#I don’t think understanding how it Technically Started matters all that much compared to understanding why it’s persisted

[thatgirlonstage]

Having been in the Vo/tron fandom from very shortly after S1 first aired and having stayed at least adjacent to it for the whole long slog up to present day is a curse for many reasons but also because it means most every time I see people try to explain the origin of the anti movement I have to cringe at all the things they are confidently getting wrong

And I’m not going to say anything, I did not save receipts or document this whole stupid phenomenon because it gave me a headache then and it gives me a headache now and I am simply not interested in being your discourse historian

But I am just standing in a corner like

[allmonstersxarehuman]

Just The Way You Are

A/N: Just a tiny thing to help me warm up on writing again. It sucks, but again I am still working on trying to get back to the place I once was when it comes to writing. Not edited so I am sure there are a lot of mistakes. My apologies.

Pairing: Bang Chan x Chubby Fem!Reader

Warning: MDNI! Talks of being insecure about weight, a bit of adult content, Chan being whipped for reader. Reader learning to be comfortable with her body with Chan's help.

(Also, sorta based on his bed selfies)

“You know you’re making stays go crazy right?” You laughed walking out of the bathroom your hair still wet. “Huh?” You boyfriend looked up at you like he didn’t know what you were talking about. “Christoper, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” You roll your eyes walking over to where he sat on the bed, he threw you a smirk his dimple on display, Chan grabbed your hips his hands rubbing up and down. “It was purely innocent.” He said hands lowering to your naked thighs, his eyes looking you up and down. “You look so beautiful in my shirts.” He said hands lowering to your naked thighs. You blushed and ran your fingers through his curly hair, his eyes instantly closing at the feeling. “You say that all the time.” You laugh light and then rolled your eyes again. “Plus, technically they aren’t your shirts, you don’t even wear them. They are ones we both bought for here because I’m too big to fit into your actual shirts.” The last part came out as a soft whisper, but Chan definitely heard you. His eyes were closed tight, and his jaw clenched before tonguing his cheek and looking at you with sad but dark eyes. He hated when you talked about your body negatively or even compare your size to others.

You moved away from him and sighed running your fingers through your still damp hair. “I already know what you are going to say. But Chan we both know it, I’m just learning to accept that I’m bigger than other girls.” You gave him a soft smile. “I’m learning love myself because of you. You have been a big part of that, you are also a big reason why I’m taking better care of myself including my body.” You said softly. You explaining this to him made him feel a bit better but he still hated that you saw yourself differently than how he sees you.

To him you are the most beautiful person in the world, you are his world and he didn’t care what your weight was. Of course to some people it seemed like a cliché thing to say that he loved you no matter what because he loved you for being you, your personality, the way you didn’t see him as Bang Chan of Stray Kids you saw him for his goofy and workaholic self. He loves the way you were with the kids, he loves that you understood that even though he rather be with you 24/7 that he also loves what he does, and he loves the way you understand his love for Stays. He’s just so in love with you.

You bit your lip running your fingers through his hair. “Hey dreamer what’s going on in that head of yours.” You said softly. He realized he got lost in la-la-land Chan looked down his cheeks starting to warm and let out a short and quiet chuckle before looking back up at you and grabbing your hips and pulling you close. “I was thinking how lucky I am to have you, how much I’m so incredibly in love with you.” He smiled his hands sneaking up your shirt and rubbing your sides. “How about I show you how in love I am with you. Yeah?” Chan stood up turning you and picking you up with ease, the action made you let out a surprised squeak and setting you softly on the bed before his lips brushed against yours as he climbed over you. “My beautiful girl. Perfect for me, beautiful lips, beautiful eyes, beautiful and sexy body and your sweet pussy fits perfectly around me. It’s like you were made just for me, my special angel. I’m all yours and you are all mine, and I wouldn't change it for a thing. Will you let me love you and make you feel good?” He said softly his lips brushing over your lips to your neck. One of the things you loved about Chan is that he always asked permission, even though you told him he could have you whenever he wanted. “I’m all yours.” You said softly before attaching your lips to his.

[ween-kitchens]

me and @stiffyck were talking about aroace and t4t jizzie realising both of these things from a trans aroace scar, and because i’m normal (lie) I now have trans jizzie realising they’re trans and swapping names

you’re so welcome <3

(heads up, names are gonna be a bit confusing in this; this is lizzie’s pov)

joel does not know why they had to have this conversation outside in december of all times, because right now he is probably about to get frostbite. sure, the snow is pretty and all, but it is absolutely freezing, and the only thing stopping him from freezing to death is lizzie’s blazeborn ability to stay warm no matter what, and so she’s given him her coat to use as a kind of blanket.

since he started growing his hair out, lizzie has taken to playing with it more often, which is lucky in this scenario because her hands are so warm. in fact- joel thinks he’s forgotten to pay attention to their conversation with scar. oops.

“-all i’m saying is that, if you’re gonna compare restaurants, they’d better sell the same food.” lizzie is saying, far too heatedly for what the conversation is actually about. “there’s no point comparing, like- a fancy french restaurant that does snails and stuff with mcdonald’s.”

“ah, but scar’s diner will have it all, ms beans!” scar declares, and joel is suddenly doubting his grasp on this conversation.

“sorry- what are you guys even talking about?” joel says.

scar laughs the kind of laugh he does when he realises what he’s been talking about makes no sense. joel thinks it’s very funny that he knows scar has that distinctive laugh because of how many conversations he’s had with him that make zero sense. “sorry liz, I-“

liz.

all of a sudden, it’s like joel is underwater; he can technically hear scar correcting himself, and he knows vaguely that there is an outside world. but all [joel?] can think about is lizzie’s name used for him. and- y’know, now [lizzie?] has started thinking about it.. [he?] finds that [she?] absolutely can’t stop thinking about it.

[they?] remember the first time jimmy asked to be called jimmy, and the way his whole face lit up each time lizzie called him ‘jim’ casually, like it was nothing. but to jimmy- it was definitely something, and something big. [lizzie? joel?] had helped cut his hair short, and helped to dye it blonde, and in all honesty, jimmy has only looked happier on the day [names are so hard all of a sudden] was married.

“scar,” [lizzie?] says abruptly, and scar looks at [her?] with a small amount of concern. “can you..” [she?] can’t quite figure out how to finish that sentence. scar understands, regardless of those tricky things known as words.

“sure I can, lizzie.” scar says, and oh- okay. that’s- yeah. 

it’s like there’s a physical ball of energy swelling up inside of [her.], lighting her up from the inside, and- yeah. 

she.. she thinks she might be a girl.

“oh.” lizzie is grinning to herself and it’s starting to hurt a little but she really could care so much more right now.

“wait,” a voice says from above her, and lizzie looks up to see her spouse staring at her with a very familiar look in their eyes. “you- okay, hang on. you can- you can do that?”

“yeah, you definitely can.” scar gives a slightly crooked grin. “I don’t suppose you would be joel then, would you?”

“wh- it’s just- it’s that easy?” there’s a kind of worry attached to those words, one lizzie thinks she understands far better than she expected to. maybe she’s been a girl a lot longer than she realised. “I can just.. be a guy?”

“I did it.” scar grins in a way that makes lizzie think he’s holding back. “jimmy did it.”

“I- yeah, but-“ lizzie looks up and sees the corners of their eyes crinkled in the way that has always meant they’re suppressing a smile. she takes their hand and squeezes it. “it- it can’t be that easy, right?”

“you tell me, beans.” scar says, looking as if he already knows the answer to that.

joel relents, and lets himself smile. “yeah. it is.”

lizzie grins, sitting up and throwing her arms around her husband, and she’s laughing, and so is he, and they both might be crying a little too, and jimmy is gonna think they’re both such idiots, and she doesn’t care. she’s a woman, and joel is a man, and they just swapped names, and that honestly might have made this whole situation far funnier than it probably should be because- are they really both that unoriginal?

“I think,” lizzie sniffles, wiping her eyes on joel’s hoodie. “I think I got snot in your hair.”

“that’s fine.” joel giggles a little in that hiccupy way he does. “I might have just ruined your jumper.”

[ssreeder]

I'm so looking forward to iroh and zuko properly talking and seeing irohs reaction to zuko being gay.

Like we all know he doesn't agree with the fire nation rn but how will he react?

Will he not support him cause sokkas a guy? Will he not support him because it's SOKKA? Will he accept him? Will he reveal he's known for years zuko was gay?

Especially with everything that happened with zhao, regarding to what jee said to bato on their date. (Which is a very understandable perspective, zuko just got out of this very sexually traumatising situation and almost immediately starts a relationship (his first relationship) with sokka, but then again it is a very unique situation)

One thing I love about some atla fics is how they portray the FNs thoughts on queerness, cause on one hand they were one of the only country's (I think) that treated men and women the same but then again it's also the fucking fire nation.

And I also think zukos whole canon arc can be very comparative to queerness,

His dads an asshole and after speaking out against him he throws him out, and zuko try's for 3 years to regain his father's love and acceptance, and then faced with the opportunity of regaining it takes it immediately regardless of who or what he may hurt (iroh, his own morals etc) but once he makes it back home realises how fucked up everything is and eventually confronts his dad and openly tells him he doesn't agree with him then runs aways.

I also wonder if iroh secretly knows jee is queer it doesn't seem that likely to me but it also is iroh so who knows.

<3

I do think Iroh’s reaction will be a big moment for not only the story but for Zuko’s character development. Right now, Zuko’s technically still a prisoner, holding himself there by assuming Iroh will not understand or judge him when in reality he’ll never know what his uncle is thinking until they TALK ABOUT IT. (Which the FN royal family is just sooo good at healthy communication I don’t understand why this is so hard for them lol?!)

I do agree that the suddenness of the relationship combined with the intensity from both zuko and Sokka is very alarming for people looking at it from the outside (I mean we all totally get it cause we were there but others are like uhhhh hmmmm ok this might be concerning) so I get them gossiping and wondering if this is truly real or what the fucks going on with those boys.

I love Zukos canon arc because there’s just so much about zukos story that can be relatable no matter who you are and I think that’s why he is a fan favorite (it doesn’t explain why we torture him the way we do but ehhhh it’s fine haha)

Hmmmmmm does iroh know Jees gay? Depends on how saucy those music nights got ;)

[azrielgreen]

Hey Az I was wondering if you had any advice on jealousy. Or more “envy” I guess. I know we should write for ourselves and try not to rely on external validation, but I find it so hard. I’m constantly comparing myself to other writers, seeing how many kudos and comments they got, wondering why I don’t measure up. Wondering why certain readers left a super long comment on a certain work and then a short one on mine. I don’t want to be resentful, and I know this feeling is toxic and bred from insecurity. I keep trying to improve and to find new ways to get over this mindset, but nothing seems to be working. I just obsess over why I’m not good enough, why I’m not on rec lists, or why readers stopped commenting when they had previously reacted to every other chapter. It’s embarrassing and pathetic to even type this all out, but I figured you’re the best person to go to with shit like this because you’re so honest. I keep coming to the conclusion that “if I was a better writer then I’d have better statistics, and people would stick with my stories, so I must suck.” I wonder if there is something I’m actually doing wrong technically or if my negative attitude is somehow seeping through the words I write. I don’t know. Maybe I just need therapy. But yes, any tips on how to not see others’ success as my failure?

Thank you so much for even reading this stream of consciousness diary entry. And thank you even more if you respond. xx

Hello lovely. I'm so sorry it took me so long to reply, I've been working my way through these and I wanted to devote a little more time to yours because this is a really common feeling that's rarely discussed.

So, envy and jealously about other writers is, I think, natural given the system used to publish fics (hit counters, kudos, etc...) and also the fact that this fandom is a very loud, wide open space. I've been in very small spaces before, sometimes with five or six people total in the entire ship and that was a very different vibe. I really wish more people get to experience that.

But this fandom and many others are large spaces now and they'll only get bigger so we have this constant comparison, even though not widely acknowledged, of who gets more readers, who gets recced, hits, kudos and comments. It's difficult not to compare, even when you know you shouldn't so what you're feeling is completely valid. External validation for writing can be really important and it's one of the reasons fanfic can be so gratifying, with comments to boost you up along the way.

The thing is, focusing on those elements will only ever harm your self esteem because once you tie your worth to a number, a percentage, literally anything quantifiable and reliant upon people other than yourself, you're doing damage to your mental health and your understanding of what is or isn't "good writing". There are so many beautiful, stunning, fucking life altering stories on AO3 that have a mere handful of kudos and under 100 hits and I don't know why. I don't know what if it's word of mouth, if it's reclists, length, tags, word counts, I have no idea what makes something a "hit", but here's what I do know.

I know that when you don't look at those numbers, when you instead look ahead to your future and where your writing will take you, those numbers really don't mean much. I've had plenty of "flops" and I love them so much, I go back and reread them even after orphaning them and I see that maybe two or three people commented, hardly anyone even read it, but that doesn't matter because I'm already on the next project.

You are good enough. You are so good, you're brilliant. You're unique and you know this too, deep down, otherwise you would never have started writing. What people do or don't respond to is more to do with them and their personal lives than you and your work.

My advice is to never look at other people's specific success numbers and compare. There are only two outcomes of this. Yours will be more and you'll feel good that more people read your work than others - you ego will inflate artificially, it'll be tied to this numerical system. Or, yours will be less and you'll be feel bad that your work wasn't read as much as others was - your sense of worth will shrink, and to remedy this, you'll feel the need to create content that drives up these numbers. This is a toxic spiral, and believe me, I know it very well. I would tell myself, years ago, if I didn't get 25 comments on a new chapter, the chapter was awful. I had the most awful time waiting for comments to hit 25 and I barely even read them.

Give yourself space. Reconnect with your creativity. Fill a journal. Make a playlist. Print out all your good comments and read them and then burn them. Read more, find your inspiration. Be so fucking proud of yourself, love what you make and stay away from those numbers because they make no sense and they never will. Trying to establish self worth from anything less than your own self will always backfire. I know this is super vague, but it's my honest opinion.

More specifically, for you, I want you to know that this feeling is transitional and it'll pass and you're going to look back and think, "Wow, I can't believe I ever cared about that." So hold on, keep going, fuck what anyone else thinks, and make your art, my darling. Good things are coming, I promise.

Az.

💜💜💜

[twilightmalachite]

Altered - Heaven and Hell 8

Author: Akira

Characters: Eichi, Tsumugi

Translator: Mika Enstars

"…Is that really true? Is it really true that we really had no chance to beat the Five Eccentrics using proper methods?"

Season: Winter

Location: Time Treet

⚠️ This is an import from a unproofed Twitter Livetweet!

Tsumugi: Even still, I think the specifications for OO are good as-is, even if they didn’t have any other options.

If there are no uniform rules and everyone just behaves as they please, it would make things confusing for the viewer. There’d be nothing to grip them, so to speak.

Eichi: I agree. That’s the reason why we created the Dream Fes system.

Idols are singers, dancers, announcers, actors, and gravure models[1]—

—They’re a peculiar existence, unlike anything else, technically speaking.

A complicated and unusual existence such as idols has to be displayed and judged through easy-to-understand numbers. And then compare those numbers, like a card game.

Doing so, anyone would be able to comprehend the quality of the idols.

It didn’t matter if it didn’t actually showcase the idol’s true abilities. We just needed to create an environment in which everyone would evaluate idols according to the criteria we had prepared.

With those rules established, we could then make the world aware of the “truth” that fine is superior to the Five Eccentrics.

The world, especially adults, only see such numbers.

That is the only way we had a chance to defeat the Five Eccentrics.

Tsumugi: …Is that really true?

Eichi: What do you mean?

Tsumugi: Is it really true that we really had no chance to beat the Five Eccentrics using proper methods?

We were trying our best, back then. Of course you and I were, Eichi-kun, but Hiyori-kun who appeared to be unmotivated was too.

I think seeing his best friend, Nagisa-kun, desperately trying his best to become a human, an idol, really inspired him.

On the day that triggered the start of the war, the day of the Venus Cup and such, the day before the day of revolution arrived, each of us had already made progress—

I’d thought we had evolved a lot as a unit. So if we had continued to work hard and earn experience, we could do it, eventually.

Exactly when, I don’t know. But eventually, we could’ve become idols—a unit that could genuinely beat the Five Eccentrics in a straight fight.

Eichi: Do you mean you have a grudge against me, for eliminating that possibility, by refusing to wait for your growth and instead forcing you to join a bloody war?

Tsumugi: I don’t hold any grudges against you, Eichi-kun.

