked English, Ted wasn't too bad at songwriting. Well, maybe you were a little biased, but you'd seen your fair share of awkward local bands to know what worked and what didn't. (Suddenly struck by a wave of intense secondhand embarrassment, you tried to suppress the memory of that one time the vocalist screwed up on stage.) 

But, thankfully, Ted intervened. "Your input is totally appreciated, babe." He leaned over, kissing you softly; it was over too soon, and he was right back to work. 

All of your efforts to dispel the cringe-worthy recollections were promptly diverted to trying to preserve your dignity and not melt into a puddle. Which was funny, because usually he was the one blushing and hiding his face. 

"Obviously," you managed to supply, and the TV suddenly looked very interesting. 

It was a little while longer before the legal pad got placed delicately (thrown) onto Ted's bed, and his arm was wound comfortably about your shoulders, his other hand in yours. Even before you started dating, something about his very, very good bear hugs was incredibly tempting. And now that you were, Ted's habit of being a cuddler had increased tenfold. 

You weren't one to break some nice peace and quiet, but this time you had a valid reason. Surprisingly. 

"Thanks for staying with me," you murmured into the crook of his neck, and even though you were used to being honest, you still felt your face heat up ever so slightly. "I know you and Bill always hang out, and you have a lot in common with those guys, too. You could've gone with them." 

" 'S really nothing," came his reply, sounding so easy and genuine. Warm. "I know that you didn't wanna go out today. Especially after you ranted about Jenna being most bothersome at work. It's totally understandable." 

You scoffed, unable to help your natural urges to make at least one venomous comment when prompted. Still, the mushy feelings in your heart didn't dissipate. "Like she always has. Isn't it a requirement for someone who works at Claire's to at least have the capacity to put up with whining tween girls?" 

"It should be," agreed Ted, his thumb running over your knuckles in a slow, gentle motion. "But don't pay too much mind to it, babe. You only gotta deal with her for, like, a couple hours." 

"It's still too long." You softened, tone growing more affectionate rather than irritated. "Not everyone has your patience." 

"But -- " 

He opened his mouth, probably to protest or deflect -- most likely at the same time, but this time you were the one who leaned up to kiss him. Unsurprisingly, it took him a second, but he quickly reciprocated, turning his body to face you more in order to make things more comfortable. 

Satisfyingly, when you parted, he was the flustered one, too distracted to continue his previous statement. 

[itssoinevitable]

acgas season 5 rant

well I must say it’s been some time since I wrote a tumblr essay but I think this one has been building all season. in fact, it will likely be part one of (?) because there are many feelings that need to screamed into the void. let me preface by saying that I am not a “hater” by any means, because I absolutely and unabashedly love this show and it pains me so much to criticise it, instead of celebrate on cloud nine like I usually would be after the finale. I ranked it higher than downton abbey the early seasons, which is a massive compliment for anyone that knows me. and I repeatedly told others not to worry bc it’s the show that keeps on giving and that I trusted these writers implicitly with our beloved characters.

so yes, it royally sucks that I have to eat my words, and that acgas season 5 did not bring what it should have brought. and it also sucks that this is only part one of my rant (for you and me both). if you loved s5, then I am really happy you did, and please don’t read on bc I don’t want to taint your experience. if you hated it but don’t know why, or bc misery loves company, pls read on. spoilers ahead, obv. 

1. episode structure

yes so — structure wise, it was a hot mess. I can definitely see what they were going for, in that they gave the limelight to a pair of characters every episode, and thought it would be fine like modern family style episodes. except, another spoiler alert: it was not fine at all, unless your faves are the featured couple for said episode. I would do an episode by episode breakdown but @owlsiehoot already did that. suffice to say, it is not the kind of show where you can enjoy 40 odd minutes when it’s not “your” characters’ turn to shine. they have nearly an ensemble cast, but chose not to treat it like an ensemble show. and while I can see what they were trying to avoid, the chosen execution method was far far worse imo. (we may never know the real reason for this change, but I hate whoever greenlit this decision).

even if they wanted to keep the longer scene structure, fine, maybe it could have worked. but if I could have recommended one change in the writing room, it would have been to split the main cast into threes every episode, instead of pairs. that would resemble the formula a bit more like the prev seasons, and would’ve given much more interesting and diverse back and forths to play off of and keep more general balance. some ways the dynamics could have been done:

Tris & Carmody were fine in ep 4, but keep it in skeldale more and add Mrs Hall into the mix to mother them, even better. (reminding the audience she has a biological son too, and not just these surrogate dumbasses whom she loves would have been a bonus.)

Helen & James are always lovely together, but add Tris in there for some mischief or more Jenny and Heston Grange for some sisterly bonding. 

Tris & Siegfried were cute too, but again they were away from the house, and usually Audrey was right in there with them and added something to all their interactions. 

Alternatively, give the ladies something to do and put Audrey, Helen and Mrs Pumphrey together again. (I will say though, at least Mrs P had more to do this season). 

Where the show suffered most was giving Carmody two stand-out episodes tbh, when in reality, they only had time for one.

2. tone

not only did the previous seasons have an amazing balance of all characters, they also managed to balance the darker story threads with lighthearted humour in an inimitable way. usually three concurrent storylines, two being more serious, and one more lighthearted to break it up. some episodes of course, were more lighthearted than others. but season 5 seems to have turned that on its head because almost all storylines were quite silly?? I respect there has always been a certain amount of physical humour, but it seems now that the gags have now replaced actual plots and meaningful character development. this is not a sitcom after all, unless they’re trying to change genre at the nth hour. notable exceptions include Bingo’s storyline ofc, and Candy & Joan (both which were early in the season btw) and James’ war and brucellosis experience right at the end. the middle was mostly twaddle if you ask me.

which reminds me: overall, the animal storylines seem to have become something of a joke too. the animals used to mean a lot more to their clients before, and the vets used to show them a great deal more love and respect. contrast to this season, many vetting scenes feel almost cavalier. the poor dog with the phantom pregnancy was played for laughs, which I don’t think it would have been in prev seasons. the horse that fell down after the injection, had no greater mystery to solve. Siegfried and Tristan barely seemed to care, and chalked it up to shock. it is quite unforgivable to me, as their great reverence for the animals was one of the things I love(d) about this show. 

imo a few subtle changes could have elevated many of the stories to their usual form. I gave an example on discord, but I’ll repeat it here. it’s episode 5, and picture Bosworth coming into Skeldale the same was as he did in canon, asking Audrey to come out to investigate a potential bomb. everything could have remained the same except that Audrey could have told the others where she was off to, and Siegfried or Tristan maybe asked her not to go. the whole family would have gathered together for a moment, expressed their fear for her and she would have said it’s her duty to go and check anyway. in this version, we would have felt the tension and the stakes, and it would be a looming threat of the war finally touching Darrowby. the end would also be the same, a false alarm and nothing more but the emotional impact of the episode would have increased tenfold.

and to me, the worst part of it all is that the season actually started off so promising. the first two/ three episodes, combined with the interviews by the cast, it honestly felt like they were exploring some very interesting things. but they dangled the carrot, only not to deliver imho. 

it seemed that Tristan was hiding something painful under his playful exterior, eventually to be teased out, but apparently he really came back from war completely trauma-free.