It’s thanks to you, I who always lived as just an extra in the crowd, was able to shine, even if for a moment.

As a hero of a story… Or, maybe just a character.

I really was so happy. I was feeling so much joy and happiness I didn’t know how to stop myself.

How could have everything been your fault alone, Eichi-kun?

Or could that be why you pushed us all away at the last minute? To create the disposition that everything was your fault.

And that we were simply victims of deception and exploitation.

Eichi: If anything, that is an overly benevolent representation of me. At that time, I didn’t even have the luxury to think about those around me in such a way.

Everything was at its limit. I was worn out and exhausted. Your voice couldn’t even reach me, despite you being the closest. I couldn’t even understand you.

Eichi: But, yes. I know this may sound weird, but I wish that were what happened.

Me being a friend, who for your sake, sacrificed myself and single-handedly shouldered all the sin.

I wish I were a hero as honorable as that. That’s the kind of protagonist that was portrayed in the story.

One that didn’t only simply deceive and hurt you, but also who protected you at the end of the day.

Eichi: It really would be great if that were the case.

If the reality was that I was that type of protagonist, it would have made a lot more sense.

Of course, as disappointing as it is, this is reality, not a story of fantasy. I know more than anyone else, that I am nowhere near that cool.

At that time, I felt nothing but frustration, and guilt from having hurt someone else for the first time using my own hands. A mix of these feelings, all with depression.

Just remembering it makes it heavy in the pit of my stomach.

Whenever I see the word “youth”, which everyone boasts about…

All I can think about is blood and darkness.

← prev | story directory | next →

Obligatory note, since googling “gravure” often results in risque modeling—The type of gravure modeling this refers to is more akin to the fanservice of looking cool or suave in photoshoots to appeal to the viewers.

[umichenginabroad]

Week 9: Post-midterms—chat, am I cooked?

Hello hello, I just finished my last midterm so this week I’ll talk about the academic culture here and the differences when compared to Michigan. In this program I am taking four classes but one of them started on Week 6 so we will ignore it. I took Chinese 5 (ASAINLANG 500), Thermodynamics(MECHENG 235), and Manufacturing and Design (MECHENG 250). They each had their own unique preparation process and I had a different experience for each so let’s talk about it.

For Chinese 5, I had a sense of doom because I am definitely not Chinese level 5 level but I also felt a bit more comfortable because the class was almost entirely made up with other Michigan students also not the most versed in Chinese. It was a lot of vocab review but like the English test, it was really difficult to prepare for since the majority of it was reading comprehension. I still don’t know how I did but needless to say, I did a lot of guessing. I think the Chinese classes are a lot less competitive and intense because everyone taking it is an international student. The other two classes were a bit more intense.

I probably studied the most for Thermodynamics and I think it is the most similar to the classes I’ve taken back at Michigan. For our midterm, we were given a cheat sheet that I absolutely filled up to the brim with conceptual questions that I wasn’t quite confident on which was a lot and some homework questions but I didn’t look at the sheet once. The actual exam seemed very fair and I thought I knew how to do everything but I ended up doing really poorly (40%). It seems like the grading here is a lot less forgiving with partial credit which is where I score the majority of my points at Michigan. It also seems like the curve is a lot weaker because every student here is really good at test taking because they must have been in the top 0.2 percent in order to get in. In this midterm, I actually was in the bottom quartile of the class, which is in stark contrast to Michigan where I was consistently in the 80th percentile or above or 90th percentile for mechanical engineering classes. But I still have hope considering every class here is pass fail! But if you come here to take technical classes, prepare to be humbled!

On the bright side, for manufacturing and design, the midterm wasn’t too bad where I got slightly above average. However, this class is a lot less exam based and much more project based. We are about the have our second design review where we present our progress to the entire class. It seems like everyone here is coming up with such innovative and interesting designs!

Something cool about exam season here is that afterwards there is always a session to review your exam and argue for points back through paper checking sessions. This is a great opportunity to really understand what you got wrong and why and if it means you get a few extra points that is great too! Also something that definitely surprised me was how fast everything was graded. The very same day my thermodynamics class took the exam, the papers were graded and the paper checking session was held. This quick turnover is super helpful because you remember what your thought process was while reviewing your exam and I feel like I learned a lot more just from reviewing my exam.

I think this midterm process has definitely been eye opening to me for how crazy smart the students here are. It seems like this is a sentiment that is shared across the board for all international students as local students keep impressing us. It is really hard to gauge or comprehend how smart the class is when no one really asks questions in class or shows up to class for that matter. It is really cool that I am actually here with such crazy students and I guess I need to lock in harder if I want to do well! At the same time, I am only going to have this experience of fully living and immersing myself in China once, so even though I need to lockin, it is also important for me to explore and really take advantage of this opportunity, so don’t worry, I’ll will definitely still be traveling around and sharing new adventures. I didn’t really have any good photos to go with the post so I’ll just add photos from some of the places I’ve studied.

See ya next week!

Erin Xia

Mechanical Engineering

Shanghai Jiao Tong University Joint Institute

[falling0ff0fcliffs]

Not sure if I should delete this page

As I get older it dawns on me that having a secret blog where I post my unfiltered uncensored thoughts is a bad thing. Especially as what I say and think starts to affect more and more people. The older I get the more responsibility I take on, the more my actions matter. I don’t view it as a bad thing, I take on more and more burdens in order to contribute to the world, and be someone who’s useful to others. In that I’ve found contentment. With all that being said, I live in a whole new world compared to the one i made my last post in. The last two years I’ve attended a small bible college in upstate New York. Despite it being a small school, I’ve made it my goal to be as theologically educated as possible, and I believe I’ve accomplished this. This month I’ll be graduating and i have a job waiting for me when I go back to Chicagoland. In my personal life I’ve done a lot to detox from social media. I’ve started reading more, and focusing on my game. I started to realize about a year ago that I am unable to create what I want without more technical skills. So I decided to learn how to code. Along with that my art has improved significantly, and I’ve started to put something together that looks somewhat professional. I realized that if I had put all the time I did into video games into my education I’d be significantly more capable. Here I am now after months of trial and error I can finally say that I’m an amateur programmer, but a programmer nonetheless. In this process of my expanding skill set I’ve changed my persona. At school people started to recognize me as the guy who reads, programs, and exclusively listens to classical music. This is an extreme contrast to the guy who i was before. I still hold on to bits of my old self. At the Fourth of July party I turned on Indi music just to find out everyone else stopped listening. I still go through spouts of YouTube addiction(although the majority of what I watch is theological discussion), I still play rocket league from time to time, sometimes too much, but I don’t let any of those things define me anymore. Being in New York has changed me but it’s not New York that did it, New York simply gave me the chance to change. Socially New York has been a huge learning experience. I’ve made new friends but it wasn’t easy. I used to not want to be friends with someone unless it was a really close friendship, but I’ve realized not everyone can be your best friend. It takes time to develop that, and it’s not fair to expect someone you’ve met a year ago to be as close to you as the people you grew up with. I also used to want other people to be interested in the same things as me, but I realized that is foolish as well. I learned that I had to mold to my environment. Pick up new interest, make new types of jokes, and embrace change. I still have who I was, but I could not remain unchanged if I wanted to make friends. Now that it’s been two years it’s bitter sweet. I’ve built all these relationships with people who I’m inevitably gonna leave. I may not see them again. The last thing I wanted to talk about was marriage. After 3 years I can honestly say I’ve fallen more in love with my wife. It’s not always easy, but it’s not about doing what’s easy, its about growth. Together we have grown a lot, and more importantly we had a child, which makes me a dad. I’m still processing that one so I won’t say to much about it, but I will say it’s a lot of fun. It’s helped me to understand the differences between my wife and I. My strengths and weaknesses are balanced with hers, which is good for my child’s development.

In the last two years I’ve made friends, I’ve gotten my degree, I’ve learned to program, became a better artist, and more importantly became a better husband and a father. When I go back home I hope that my wife and I can be impactful. Life is really just starting, and for the first time I’m enjoying becoming older, wiser, and content with life.

Ps. After reviewing this I feel I left a lot out, but I am too impatient to fill in the details at the moment

[losthomunculus]

Online Safety Relevant to the Current State of the Internet

On twitter I made a tweet about how online safety lessons in school can be very out of touch but that the advice of people who are familiar with the current internet shouldn't be disregarded. So here's my informal collection of online safety tips

Sources: unrestricted internet access since elementary school (not recommended), being a formerly involuntarily home bound person for several years that amassed way too much online experience

This could possibly hold upsetting reminders to people who had bad experiences online including mentions of grooming and emotional manipulation so please proceed with caution!

Information Sharing

Make an online pseudonym for public profiles and websites.

Don’t feel like you have to list everything about you for the world to see.

Sometimes it’s not a question of “can this information be used to locate and identify me irl?”, but simply “do I want this information publicly available and linked to my online persona?”

Unlike offline, being online leaves a constant trail of who you were accessible at all times. People are constantly growing and changing. Try to limit the information you share so you can ditch that trail and start over if need be.

Sharing information with people you make friends with and trust is a judgement call on your part, but always be on the safe side and be protective of your information.

Start as cautious as possible with online safety. Any risks or judgement calls can come later when you are 1. aware of the risks, 2. ready to address them if they occur, and 3. have gathered plenty of information instead of doing something blindly and hoping for the best.

Do not share your triggers publicly, they can very easily be used against you. Instead use websites with a large amount of filtering options to curate your online experience. If you are going to share them, only do it privately with people you trust.

Importance of Boundaries

It doesn’t matter how mature you are, don’t enter age limited spaces you don’t qualify for. It’s disrespectful to the boundaries of the people who made that space. Boundaries like this exist for the comfort of both sides involved.

Just because you can “handle it” doesn’t mean it’s good for you. Desensitization is not something to brag about.

Venting or making r18 posts as a minor on a public account is VERY dangerous. Intense emotional vulnerability is something manipulators will look for as a way to get to you. The same with sexual jokes to develop your comfort talking about those topics casually and eventually escalating the situation. If you are going to talk about such things please keep that in private conversations with people you trust in your age group.

Note the difference between public and private online space. Tweeting something on a public account is not the same as having a conversation in the cafeteria with your friends.

If an adult tries talking to you about r18, run the other way. Doesn’t matter how cool you are, it says something weird about THEM if they’re willing to talk to a minor about that stuff.

If someone( like 3+ years, honestly depends on how old you are) older than you wouldn't be comfortable saying what they're saying to you in front of other people (like a teacher or guardian), that's suspicious as hell. Run in the other direction.

The younger you are, the more age gaps matter. There's a bigger difference in development between a 13 year old and a 17 year old than there is between a 20 year old and a 24 year old. It helps to try to contextualize it with real people instead of numbers. Instead of thinking "oh just 4 years? that's not that weird" consider "oh. that would be like a freshman (13/14) dating a senior (17/18). yikes."

Be just as wary of people your own age talking about things that make you uncomfortable. Just like irl, sometimes you’ll meet people your age that are hurtful.

Friends complain to each other and talk about their issues, that alone is fine. But when people are doing it without permission, draw a line. When people are making it feel like you’re responsible for maintaining their mental health, you need to draw a line. When it starts to effect your mental health, PLEASE DRAW A LINE! I know it feels like your responsibility sometimes, but it’s not. You cannot be there for others if you’re not taking care of yourself first and foremost.

Don’t be afraid to block people. Even for petty reasons. It’s good to block people. Don’t force yourself to see stuff you don’t want to see.

Being Constantly Online

The 24 hour news cycle is not a good thing to follow 24/7. Taking social responsibility is a good thing, but your brain is NOT built to worry about every issue in the world at once. One strategy I use for staying sane is I try to only check the news once a day, and if something needs more attention to set aside an amount of time I’m going to focus on it before I need to take time to step back.

Touch grass. Not literally, unless you can in which case I highly suggest it, sometimes it’s just good to lay in a field. What I mean is you need to dedicate a good portion of your time to being offline (sleep does not count). What your offline time looks like is going to differ depending on your level of ability, but even if you are house bound it’s important to build some hobbies that don’t rely on the internet. Talking to people offline is also a good goal if possible, even just to your housemates.

Social etiquette greatly differs online and offline and sometimes the reminder that were all just Some People gets lost behind the numbers and the fabricated personas. Keep in mind the difference in how information is shared without forgetting that the fact we are all people remains the same.

Be generous with your etiquette. You will avoid a lot of stress if you conduct yourself with the same politeness you would have in an offline interaction. Master the art of "minding your own business" for your own sake.

Arguments and Competition

As soon as you can, you need to internalize the fact that leaving an argument is not losing.

It is inevitable you will be exposed to many people who disagree with you. Some people only want to argue to rile you up. Sometimes that’s not their intention, but it’s what they’re doing. You do not have to remain in conversation with people, especially if they’re not interested in actually coming to an understanding. Even if they are interested, sometimes they just suck!! Leave!! You can leave!!

On that note, sometimes you are going to get valid criticism and it’s going to hurt. That is part of learning. If someone says you messed up and did something hurtful, take a second to step back from your defensiveness and consider: intent ≠ effect. Apologize, repair what you can, and move forward with the ability to do better in the future. You’re going to mess up every once in awhile, it’s inevitable.

To summarize the past two points: don't waste your time on unnecessary hostility but don't close yourself into an echo chamber either. Debates should be about learning.

Sometimes people are not going to like you. This happens offline too but people tend to be a lot more blunt online. Sometimes people dislike you for no reason or for really petty reasons. That’s not your problem, move on.

Don’t actively seek out people you don’t like or who don’t like you to argue with. Whether or not your side is the “right side” doesn’t matter, it’s going to cause you so much unnecessary stress. Feel free to keep posting your opinions on your own profile but don’t seek out unnecessary conflict.

This is a different type of competition than previously mentioned, but be aware of the danger of comparing yourself to other people. Especially if you’re a creative or student, DO NOT GET SWEPT UP IN THE GRIND CULTURE. It’s more subtle in some places than others, but anytime you see the notion that you should be working yourself to the bone be VERY critical. Also be critical of any online cultures (such as gaming and art communities) that brag about unhealthy habits or act like it’s ~part of the culture~ (ex: all nighters, not taking breaks, getting hurt. Any activity that neglects health to work toward a goal).

Not just grind culture, any community of subculture that shares anti recovery sentiments is a huge red flag. Even if they're joking, it's not worth the risk of internalizing those statements.

Everyone’s social media presence is to some degree doctored because it’s a purposefully selected collection of what they allow you to see. It’s fine to like the persona you see being displayed, but never forget that it is not reflective of the entire person. Everyone online is JUST SOME PERSON. Do not forget that and start holding yourself to a standard you can’t even see every side of.

By posting online you are opening yourself to criticism. Whether or not it’s justified can vary, but either way it’s going to happen. Mute stuff, go private, disable comments, etc if you need to.

Misc Tidbits

these are technically just general info that is also good for offline but I have seen things that make me think people online need the extra reminder.

Learn what cults are, how they recruit, and what they do to their members. I'm not kidding. This is particularly relevant at the moment because of current societal unrest and widespread loneliness. No one is immune to cult propaganda, and not every cult is based on pre established religion or family. Many exist ONLINE and are able to manipulate people without ever meeting face to face. (learn more: Loneliness as a Pandemic: The Dangers of Online Cult

Familiarize yourself with the concept of pseudoscience. Please familiarize yourself with the concept of pseudoscience and then learn how to identify pseudoscience. (learn more: Karl Popper, Science, & Pseudoscience: Crash Course Philosophy #8)

Q. How do I know if a source is reliable?

Final Thoughts

It's important people of ALL ages learn these lessons, because the internet is constantly changing and we are all vulnerable when in the presence of other people.

Be cautious and stay safe

[cjsinkythoughts]

The Shield

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 5595

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, John Walker, Emotions, Character Death, Mentions of Blood, I know people had a hard time with that last scene so please take caution because it is in this part! GIF at end is the ending scene, so be careful when you get towards the bottom! I feel like I’m forgetting some, so just know this one’s a bit more than the others.

A/N: Here it is, folks! The Part we’ve all been waiting for! It’s the longest one I’ve written so far but so much happened and I couldn’t find a better spot to end it than where the episode ended. Thank you all for being patient with me today. I know I didn’t get this out as quickly as I would’ve the past few weeks, but you guys are so awesome! Seriously! I love that you understand I do have a life and work comes first! Thank you, thank you!