I was under the impression that Siegfried was supposed to have an identity crisis, where he was feeling left behind, but it didn’t seem to pan out properly either.

Audrey was supposed to be overworked, right? but we didn’t see her actually buckle under the strain of her many, many duties because she’s basically superwoman I guess?

James had this beautiful connection with Banerjee, only for him to be alive but never show up again I guess? really thought James would bring him to Mrs P’s convalescent home but guess not.

3. characters

and here is the crux of it, the beating heart of the show which is now bleeding out. because a truly good show is character-driven, and unfortunately I cannot say that was true for season 5. a glaring deus ex machina comes to mind, when the doorknob fell off in episode 4, trapping Tris and Carmody in a room. never thought the show would stoop to these cliched tropes tbh and it truly disappointed me.

not only did the episode structures do the characters a great disservice, but it seems to have foiled the overall season story arc too for each character throughline. to me, it looked as if the only two people with clear defined story arcs were James with his war trauma, and Carmody (my beloved). was it Sam West who said the characters seemed “busy” this season? bc yes, it’s accurate. but not in a good way. mostly they all had only things to do on the surface, but there was very little going on underneath. which is a crying shame because basically, characters have to suffer a little to grow and be interesting. they need to face challenges and grow and change. let’s do some compare & contrast:

Tristan changed and grew in every season, from 1 to 3 and faced many internal (and external) obstacles to becoming his best self, whether it was by being more studious or responsible and mature in his work and personal life. Now he’s back and we’re supposed to think… what? That he’s already his best self, I suppose.

season 4 Siegfried was holding his found family together, trying to cope with the workload and missing Tristan, worrying about James, terrified that Audrey was going to leave. contrast to s5, and Siegfried is… being adorable with baby Jimmy, and attracted to a goat heiress? if there was something deeper here, please let me know bc I must have missed it.

while last season, Helen was looking forward to starting a family, and then working on keeping her baby healthy and her family (James) intact despite the war. s5 Helen started off strong, struggling with balancing being a mother and big sister to Jenny, but now… she’s what? planting too many strawberries in the victory garden? being a supportive wife to James is important, but it cannot be her only feature. 

and last but definitely not least, Audrey in s4 was learning what a life outside her marriage to Robert could truly mean for her, and figuring out for herself where she belongs. conversely, s5has her making jam, and finding non-explosive tinned potatoes. yes she’s a warden, but what is she feeling on the inside?

4. conclusion — an empty vessel

to summarise this not-epic epic is that my true grouse with this season is its utter emptiness. it is truly a season where nothing happened and nobody really changed. okay, some things were different — e.g. Siegfried being better with handling his “boys”, and being more open and less grumbly in general. or Tristan being more responsible with his work, and standing his ground more firmly. but imo those were the results of previous season’s changes. within the course of s5, they did not do much growing or changing.

Tristan’s homecoming episode comes to mind the most. so many missed opportunities for deeper to surface — James being torn between treating a patient and possibly missing his son’s christening would have added some true to character dissonance. Helen leaning on Audrey for support when she had issues with her mother-in-law, could have worked beautifully and explored the character foils in an interesting way. James and Helen asking Siegfried and Audrey to be Jimmy’s godparents would have been truly touching and a testament to how deep their familial bonds are.

anyway, TL;DR I guess? maybe it’s because they’re saving most of the juicy stuff for season 6, but it mostly felt like a filler season, and if you looked forward to it all year just to get that then it’s truly anti-climactic. with all that said now, onwards and outwards. we shall see was the CS brings.

[hllfireclb]

"I‘ll make you feel better Princess“ | Older!eddie X Fem!reader

Pairing: Older Eddie X Fem Reader (reader is 21, Eddie in his 30‘s)

Warnings: +18 MINORS GO AWAY ISTG, Age gap, slight Daddy kink I think?? hurt / angst,pet names, smut, eddie being a soft meanie, oral (f receiving), if I missed something pls let me know!

Word count: 2.3k

a/n: I’m such a simp for older Eddie x reader <\\\3 so I HAD to write something about it..this is my first time trying to write smut and idk how to feel about it. Maybe it’s kinda rushed? Idk :“)

English is not my first language, so I apologize for all kinds of mistakes! Feel free to send requests! feedback is always appreciated but please be nice! Enjoy the story! Don’t like? Don’t read!

Masterlist

It‘s a cold fall night in Hawkins Indiana, 2am to be exact. You should be lying in your bed by now, cuddled up between your plushies and pillows to get some sleep before work tomorrow. Instead you’re here. Sitting in your older neighbors lap while he‘s softly playing with your hair. Your back is pressed against his strong chest, enjoying the comfortable state you’re currently in as his body gives you some warmth. He‘s like your personal human heater. Your eyes are focused on the small screen in front of you, watching whatever lame sitcom is playing at this time, when a soft sigh escapes your lips.

"What is it Sweetheart?“ the deep voice of your fathers co-worker suddenly interrupts your silent staring contest with the screen of the TV. "What do you mean?“ is all you say, not daring to look away from the screen but Eddie has other plans. He wraps his strong arms around your hips, making you face him within 2 seconds and without any struggle. He‘s expecting to see your pretty eyes staring back at his but instead he finds you looking slightly downward, directly onto his chest. His fingertips poke into your side, a sign for you to look at him, but you don’t. You‘re avoiding his gaze on purpose.

"You know exactly what I mean, young lady. What‘s going on in that pretty head of yours?“ his voice is soft but daring. He wants to know what made you come over to his old, messy trailer. Especially because it’s 2am on a Wednesday night and because he knows you have to get up early tomorrow. If you‘re not going to tell him on your own, he‘s going force it out of you.

This time it‘s his turn to let out a heavy sigh after no reaction of yours. One of Eddie‘s hands finds it‘s way to your jaw, gripping it hard to lift your head up a bit and making you look at him. This time your eyes meet with his instantly. They’re beautiful brown, almost like the color of chocolate. His pupils are expanded, not as wide as they are when he‘s horny but just enough to see the pure adoration and concern in his eyes. A simple look of his is all you need to start blushing like a crazy teenager who‘s madly in love.

It‘s not the first time that Eddie looks at you that way. He has done it many times before but ever since the two of you started this little 'affair', how you like to call it, it just feels so much different. So much better. Eddie and you have known each other since you were 16 years old, he actually took care of you sometimes too. Whenever your father was on one of his "business trips" or out partying, Eddie happily decided to look after you. He made you breakfast, watched over you when you had some parties at yours, he drove you to school and picked you up again. People in town started to think that Eddie Munson had found his "lost daughter“ how they liked to call you. But you‘re still pretty much convinced that he‘s just doing all of that for you, because he knows how it feels to grow up without parents. Without a father figure especially.

"Are you gonna talk to me, or do you just wanna keep staring, Princess?“ his voice pulls you out of your thoughts once again, the nickname he has given you making you shiver under his touch slightly. "Sorry..'s just that you‘re really fucking pretty" your lips form into a soft smile. The grip on your jaw loosens up as Eddie gives you his usual, deep chuckle. Your favorite sound ever, next to his moans. His hand wanders down your body until it‘s settled on your hips, drawing slow circles into the flesh of your barely covered ass. "Well…y‘know I appreciate your compliments. But you gotta talk to me Angel, what made you come over to an old man like me at that time, mh?" You stay silent again, causing another sigh of Eddie‘s but before he‘s able to continue talking, you start talking.