This Part is a doozy, guys, and…I’m sorry? But not really. I’m SUPER excited to see where this is gonna go, especially considering Episode 5 is supposed to be the real tear jerker. I can’t believe there’s only two more episodes! I’ve grown so attached to these characters just in the past month! I’m so glad I’m able to share some of my thoughts and feelings with you guys, too! You’re honestly the best!

I’ll be doing more One Shots this week, so look for those on the Masterlist. I’m still taking requests for them, so if there’s anything you want explored about the reader and her relationships that you don’t think will be explored in this Series, just ask and I’ll try to add it to the One Shot list.

As always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you for reading, be kind to yourself and others, enjoy this part and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

(I couldn’t decide on which GIF to use because there are so many good ones! Thank you Tumblr Creators!)

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“Doll…hey. Doll. C’mon, sweetheart. We gotta get moving.”

You cracked your eyes open begrudgingly, squinting up to see Bucky’s amused grin, head tilted and eyes soft. “Huh?”

He chuckled as you rubbed your eyes, confusion lifting an eyebrow. “The funeral. Zemo said we’ve gotta go if we’re gonna make it in time.”

“Wait, but…huh?”

Sniggering again at your reaction, he held up your phone. “You passed out in the middle of a chapter, sleepyhead.” He teased lightly, grabbing your hand and gently pulling you to sit upright. “It’s almost been an hour.”

You huffed tiredly, stretching and placing your feet on the floor, taking back the phone he held out to you. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You haven’t been sleeping well.” He stated, like it should’ve been obvious. “How’s your arm feeling?”

“Better than earlier. It’s just sore. That’s all.”

He studied your features for any hint of a lie. Not finding one, he nodded, holding out his hand. “Okay. But tell me if it starts bothering you.”

You placed your hand in his, marveling for a split second at how big his hands were compared to yours - something you noticed every time but still it never ceased to astound you. He tugged you up, and you looked up to meet his worried eyes, remembering his question.

“I will, Buck. Promise.”

He nodded, tilting his head towards the door. “C’mon, cuddle bug. We don’t wanna miss this.”

A groan passed your lips, but you nodded and followed Bucky out into the main room, where Sam chuckled at you from his spot at the table. “Sleeping beauty has finally awoken.”

You flipped Sam off groggily. “Are we going or not?”

“Do you wanna wake up s’more first?”

“No.” You answered the one armed brunette. “I’ll just splash some water on my face or something. I’ll be fine by the time we get there. Where’s-”

“Looking for me?”

Zemo strolled out, now dressed in that coat of his, that smug smirk on his lips. You scowled. “I wish I wasn’t.”

Sam stood up, standing subconsciously between you and Zemo. “Let’s head out.”

You nodded in agreement, shooting the Baron one more glare, before following him out the door and into the city, Bucky right besides you, shoulders brushing as if you weren’t ignoring him just hours prior.

The walk was mostly silent, a few jests between Bucky and Sam plus a couple comments from Zemo here and there. You talked about strategy, with Sam bringing up the fact that he wanted to try convincing Karli to step down. Zemo didn’t look pleased with the arrangement, but both you and Bucky relented, agreeing to let Sam at least try.

It wasn’t until you were close to your destination according to Zemo that anything exciting happened.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit!”

Hell. No. 

The moment the voice registered in your brain, your jaw tightened, your teeth starting to grind together as you held back the very not nice things you wanted to say. 

“Ah! How’d you find us now?” Bucky called out, tucking you into his side protectively, and a little possessively you noted, as Walker and Hoskins came down the steps, the two groups nearing each other.

You were relieved when the subject of Zemo escaping jail went by relatively quickly, Walker latching onto the fact that you were going to talk to Karli instead of focusing on the escaped fugitive in front of him.

You very nearly punched him when he ran in front of you after Sam told him the plan, making the four of you stop in your tracks, but Bucky’s arm tightened around your shoulders, holding you in place next to him.

“You’re gonna let him do this?” Walker questioned Bucky in disbelief, self righteous judgement practically dripping from your tone. “You’re gonna let your partner walk into a room with a super soldier alone?”

Bucky’s jaw ticked. “He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.”

“And you?” Walker narrowed his eyes towards you. “I expected more from you; the last original Avenger.”

You snorted, shaking your head. He obviously didn’t know how chaotic the Avengers were. What Sam was proposing? You’d seen it a million times with Steve alone. Not considering Nat, Clint, Thor, even Bruce and Tony. All of them willing to try to negotiate before running in, bullets raining and hell rising. “First, I’m not the last original. I’m technically not even an original. Second, I trust Sam with my life and I’m standing by his decision. He’s my brother. As a soldier, I would’ve thought you understood that.”

Before he could respond, Sam stepped around Bucky. You saw the reluctance in Walker’s eyes as he admitted a temporary defeat once Hoskins agreed with Sam. The fact that he was so unwilling to try to save more lives - including Karli’s - made the truth that he wasn’t, and would never, be your Captain harden deeper into your heart.

Ignoring Walker’s confusion as you followed the little girl Zemo befriended - which was weird, you’d admit, but it was getting you closer to Karli - Bucky’s arm slipped from your shoulders, hand sliding across your back and skimming down your arm to grip your hand. Even through your jacket, you felt goosebumps erupt along his fingers’ trail.

You finally came to your destination and you let out a small breath. If everything went smoothly, this mission could finally be over and you could go home and take a bath, get take out, get out a bottle of wine, watch TV, and just relax.

What a dream.

“Hey.” You stopped Sam before he could go through the entrance of where the girl said Karli was, holding his forearm. “You want me to come with you?”

He shook his head. “I think it’ll be better if I go alone.”

You nodded, letting go without any hesitance. “Okay. Be careful.”

“Always.” And despite all you’ve been through, no matter how many times he’s followed Steve’s lead in doing something stupid, you knew he meant it. You nodded again, before he disappeared around the corner.

You leaned back against the wall, Bucky once again wrapping an arm around your shoulder now that you weren’t walking - he liked having mobility on the move, hence the reason he held your hand instead - leaning besides you and pulling you against his chest.

Ten minutes. You tried looking at Bucky’s watch, which was on the wrist of the arm around you. He noticed and turned his wrist slightly, bending his elbow more, which brought you even closer to him, showing you the time.

Giving a small sigh, you nodded slightly and dropped your head back against his bicep, your hands shoving in your pockets, one of your feet coming up to rest against the wall. Bucky shifted to your other side so he could stand in front of the doors to where Karli and Sam were, pulling you against his back, arms wrapping around your shoulders tightly.

It was a long ten minutes. You kept eyeing Walker, and you couldn’t help the anger burning through you as he held the shield in his hands. That damn shield. It wasn’t his. It would never be his. And he would never understand it. The fact that the shield didn’t make Captain America. The shield isn’t what made Steve a good man. Not even the Serum did. He already was one. Steve made the shield what it was, not the other way around.

But then you remembered a conversation you had, years ago, and your eyes flitted up to Bucky’s hardened face, the brunette staring intensely at the ground.

~

You didn’t get it. You were confused. You knew how important Barnes - Bucky - was to Steve. But apparently you didn’t understand it quite yet.

You watched from the entrance of the hallway, leaning against the wall, as Bucky went under once more.

Steve stood there for a moment longer, before turning and walking towards you. “Why’d you do it?”

He raised an eyebrow at you while you turned to walk with him down the hall. “Do what?”

“Give up the shield. And don’t say it doesn’t belong to you. It does. Howard gave it to you. You’re the reason it’s…a symbol.”

He hummed. “And what exactly is it a symbol for, honey?”

You scoffed. “Uh, freedom? Justice? Resilience? The defense of the whole life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness thing?”

He stopped, facing you with a strange expression on his face, thoughtful. “I dropped it because I can’t be that anymore. Not right now. People don’t have the same beliefs they used to have. How can I stand up for freedom and let the Sokovia Accords track every person they deem a threat, just like HYDRA tried doing? How can I be a symbol for justice and let Bucky take the fall for something that he wasn’t in control of? I can’t. And until the world is ready to change…I can’t be Captain America.”

~

And suddenly, it seemed to click. Steve gave up the shield for Bucky because the world wasn’t ready to admit it was wrong. Just like Sam gave up the shield for himself and his family because the world wasn’t ready for the truth that would come with him becoming Captain America.

God…when did a metal circle become so complicated?

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty lil’ head’a yours?” His whisper in your ear startled you out of your thoughts, his nose brushing against your temple tenderly as he placed a chaste kiss on your cheek.

You looked up at him and shook your head. Of all the things Steve gave up, he never gave up Bucky. And it used to confuse you, but you understood then. His blue eyes sparkling with curiosity and slight concern, his fingers tracing patterns along your collarbone with a barely-there touch that was so light it didn’t seem to exist. You finally understood. Not just Steve’s decision, but Sam’s too. And maybe you didn’t understand it fully, and that was okay, because you weren’t them, so you never would, but you understood a little bit.

“Nothing.” You shook your head, keeping your voice down so the others couldn’t hear, the conversation being a private one, “I’m just waiting for this to be over.”

He hummed, nodding in agreement, setting his chin on your head. “Me too.”

Walker started pacing the room about half way through, getting too antsy for your liking. “Shhh.” Bucky mumbled under his breath, feeling you tense as Walker started talking. “It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

“He knows what he’s doing.” Bucky stated confidently, straightening slightly from his leaning position, arms falling from your form. The two of you exchanged glances as Walker checked the clock over on the far wall, blocked from your view.

“I’m going in.” Walker strode across the room, heading for the entrance, no doubt willing to steam roll anything - anyone - in his way.

Bucky stopped him with a hand on his chest. You glanced back and forth between the two as Walker spoke, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Buck…we promised him ten minutes.” You reminded him, seeing his resolve crumble a bit. You could guess he was thinking of the nightmares. The people he couldn’t save. The blood he already considered on his hands.

Walker used his moment of hesitation, shoving past him roughly. “I’m not waiting.”

“John!”

“Walker!”

You followed after him, you and Bucky arguing with him and Hoskins about giving Sam more time, but it was too late.

“Karli Morgenthau! You’re under arrest!”

“Fuck.” You hissed out when you saw Sam’s panicked expression, looking at you confused. Walker was flown across the room when Karli punched him, Bucky shoving Hoskins out of the way to run after her.

“Y/N-”

You threw your hands up. “I tried, Sam! C’mon!”

You and Sam ran over to some stairs, turning corners and trying to remember what the building looked like from outside to cut her off, but you only ran into Bucky again. 

“I wish we had the layout or something.” You grumbled. “We were that close-”

“We’re not done yet, doll.” Nodding, you followed the boys out, Bucky pausing every so often to try to hear anything. “I’ve got gunshots.” At that, the three of you took off towards the sound, Bucky leading the way.

Just around the corner from where Bucky heard the gunshots, you thought you saw a couple people slip around another bend. Noticing you had stopped, Bucky backtracked. “You okay?’

“Yeah.” Deciding it wasn’t worth the pursuit, you turned to him and nodded towards the doorway Sam already went through. He gave you a look, but nodded and the two of you jogged into the room.

You sighed heavily, seeing Zemo knocked out on the floor, Walker standing over him and broken vials that were previously full of, what you assumed was, the Serum. Hoskins ran in right after you, meaning no one but Walker and Zemo knew what happened. Meaning you would probably never get the full, true story.

What fun it is to work with manipulators and liars.

********************

“I don’t like him.” Bucky grumbled, the two of you walking up to the place you were staying in, Bucky holding the door open for you.

“I know you don’t, Buck. I don’t either.” You had asked Bucky to go with you to get some fresh air once you got back, Zemo having woken up a few minutes after and Walker and Hoskins had to make a call or something official like the good soldiers they were. “He’s hiding something.”

“You think?” Bucky scoffed, giving you a look.

You rolled your eyes. “I mean…I don’t know. When we found him and Zemo…my gut twisted.”

He nodded in understanding, his face twisting into a scowl. “Yeah. Mine did too.”

You stopped him before you could walk through the door to the main room. “Do me a favor?” He nodded again with a little hum. Catching his chin between your fingers, your free hand moved to smooth out the creases between his brow. “Stop brooding so much. It makes me worried.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, features softening slightly. “Are you really gonna leave in the morning? I know you’ve had a lot of people telling you to take a break, and it’s selfish for me to ask you to stay, but…I dunno if I can finish this without you.”

“I-” You sighed, ducking your head as you thought of a response, before looking up in his wide eyes, begging for you to stick around longer. “Let’s just finish the day and see what happens next. Okay?”

He bit his lip, nodding slightly. You gave him a smile, before tugging on his hand. “I need a drink.”

He chuckled at that. “That I can fix, doll.” He, again, opened the door for you, and the two of you walked in.

“What a gentleman. Straight outta the 40’s.” You joked, making him roll his eyes.

He took off his jacket, heading to the kitchen, while you sat on the opposite side of the island. “Somethin’s not right about Walker.”

Sam gave you two an amused look. “You don’t say.”

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one.” He opened the lid of the bottle he grabbed, starting to pour two glasses of whiskey for the both of you. “Because I am crazy.”

You rolled your eyes as Sam responded, “can’t argue with that.”

“You shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

Giving Bucky a disapproving look over the rim of your glass, you sipped your drink, narrowing your eyes when he ignored you. “I didn’t give him the shield.”

“Well Steve definitely didn’t.”

Your glass slammed down on the counter. Why did he have to bring this up right now? Seriously? You were just having a nice conversation about places you wanted to visit while taking a walk outside. Why was he suddenly snapping?

Before you could scold him, the doors burst open, making your head whip over as Walker stormed in, “ordering” you to hand over Zemo.

You stayed sitting, leaning on the counter and facing the opposite wall as Sam told him off, giving an amused snicker as you sipped your drink. Bucky sat besides you, facing Walker, and you recognized from the angle he was positioning himself that he was blocking you from Walker’s view, whether intentional or not.

You raised an eyebrow, turning in interest when Walker put down the shield, knowing Sam wasn’t about to fight the man. What an ego the blonde had.

Before anything could happen, however, a spear pierced through the air, lodging in the pillar next to Walker’s head.

Your frustration with Bucky’s comment flew out of your head as Ayo and a few other Dora Milaje walked in. Bucky sat up straighter and you stood up, leaning ever so slightly against his arm.

You nearly facepalmed, a sound of complete disbelief leaving you as Walker introduced himself. Sam looked over at you two, an entertained, slightly incredulous smile on his face.

Sam tried warning him. He really did. But Walker, you’ve come to find, was an arrogant, egotistical narcissist who only wanted to win and would do whatever it takes to do so. Even when there wasn’t really a winner. At least, not in that situation. It seemed that Walker liked ignoring the gray area in the world, which wasn’t good. Not in the least.

Which is why you couldn’t really feel sorry for the man. You saw it coming as soon as he told them they didn’t have jurisdiction. And the moment he touched Ayo?

You put your chin on Bucky’s shoulder - who had stood up from his spot - watching the Dora Milaje kick Walker’s ass, wincing and cringing mockingly at the right moments, making Bucky smirk at you.

“We should do something.” Sam said, although he didn’t look thrilled about the prospect.

Bucky crossed his arms. “Looking strong, John!”

You gave a slight snort, not wanting to encourage anything, but unable to hold in your amusement. Bucky winked at you, clinking his cup of whiskey with your own, before taking a gulp.

“Bucky.” 

You huffed and stepped back at Sam’s tone. “C’mon, Buck.”

“Fine.” Bucky grunted. “But ‘M not happy about it.”

Soon, the three of you, plus Walker and Hoskins, were all occupied with a member of the Dora Milaje. You knew you couldn’t take them; they were on a higher level that Natasha, and you could barely beat her. But you weren’t necessarily trying to win.

It was a strange fight, knowing that no one - except Walker, probably - actually wanted to hurt anyone. Of course, that didn’t stop one of them from exploiting your injured shoulder that she spotted rather quickly. The hits were quick and precise, the tip of her spear cutting along the graze, hitting the spot just perfect enough to reopen it. The stitches that had been placed only a couple days ago ripped, making you wince and clutch your now bleeding shoulder.

“Oh fuck.” You groaned. “You were always good with those things.”

She gave you an almost apologetic look, before she looked over to Ayo, who stepped through the room towards the bathroom where Zemo had locked himself in during the chaos.

When you caught sight of the shoulder thing she did to Bucky, his metallic arm now laying on the floor, his eyes wide and his stance stunned, your jaw nearly dropped. You guessed it made sense that they had a way to do that, but, still. None of you were expecting it.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asked once they started leaving, Bucky picking up his arm and connecting it to his shoulder.