"It‘s just..my dad was being an asshole again. I didn’t want to argue with him…so I left. And I thought coming here was the best thing to do.." you shyly admit while looking down to his chest once again. Not daring to look up, he’s probably smirking like always. Teasing you. Your fingers slowly start dragging over the soft material of his tank top, playing with the hem of it as you reach the bottom. Eddie stalks over your hands, following every single movement with his eyes. Gosh he thinks you‘re adorable like this. Sitting there, in one of his old Shirts and your panties only, right on his lap, while you’re playing with his clothes. He probably shouldn’t be head over heals for a younger women, especially not you since he has known you, since what feels like forever. Plus, you’re his co-workers daughter who just started working. All of this is so wrong. But it feels so goddamn right.

"You want me to make you feel better Princess? I‘ll take care of you, no matter what you want me to do" and he means it. If you need to cuddle up to his chest and ball your eyes out, he‘ll be the one to hold you close to him and let you wet his shirts with your tears. If you want to punch someone, he‘ll be the one to let you punch him. If you need a hot chocolate and ice cream, he‘ll drive to the next supermarket and get you everything you need. If you need to get fucked until you‘re nothing but a crying, cock-drunk Slut, oh he‘ll happily be the man to make you cry beneath him. He‘d do anything for you.

Your fingers make their way up to his chest again, locking your gaze with his carefully as you do and nod in response to his earlier question. "Words y/n." Of course he needs words. "Please make me feel good Eddie". That‘s all he needs. "I’ll make you feel better Princess".

Before you know it you’re flipped over, lying on your back with the soft material of the couch touching your back. Eddie‘s fast with his movements though. He’s hovering above you in the split of a second, pressing his wet lips onto yours as he kisses you messily. He may be older now but he’s still kinda chaotic when it comes to making out. You love it though. You softly moan into the kiss when one of his hands starts massaging your left boob, slowly playing with it as his other hand wraps around your throat to give it a soft squeeze.

He‘s lying between the fat of your thighs just as fast as you were lying on the couch. His arms wrap around your legs after he slowly pulls down your panties, smiling a bit because of the wetness that already lingers between your folds. He drags them all the way down, to your ankles before he sits up again, removing them completely and leaving you in front of him in nothing but his shirt. What a beautiful sight. You mirror his action, sitting up straight with your hands at the hem of his shirt. When he realizes you’re about to pull it off, he stops you.

"Keep it on please. You look stunning in this shirt" he smiles at you. Before you‘re able to protest, his lips are on yours again, moving slowly as the two of you find a steady rhythm. Going slow and passionate this time. You feel the light pressure he‘s putting into the kiss, a sign for you to lie down again. You happily follow his unspoken request and lie down, spreading your legs wider so he‘s able to get comfortable between your thighs. His arms wrap around your legs and hips once again and he slips even further until his lips graze over the skin of your inner thigh, making you gasp softly.

You‘re able to feel a smug grin form on his lips after he starts sucking on your skin slightly, leaving you with a few dark marks that only you and him will be able to see. A hot feeling starts to build up in your body, causing you to whimper softly. "Ed’s please..no teasing today. I need you" you sigh. Eddie doesn’t want to tease you, well at least not right now…but he wants to take his sweet time with you. He wants to worship your body in every way possible. He wants to show you how much he loves to make you feel good. To him, it doesn’t matter if he gets off on it. His only goal is to make you cum…also, most of the time he cums in his pants like a dumb teenage boy, just from hearing and seeing you fall apart beneath him.

"Sorry Sweetheart, just wanted to mark what‘s mine" he winks at you before pulling you even closer, making you gasp again after his tongue slowly starts drawing slow circles on your, already aching, clit. The two of you never spoke about what actually is going on with you..if you’re a couple already or not..but you couldn’t care less right now. Sweet Eddie really loves taking his time, devouring every soft moan and gasp of yours as he starts giving your bud the softest kitten licks. His slow make-out session with your clit doesn’t last long though, he knows what you need and he‘ll gladly give it to you. So his tongue starts to lick through your folds, which are soaked in your own juices by now, enjoying the taste of you in his mouth as he starts playing with your hole.

Normally he‘d be wearing his tongue piercing right now since he loves eating you out with it. It’s his new favorite thing to do, ever since you’ve told him that it makes you cum even faster, even harder…but because of the time you’ve decided to come over, he‘s sadly not wearing it. He‘ll definitely catch up to that tomorrow morning. While his tongue starts to happily explore your insides, one of your hands settles in his messy curls to tug on it every now and then. It helps you to find a hold and to not squirm away from him.

"Eddie Fuck! 'S so good“ you moan out softly while tugging on his hair, when his thumb lazily starts massaging your clit. He ate you out so many times by now, he just knows the ways to make you feel good. To make you forget everything. Others would get tired of cumming so fast, but you? Oh no, you love it. Especially because Eddie is so outrageous good at making you cum several times. With every soft tug on his hair, his own moans start to get louder…causing you to shiver and curl your toes into the sofa. He knows what he’s doing, that’s for sure.

Another moan escapes your lips, this time it‘s louder and more intense, causing Eddie to grin and stop his actions. "Already close, huh? Babe I didn’t even eat you out for five minutes" his smirk is devilish, causing your poor Pussy to twitch. He’s teasing you. "I told you to not tease me!" You pout at him. Oh how he loves seeing you like this, cheeks pink and chest moving up and down rapidly because of how hard you‘re breathing. "Yeah, yeah right..sorry" he grins even wider when he puts more pressure to your clit, causing your head to fall back and a whine to leave your mouth.

He‘s fast with continuing his previous actions, eating you out like the starved man that he is. He can’t get enough of you, especially of how you taste on his tongue. He slurps up every bit of juice, every moan of yours as he stares up at you, seeing you fall apart on his tongue only. It‘s embarrassing how fast you‘re at your own limit, feeling the knot in your lower abdomen build up already just from him eating your out. Pathetic. You slowly look up again, seeing his eyes stare directly back at yours. His black pupils took over the soft brown color which you were able to see earlier, the lust and the Hunger completely took over him by now. He grins wide when he catches you staring down at him, causing you to blush even harder as another moan escapes your lips.

You can feel your legs start twitching after a while and your breath starts to speed up a bit, Eddie feels it too. His grip on your hips tightens and his tongue starts moving faster as he moans into you. You don’t notice how he starts humping the soft material beneath you, trying to get some relief himself while he rubs intense circles on your clit. Another loud moan of yours fills the living room as you feel the knot in your tummy snap "ohmygodohmygodohmygod Eddie!! Fuck fuck fuck!". It‘s music to Eddie‘s ears. The best melody he has ever heard. Knowing he‘s the only one who makes you cum this hard and this fast makes him moan into you again as he tries to get everything of your orgasm. Eating everything up like it‘s his last meal. He takes you through your orgasm,while he helps you to calm yourself down by drawing smooth circles into your skin. When you‘re finally completely back to earth, he kisses your pussy one last time before he helps you to sit on his lap once again, holding you close.