“No.” The arm whirred as he swung it, getting it back to normal.

You couldn’t help the little giggle that left you, making Bucky raise an eyebrow at you. You tried holding in more laughs, but they just kept coming. “She-she...she disarmed you!”

Bucky rolled his eyes as you chortled, holding your stomach and bending over. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“Oh come on!” You straightened and wiped your eyes. “That was good! Wasn’t it, Sammy?”

Sammy chuckled and nodded. “I’ll admit, it was pretty good. This, however, is not.”

Your laughter died as Sam made his way over to the bathroom, the light air that came with your cackles dissipating as quickly as it came.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo.”

You stared at the drain that was uncovered - large enough for Zemo to slip inside and escape. He did it. The son of a bitch finally did it. It took him long enough. You would’ve betted against him days ago.

“I can.” Bucky turned and grabbed your hand. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

*********************

“I thought you told them.”

Bucky looked up from wrapping your shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “What?”

“I thought you told them. The Dora Milaje. Wakanda. T’Challa. I thought you told them about Zemo.”

He leaned back with a sigh. “It was kinda a last minute decision. You know that. You were there.”

You nodded. “I do. But I also know what they’ve done for you. Shuri and Ayo. I was there for that, too. And you know what he did to them. To their country. Their king.”

“I know, I know. I almost died several times because of it.”

Your eyebrows pinched in confusion. “So why-”

“I thought it’d be quick. I thought, maybe, I could do it without them finding out and then we could get to Karli and they wouldn’t be disappointed. Win win.”

Your cheek caught between your teeth as you thought. “You could’ve just asked-”

He shook his head. “They would’ve said no. You know that.”

“Okay. Fine. Yes. I know that. But…but giving them a warning would’ve been better than this.” He hung his head, closing his eyes. “Bucky. Hey,” hooking a finger under his chin, you tilted his head back up to look at you. “I know it’s been hard for you. Everything has. And I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I shouldn’t have let you come along. You should be healing, and it’s my fault you’re not.” He opened his mouth, face scrunching up in disagreement, but you shook your head. “It’s true. I just…I didn’t know it would come this far.” You gnawed on your bottom lip studying those captivating eyes, before sighing. “Which is why I’m not leaving.”

He perked up, those pretty eyes going wide, jaw slackening. “You-you’re not?!”

You shook your head. As much as you wanted to run away, you couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. “It wouldn’t be fair to you or Sam. I promised to help, and I brought you into it. So I’m gonna stay.

“Are you, uh…are you sure? You don’t hafta if you don’t wanna, doll. I know I kinda pushed you earlier, but-”

“I’m sure Buck.” You nodded firmly. “Just…do something for me?”

“I dunno if I can promise not brooding, sweetheart.”

You giggled at his words. “Not that. Just…stop giving Sam a hard time. About the shield. Please.”

His soft features hardened and he scowled. “If he didn’t give it up-”

“He thought it was going to the museum. I told you about that, remember? I told you we’d go when I got back.”

Giving a slight nod, he sighed. “We never did.”

“We will. But, I’m serious, Buck. Please. It’s not his fault. He did exactly what Steve did.” At Bucky’s confused look, you pursed your lips, looking down at his hands, starting to play with his fingers. “Remember how I was thinking during those ten minutes we had?” He nodded. “I was thinking about how Steve gave the shield back to Tony. After saving you. In Siberia. You remember that?” Another nod was given, so you continued. “It was for you, James. Because you made him realize that he didn’t want to be the face of a country that preached one thing, but did another. And that’s what Sam did. He did it for his family. For himself. Because no one wants to fight for a country that goes against your personal beliefs, no matter what they say.”

“I-I don’t understand.” Bucky’s eyes squinted, his brow creasing as he tried processing what you were telling him.

“That’s okay. Not everyone will. Really only they can understand their own reasoning. But you have to try to understand that he did what he thought was best for himself. For Steve. For the shield. And I know - dammit do I know - that it’s the last thing left of him. But it is just metal. Isn’t it? Steve’s the reason it is what it is. No one else. And no one is going to change that.”

Bucky took a breath, glossy, worried eyes meeting yours. “Walker’s going to ruin it. I know he is. I can feel it. Everything Steve worked for. I don’t care about Captain America. I care about the kid from Brooklyn who wanted to make a difference, no matter how little he was. I trusted him. I followed him through bullets and blood, with only that shield between us and them. He was home on a battlefield in Italy across the ocean from New York. And that shield was the welcome mat. It doesn’t matter what it says, what it looks like…but it protected my home when I couldn’t. But now? I feel like it’s tearing my home down. Pulling out the bricks. And it hurts. It was never about the shield, Y/N. It was always about the man it protected when I couldn’t be there for him. And now?”

Gathering him in your arms as he trailed off, you gave a couple little sniffles, pressing your face in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck lightly. “I’ll be your welcome mat, Buckaroo.” You offered.

He shook his head, pulling away to hold your face between his hands. “No, sweetheart. You’re not the welcome mat. You’re the new bricks replacing the old. You’re…you’re my home, now, doll.”

You swallowed thickly, unable to handle the rush of emotions that just poured through you, the sudden change in topic making you feel more vulnerable than you’d like. You leaned forwards, placing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, feeling him go lax in your arms. “And you’re mine.” You murmured softly, before getting up and heading out for the room, unable to stay any longer. You still had a mission to do. One that became even more desperate with Zemo loose, Walker unhinged, and Karli being so close.

******************

There was a silent agreement to not bring up your conversation. Not yet, at least. Sam had eyed you both when you came out of the room, saying you were ready to get moving, but he didn’t say anything either.

None of you really knew where you were going, only what you had to do. Find Zemo and get to Karli before Walker could. Both of which were a lot easier said than done.

Until Sam got a call from Sarah, who told him Karli contacted her personally and threatened her and her sons. She left a contact number for Sam, evidently wanting to meet. His phone dinged not a minute after he texted the number.

“She said come alone.”

“Well that’s not happening.” You opposed, crossing your arms.

Bucky nodded with your sentence. “We’re coming with you.”

Sam didn’t say anything against it, the three of you exchanging glances, before heading out to the location, changing into your tactical suits along the way.

Karli didn’t seem to mind you and Bucky tagging along, and you understood why the moment she mentioned not killing Sam because he wasn’t hiding behind a shield. It was a distraction. They were going after Walker.

It was confirmed only moments later when Sharon contacted Sam. “Looks like he found them, or maybe they found him.”

As soon as Sam announced that it was Walker, you jumped into action, Sam disabling Karli for just the right amount of time for you to get a head start. “I’ll send you the location. Go.” He told Bucky, who nodded and took off in his super soldier sprint. “You hitching a ride?”

You rolled your eyes at his slight tease. “I hate this so much.” You grumbled, catching his hand as he took off in the air with his bird costume. He held onto you tightly, like the millions of times you’d done this before, although it didn’t make you any less dizzy, traveling that fast, that high, with only his hold keeping you from dropping. “You’re lucky I trust you so much!”

He gave a small chuckle at your shout over the wind. “We’re landing! Brace yourself!” You followed his order, just in time for him to break through the glass ceiling of the building Walker was in. The both of you landed on a platform on the staircase just as a Flag Smasher was thrown through double glass doors, down the stairs, and into a power box. Your eyes went wide as Walker strolled down the steps, oozing a confidence that made you nervous. The moment Walker stopped the Flag Smasher - the Super Soldier - from hitting him with the pipe, you knew even before he twisted it like a pretzel.

“Sam.” You breathed out. You couldn’t even do anything, only watching as the Flag Smasher got up from being thrown again, and running down a hall.

“What’d you do?”

“They got Lemar.” Was the only reply he gave, brushing past you and Sam. You gave Sam a look, but he just jerked his head down the hall, in the direction the Flag Smasher went and the way Walker started heading. You nodded, willing to drop it for now to save someone’s life, but you were so bringing it up once this was done.

Jogging into the room, you should’ve expected the ambush in the room, but, to be honest, they didn’t take as much advantage as they could’ve, so it wasn’t too difficult of a fight. You had trained with Steve millions of times before, so you knew how to go against a Super Soldier. Granted, your Cap wasn’t trying to kill you while training, but it was better than nothing.

You protected your shoulder, knowing that was your weak point, while trying to disguise it so whoever you were fighting wouldn’t realize your Achilles’ Heel. Something you often found while dealing with Steve, and even Bucky, was that Super Soldiers, as quick as they were, tended to favor the super strength side of their enhancements. This made it easier for you to dodge the attacks, knowing most of your blows wouldn’t do much.

Knowing you wouldn’t be able to stay on the defensive for long, you decided to try to get an advantage over them. Disarming them and taking their knife was easy enough. A small advantage, yeah, but now you had a weapon, and you could work with that.

You weren’t exactly sure when Bucky joined the fight, but he did, immediately coming over to you when you body kicked your opponent, helping you up. “That was a Steve move.” Your eyes caught sight of the Flag Smasher behind him and you shoved his shoulder down, throwing your knife, making it land solidly in the man’s shoulder. Bucky looked up at you from his crouch, impressed. “And that was a me move.”

You shrugged. “I’m a visual learner.”

You, Sam, and Bucky were about to go for another round with the guys when a sickening crack sounded behind you, and you whipped around. 

Hoskins was against a split pillar, a crimson streak running down his forehead, head lolling to the side, lips red and cracked. The fight stopped as Walker rushed over to his friend, but you knew there was no way he survived. A punch from a Super Soldier? That hard?

Eyeing the Flag Smashers, you turned to Sam and Bucky when they started dispersing, Karli running out as well. They nodded towards you and the three of you took off after her, not wanting to let her get away again and, for you, at least, wanting to give Walker some time.

You weren’t expecting his grief to turn into such raw hatred. 

Running up to the city square, you didn’t actually see it happen. Just the aftermath. Which was good, considering you nearly threw up just seeing that.

You heard the change in Bucky’s breathing, barely recognizing the way he stepped in front of you, only realizing you stepped closer when you felt his sleeve against your palms, fingers tightly wrapped around his forearm. A choked sound came from somewhere, but you didn’t know it was you, even as Bucky reached his arm around to hold your waist, keeping you behind his shoulder. 

Tears leaked down your face silently, eyes unable to look away as Walker straightened, sliding the shield on his arm, too nonchalantly for someone who just murdered another in front of a crowd full of people, cameras pointed towards him.

The shield. That piece of metal you had been wondering so deeply about the past couple of weeks. The link to the first person you’d ever loved. Ruined. Tarnished. Stained.

You could barely breathe, your throat clenching so tightly it was a wonder you were able to get anything out at all.

“James…”

[robininthelabyrinth]

✿ a cute prompt idea (inspired by several fanarts) but age reversals for the siblings (ie da-ge NHS, shixong JC, meimei WQ & JYL). could lead to cute antics, fix-it timelines, or just as much/more angst

going to call this a modern AU but it's mostly just crack

ao3

“Here, I brought the drinks,” Nie Huaisang said. “And tea for Lan Zhan, of course.”

Lan Wangji nodded in appreciation.

“Much appreciated,” Jiang Cheng said. “Is everyone here?”

“Well,” Wen Ning said hesitantly. “I mean…”

“No,” Jin Zixuan said. “By which I mean yes, everyone’s here who’s going to be here. We’re not inviting Wen Chao.”

“Definitely not. Sorry, Wen-xiong, you’re the only Wen we’re allowing in here.”

“That’s fair.”

“Enough chatter,” Jiang Cheng said, and lifted his drink. “I hereby declare this to be the opening session of Club ‘So Your Younger Sibling is More Talented Than You’. Long may we bitch about our fate.”

They all saluted and drank to that.

“As a reminder, everything that’s said in this room is subject to the strictest confidentiality,” Jiang Cheng continued after a few moments. “And no one is allowed to offer any helpful advice on how to feel better about it: we’re here to vent about our mutual insecurities, not seeking advice. Club rules. Everyone agreed?”

Agreement all around.

“So, in that case, let me start,” Jiang Cheng said. “Just last week, there was a – an incident I’d rather not going into detail about, but which got my parents to start fighting again, and which served as a beautiful illustration of how both my little sister and informally adopted brother are better than me in every possible respect. They understand the Jiang sect motto better than I do, they’re nicer than I am…sometimes I even feel like they’re better friends with each other than they are with me…”

“I mean, your sister isn’t as good a cultivator as you,” Jin Zixuan offered, though the way his cheeks turned a bit red suggested he was adding a mental even if she’s really pretty and surprisingly cool afterwards.

“No, but Wei Wuxian is. He’s a genius, innovative and brilliant; he even invents new techniques,” Jiang Cheng said gloomily, politely ignoring the subtext. “Put them together and they make the perfect Jiang sect heir.”

“…I’m sorry about that.” Jin Zixuan rubbed his eyes. “If it makes you feel better, my younger half-brother is a verifiable genius, too, especially when it comes to organizing things. And he has perfect control over his emotions the way my parents are always trying to get me to do – I mean, he smiles no matter what people say to piss him off, and people say some really stupid stuff.”

Jin Zixuan’s brother was technically a bastard and the son of a prostitute, which everyone knew, and everyone also knew how much the cultivation world loved its gossip. There were nods all around.

“You think you have a problem with geniuses,” Wen Ning said quietly, drawing a pattern on the table with one finger. “My younger sister is said to be the best doctor in the entire cultivation world – no, the best doctor the cultivation world has produced in several generations.”

“Does she invent brand new ways of doing things, too?” Jiang Cheng asked, with sympathy.

Wen Ning nodded.

“And your uncle compares you?”

“Oh, does he ever.”

“My father doesn’t compare us, though sometimes I wish he would just to get it over with and make A-Yao feel better,” Jin Zixuan said. “My mother, on the other hand…”

“Don’t get me started about mothers,” Jiang Cheng said.

“You guys think you have it bad!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “Look at my younger brother! Maybe your Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli together make up a perfect sect heir – my kid brother is a perfect Nie sect heir all by himself. Fantastic cultivator, excellent at saber, brilliant strategist, responsible, mature…and unlike Jin-gongzi’s younger brother, he's legitimate. And he’s good at the stuff my sect is good at! No offense, Wen-xiong, but the Wen sect isn’t exactly known for its doctors…”

“No, you’re right,” Wen Ning said. “That sounds awful.”

“Everyone’s always comparing us,” Nie Huaisang said. “It’s always ‘Nie-gongzi, why can’t you be more like your brother?’, ‘Nie-gongzi, look how hard your brother is working’, ‘Nie-gongzi, your brother – your brother – your brother!’”

He sighed.

“I can’t even get angry at him,” he confessed. “He takes things so personally – any time he overhears someone saying something like that, he gets all up in arms on my behalf, saying that I’m trying my best…you don’t know how aggravating it can be, knowing he really is that great!”

Lan Wangji cleared his throat.

Everyone looked at him.

“Yeah, all right,” Jiang Cheng said. “You win. As usual.”

“Yeah, no contest,” Nie Huaisang said, and Wen Ning and Jin Zixuan nodded. “We may all be bad off, but at least we don’t have Lan ‘Perfect Gentleman, Most Desirable Bachelor, Nice and Friendly and Plays Multiple Instruments, Is Brilliant at Swordsmanship and Cultivation All Together At Once’ Xichen as our younger brother.”

Lan Wangji nodded firmly, though he looked a little smug.

His position as king of the club was unshakeable.

[seijorhi]

Pretty Young Thing

A yandere Erasermic commission for an anon, I hope you like it bby!!

Aizawa Shouta x reader x Hizashi Yamada

TW non-con, breeding kink, pregnancy, surrogacy, pregnant sex, smut, age-gap, nsfw

“Don’t you think she’s a little young, ‘Zashi?”

“It’s up to you both how involved you are during the first stages and the overall pregnancy. Normally we suggest an initial meeting with the potential surrogate for all three of you to get a feel for one another and decide if you want to proceed with the arrangement, but should you wish, we can–”

“No,” he interrupts, sparing Hizashi a fleeting glance. “We want to meet her.”

Beneath the desk, his husband squeezes his hand. 

Hizashi quirks an eyebrow, pausing midway through fixing his hair in the mirror. “Whaddya mean, babe? She’s in her twenties ain’t she?”

He’s not wrong, but that’s not the issue. They picked you, they both picked you, but there’s this lingering unease that he can’t seem to shake. It’s not so much your age specifically, he knows that you’re only a few years younger than the majority of the other women whose profiles they’d seen – you’re old enough to understand what you’re getting yourself into and agree to it, at any rate – it’s just that he doesn’t quite understand why somebody your age would want to do this.

And there’s something different about you, it’s just a feeling of course – he hasn’t yet had a chance to confirm his suspicions, but he wants to meet you and decide for himself.

“We do have a number of potential surrogates with promising Quirks if you’re considering pursuing that option for your child,” the Doctor told them, smiling as they flipped through page after page of profiles.

Hisako, 35, Quirk: Sun-flare

Nozumi, 26, Quirk: Mimic

Koharu, 28, Quirk: Seismic Wave

Chiyoko, 33, Quirk: Golden Whip

Yuzuki, 32, Quirk: Silencer

There’s dozens of them – which is more than he expected. 

Aizawa knew coming in that this wasn’t normally the process, that this agency catered specifically to Heroes – was recommended by the Hero commission – but it still feels strange, just browsing through pages upon pages of potential candidates to carry their baby. 

Was he supposed to be feeling some kind of emotion looking at these profiles? The women were all healthy, each of them attractive, in their own ways (nothing but the very best, the Doctor had reassured them with a smile). This woman, whoever they picked, she’d be carrying their baby, yes, but that was the extent of it. She wasn’t going to be a part of their lives beyond that, so what did it matter if she was nice or liked to cook or play tennis?

There were stats, of course. Their education and IQ’s and little snippets of history, but they were all impressive, otherwise they wouldn’t have been included. Were they supposed to choose based on their Quirk? One that might compliment his or Zashi’s? Quirks were troublesome things to begin with, and–

“Wait-wait, Shou, hold up,” Hizashi’s voice cut through his musings, long fingers wrapping around his wrist midway through turning the page. “Go back one.”

He does as he’s told, flicking the page back.

Y/N, 23, Quirk: N/A.

A lone eyebrow lifts. Quirkless, huh? A blank slate.

But that’s not what caught Hizashi’s eye.

“She’s kinda cute, don’tcha think, baby?”

It feels weirdly like a first date, nervous jitters and all – though he’d like to believe he’s better at suppressing that now then back when he was a teenager. Aizawa hasn’t bothered to shave, but his hair’s tied back in a loose bun and he’s pulled out a suit for the occasion – he’s even wearing a tie for fuck’s sake. Beside him, Hizashi’s ditched his usual leather jacket and ripped jeans for, well, nicer jeans and a button up floral shirt.

And then there’s you. Standing in the doorway of the cafe glancing around like a little lost lamb, he recognises you instantly from the picture on your profile, but the moment your eyes meet his he’s struck with the realisation that the picture didn’t truly do you justice.

Because you do look young (at least compared to their thirty odd years) and it might just be the hesitant smile adorning your face as you start to make your way over, or the charming little summer dress falling to your mid-thigh, swishing hypnotically with every step, but Shouta feels something catch in his chest the more he stares. You really are… what was the word ‘Zashi had used? Cute?

Yeah. You were cute. 

The agency had offered to host this little meetup at their clinic, and while he hadn’t particularly cared one way or the other, Hizashi’d been insistent. He’d wanted this to feel ‘natural’. 

‘I don’t really wanna meet our potential baby mama for the first time in some boring, sterile office, d’you?”

He’d only bitten back a sigh at the time, shaking his head. It wouldn’t have been worth upsetting him by reminding him that the girl was technically a glorified incubator. He had every intention of being involved in this process, but this initial meeting was to establish two things. Firstly, that after meeting them, you still felt comfortable with carrying their baby, and secondly, he wanted to make absolutely certain that you weren’t trying to get anything out of this.

Oh, he knew you were getting paid, handsomely, he’s sure, but the thought that you, or any of the women the agency had fobbed their way might not all be in this for altruistic reasons had crossed his mind. 

You were just so young.

But he was more than happy to determine those two things in a ten minute meeting at the agency. 

Hizashi was not, and so here they are. 

Ten minutes in, and he finds himself glad of his husband’s insistence. Hands wrapped around your mug of coffee (you should enjoy it while you can) you chatter away with Hizashi, beaming and blushing, tripping over your own words in your nervousness. 

You’re about as dangerous as a kitten, and he allows himself to relax enough in his seat to enjoy watching the blonde charm you. 

“So why don’t ya tell us a little about yourself, songbird?”

“There’s really not all that much to tell,” you say with a sheepish laugh, but they listen as you talk anyway. It’s nothing the profile hadn’t already told them, nothing spectacular that would make you stand out in the crowd. 

And yet, an hour and a half later, you’re trying in vain to distract him and Hizashi both so that you can slip your card in with the bill to pay for lunch, and Shouta finds himself oddly amused.

There were other candidates – ones with impressive Quirks, smarter than you, more accomplished than you, older than you–

“Ya sure you don’t want a lift, sweetheart? It’s no trouble.”

You smile again, demure little thing, and shake your head. “Oh no, really it’s okay. It’s not far and… I like the walk. Thank you, though.”

– but none nearly so endearing, he thinks. 

And when they watch you disappear into the crowd, one final wave thrown over your shoulder, Hizashi’s fingers lace with his once more.

“So she’s our baby mama, huh?

He’s silent for a moment. “I suppose so.”

—

The agency recommended, at least in the initial stages before the implantation procedure took place, that any communication between the three of you should go through them. 

Hizashi had your number programmed into his phone before you’d even left the cafe, and he’s been texting you every day since – to the point where it wasn’t unusual for Shouta to come downstairs and find Mic chuckling to himself, fingers dancing across the keyboard on his phone as he replies to whatever message you’ve sent. 

Shouta, for his part, tends to message only to check in.

How are you feeling? Any side effects from the meds?

Your response comes a little slower than usual, and it’s almost an hour before finally he receives it.

Sorry they’re cracking down on us using our phones at work :( 

Everything’s good so far! The doc said i should be on track for our appointment next week!

… is it weird that I’m a little excited haha?

His brow furrows at that. You hadn’t mentioned a job – at least not to him, he’d have to ask Hizashi later whether you'd said anything to him. 

Why on earth were you still working? He’d seen the contracts, he knew exactly how much you were getting paid for this little venture, wasn’t that enough to support you?

He makes a brief mental note to make sure that whatever job you were working at, you stopped long before the baby was due. You might just be a surrogate, but he’d be damned if his baby was put in jeopardy because you were needlessly exerting yourself. 

Nevertheless, his expression softens somewhat as he reads the second part of your message. You were excited, hm? 

Well, that made three of you.

Both he and Hizashi’d been willing to come along to the clinic with you – he’d even submitted a formal leave request to take the day off from UA, but the Doctor had assured him that it wasn’t necessary.

“The procedure is quick and relatively painless. She’ll be home within a few hours, and so long as she remains off her feet and doesn’t undertake any strenuous activity, she will be perfectly fine.”

It hadn’t sat particularly well with Hizashi who’d spent the afternoon huffing and complaining about the clinic trying to kick them both out of the process. That much, he expected – he understood it to an extent; the agency catered specifically to Heroes, most of their clientele probably had busy schedules (which was true in their case as well). There wasn’t a need for them to be present at such a minor procedure, even if it did hopefully mark the beginnings of your pregnancy. 

What he hadn’t expected was the twinge of discontent he felt settle in his own stomach. The Doc might’ve preferred they stay out of this, but at the end of the day he really didn’t give a shit what she or the agency wanted.

So he messaged you.

Do you want us there with you?

He watches those three little dots bounce for almost a solid minute before finally your reply comes through.

No, it’s okay, you don’t have to come. The Doc said it wouldn’t take long and I don’t wanna be a burden for you guys

It’s not really an answer to his question, and he briefly wonders if Hizashi might be right about the agency interfering, but he’s not going to fight you on it. 

At least, that’s his plan until Principal Nezu pulls him aside at the end of a staff meeting and tells him that he’s found somebody to cover his classes tomorrow if he still wants the day off. 

“Ya gotta go, babe. One of us should be there for our ‘lil mama.”

He asks you what time your appointment is and there’s a surprisingly pleasant fluttering in his stomach when you walk through the clinic doors and catch sight of him sitting in the waiting room.

It’s a momentary surprise – you almost do a double take, but a smile lights your face and you ignore the receptionist in favour of racing towards him. 

“Shouta, I thought you weren’t coming!” Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing tightly.

He finds himself returning your hug – albeit somewhat stiffly – but he’s glad he made the decision to come. The Doctor wasn’t wrong, you’re only in with her for just under twenty minutes, and when you come out there’s a tremble in your legs, but you seem otherwise fine.

It goes without saying that he’s driving you home, though you try once again to beg him off.

Kitten, when are you gonna learn that so long as you’re carrying his and ‘Zashi’s child, they’re going to go out of their way to make things easier for you – whether you want them to or not.

Yet your quiet discomfort on the drive home doesn’t slip past his attention. Maybe it’s because he’s become accustomed to your nervous rambling, but there’s something odd about the way you’re sitting so quietly, fingers twisting in your lap as you stare out the window. He knows that if Hizashi was here, he’d be chatting your ear off, but he’s never been one to fill silence with unnecessary small talk.

Though he can’t exactly help the way his own mind drifts. Are you in pain? The Doc didn’t say anything about there being any pain, only that you should rest over the next few days, so it shouldn’t be that. Perhaps you’re just lost in your thoughts – it’s strange for them having a surrogate, he can only imagine what’s going through your own head now that it’s actually begun. He hopes that you aren’t having second thoughts, almost opens his mouth to ask before thinking better of it.

You’re entitled to your thoughts and feelings, whatever they may be, and if you wanted to talk to him about them, you would. 

It’s not until the scenery outside starts to change and the fancy sky-scrapers give way to dingy apartment blocks and dilapidated buildings, crammed in together too tightly that he realises that it’s not discomfort that’s written across your face, but embarrassment.

This was your neighbourhood?

Shouta recognises it, and really he should have picked up on it earlier when you’d given him the address – he’s spent more than a few nights patrolling the area. It’s a hotspot, not for the high-class, dangerous villains plastered across the news every night, but thieves and murderers. Petty thugs who prey on the weak, those addicted, with nowhere else to go… you live here?

Surely with the money you’re getting from the agency, and your job on top of that, you can afford a better neighbourhood.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, watches as you all but shrink into your seat, and when you speak, your voice is little more than a whisper.

“You can just drop me off at the corner here.”

He pulls the car to a stop by the curb, and for a moment neither of you speak. He doesn’t know what to say, and judging from the way you’re nibbling on your bottom lip and glancing up at him, you don’t either. 

“I–”

“Thank you,” you cut him off with a tight smile. “For coming today, and for… this. I-I really do appreciate it.” 

The words aren’t quite sincere, but he only nods – noting the miniscule sigh that escapes your lips at the action. “Of course. Anytime you need us, just call, okay.” He waits for you to nod before continuing, “Do as the Doc said, rest.”

You all but scamper from the car after saying another goodbye, though Shouta waits until you’ve disappeared into the crumbling apartment block before driving off.

Maybe the inside is nicer, but he sincerely doubts it.

—

“You should’ve seen it, ‘Zashi.” The two of them are curled up on the love-seat, half empty containers of takeout littering the coffee table in front of them. “I just can’t figure out why she’d be living somewhere like that.” 

The blonde frowns. He’d been messaging you throughout the afternoon, so he knew that the appointment had gone fine. It wasn’t that he expected to come home and find the erasure Hero jumping for joy, but the subtle discontent on Shouta’s face had been enough to make him pause. 

“You’re worried about our ‘lil songbird?” he asks, pushing away just enough so that he could turn to study his face. 

The short nod says plenty. Of course he is – even if you weren’t potentially carrying his child, you’re young, beautiful and far too innocent for your own good. In places like that, you were easy pickings, and you don’t even have a Quirk to protect yourself. His job requires him to assess his students’ strengths, their failings and weaknesses and their progress. He doesn’t need to see you in action to know that you wouldn’t be able to hold your own in a fight. 

It bothers him. 

“She’s not safe there.”

Hizashi hums, but instead of settling back against his husband’s side, he straightens up further. “Well, why don’t we go take a look-see, huh handsome? Make sure our sweet thing’s pad’s all safe ‘n sound, put your mind at ease. Whaddya say?”

As he stares into those imploring green eyes, Shouta knows that he should say no. 

Concerned or not, there’s still a line, privacy that should be respected. He’s tired and this is the only night that they both have off this week. Your place is almost twenty minutes from theirs, and it’s already late – almost midnight. The list goes on, there are a thousand reasons that he should say no.

“Fine. Just for tonight.”

—

Two weeks later, the two Heroes receive a call from the agency; the blood test came back positive – you’re pregnant. 

In the blink of an eye, at least to Shouta, this becomes startlingly real. You’re pregnant. They’re going to have a baby. Boy, girl, it doesn’t matter… You’re pregnant, and as his husband ends the call and yanks him by his collar into a fierce kiss, he realises how important this is.

How important you are, just by the virtue of carrying their baby.

They invite you over for dinner to celebrate, and while he’s never been one to flaunt the comfortable lifestyle he and Hizashi have, he does find it strangely pleasing to watch you wonder wide eyed through their apartment. He’d be the first to admit it’s big – bigger than they’d ever probably need, though with the baby on the way maybe they’ll finally be able to make use of all that extra space.

Mic grabs you by the hand, eagerly dragging you towards the nursery he’s already begun setting up. “Once I heard the good news, I just couldn’t wait to get started! Our little rockstar’s gonna have the sweetest crib, don’tcha think? Ain’t it amazing?” 

He’s already started painting and there’s a wooden cot halfway assembled and the beginnings of a musical mobile pushed off to the side waiting for him to return to it. It’s hardly close to being finished, but you just grin, gazing at the mural he’s started on the walls. “It’s amazing,” you say.

“I knew ya’d like it!” he beams.

Shouta hangs back as Hizashi guides you through the rest of the apartment, chattering excitedly away. He likes seeing his husband happy, and somehow you manage to bring it out of him without even trying. It’s still early days but Shouta has to admit that already you’re more to him and Hizashi than he expected, or even anticipated. You fit well with them, seamlessly, as if you’d always been a part of their lives.

After dinner, they drive you home despite your protests, and Hizashi insists they walk you up to your apartment. You’re no doubt under the impression that they’re doing it to be gentlemanly, missing the shared looks between the two men as they pass the out of order elevator and tread down hallways with stained carpet and peeling wallpaper, ignoring the leering yellow eyes of your neighbour, peeking out from the crack in the doorway as they bid you goodnight, ‘Zashi squeezing you extra tight.

There’s an uncharacteristic hardness in his husband’s eyes as they both slip back into the car, “No way in hell are we lettin’ her stay here.”

On that at least, there’s no arguments from him.

—

Hizashi, unsurprisingly, is the one to bring it up.

The three of you are grabbing a bite to eat after your first ultrasound. This time, both of them had been insistent on being there, and he’s glad they were. Seeing that grainy image of their baby, hearing it’s heartbeat – strong and steady – had filled him with an emotion he’d never felt before.

It was happiness and excitement and wonder and awe all mixed up and wrapped into a gut punch that stole his breath away, and while Hizashi had burst into a loud fit of tears, burying his face in Shouta’s neck while reaching for your hand, he’d managed to keep his own at bay.

Mostly. 

Regardless, you have little choice but to indulge them when they drag you out to one of the blonde’s favourite restaurants – on the proviso that they had you home in time to get ready for work.

“Songbird, there’s something the two of us have been meanin’ to ask ya.”

You perk up a little, hastily swallowing down your mouthful of food so you can reply, “Oh?”

He wonders if you notice the way your hand already instinctively drifts to your stomach, your barely there baby bump. 

“Why’re ya livin’ in a place like that, sweetheart?” You freeze, the corners of your smile slipping, but Hizashi continues, “Ain’t the money from the agency enough? We know you’re working that other job as well… we just…”

Shouta can physically feel you tensing like a bunny caught in a trap, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to reach out, sliding a hand across the table as you pale, but you take it regardless. 

“Talk to us. Please,” he begs. “We just want to understand what’s going on. You have to realise that it’s not exactly a safe neighbourhood, and it’s not just you we have to worry about anymore.” Dark eyes flicker pointedly towards your stomach. 

It’s a dirty tactic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the truth. Did you realise how much danger you were truly in? Not just from the common street thugs – though frankly he thinks it’s nothing short of a miracle that you’d managed to get this far unscathed – but any number of villains with a grudge against either one of them, or Heroes in general. If they found out a pretty, quirkless thing like you was carrying their baby, how long do you think it would take before they tracked you down and kicked through your door?