"What about you? You didn’t get to cum and I know how painf-" you start but he cuts you off. "This wasn’t about me. It was about you Doll. We’ve got time for more tomorrow" his hand strokes over the back of your head as he plants a soft kiss on your lips, making you taste yourself on his tongue. You really do not deserve this man.

[thattimdrakeguy]

What Happens When You Only USED To Care

I find it extremely hard to take any person in the fandom that does that schtick where they make fun of Tim based on made up or overly exaggerated stuff seriously.

I can't even find it within myself to give them the power of my hate, because it's more like a fly near your ear. You swat em away and bye bye bye.

Maybe it's because I know so much about how DC ended up being, that I can tell when they're bullshitting and saying stuff others put in their ear.

I mean you take a kid's favorite toy, and add modifications and paint jobs that take away the whole point of the toy, the kid's aren't going to want to play with it anymore.

Am I expected to blame the toy itself?

Especially with how the fandom has bastardized these characters that they so clearly love, but they still constantly get cancelled.

And I won't make mention of who, because someone will get sensitive, and plus then say "WELL TIM DID TOO" showing they're completely missing my point and didn't read the whole post.

I'm not sure why the fandom thinks taking complex and fascinating characters that allowed readers to escape their potentially bleak lives to jump into something more joyful (at least in an entertainment kind of way) and turning them into sitcom tropes is a great idea that OH IS SO GREAT, and EVERYONE WILL PREFER.

'Cause when the comics start copying that trend, you're actually scaring most people away.

Sure it's different from the big bad edgy we had to deal with a while, but it's still not getting these things back to were the once were.

You're replacing the bad, with a different flavor of bad. This time coated in a superficial dusting of praise that doesn't help anything get anywhere.

See, the fandom isn't as big as it may seem. It functions as an echo chamber which gives the illusion of their being way more. These comics wouldn't constantly be cancelled if they were as good or as popular as people make them out to be.

So all those posts praising the nonsense are as functional as having that one friend who praises you no matter what while the rest of the world says otherwise. Might feel good at the time, but let's face it, it gets you nowhere.

And that's just how the internet works. A bunch of little weirdos sitting around making their chamber, and thinking what they say to someone else still matters.

But it don't.

It doesn't.

They're all just so confident they mean something, when they mean as much to the greater world as a weed so far out of view, you don't bother trying to pull it.

You can make up what ever you want, and try to be as abrasive and irritating about what you made up as much of you want, go out praising when some desperate writer that settles for brownie points over critical praise and legacy puts it into a comic to find validation also as much as you want.

But the lack of genuine interest from most people still leaves it as a dud.

So many characters people think are popular, when they're tragically not, no matter if they were formerly good, is saddening. Because a lot of these characters at one point were good, and interesting, and genuinely popular beyond the small pond filled with indignity.

At best they have fan bases that once cared but now no longer do. That don't bother paying attention, because why should they after being denied the simple thing they want--good writing and characterization. The whole reason most start reading in the first place.

I might point one finger at one of these dudes, because I can comfortably say I used to love them too.

No one bothers trying to help out, and bring them back up though.

They want the instant glorification from a bunch of nobodies, who don't care about them as a person, and are only a validation machine instead of anything with a beating heart in it that will truly be there for them when times gets rough besides thoughts and prayers alone.

And as many years as I've seen this stuff, it never stops.

If I haven't been in a better place since I've almost entirely left DC behind in the dust, I would consider that depressing.

These people are online doing this so much that it is what they dedicate their lives to.

It is their life.

They made themselves so unlikable though, that a lot can't be bothered to find pity.

If you have to rewrite reality in your brain, what's the point of living there? You're just convincing yourself you're the only one not wrong, with no hint of irony. What a weirdo thing to do.

Clinging on to things with no solid backing.

In the grand scheme of things they are that insignificant unless you're also stuck in the chamber.

Hell, the only reason I made this post as long as it is, is less out of care and passion, and more because I can't help myself from being overly wordy.

If only DC could be fucked to remember what it takes to write good stories instead of ripping fandom people off. Maybe something would click in and once again take off.

And giving the illusion they now care--

As we can see with the frequent cancelations--

That only works when you have the talent and know how, to tell good stories, with great characters once again. A retro paint job and partially putting the character where they should be can only do so much, when limited talent has to take the rest of the wheel.

Otherwise all you're gonna get is a month or two of decent sells...and it's back into the dumpster again. Where the higher ups might eventually decide to blame the toy and not the manufacturers.

Unless you're Batman or Superman or that level of iconic/popular.

Disappointingly and quite obviously, it's not hard to know if not assume most characters don't have that level of icon to have their back in the dark times. Meaning most go back into the void unless the ones upstairs think this time their new failed from the start scheme will win them all back.

The secret of success in comics is simple, now it may not go back to the way it was, but they can still come back a bit, and here's the secret--

Learn how to fucking tell good stories, with good characterization, with artists that are beyond simply having good talent, but actual passion that shows them how everything's supposed to be.

If I order a nerf gun, and comes not looking anything like what it did on the box.

You know damn well the person who bought it is going to be displeased and not order from them again.

You're testing customer loyalty, and the economy not doing as grand, and prices going up--

The amount of time you have to get them back is depleting.

So get your head out of your ass and actually do something.

[yonemurishiroku]

Your post the other day about how Nico can't read English gave me a fic idea, purely because it mentioned he was in military school.

So at the time these books came out, America still had a law in place called "Don't ask, Don't Tell" which basically meant that if you were in the military and Gay, if you failed to keep it a secret you'd get kicked out with no benefits. So now I'm wondering if that would apply to military *school* as well. Is there a curve Nico might have gotten expelled from that school if it was discovered he was Gay? Of course, Nico himself didn't even know at the time, but just imagine, Nico acting extremely campy and effeminate, fawning over other boys, just generally being both very obvious and very oblivious and MEANWHILE Mr. Thorn (the manticore, who has no interest in the schools operations and is just there to hunt demigods) strongly suspects Nico is his target but can't *prove* anything yet so has to keep him nearby. He can't just let the mortal school officials expel the boy, he'd lose track of him! So Thorn has to jump through ridiculous hoops to hide Nico from the rest of the staff, or cover for him, or find some kind of heterosexual explanation for his behavior that hopefully the rest of the staff will belive, and he's barely even done with the last problem before Nico is already in a new Situation™️ that he has to deal with.

Ideally it should read like a sitcom. I don't know if I'll ever get around to writing this, but I wanted to share the idea.

HELP THIS IS THE MOST ENTERTAINING THING EVER????

"or find some kind of heterosexual explanation for his behavior that hopefully the rest of the staff will believe" I'm death i'm freaking dead and revived like imagine Dr. Thorn trying to cover Nico's gay ass as he literally goes around dreaming about boys 😭😭😭

like imagine Nico's extremely flustered ab something a boy did to him and a staff just narrows their eyes at him, "Are you blushing at [some boy's name]?"