Your eyes flicker between the two of them, and you swallow shakily. “I-it’s…” you break off, taking a deep, steadying breath, “It’s all I can afford right now.”

“But, hun, what about–”

“I know,” you say. “The money for the surrogacy isn’t for me. It’s money I owe.”

Neither Hero speaks a word as you talk, telling them about your uncle, the man who raised you, how his business went under a few years back and you both lost almost everything.

Shouta isn’t surprised to find out that your uncle turned to loan sharks when the banks turned him away and threatened to take your house. Alarmed at the man’s blatant stupidity, yes, but not surprised. Your eyes start to water when you tell them about how he died a few months back – a hit and run –  and the visit you were paid only a week later, informing you that your uncle’s debts were now yours, and payment had better come through quick. 

Your hand’s trembling in his by the time you finish. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t have any options, I didn’t know how else to get the money, and they said that i-if I didn’t pay up, they-they’d–” a sob catches you unawares, and once again it’s Hizashi who’s out of his seat and at your side in a heartbeat, sliding into the booth beside you, pulling you into a one armed embrace. 

It’s his eyes that you meet, and Shouta understands. He doesn’t need you to explain what threats were made. You were scared, terrified probably, and you had every right to be. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you sniffle. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Really, he should be furious. Disappointed at the very least. 

“Move in with us,” he says instead, ignoring your sudden, startled intake of breath. “At least until the baby comes.”

He should be, but this works better.

—

It takes a little longer than he’d like to convince you, but the two of them wear you down and a few weeks later Shouta finds himself carting boxes of your things up into the spare room in their apartment.

Despite the fact that you’re pregnant with their baby, you’re terrified of being a burden to the two Heroes, but it’s because of the baby that you eventually relent.

They want to be close, involved. They want to know that you’re safe – and their apartment’s state of the art security system will make sure of that when they’re not home with you. They want to make sure that you’re not exerting yourself, that you’re eating the right things and not running yourself ragged at a job you don’t need, stressing yourself out needlessly and putting the baby at risk.

All of that’s true. 

It’s just not the entire reason. 

At first, he convinces himself that it’s for Hizashi, as well as his own peace of mind, but he’s starting to wonder if that’s the full truth of it. Because of course he wants to keep a close eye on the pregnancy – he knows that this can’t be easy on you. You have no family left, and if you have any friends then they’ve done an excellent job of keeping you at arm's length. 

You have nobody but them, and it does bring him some modicum of peace to know that you’re just down the hall if anything goes wrong. 

Hizashi adores having you there with them, having somebody else to cook for, somebody to come home to at the end of a long day. More than a few times, they’ve both returned from a night of patrolling to find you curled up on the couch, fast asleep with a blanket over your legs and a book slipping from your fingers, having tried, and failed, to wait up from them.

You tune into Mic’s radio show on the nights you can’t sleep, and on the odd mornings that you wake up before either of them, they come downstairs to find bacon sizzling away in the pan, a pot of coffee already brewing. There’s something oddly charming about the way you pout while you pour it for them, knowing you can’t have any yourself.

“You’re a special kind of masochist, ya know?” Hizashi teases, sidling up beside you to grab a cup.

You sigh dejectedly. “I must be,” you reply as he plants a kiss on your cheek and squeezes your side affectionately, but it’s impossible to miss the sparkle in your eyes. You’re happy here, with them. 

Shouta warns you from pushing yourself too much, but even he can notice the apartment’s tidier when they arrive home than when they left, the freshly baked goods sitting on the countertop that weren’t there yesterday.

“I just… I know I can’t pay you back for all of this, I just wanna make myself useful,” you tell him one night when he asks about it. “I still feel like I’m taking advantage of the both of you, staying here…”

“You’re carrying our baby, that’s enough,” he reminds you, his calm, steady voice brooking no disagreement. And yet, as dark eyes study your face, he can tell that it’s not enough for you, so he sighs, and in a quiet voice adds, “We like having you here.”

He likes having you there. Sitting at the dining room table, helping him grade papers, lounging around on their rare days off together – helping Mic set up the nursery, volunteering to go shopping with them for baby stuff. He’s lost count of how many pregnancy books you’ve bought, pouring over them with a fine tooth comb late at night – often falling asleep in the process, leaving him and Hizashi to carry you off to bed with a barely there kiss to your forehead.

You fit between them in a way he hadn’t quite expected. Not a burden, not an interloper, but as if there was always a place carved out for you with them, and it’s only now that they realise that there was something missing to begin with. 

It doesn’t quite click until he finds his thoughts drifting towards you at work, his fingers drumming along the top of his desk so he can stop himself from reaching for his phone. He’s not usually so distracted teaching, and as the hours drag he finds himself glancing towards the clock on the wall, counting down the hours, minutes, until the day is done and they can return home to you.

Shouta can’t pretend for much longer that there isn’t something oddly satisfying watching your belly grow and your breasts swell as your pregnancy goes on. You’re glowing, and soft and beautiful, and he could kid himself and say that it’s just the normal effects of pregnancy, but there’s some part of him that’s strangely proud when your shirt rides up and he catches a glimpse of your baby bump – knowing it’s his child you’re carrying. His and ‘Zashi’s and yours.

And oh, he wishes that it was only pride that burns through his veins at the sight of you, barefoot and pregnant, pottering around the apartment. Hizashi’s the one to hold back your hair and rub your back soothingly when your morning sickness hits, but it’s Shouta who takes care of you when you start complaining about aching muscles and joints.

He tells himself that it’s purely about comfort, namely yours, ignoring the way you flush and stutter when he drags you up the stairs and pushes you gently towards the bed, telling you to lie down on your side. 

It’s just a massage, yet the moment his fingers run along your soft skin and a breathy moan slips from parted lips, the very last vestiges of the facade he’d built up in his head crumble into dust. 

You’re perfection. Bared and beautiful beneath him, making the prettiest noises for him as he works away at your muscles, expertly releasing all of your tension. He’s glad that your eyes are shut and you’re lost to the bliss, you don’t notice the way his breath hitches and becomes rough and heavy, the way his cock twitches in his sweats, blood flowing south as you arc into his touch. 

Such a responsive little thing, aren’t you?

“You’re amazing,” you moan, and though you can’t see that either, Shouta smirks. “Please never stop.”

It’s a good thing he has restraint, because it’s taking absolutely all of his to stop himself from taking more. 

He wants all of you. 

Wants to tease and taste.

Take.

Wants to hear those pretty fucking moans take the shape of his name… Hizashi’s name.

And maybe he might have felt guilty for those perverse thoughts, for the way he wants to tear the rest of your clothes off and fuck you nice and proper, breed you–

If his husband hadn't been standing by the door, watching the two of you for the last ten minutes. Shouta doesn’t need to look to know that it’s not anger or jealousy burning in his gaze.

He knows that his husband’s far from disgusted, knows it from the way Hizashi grabs his wrist on his way back down the hallway, pulling him instead to their bedroom and shoving him back onto the mattress with a wicked grin.

There’s something positively feral in the blonde’s expression as he hovers over him, forcing Shouta back down with a hand splayed across his chest, the other reaching down to his sweats to free his aching, needy cock.

“You’ve been holding out on me, baby,” he sings.

—

They have time.

Your due date is still months away, and you’re comfortable, here with them. 

There’s no reason for you to consider leaving until the baby’s born, and Shouta is adamant about keeping it that way. Hizashi can huff and puff and moan all he likes, he knows that they have to take this thing with you slowly. He won’t risk spooking you and losing any chance they have.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t empathise with the blonde, what with all the affectionate hugs and touches you thoughtlessly bestow, the way you’ll plonk yourself down on the couch between them so they can feel when the baby’s kicking.

Hizashi’s gotten to the stage where he’ll drop to his knees to shower your stomach in kisses when he gets home of an evening before sweeping you up into a hug of your own, his face a mask of perfect innocence when he catches sight of his husband’s less than impressed expression over your shoulder. 

Having you here with them, this little temporary faux family dynamic the three of you have found yourselves in is easy, domestic and nice. It should be enough, but it’s not.

“It’ll be weird, going home after this,” you hum absentmindedly one night.

Preoccupied with the noodles you’re toying with in your bowl, you miss the sharp look shared between both men.

“Whaddya mean, sweetheart?”

If you notice the odd stiffness to the words, you pay it no mind, simply shrugging. “I mean once the baby’s born. I dunno, I think I’ve become too comfortable here freeloading off of the two of you…” you glance up, smiling a little. “Going back to work and finding a place on my own again, starting fresh, it’ll be different, that’s all. Not bad different,” you hasten to clarify at the blonde’s nearly stricken face, “just… different.”

“Well it’s not like we’re gonna be forcing ya out, hun! You’re always welcome to jam with us for as long as you want.”

You shake your head with a rueful little laugh, “We both know I can’t do that. You’ll have the baby to worry about and the last thing I want is to feel like some awkward interloper, always getting in the way – especially after everything you guys have done for me.”

Hizashi’s fingers dig into the meat of his thigh, tightening with every word out of your mouth.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not saying I’m never going to come around to hang out or anything, but once this baby comes I’m gonna have to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.” Your eyes meet his, wide and hopeful, and Shouta’s reminded once again of just how young you really are. “I can go anywhere, do anything. It’s kind of exciting, don't you think?”

It was a mistake, to think that you’d come around to them on your own. 

You were young and naive, still living out a rose tinted fantasy where the world was your oyster and all you needed to do was reach out and take it. And maybe he’s partially to blame for that, taking your problems and getting rid of them, making you feel safe and comfortable, not realising that that security didn’t extend outside of these four walls, outside of their protection.

They need you, but kitten did you ever stop to think that you need them, too? 

Shouta had made the mistake of forgetting how this all came to be – you hadn’t wanted a family, you were just trying to save your own skin. You still think that you can make it on your own, without them. 

He supposes he shouldn’t blame you for your misplaced idealism, it’s only natural after all. Some people just don’t know what’s best for them.

They need to be shown.

—

You don’t stir as your bedroom door swings open. 

Not as Hizashi pulls back your sheets, groaning softly at the sight of your swollen breasts and precious baby bump, stretching against the confines of your silk pajamas. “Ain’t she a fuckin’ dream, Shou?”

Not as the blonde busies himself in carefully sliding your sleep shorts down your legs, or even as Aizawa gathers up your wrists, pressing a kiss to each one, and binds them to the headboard with his capture weapon.

“Gentle, ‘Zashi,” he murmurs when the blonde crawls up on the bed beside you. “Nothing too rough.”

You wake as long fingers caress your cheek, tilting your face towards him so he can kiss you properly.

Shouta hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but bathed under the soft glow of moonlight from your window, he watches your eyes flutter open, the momentary confusion that flashes across your face followed by realisation, horror, as you try to jerk back and cry out–

Only Hizashi doesn’t give you the opportunity, winding his hand through your tresses and anchoring you against him, forcing your lips open so that he can deepen the kiss and groaning appreciatively when a terrified whimper escapes you. 

You still haven’t noticed Shouta kneeling on the bed between your legs, too preoccupied by Hizashi’s tongue sliding against yours. “Relax, kitten,” he says, laying his palm on your thigh, letting his thumb glide over the smooth skin.

“Let us take care of our cute ‘lil baby mama, yeah songbird?” Hizashi adds, breaking away from the kiss with a lovesick grin.

Tonight is solely about you. Your pleasure, whether they have to tease it from you willingly or not.

Your tears are kissed away, your broken little pleas swallowed under ‘Zashi’s greedy lips as Shouta shuffles down the bed, nudging your thighs further apart so he can lie between them.

The keening cry that leaves you at the first stroke of his tongue against your warm sex is a thing of beauty.

Blood rushes to his cock as you writhe, and he tightens his grip as much as he dares to keep you locked in place as he delves in again. There’s little finesse to the way that Shouta eats your pussy – it’s a simple study of reactions; the way you gasp and shudder when the tip of his tongue circles your clit, the way your pussy clench and quiver around the muscle when he eases it inside of you, massaging your spongy walls.

Never one to be left out, Hizashi decides that there’s a better use of his attention than just your lips. With your arms bound, he’s not able to take your top off entirely so he settles with yanking it down, freeing your breasts.

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty. Look atcha!”

Your tits must be tender and aching, because the moment Hizashi’s mouth envelops one of your nipples, sucking at the pert nub, a fresh sob bursts from your lungs and you’re trying desperately to wriggle away.

Hizashi just frowns, breaking away for a second to brush a stray lock of hair back behind your ear, “Ah shit, sorry babe! I’ll be gentle, promise.”

Shouta’s far too preoccupied by the intoxicating taste of your sweet cunt to notice whether he actually does or not, but he trusts him not to push you too far. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

Your baby bump is cute and all, but Shouta wishes that it wasn’t blocking his view of your face – he wants to watch every little expression as he slides two thick fingers into your dripping cunt and your hips buck up to meet him. It’s a twisted kind of pride he feels, pride fused with filthy, maddening pleasure as he pulls a string of choked moans from you with just a few shallow thrusts of his fingers.

His jaw’s slicked with your juices, your cunt sucking his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy whimpers and the way your muscles are tensing beneath him, but the desperate canting of your hips, rocking up against his face even as you beg for relief.

“Shouta, Shouta, please– oh god, please stop, p-please!”

He longs to wrap a fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut as you cum for the first time on his tongue. Or better yet, maybe have Hizashi wrap that perfect mouth of his around his cock and suck him off–

But now’s not the time for him to be greedy. 

Rough fingertips prod at your walls, searching for that hidden little spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

You almost convulse when he finds it, and Shouta can’t help but smirk against your cunt as you tighten and quiver around his digits. With Hizashi playing with your tits, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck, Shouta’s lips wrapped around your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles on it and long, thick fingers driving you to madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, pregnant, oversensitive body to handle.

You cum with a strangled shriek, and Shouta almost moans at the flood of juices that gush from your trembling cunt onto his waiting tongue. 

“How’s she taste, baby?” Hizashi asks, green eyes blown wide, his own erection straining against his leather pants. 

Shouta doesn’t waste a beat, pushing himself up with one arm and grabbing his husband’s wrist with the other, yanking him into a fierce kiss – letting him taste your honeyed juices on his tongue.

Fingers tangle in dark locks, tugging him closer, and ‘Zashi lets out a low, throaty groan. It’s rough and eager, a slow burning frenzy that makes the blood in his veins sing with excitement. With their lips still locked, the blonde hastily yanks at the zipper on his pants, freeing the painfully hard member with a tight hiss. 

But when he finally does break for air, it’s not Shouta that he addresses, but you, lying spent, crying and breathless between them, beautiful in your fucked out state.

“You can’t expect to put on a show like that and not get me all worked up, sweet thing,” he coos, taking his flushed, throbbing cock in hand and giving it a few slow, cursory pumps. “I’m gonna fuck ya so good, baby – have you singin’ like a little birdie for me,” his eyes meet Shouta’s, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “Nothin’ but the best for our cute ‘lil wife. Whaddya say, songbird? Lemme make you feel all nice and special, yeah?”

[softtdaisy]

IT'S NOT SUMMER WITHOUT YOU

DESCRIPTION I you didn’t say goodbye to eddie before leaving all summer, no matter how much you loved each other. or is it because of that you couldn’t find the courage to do it?

PAIRING I eddie munson × fem!reader

WORD COUNT I 2.1k

A/N I now I don’t want to talk about the last episodes, I'm in full denial. here’s some lovely stories with eddie instead (a story totally inspired by friends when rachel can’t say goodbye to ross)

“I need to know everything about your summer, ok? What did you do? What did you wear? Oh my god did you wear the cute little dress we both together and…”

“Ok, calm down Robin, I have all life to tell you about this.” You hugged your best-friend who immediately started to talk again when she realized you weren’t mad. Damn, you missed her so much these past months.

After you had graduated from high school, you got the perfect internship for your further studies. However, it was set in New York, far far away from Hawkins. You left for three good months and as much as you loved this experience, you missed your friends way too much. How were you supposed to survive away from Robin, the sunshine of your life? From Steve, your living private diary?

Or from Eddie, the guy you loved so much you almost didn’t leave?

You didn’t ask for a big party to celebrate your coming back. Having Steve and Robin around was everything you could ask for. So, seeing the kids all around you that night melt your heart immediately. You never thought they would miss you but apparently you were the kind of big sister they all needed in their life. “Don’t ever leave like that, ok?” Dustin made you promised. You never felt more love.