To which Dr. Thorn just smoothly slides right in "No he's having a fever" and proceed to tuck Nico under his arm, speeding to the infirmary in less than 3 secs as the kid kicking screaming.

Better yet. What if Bianca also knows about the law but she can't be around Nico all the time due to boy vs girl separation so when she realizes that Dr.Thorn is covering for her brother?? She's still suspicious of him but like it's a good thing he does that in her place, so she goes up to him like.

"Thank you for your kind work, I appreciate it" then leaves.

and Thorn just stands there and stares, screaming "i'm not kind you uncultured swine" internally 😭😭😭

PLEASE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS JUST FUNNY PLEASE DO CONSIDER WRITING IT ANON

[littledollll]

Hey...sorry it's me again, but since you write for wanda, can I maybe request something with a fem reader where there's a little bit of mindfuckery going on? Basically reader wakes up in some sort of new reality, in a bed made for two rather than one, blinds to let the sunlight in rather than curtains to keep everyone and everything out, but they don't really question it because it almost doesn't feel real? Kinda like a dream? And suddenly they have a girlfriend, Wanda, who dotes on them, snuggles them in bed, watches sitcoms with them, somehow knows all their skeletons in the closet (mind reading hehe) and lets them curl up on her chest and cry it out as she soothes them, makes them snacks, helps them do basic tasks when they're (super) depressed. Unbeknownst to reader, Wanda has actually torn apart the multiverse to be with them once again after having already lost them in another??? I'm sorry if this is way too much

-🧸 anon (loves you)

Mastermind

Wanda Maximoff x reader

A/n: im so behind on requests im trying believe me! Writing is getting hard :/ but! this was so fucking nice to write, yk that random motivation. when I tell u it just came to me and I couldn’t stop writing- I love love love Wanda, specially her being rly soft and lovey:( ty for your request hun.

Warnings: kinda manipulation? Hex pt.2, slightly suggestive if you squint, lots and lots of soft kisses, mentions of r struggling with anxiety and depressive episodes, lots of comfort, mostly narrated.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

A kiss. It was so soft. Intoxicatingly so. Her gentle hands cupping your face, the comforting weight of her straddling your lap made you feel grounded, and so safe. You whimpered when she parted from you, nuzzling into her chest while your arms wrapped around her. “My sweet little darling.. oh how I love you.” She whispered, her hands brushing your hair back and away from your face.

You didn’t know where this came from. Some day long ago you simply woke up and there she was. Wanda. You had a whole life with her. And somewhere between the fuzziness you remembered it all. How you met, everything from your first conversation to your first time. Your life before you got married, how you moved in together before then, and how your family disapproved of it. And god. That perfect wedding. The happiest day of your life, when it all finally came together for you, this was it. The stars aligned and have you this, gave you her.

In some part of your mind you didn’t know this woman, but at the same time you always had. You knew everything about her and she knew everything about you. Every little thing. You couldn’t bother to question it, if it was a dream then so be it, it was such a lovely dream, everything you could possibly ever want was right here. A beautiful and kind woman, with so much love and comfort to give. Wanda understood you, she allowed you to feel and cry but never alone, she was right here through it all. Allowing you to hide against her chest and pet your hair when you cried, telling you the most reassuring words, ensuring your comfort at all times.

It wasn’t a one time thing, you quickly noticed. Every day felt like a movie, every day she was the perfect woman, and she was yours. You’d watch tv together, listen to music and dance your hearts out.

Your favorite part was the cooking. Just like you were now. Both hands wrapped around her torso as you hugged her from behind, your girl, your wife. She let out an adorable giggle when you nuzzled into her neck and squeezed her tight.

“Are you planning an staying there the whole time darling or would you bother to help me out with our dinner.” She teased, her tone was scolding but so obviously not genuinely upset.

“m okay right here, my love.” Almost as if on queue the tv switched to play one of your favorite songs. You swayed with Wanda, holding her impossibly close and effectively preventing her from getting any actual cooking done which she was quick to scold you about yet again.

“If you want dinner you need to let me cook, dear.” You ignored her, sighing contently against her neck and closing your eyes. “Just gimme a minute to love on you, nothing wrong with giving my wife a little affection.” She let you. Her own arms coming to hug around yours, a bright smile painted on her face. She always looked so happy with you, even more so. It’s like all her energy recharged when you did little things like this, and the second you noticed you started doing it non-stop.

Wanda always gave you so much. She gave you her everything. The least you could do was give her these moments, ones where she took a deep breath and let her head lull to your shoulder, eyes blissfully closed and an always beautiful smile on her face. You loved this woman. Your beautiful Wanda.

“Let’s finish cooking mamá, I’ll help you.” You parted with a kiss. A sweet kiss like always, those kisses she’d giggle or smile into and give you a flirty little look, then go about her day like she didn’t know what she was doing to you. “Cut this up for me will you, darling?” You hummed and did a she asked, shaking your head to think about the now and not the events awaiting later tonight.

“Get your mind out of the gutter!” Wanda smacked you with an oven mitt furrowing her brows at you. “Dirty dirty mind.” You chucked and looked back at her. “What! I didn’t say anything” she let out a drawn out, “mhmmm” before turning back to put some ingredients in the pan. “I just know what you’re thinking. Hurry it up I need those!” “Right right! I’m sorry!”

Wanda found it odd, that making this reality with you didn’t take so much of her power like others had before. Like your own mind was subconsciously giving into her without her trying to force it. When Wanda occasionally peaked into your mind to see if any dreams or memories about your old life haunted you there was nothing. When she searched for doubts about your life or any clue that you might be figuring things out she only saw the slight confusion of those moments there your mind briefly recalled having a life without or before her, but you didn’t dwell on them, in-fact you thought of them as your anxiety messing you up but never once did you doubt her. Like you subconsciously simply refused to believe there was ever a life without her.

It was perfect. She didn’t really trick you. She just treated you like she did you from her universe, gave you their memories and anything you could possibly need. And you seemed more than content with this life, with her. She was your perfect girl, and you were her darling little love. Both of you living the life of your dreams, together.

[goshen-applecrumbledore]

Hey Roni! Hope you are well ☺️

Anything in the works lately? Maybe just been working on the mysterious novel I’ve seen referenced?

(Or just taking the days as they come at you like I am?)

Was re-reading one of your fics recently and had a curiosity moment

Best wishes!

hello! I am [david byrne voice] letting the days go by

I wish I could say I've been working on my novel as much as I've meant to, but I'm not. but I AM thinking about it, so that's something.

I'm also not actively working on fic though, which has been freeing, but also a little terrifying. whenever I have an idle moment I'm thinking about dialogue and writing in my head and it's been super strange to not have that going on. I think I was doing it pretty obsessively, in a way that was productive but unhealthy. so: trying to empty my brain to give me space to think about my novel and its new characters.

with all that being said (lol) I do have some on-hold-but-not-abandoned WIPs I can list here to give ya something to chew on

WIP summaries under the cut!

a second short true detective fic where marty gets off on danger and exhibitionism and keeps getting rust into dangerous and sexy situations. this is not an established relationship fic which I think makes it very funny as a concept

a second house md fic from cameron's POV for whatever reason. set shortly pre-S1, she joins the team and has a crush on house, and house is with wilson and has been for some time, which is like an open secret. so it's a voyeur/nosy thing where cameron goes full fujo. she's just like me fr

another bear fic as a kind of sequel to no good days (probably like, a very-much-a-sequel actually) where richie + carmy tell natalie about their relationship. the main part I've come up with is that they go over to nat and pete's for dinner, and they're parked outside making out in the car to steel their nerves, and pete sees them. so then they have to start dinner with nat and pete where pete, richie and carmy all know that carmy and richie are hooking up, and nat does not. sitcom-ass plot

this one may be abandoned: a pre-series spn fic where john finds out that sam and dean are fucking and sam like, big-dogs him into not busting their balls about it. I was thinking about spn the other day and was like damn maybe I should finish that

this is not a fic but I had a horny dream about brock samson from the venture bros last night and that is weighing heavily on my mind. all my current fandoms are live action. however. you can take the player out of the game but you can't take the take the Wanting To Fuck Cartoon Characters out of the player.

this is also not a fic but I'm working on my first D&D campaign with barry + co. players get roped into doing dirty work for the wizard mafia, headed by the nefarious skogie chromecast, a smooth talking mage with a shady past.

thank you if you read all that!

[rescue-ram]

Now I'm curious, how would you adapt a modern version of Mash?

Oh man thank you for giving me pretext to ramble about this. I have too many thoughts about Cursed Hypothetical MASH Reboot.

Genre Change MASH is from the golden age of sitcom and is one of the best examples of the genre. Tragically, really good sitcoms don't get made, and the shorter lengths commissioned mean we wouldn't get space for the sillier or more experimental episodes that make MASH so charming and memorable. This is also why any remake or reimagining could never replace the original. There's also less "suspension of disbelief" with modern audiences, so I think modern MASH would have to have a more grounded setting and consistent time line, so RIP time loop. I think the modern genre that would best fit MASH is dramedy. Classico MASH already had elements of "get 'em laughing so they cry harder" and Hypothetical Remake MASH would play that up. Basically, we're gonna "Better Call Saul" this bitch.

In writing out my ideas below, I realized hitting the main plot beats I imagine makes this sound like. Depressing. Which it kind of would be! But I want to emphasize that in my mind's eye this would still tonally be a comedy right up until It Isn't. Similar to BCS, characters encounter obstacles, handle them in very funny ways, but things Keep Happening and compounding and at the end you realize all those funny things have added up to something horrific and inevitable.

General Thoughts In my beautiful mind, this is five twelve episode seasons, each corresponding to a roughly six month period- the first two seasons are 1951, climaxing with Henry's death, first episode or two of season 3 is Trapper leaving/BJ arriving and then 3/4 is 1952, and the final season is 1953 and the ceasefire. Fortunately, because the characters in MASH are pretty well fleshed out with a lot of traits I think they could be turned into dramedy characters pretty easily, and you can take the Big Things that happen to them and play them straight/expand on them into proper arcs. Also, pulling in more historical details could be really interesting, and an opportunity to unpack how Fully Evil the war in Korea was. In reading more memoirs from doctors who served in MASH units, I was struck by how much contact with international forces they had, and the surprising amount of contact with their Chinese/Korean counter-parts. I think more of both of those things would be fun to incorporate into Hypothetical Remake.

Expanded Roles for Nurses We need more women. And fortunately, we got them! Even though there is Not A Lot of existing canon, I really do think we have enough on the recurring nurses to act as seeds for fuller characters. I would love to see Kellye developed as a supporting character from the start. Struggling to articulate this, but I think a deeper perspective on anti-Asian sentiment could be explored through her, possibly with some connections to the history of colonialism in Korea in particular. The character was described as Chinese and Hawaiian, but given her credited surnames of Yamato and Nakamura getting a little into her Japanese heritage and the resentment of Koreans towards the Japanese could be interesting as well. I also think "Dish" Schneider's conflict, torn between loyalty to her husband/fiancee and her attraction to the handsome funny guy who relentlessly flirts with her, could be a source of drama. I also really like Ginger's recurring "thing" with Trapper in canon, and expanding that into an actual friendship and digging into the racism and taboos against interracial relationships of the period would be interesting. You can take Margie Cutler as a young and inexperienced nurse and give her a little coming of age arc. I would also love for Knocko McCarthy to be a foil for Margaret- as the second most senior nurse, she chafes under Margaret's command and kind of collaborates with the Swampmen to subvert her, culminating in Margaret calling her out that if she didn't side with them against her, they'd hate Knocko too, and them growing closer over the series.

Ho-Jon and Expanded Roles for Korean Characters Many have written about the shitty representation of Koreans in MASH, and Hypothetical Remake could remediate that significantly. I think giving Ho-Jon (or a similar new character) an expanded role would be good, with more ties to his family out of camp and conflict over whether or not supporting the occupying American forces and the south is the right thing to do or the expedient thing. I also think there's some dark comedy to be mined from a slightly subversive Ho-Jon taking advantage of racism and being seen as ignorant or interchangeable to get away with shit. Would love for Black Market Guy to be a recurring character. There's also a great real life story I read where a MASH surgeon formed a bond with a Chinese doctor after accidentally connecting to a PLA radio channel, and I think that could be adapted into a really fun source of comedy (bonding with "the enemy" over shared indignities, surprising similarities, etc) and ultimately drama (Hawkeye finds out about a US or ROK attack that will cripple that doctor's unit or put him in danger- does he say nothing, knowing hundreds will be injured or killed including maybe his new friend, or does he commit treason and risk prison or death to warn him- and how does he live with not knowing what happened when he has to choose inaction?) Any of the Very Special episodes could be adapted and expanded. And of course, Hypothetical Remake would have Korean writers, or consultants, or at the very least a goddamn baby name book so we don't end up with a dozen characters just named Kim, or worse random syllables.

Radar I would love to keep Radar as one of the main POV character throughout the whole series and use his unique position to bridge between different storylines- he's an enlisted man so he has that perspective, he's close with Hawkeye and the surgeons, he's assisting Henry/Potter so he has ties to command, give him a friendship with a nurse and you're set. Given the comedy-to-tragedy arc of dramadys, I would love to take the book detail that he enlisted with dreams of glory and becoming a general and lean fully into that. He starts out season 1 as a sweet naive farm kid flying by the seat of his pants to figure out his job, he gets more and more enmeshed with the military over the course of the series, currying favor with the brass to pull strings to help the unit/his friends/himself, and it ends with Potter giving him a recommendation for officer school- an outcome fully framed as a tragic loss of self to a corrupt institution.