But right now, sitting on the grass with your glass of cocktail Robin imagined just for your comeback, you felt lonelier than ever. All those laughs, all those smiles meant nothing compared to Eddie’s. You kept looking at the door, excepting him to arrive. He would find an excuse that you would immediately accept. All you wanted was to see him again. You could kill for a hug from him, his hair falling on your shoulder, his perfume invading all your senses and his voice in your ears saying something stupid because love marks made him uncomfortable. But he was still doing them for you.

You were not technically dating before you left. It was…more complicated than that. You just loved each other too much you needed time to see where this could go. Until it was broken with your departure.

You still had a hard time explaining how you even met. He was Dustin’s friend, who was Steve’s friend, who was Robin’s best friend who was your own best-friend. Rather difficult and long, so you just used to say you had friends in common.

You remembered the first time you met him, when you were supposed to spend the night with Robin who in the end brought you to Dustin’s place. You expected to spend a movie night with the kids and Steve, something you already did in the past. Not being introduced to the Hellfire Club.

“I’m not playing.” You tried to explain that you were terrible at this game. Even Robin could testify that you would lose at almost everything you were playing. And if you were winning, it was only out of luck. But Eddie didn’t want to hear that. The way he walked right in front of you, only a few centimeters separating your two bodies made you lose your breath immediately.

“There is no bad player, only debutant that can learn.” He had such a charming voice that you would say yes without hesitation if you didn’t think he was wrong. There was no way you would understand that game. But the way he offered his hand to you was a rather good argument to change your mind.

“That’s not what you said to the other members!”

“Shut up Henderson.” You laughed at the way he rolled his eyes with a little smile. It was lovely to see this sweet part of him. You liked him a lot already and you only saw him a few minutes. Could you imagine the thing you were ready to do for this man after a few weeks? How you would feel seeing him everyday?

“I appreciate your offer, but I’m going to watch for this time.” Eddie still took your hand and kissed it. You heard a few disgusted noises from the back, but you couldn’t care less. “Next time then, love.” He blinked at you before taking his leader place. You watched the whole game…no. You watched Eddie leading the whole game. He was so charismatic; you couldn’t take your eyes off him. You were dying to ask questions about his look, about his passion or all the things you noticed about him that night.

Yeah, you fell for Eddie Munson pretty easily. So did he.

He used the excuse of teaching you how to play to see you again. Sometimes you were with the rest of gang. It was harder to flirt when Dustin kept coming for Eddie or Steve talking to you to protect you. “I didn’t want you to get your heart broken” he would tell you. “Maybe he won’t break my heart.” You would reply.

But most of the time, it was just the two of us at his uncle’s house. Eddie would indeed teach you how to play. You appreciated how patient he was with you. You would also ask him question of his life and fell more for him every single times. He even taught you how to play the guitar and nothing would ever beat this moment. When Eddie was sitting in your back, his arms around you, his breath against your neck while he was explaining every single things you had to, his fingers playing with yours.

Maybe it was your favorite moment because it was also the first time you tasted his gorgeous and delicious lips. A taste that quickly became your favorite flavor in the world.

The thing is, when you learnt you had to leave, you didn’t find the courage to tell him immediately. When you did, Eddie was the happiest for you and you knew he didn’t lie about his pride of seeing you do what you love.

But you barely saw him before leaving. It was too hard to look at him and know that you wouldn’t be able to see him for many months. How were you supposed to deal with life without your…he wasn’t your boyfriend. You wished he was. You wouldn’t be scared of being away. So you didn’t see him to the point you didn’t even get to say goodbye. If you knew your last date would be your last, you would have kissed him longer. You would have said how much you loved everything about him. Or more exactly, how crazy you were about him.

You guessed that was the reason why Eddie wasn’t there tonight.

“Go.”

You looked up at Robin and Steve, both of them standing still in front of you. “You’re asking me to leave the party made for me?” you frowned.

“You want to see Eddie, we get it. He didn’t want to come but you should go and see him by yourself.” And you did. You went to Eddie’s place right when they told you to. During the ride, you imagined how things would go. What you planned on telling him. How you were going to explain your feelings without telling too much in case he didn’t want something serious.

But Eddie wasn’t there. And you didn’t have the heart to go back to the party anymore. That wasn’t the night you imagined for your first day here.

Neither did you imagined you would see Eddie Munson sitting on your house doorsteps.

You took a moment to appreciate his look, that didn’t change at all through the summer. He still had those long brown hair that you loved playing with or grabbing when you were kissing. He was wearing his jean jacket with his Hellfire club t-shirt underneath. His rings were shinning with the moon and you missed the feeling of the cold silver against your skin. You missed everything about Eddie.

When you walked to him, you excepted him to smile or to hug you. He went to your house right? He wanted to see you, that was what it supposed to mean. But he didn’t. “You didn’t say goodbye.” His voice sounded sad and disappointing. It was like a knife thrown right into your heart.

“Eddie…” you started but he put his hand up. A nice and elegant way to ask you to shut up. Eddie was never scared of being playfully mean to you like he was with the kids. He could tell you to shut up or go to Hell without a hesitation. So, it kind of surprised you that he didn’t. Maybe because usually, he could kiss you to make up for it.

“You left me. You fucking left me there all summer. But that’s fine, I was happy for you. I still am, you deserved it. But damn, a goodbye [y/n] that was all I was asking for!” The closer he was walking to you, the higher his voice was getting. His hands were shaking. You could tell how much he meant to him. “I thought you cared about me! I fucking care about you and I didn’t get a proper goodbye! I didn’t want to say goodbye while being with the others. I thought I was special enough for you to get a real one.”

You were lost of words. You got lost in his beautiful and sad brown eyes for a few seconds. You could feel all the desperation in his voice and how hurt he must have been all summer. Then it hit you. “You think I didn’t care about you?” you were confused. All those dates meant nothing?

“That’s what it seemed like, yeah.” Eddie was trying to stay strong in front of you, acting like none of this mattered anymore. When in reality, he just wanted to grab your face and kissed you like he never did before. He wanted to make up for all those weeks. But a broken heart was in the middle of the field. He couldn’t do that after feeling that bad for three months.

“I can’t believe it…” you sighed, running your hands through your hair…before hitting Eddie with the same hand. “It was too hard Eddie! I can’t even explain how much I missed you all summer. The only person that came to my mind day and night was you. Not Robin, not my family, only you. Not being able to see you every single day was the hardest thing I had to do these pasts months. So, if you think I didn’t come to say goodbye because you mean less than the others you’re absolutely wrong Eddie! It’s because you mean more than everybody. If I had said goodbye, I would never have had left. Because I would have known I wouldn’t survive a whole summer without you.”

You both stayed silent for a good minute, only looking at each other with sad eyes. This was not the way you thought you would reunite with Eddie. Not with tears on your cheek and shaking hands.

When the silence became too much for you, you started walking to your door. Fine, if he didn’t want to accept your explanation it was his fault.But you didn’t get to do many steps before Eddie grabbed your wrist. He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you against his chest so hard you were almost choking. But it didn’t matter. You were back where you wanted to be: in the arms of the man you loved.

“I didn’t survive this summer without you.” He whispered into your ears. You let a joyful tear ran through your cheek before grabbing his face with a hand on his cheek. He looked at you with confusion for a second before getting what you wanted to do.

One day, when you were learning the guitar with him, Eddie told you he wasn’t a fan of romantic stuff. “I don’t even say I love you, ugh.” He pretended to throw up, which made you laugh stupidly. Mostly because you loved the proud smile he was wearing when you were laughing at his jokes. “So how do you prove the person you love that you care about them?” you asked him. You were curious to see if he tried to show it to you in the past and you just didn’t get it.

“I find other ways to say it.”  

And that night, when you kissed Eddie in front of your house, after months of being away from him, you knew he found his way of saying he loved you.

[sergiovinazzi]

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Two)

2.9k words, rated E for everyone :)

Lando’s voice, amplified by the TV speakers, echoes around the humming Red Bull garage. “I’m fine but I’ve been better. I can say that I’m not in perfect condition, I’m not gonna lie. Some work to do mentally of course. I talk about that a lot, and mental health and mental strength is very important. I’ve not been sleeping that great and so on… not ideal and I’m feeling a bit sore, but I’m not the guy in the worst position after Wembley. I’ll work on it, I’ll make sure I’m in the best shape possible, and I feel like I can still go out and focus on what I need to do, and that’s the main thing.”

Your mind races as you listen to the boy plastered across the many screens revisit his experience at Wembley. He sounds awful; something about his cadence making it even more obvious that he is really, truly shaken up. The wavering pitch, awkward pausing, fumbling for words; everything about the way he presents himself is serving as a brutal reminder that being physically unscathed is no indicator that harm was not dealt. Even as the interview moves past the topic of last week’s Euro Final, you notice the shift in demeanor and your heart aches. You worry that bringing the watch to him is a bad idea, that it could prompt unbidden memories and disquieting feelings. You understand how big of an event Silverstone is from your dad’s tangents alone, especially for an English team with an English driver, so you reevaluate whether your decision to come was selfish, one made solely to alleviate your own sentiments of guilt rather than to verily right your believed wrongdoings.

On the journey to Silverstone, your dad had made multiple attempts at lessening your stress, even opting for variations of the if he steps out of line I will put him right back in his place father speech. Unfortunately fruitless, your father’s attempts mean you remain just as anxious as when you had first discovered that you managed to obtain a stolen wristwatch.

You’re not sure whether it’s the crisp morning air or your nerves that sends chills across your flesh, but your attempt to ground yourself subtly doesn’t go unnoticed by your dad as he passes you in the garage.

“Time is ticking,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips. “No pun intended.”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to downplay your apprehension, but your voice gives away any and all signs of the false confidence you hope to portray. “Can you do it for me?” you plead.

“I can’t just stroll on over to the McLaren garage without an invitation or proper reason, especially not a couple hours before free practice starts. It doesn’t look good.”

“It’s not like me walking in there instead would look any better,” you retort, gesturing to the Red Bull logo plastered across the chest of your black polo. “Your branding isn’t what I would call subtle.”

“Look, the McLaren team are a good sort. They’ll help you out if you just explain the issue and show them the watch. I’m sure Lando will understand too, he seems like a pretty nice bloke,” your dad reassures you.

Sighing, your eyes meet the floor, fingers intertwined with each other as you fidget incessantly. Before you can speak up in further defiance, however, an additional set of footsteps grow nearer and you freeze at the voice which speaks up.

“Christian, how much longer until our media slot?”

You lose your breath momentarily, locking your gaze onto your shoes as you wait for the person to pass by.

“About five minutes, Max,” your dad replies. “We were just about to head over.”

When you hear the footsteps grow fainter, you risk looking up, thankfully being met with only the observance of your father. You don’t even realize that you’ve tensed your body until your dad points it out.

“Relax,” he says. “He’s not going to say anything here, especially not on a race weekend.”

Nodding, you feel your shoulders ease up but you remain quiet.

“Anyways, like I said, our media briefing and interviews start soon and we’re after McLaren this weekend so they should already be back in their garage,” he says, realizing that you still appear troubled by the task ahead of you. “I promise you, everything will be fine. Just go over there and I’ll meet you back here when we’re done. The quicker you head over, the quicker you’re done with it and we can all move on." With that, your dad walks away and you reluctantly leave the Red Bull garage, adjusting your shirt as you straighten up.

You take a brief glance at your phone, turning it off after you try one last time to keep the picture of the boy imprinted in your mind. Eyes darting rapidly, you attempt to scan the paddock for anyone looking remotely like him while you make your way towards the bright orange and blue indicators of the McLaren garage.

The frequency of orange-clad individuals grows the further you stray from the safety of Red Bull’s garage, and you feel your heartbeat begin to increase. Worried that someone would stop you before you could approach the one person you had traveled all the way to Silverstone for in the first place, you quicken your pace.

You’re mere meters away when you spot him. Pushing past a few people while trying to keep your eyes trained on him, you watch as he turns around to talk briefly with the woman next to him.

Huffing, you muster up the little confidence you have and tap him on the shoulder.

His confusion is evident and the blonde woman next to him does not look pleased to have been interrupted. The silence is palpable as they stare at you, expecting an explanation for the abrupt ending of their conversation.

“Hi,” is all you can deliver. You’re at a loss for words while the woman next to him seems to lose what little patience she has with you. Everything you had rehearsed beforehand, gone. Your mind is foggy and your mouth feels dry as you try to compose yourself. “Um, can I talk to you for a second? It won’t be long, I promise.” Your voice breaks at the end and you wish you had never agreed to get on that stupid red-eye to Silverstone in the first place.

Lando offers a look of sympathy and then turns to the woman next to him. “Charlotte, could you just give us a second?”

Pursing her lips and turning on her heel, the woman walks away, heading towards the mouth of the McLaren garage. She’s far enough away that you’re out of earshot, but close enough that you feel her gaze linger as Lando turns back to face you.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he tells you with a smile. “We can take a picture if you want or I can sign some stuff for you.”

“What? No.” You shake your head, mentally slapping your palm against your forehead and forcing yourself to get a grip. Idiot. “Fuck, sorry, that sounded so rude! It’s just-” you rush to explain.

“Oh no, it’s okay!” he stammers. “I should’ve guessed from the Red Bull shirt anway.”

You both share an awkward laugh before you compose yourself and reach a shaky hand into your bag.

“This is going to sound so weird, but I was online shopping for a new watch the other day because I lost mine, and I’m pretty sure I bought the one that was stolen from you. I didn’t know anything about it, I swear. I just...well, here,” you say, offering the watch and its temporary box to Lando.

He looks at you, taking the box only to go wide-eyed at the contents inside.

“I have all the information that I was able to get, but the ad was taken off of eBay and I really wanted to do the right thing and give it back to you. Please don’t be mad.”

“What the hell?!” he exclaims, earning a few looks from people passing by and catching Charlotte’s attention once more. “Sorry, sorry. How did you get this?”

Amused, you laugh quietly while he studies the watch intently. “That was my dad’s reaction too. Basically there was a listing for it on eBay and it was sort of an impulse buy,” you explain. “I didn’t see the news coverage of what happened until afterwards and I felt awful. I’m really sorry you had to go through that, I genuinely had no idea.”

Shrugging, he plays it off. “Nothing I can’t handle.” It’s hard to miss his sudden change in attitude from the interview you watched moments ago and you can’t help but wonder whether he has your or the watch’s presence to thank.

There is a brief moment of silence between you both before he continues. “How much did you pay for it?”

“It was so cheap, honestly,” you say. “Nothing compared to the original price, I’m sure.”

Charlotte, alerted by Lando’s attention-grabbing reaction to being reunited by his watch, returns to where the two of you are standing. “Oh wow, did you find a replacement watch for him?” she asks you, clearly impressed by the apparent likeness.

“No, Charlotte”, he corrects her. “It’s my one. Look.” He hands the watch to his PR manager, who receives it so gently you think she’s afraid it might shatter in her hands. Flipping the watch between her fingers, she studies the small engraving on the underside of the face.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

Lando nods. “It’s the exact date it was given to me, there’s no way anyone else could know that and make a copy of it.”

You feel the need to justify yourself to her. “It was listed online and I bought it before I knew anything about the situation. I didn’t even really know who Lando was until I saw what happened on the news, I swear.” You anticipate her anger or disapproval, preparing yourself to withstand the lecture you’re about to receive and mentally promising that, as soon as it’s over, you can run back to your dad and tell him you just want to go home.

But it doesn’t come.

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaims. “We all thought we’d never see it again and you found it on accident.” The smile she gives you sets your mind at ease. “Technically, this is a police matter now, so I’ll have to hand it over to the right people, but this helps us tremendously. Did you get any information about the seller?”

You explain the situation to her, about how the listing was taken offline but you have a printout of the messages and address the seller gave you, which you hand her from your bag. She lets you know that someone may get in touch soon to ask questions but not to worry, that it’s only a formality. Eventually, she asks if you’d like to watch free practice from a spot in the mobile hospitality unit, but you politely decline, explaining that you needed to get back to your dad in the Red Bull garage instead.

Charlotte smiles fondly at Lando and presses the brim of his cap down over his eyes. “Come on, you, we have to go and get ready now anyway.”

He takes off his hat, cheeks flushing as he makes an effort to quickly brush the curls lining his forehead, placing it back on and dismissing Charlotte with a wave of his hand. “Okay, just give me a minute.”

Once the two of you are alone, he pulls out his phone. “Do you have Venmo? I’ll pay you back, it’s not fair that you had to waste your money.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

Lando seems unconvinced. “It’s really not a problem.”