Hawkeye I think Seasons 1 and 2 in particular could be driven by the Hawkeye and Trapper committing outrages and crimes in the name of justice/not giving a shit, and then having to spend the rest of the season engaging in more outrages and crimes to Bugs Bunny their way out of consequences. The central tragedy arcing through the series is the Destruction of Hawkeye Pierce. He starts out determined to stay himself, stick to his principles, and not let the army change him. The glimmer of hope at the end is that he has survived and gets to go home, but At What Cost. I also think making him bipolar makes the most sense- early season Hawkeye hints he's had highs and lows before, but always managed to cope, but under the increasing stress his mental health gets worse. Insomnia due to overwork triggers a manic episode (adapting Dr Pierce and Mr Hyde) about halfway through S1, with a major change in his relationship with Trapper associated with that, and his first on screen depressive episode triggered by Henry's death, which gets him his week of R&R he goes AWOL from. He holds it together through S3 with increasing amounts of self-medication for BJ's sake, and S4's overarching storyline for him is a fully Catch-22 expansion of The Late Captain Pierce with increasing levels of franticness to resolve it, and S5 is a full blown "I'M NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE HERE" crisis culminating in the equivalent of GFA, and a brief psychotic episode triggered by his mood dysregulation and moral injury. An expansion of The Late Captain Pierce would be a great source of absurdity and drama, the ultimate consequence of his alienation of Everyone In Bureaucracy or Command (they all dislike/hate him for his antics and disrespect in S1-3 and no one wants to help him in his predicament, with a few spitefully refusing to help outright), and necessary to explain his presence in Korea in 1953 since his enlistment should've ended by then (since key members of the bureaucracy Hate him they refuse to count the months he was "dead" as part of his service, and his father is in too poor of health/financially strained from his cancer scare to advocate for him successfully stateside). I also think "playing straight" all the nurses breaking up with him after Ceasefire could be interesting. Like, S1 Hawkeye is a ladies man who's saying all the right things and juggling multiple relationships, but after they realize he doesn't Capital L Love any of them they start to distance from him- not unfriendly, but less a source of support. That alienation from others, first with the nurses at the end of S1 then others in camp, causing a vicious cycle of increasingly erratic behavior leading to less support etc culminates in his breakdown towards the end of the series.

Trapper My beloved boy ♥️ who has less of an arc and more of a vibe in existing canon, so we get to make some shit up whole cloth. Either keep the book/movie canon they were friendly in college, or make them childhood friends- not close, but some kind of pre-existing relationship. First episode is them stealing a jeep and bonding as they get into Shenanigans and Danger on their way to camp. Some people have the headcanon that Trapper lost a brother in WWII because of Wayne Rogers' acting choices, and I think a backstory like that could be interesting. He starts out a little ambivalent about the war, not wanting to be there and very aware of the human costs, but also feeling he has a duty. As he and Hawkeye get into more and more Situations trying to expose war crimes or fix injustices and even basic supply issues and are met by indifference or incompetence, he gets disillusioned. After Hawkeye's manic episode, he decided the one Actually Good thing he can accomplish is keeping his friend sane until they can get back home, since he starts to increasingly see his medical work as futile and the UN intervention as hopeless/harmful. They get closer and rely on each other more and more in S2, and in my based and gay pilled vision this is explicitly romantic and sexual, albeit with serious ambiguity if they would've had this relationship outside the trauma of war. Towards the end of S2, Trapper starts to get sick, and it turns out stress and increased alcohol & tobacco use contributed to an ulcer- it almost seems like he'll be sent home, but as in Classico MASH he begins treatment at the 4077th- and then Henry dies. Hawkeye spirals and they have to send him away, and then Trapper has to help pick up the increased work load. His symptoms get worse and he tries to cope and hide it, and develops peritonitis. When he realizes he's going to be evacced to Tokyo and then back to the States, he has a bit of a fucking meltdown. Mission Failed, he can't be there for his friend, and he blames himself because it was partly caused by his alcohol abuse. This is not just me being a Trapper simp, he has to go home before his enlistment is up for plot reasons since we no longer get the benefit of fuzzy timeline, and the genre convention of dramedy is you always Reap The Whirlwind at the worst possible moment.

BJ Ironically, I don't need to change anything about BJ to turn him into a dramedy character. He already has a "negative character arc", and you just take the major beats of that, set them in a linear escalation, and tighten them up. He starts out bright eyed and idealistic, determined to keep his head up, do his duty, and get out. Hawkeye meets him at the air field, having missed Trapper. Hawkeye blames himself for Trapper's health problems, and wants to do better by the new guy, offering him support and guidance. BJ bonds with him through the craziness, but as stress increases he starts acting out in small petty stochastic pranks, and then Peg's letters and missing his family build his anger, and he lashes out at Hawkeye because he suspects (in that "he's not right but he isn't wrong either" way) that Hawkeye's friendship isn't really because of BJ himself but because BJ is Trapper's Replacement. He suspects Hawkeye and Trapper were more than friends and he's simultaneously jealous and repulsed- he wants to totally replace Trapper and for Hawkeye to like him best, but he also loves Peg and misses her terribly and resents Hawkeye for "making" him want him. His chaotic unhinged repression is funny until it's briefly terrifying, then sad. As Hawkeye's mental health deteriorates, he tries to be supportive, but is ultimately overwhelmed by the intensity of Hawkeye's crisis and pulls back, though they mend things somewhat at the end.

The Hawkeye/Trapper/BJ Nexus In summary, our core duos are codependent trainwrecks, but while TrapHawk are more of an enabling and felonious "Thelma and Louise" style folie a deux, BJ and Hawkeye are more of an epic highs and lows "if you can't be with the one you love love the one your with" "hand in unlovable hand" mess.

Margaret Don't have nearly as much to say about our girl because I suck and have been writing this for almost 2 hours now because I'm insane but she has one of the best character arcs in MASH and Hypothetical Remake would really just intentionally start laying out her conflicts and growth from episode 1. She would also have more independent story arcs of trying to manage the nurses, and navigating advancing her career in the face of sexism. I would love to see her messy and complicated relationships with powerful men explored more fully. She bonds with Frank first to have a relationship where she's more in control than with her superiors, then as an ally to push back against the TrapHawk Chaos, then as she grows more confident (and TrapHawk get in over their heads) she is able to let go of the cloak of power military pretensions give her and be more herself.

Henry and Potter Henry remains a lovable incompetent. The one headcanon I have I'd like to use in Hypothetical Remake is that he's pretty severely dyslexic- I base that off his mispronunciations and malapropisms and canonical issues with reading (in Classico MASH doing things like holding a paper upside down or not being able to read maps and the words on them). He got through med school by having his wife read his textbooks out loud and type his papers, and brute force memorization. This is part of why he over relies on Radar to manage his paperwork and is easily scammed into signing off on things- he really can't tell what he's signing unless he uses all of his focus to decipher the text, and he's a trusting person so he rarely does. @marley-manson I LOVE your take that your ideal Potter is the exact same character in the show but the narrative treats him as an antagonist, and that is the vibe Hypothetical Remake would have.

Frank and Charles Again not a lot to say here, secondary characters and minor antagonists, but they would remain big sources of commentary but their pathos would be played up more in a dramedy.

Mulcahy Again, not too much different from canon, just more intentional building of a tragic arc. A smart sensitive guy who grew up poor and thought the church would be a path to respect or maybe even greatness got told to be a math teacher by his diocese, enlisted as a chaplain when the war broke out as part of his personal quest for meaning and significance, is confronted by the horrors and damage to innocent lives but still tries to believe in a greater purpose and good to what's happening, struggles with feelings of powerlessness and futility, and when he's finally able to do something heroic loses his hearing, which costs him his vocation- he's permanently disabled and would be unable to return to his old role as a parish priest/school teacher.

Recurring Characters Sidney my beloved ♥️ We bring back Sam Pak as a returning character. Also General Hammond and other members of the brass. I think Oliver could work really well as a recurring character.

Klinger Whole bundle of thoughts on this guy I wanted to save till the end. Because I adore Klinger, he's incredibly funny and one of the kindest and most principled characters on the show, and he's also incredibly 70s and I don't think could work as he was in a 21st century dramedy. I can see three potential paths to adapting him. A) Lean into the young, brash, hustler side of his personality, and he's a straight guy who thinks the craziest thing someone could do is wear a dress. B) An explicitly gay character who refuses to admit to being gay for a discharge because he finds the idea of being judged less than or broken for his sexuality incredibly offensive, but did drag back in Toledo and also refuses to stop being himself just because he got drafted. C) Principled pacifist serving as an orderly because of the draft who refuses to wear the uniform and started wearing dresses as a protest against bullying/abuse- oh, your gonna call me a sissy and steal my clothes because I refuse to use a gun? I will not only wear a dress, I will zhuzh it up into something amazing, because I would rather wear this outfit you intend to humiliate me with than that damn uniform.

[sacrivn]

do you have any writing tips?

yeah!! here’s some tricks that i use for my writing ^^

-think about what kind of vibe your story is and find vocabulary that fits it! if you’re writing a romance story, look at romantic sounding words, names, settings, adjectives, all that! if you’re writing a spooky story, look for gothic literature! if you’re writing something simple and fun, look through your text messages with friends or read a sitcom script for vocabulary! syntax matters as well; more serious scenes may need longer sentences while fun scenes can make do with shorter ones!

-listen to music that fits the vibe of the scene you’re writing! when writing the church dream scene of sacrilegious, i listened to the soundtrack of faith: the unholy trinity which matched the kind of feel i was going for! hell, listen to gameplays of games or audiobooks similar to what you want to create. it can inspire you w/ phrases, plot lines, and the like!

-dedicate a half hour to your writing a day; even if you get only like a sentence or two done, making a habit of it helps you think and get more done!

[trainingdummyrabbit]

okkkk its been a day or two, gonna talk abt funy warptrain event ^_^ i didnt think i would but ihave thoughts and im chatty. notmany, but what ever. my house. yipy ^_^

honestly? wholly neutral abt this one. it sure was an event ! woah.

more genuinely, i mostly just think it couldve taken its environment+happenstance and made it hit harder. isuppose its just a side effect of Already Knowing, both in-universe and out, but the whole Everything felt very secondary to the character's.. characters. which isnt bad! its just specifically how it was Executed that kinda gets me about it.

specifically, in that it feels like its going to be much more important than it actually ended up presenting itself. nuance nuance, side chapter event, etc etc but even Still. what we got from the characters felt very very Mild, even from side-stuff pov. (again nuance, im not fully caught up, im simply talking about how i feel.) which may be a side effect of riding off th coattails of tkt wrt rodya having... All That. it felt like all that stuff w faust just Happened, and well. thats it! the most we got from it was dante+faust's brief dynamic, and yisang's comment towards the end. which was sweet and i liked a lot! i just wish they pushed the wound a little harder. juuust a little. give us (read: them) something to think about, rather than hint and drop.

ithink my main problem with the writing, specifically character writing, is how... sitcom-ish it ended up feeling, for lack of a better term. it felt very blatant in its winkwink nudge kind of execution of dialogue, specifically with the sinners re: faust's de-faust-ening. like its not Awful, but it did kinda take me out of it a bit. (though they didnt push that execution of it as far as they couldve, which i Am thankful for)

it Is very much a kind of hinty setup deal, but man. really really light on that one. the reconnection on mephi Was necessary plotwise, but i wont say i didnt feel at least a Little disappointed. let them struggle!!

(i think what i was more hoping for was exemplifying more strongly on the "This Is Objectively A Pressing Problem, But One We Cant Solve Just Yet" front. the 'we rely on Faust too much' was a little dip into it, but again, very light. i want to see them Objectively Kind Of Fuck Up about it. Really press those implications to give us something to be worried about when we Do address faust proper. yknow?)

and, admittedly, th thing that bothered me most was the keycard melting. that was the whole Ordeal! the pressure all kinda hinged on that being an Important Item! but then they just kind of all.. "oh no the keycard :( well, time to get on mephi its all cool ^_^" like... yall couldve done that th whole time? it really defangs the entire situation. both in-text and kind of retroactively. (which is something i could chatter on about, but i dont think id do it well, so i wont.)

like yeah, silly silly, but again. it does kinda make the tone go all over the place in a way that felt really jarring to me.

(also this is very very blatantly my own Immense Bias but its still my house; there is inevitably going to be a Lot of faust-angela comparisons/etc coming i can feel it in my Bones and iam inevitably going to be very Very bitchy about it. sorry about this in advance, but ive already said my piece re: rodya/ishy's realization egos and the same sentiment applies here. i am going to be Immensely picky about it and id apologize but you all know what im about. thats all.)

im wholly indifferent but Mildly Fond of team bloodfiend just on principle of Theyre Fun And Interesting. in the way where i wish we could delve into the implications of their dynamic (them making a fun little home on th warp trains is interesting!!!) but th nature of th story means we wont be able t see it. sad :( cmooon theyre just little guys cmon be niceys to them come onnnnn.

what Really shone this chapter for me though, surprise surprise, was donqui. she was FANTASTIC this event and its everything i couldve ever asked for, even with the bias aside. mmmmostly aside. i am easy to please on that front. i loved getting to see her be excited and Important to the group and not just brushed aside re: the beginning!! her and meur getting to genuinely just be silly!! (this one Is my bias speaking but also heath + don friendship win. in my heart.) also the bit where she gets to just... talk herself up in front of th kid. she was genuinely so happy and proud! it lets her Actually shine without dimming it with the "ah there goes donqui again, dont mind her" thing. which is intrinsic to her character, and i wont say is strictly bad, but im glad to see just Her. (Especially shoutout to the "she hesitated till the last second attacking the passengers" thing, that was a great detail for both her And faust)

but my Favorite thing by Far was the gap between the end of the bossfight and What Happened On Mephi. girl KILLING!!! girl MAIMING!!! getting to see her really push at her values and show off that part of her was Fantastic. the sheer stubborn vitriol was Excellent; and her standing by her own values even Past her own physical limits is Such a great way to exemplify that character trait. and most importantly, her direct decision to pretty much just ignore the direction to stay behind following her own morals was!! fantastic fantastic. Deeply delighted when she entered the scene again on mephi. i love seeing her be silly and excited. but what i love more is seeing that part of her. i want to see her be a Fucking Problem! a Serious Fucking Problem! she deserves it.

i cant... really say much on the uh, reveal at the end though. i probably wont, either! that'll have t be for the next canto. but im holding. im waiting. that is probably one of the funniest things they couldve pulled and i so desperately want to see what the fuck theyre going to do with it. let them cook or whatever. absolutely Not the direction i thought they were gonna focus on, but huh. Huh! huh. ok girl!!

. anyway all in all,