“Seriously, it’s all good.”

“Well,” he continues awkwardly. “I have to go, but are you here for the whole weekend or...?”

You shake your head. “Just today. I’m not into Formula 1, I find it a little bit boring.”

“Seriously?! The fastest cars in the world and you’re calling it boring? Why even come to something like Silverstone if it’s so boring?” he feigns offense, doing air quotes as he imitates your apparent disdain for the sport.

Laughing quietly, you shrug. “I have family at Red Bull, so it was basically just luck and convenience that you were in the U.K. this weekend,” you clarify. “I don’t really understand Formula 1, that’s all.”

“Fair enough, it’s not for everyone I suppose,” Lando replies. “So who in your family works at Red–” The end of his question is drowned out by the sound of his name called by an evidently disgruntled, impatient engineer.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ve really gotta go, but, um,” he exhales with a nervous laugh. “I still feel like I need to repay you in some way. Do you want to go get a drink after the race on Sunday? I’m busy for the next few days but Sunday night I’ll be free. Only if you want to, of course, I don’t want to, like, pressure you or anything.”

You laugh, appreciative that the nervousness was shared. “That– Yeah, that sounds fine. I’ll give you my number.”

He types your details into his phone before apologizing once more, thanking you again, and rushing off into the garage.

——

On Sunday, you let your dad believe he’s the one who convinced you to stay for the entire race weekend, but it’s the promise of Lando’s company later that night and the endearing text messages on your phone that prompts the desire to see this weekend through. You had spent the previous nights on your phone, going through driver and team Instagram accounts, as well as the F1 website, to get an idea of what to expect. Typically, it would pain you to look through motorsport news pages, especially with so many of the reports centering around Max and his vie for the championship as of late, but you manage.

You notice almost immediately while settling into your spot at the back of the garage that the energy does not match your own. You are enthusiastic and eager, while the rest of the team is stressed and rushes around you. Presumably, it’s because race day impacts their livelihoods and paycheks whereas it only dictates your family’s dinner topics, but, nevertheless, your excitement refuses to simmer.

Unfortunately, if it was weird for you to be seen at the McLaren garage before the first free practice, it would be infinitely more suspicious for you to be lingering around on race day, so you were not able to catch Lando at all since your initial meeting on Friday. However, you made sure to message him good luck beforehand, to which he thanked you and expressed excitement for your upcoming night.

“If you need anything, just ask. I’ll be on the pitwall,” your dad says, snapping you out of your whirring mind. He notices your obscure behavior, quick to comment on it. “Is it weird? Being here after so long?”

You nod, shrugging. “Unusual, for sure. So much has changed since the last time I came and watched, but I’m excited, though.”

“Well, it’s always good to have you here.”

Reciprocating your dad’s grin, you silently send him on his way. He exits quickly and leaves you to your own devices. Though, your own devices look to consist of impatiently waiting for the race to start and scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Ironically, your boredom with pre-race antics appears to create quite the dichotomy against the chaos exuding from the garage you find yourself encompassed in.

Regardless, your attention is regained when frequent cuts are made to the drivers in their cars, and you recognise that the race will be starting soon. You are temporarily startled when the cars begin moving without hearing an official announcement, but quickly realisee that it is merely a formation lap and no one else around you seems to be paying all too much mind to it.

When the cars return to their positions on the grid, you watch eagerly as the lights flash and the announcers begin yelling. You keep your eyes trained on the orange car towards the front of the grid, watching Lando so intently that you almost miss what happens to the cars in front of him.

Your eyes go wide as you watch the events unfold: the Red Bull car out front collides with what you identify as a Mercedes, spinning and slamming into the barrier. Gasps chorus across the garage as the screens replay slowed clips of the crash as an announcement states that the safety car has been deployed. They replay it from every conceivable angle, your astonishment at the severity is present upon your first viewing, but it’s only after the sixth clip that it clicks in your head that the person in the car is Max.

“For the second time this season, Hamilton and Verstappen clash and tangle on the opening lap, but, this time, it is ending in dramatic consequences for the championship leader.”

If you had perceived the pre-race behavior in the garage as chaotic, this was a whole new level of absurdity.

People rush around you while orders are shouted and frustrations are verbalised.

Your dad is angry.

The last time you recall him behaving like this was when your younger sister had broken the wine glasses he had bought for your mother on their honeymoon. You, however, ignore his yelling and remain encapsulated by the TV, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the events unfolding finally, finally register in your brain.

Car number 33 is in the wall and out of the race, and your ex-boyfriend is inside, silent and unmoving.

____________

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love

[dreamsclock]

why george is the most interesting smp character... [sigh]

so this is going to be very incredibly focused on george’s dethronement arc, where he was dethroned on quackity’s stream. it’s an INCREDIBLY interesting stream in terms of dream as a character, but also, if we want to start looking for smp!george lore crumbs, for george too. pls note - any reference to any name is a reference to the character !!

[ @netheriteaxes THIS IS 2K+ WORDS I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS,, DROP THE ANGST FUCKER /lh]

under the cut for length !!

george is a manipulator. he’s a manipulator - maybe as much as dream is, maybe more. and the thing people don’t understand is that manipulation isn’t always a negative thing: technically, we’re manipulating someone every time we get them to do something for us without directly and honestly stating it. things like saying “it’s cold” and having someone else in the room close a window, flattering your sibling before asking them for a favour, bringing up the fact your parents didn’t let you go to the last sleepover in order to try and make them let you go to this one, et cetera. we all do it, and george is no exception in the smp! the only thing is, he’s very good at it. 

in the very beginning of the exile arc, we see a very good instance of george’s manipulation and the extent it works on dream. when his house burns down, nowhere does george tell dream “i want you to exile tommy for burning my house down” (at least not to my knowledge - granted, i’m running off my own memory right now, so if i’m wrong lemme know sidhfkdvl). instead, it’s implied through the little things and little gestures; going along with dream interrogating tommy in ‘trial’, playing up how upset he was, etc. it was EASY to rebuild the house and a minor everyday crime compared to other crimes that have been committed on the server, and george knew that. 

because here’s the thing about george - he doesn’t care. he doesn’t care about anything, other than entertainment. as soon as something isn’t fun, he’ll drop it, and if he sees an opportunity for entertainment, he’ll take it, no matter what it is. it’s why he participated in the l’manburg war and slept in for the elections, it’s why he built his house in the manberg/pogtopia final battle, it’s why he tried to indirectly get dream to exile tommy, despite having his house fixed quickly and ,, never visiting it again. it’s FUN to be overdramatic sometimes, FUN to pretend to care about things for drama and then grow bored of them, war is fun while politics isn’t - it explains so much about his character.

which brings us to the dethronement itself.

george and sapnap DOMINATE the situation right from the start. dream appears, fixing the path and generally seeming rather uneasy with the presence of so many people to be an audience (“this was meant to be a quick thing- no no no, we can have the conversation another time”). he says what he has to say, and tries to sugarcoat what he’s doing - he admits to it !! he admits to his own manipulation !! (“we can work together, me and you.” / “mmm, sounds like you’re sugarcoating it.” / “i mean, i am sugarcoating it a little, but it’s for the best.”). dream admits he’s being manipulative - and for a positive reason, not for an ‘evil’ reason. he is direct despite being uneasy about the whole situation, probably the most ‘sane’ and honest we hear him, and nobody listens.

except george, who listens and decides that it would be fun to twist the situation. not because he hates dream: i think he does care for dream, i think he cares for all his friends and loved ones, but i think he loves being entertained more. we see this in the way this situation - which could have been small and nonexistent, given no audience and therefore no opportunity for amusement - escalates, with george beginning to argue back and get upset.

sapnap, who is upset from dream’s spirit speech, starts getting upset for george, and george, who no doubt thinks this is amusing, lets him. quackity too jumps on this train, and it’s interesting, because i think this is one of the first times dream realises the power george has over people. he is instantly put on the defensive when people (george, sapnap and quackity) start arguing against him. here are just some interesting quotes i picked up:

dream: we’re not fighting...

george (i think) (about sapnap at dream): he’s disgusted, did you hear that? he’s absolutely disgusted.

dream: listen, the reason i’m even saying george should step down as king is because i care about him.

and then we get to another interesting interaction between dream, george and sapnap.

sapnap, about the dethronement: george, you don’t have to do any of those things

dream: sapnap- i, well, he DOES, first of all-

george: what?

and it’s this dialogue that makes me frustrated when people say that dream has complete control over the dream team, because he does not. neither of them listen to him, or are even inclined to listen to him - george’s what feels incredulous, not upset or surprised, it feels challenging. dream is the leader of the dream team, but george is the one with power over DREAM, not the other way round: and, being likeable, unlike dream, george has allies in and has power over almost everyone. he becomes best friends with quackity, the ONLY guy that actually had issues with him after he didn’t show up for the election !! i don’t think george is surprised that dream thinks he has control over him: i think he’s amused, because he knows it’s not true, and because he knows how badly this is going for dream.

dream, unlike george, gets incredibly uncomfortable with the attention, rambling (“no, no, no no no i worded that wrong, people don’t like ME and therefore they don’t like YOU because you’re behind me and you're my friend-”) and fidgeting and generally moving around. george, on the other hand, embraces the attention and pity he’s getting, sparks the fire for more, especially when his kingship is actually being removed. he plays on dream’s reputation of being the bad guy, plays on the resentment for dream that sapnap has, plays on quackity’s friendship with and loyalty towards him, all to create this situation that escalated into the breakup of the dream team.

and now we get to the infamous line: “just say it. say you hate me.” and it’s powerful, i’ll give him that (@ cc!george THANKS FOR THE SCRAPS OF ACTUAL ACTING SIR). but it’s dramatic. it’s probably over the top, too - you can hear it in his voice, it’s dramatic !! i’m not saying it’s ALL acting - to an extent, he probably is annoyed/upset dream would dethrone him, especially publicly - but i think this is, once again, deliberately provoking the situation. let’s look at what happens just before and just after this line, too:

dream, to sapnap: stop pointing the damn bow at me!

sapnap: i don’t know if i-

george, interrupting: just say it. say you hate me.

dream, laughing in disbelief: george, no, george, i care about you, that’s the reason i don’t want you to be king.

there’s a lot going on. but dream is adamant he cares - why would he admit this to people who are canonically against him and dislike him (quackity, sapnap, eret)?? why would he admit this after his big speech about not caring about anyone or anything if it wasn’t true?? dream doesn’t hate george - nobody even SUGGESTS that he hates him, characters only going so far as to say he didn’t care - and george knows that. 

[off topic, but here’s an interesting line that comes from dream who sounds incredibly uncomfortable: “i’m not GOD. i’m NOT god.”... compare that with his line “what does that make me, god?” from tommy’s most recent stream. i….. yeah, i don’t think i need to say anything.]

and now we get to another interaction i think people tend to look at through a very narrow lens. george walks away from dream with his head low and crouching (in minecraft mechanics, a position of vulnerability and also greeting/openness) as he goes. here are two interactions we have:

puffy: awww, george is sad!

dream: he’s NOT sad!

puffy: no, he looks sad!

dream: no, he’s not sad, he’s ACTING sad, he’s NOT sad, he’s not sad, alright, listen…

AND

dream: well, eret, it’s- (struggles for words) this is just [george] doing theatrics!

puffy: no, dream, he looks sad-

dream: he’s not-

someone (quackity?): he’s crying!

dream: he just looks sad on purpose.

both of these are on the way back to the castle, where dream is backed up and on the defensive over his actions. he doesn’t genuinely believe george is upset - some people read this as dream speaking for george and speaking over him, dictating what he does and doesn’t feel - but i’d argue differently. although we don’t have much of a stable character for george considering how little lore he’s directly been involved in, especially at this stage, it’s hard to know how he’d react to these things - but george isn’t a weak character. he’s been in wars, he’s actively ignored the possibility of his friends dying in the manberg-pogtopia war while building his house, why would this make him crumble and cry in front of everyone?? he makes no move to properly argue against dream here, focused more on his act and letting other people speak for him. and another thing i noticed was the people claiming dream is speaking for george right now make no complaint when quackity and sapnap do the exact same thing.

and here’s the thing. george LETS them. and that’s not because he’s too upset to know what to think: it’s clear he’s picking up the volatile emotions from the others, thinks he can get some sort of amusement or show out of this, and plays into what he thinks will be fun. and not necessarily in a bad/evil way, because i genuinely think he’s motivated out of nothing but fun. it explains cc!george’s attitude to lore, too, and it explains george being in ‘exciting’ bits of lore and not others - he sticks with what is fun, and, at that particular moment, dream and the dethronement are what’s fun.

and i think dream sees that - at least to some extent. i think he realises george doesn’t actually give a shit about this, and is just playing for fun. he gets frustrated, calling george a baby and promising to build him a castle “far away from here” and several times offers to try and make it up to him.

and of course we see none of this from dream’s perspective, or even george’s perspective, but quackity’s, who is a notoriously unreliable narrator, especially when it comes to people he doesn’t like. and here, he says:

quackity: chat, [george] basically got fired under the pretence of “we’re friends!”.

and it just goes to highlight his bias and where his loyalties lie, because that’s not what happened ,, like ,, almost at all. he has no sympathy for dream (and fair enough, after everything). he doesn’t realise that george doesn’t care as much as he’s making out to (and not to mention, dethronement is NEVER mentioned by george again - albeit because cc!george didn’t want to do lore, but taken in this context, it’s arguable that george just ,, doesn't care). 

this idea of george not caring only shows his friendships in a new light?? obviously, the irl reason he doesn’t hang out with dream on the server is because a) dream is In Prison and b) before that isn’t supposed to hang out with anyone for lore reasons, but looking PAST that, he flits from sapnap and dream to sapnap, karl and quackity. he goes to the people that interest him: one of these people benign dream xd, a literal god who bends to his every whim. doesn’t that seem like fun, having a god cater to your every whim? don’t you think it would remind george of another overpowerful, godlike person he used to hang about with? it’s interesting that george sort of flits from powerful person to powerful person, and each time, they cave to what he wants. it’s incredibly manipulative, but again, not in an evil or bad way, it just highlights how powerful he is despite not having any sort of scary reputation or strengths. he has a way of wrapping the most powerful people on the server round his finger and can manipulate emotions incredibly well and to his advantage. he cares more about fun, good or bad: it explains so many of his actions.

and, as dream says resignedly in the dethronement scene: “that’s just how george is, i guess.”

[the-lone-witch-and-secret-room]

The Owl House and pacing, a perspective from a fanfic writer that works with a large cast

I’ve seen a bunch of complains about the way The Owl House is paced lately. People claiming that it’s bad writing, and rushed, and whatnot. But from how I see it, you’re complaining for all the wrong reasons, and to the wrong people.

TL;DR: this is an overlaying issue with Disney and the industry that doesn’t allow long shows anymore, essentially forcing writers to pick between good pacing and complex stories being told with large casts.

For context: the fandom I wrote for before I got into The Owl House had a pretty small main cast. There were a few reoccurring characters, but most of them only showed up like five total times over the course of four seasons or had little personality, so my main cast I was writing about always consisted of my main five characters, with occasional cameos here and there. All characters were living together and experienced the adventure from the same perspective. There was one overarching storyline and not multiple. The interpersonal relationships still varied, though, for obvious reasons.

Now think about how large The Owl House cast is, and why that’d send them running into issues. Or don’t, because I have a whole-ass in depth analysis under the cut because this got unreasonably long.

(Also I’d appreciate a reblog, I spent… an unreasonable amount of time on this, lol)

The Owl House is different. There’s the main characters: Luz, Eda, King, maybe Hooty, technically (someone recently pointed out that he’s technically the titular character of the show and I’m still processing that, lol).

But they also have a HUGE additional cast to work with. There’s Lilith, Eda’s sister, and the main antagonist of season one, who has a lot to her character and gets a ton of screen time. There’s Amity, and there’s Willow and Gus, Luz’s friends. They’re all very fleshed out characters, and got a bunch of screen time and development, despite “only” being reoccurring characters and not the main characters.

Then there’s characters that have played a fairly minor role so far. There’s Belos, the big bad villain, who we will likely learn a lot more about this season. There’s the Golden Guard, the new main antagonist our cast deals with personally, who we’re just starting to learn more about. There’s Camila, Luz’s mom, who, despite only showing up a couple of times in the show so far, is very relevant to Luz and how the plot will ultimately turn out. There’s Edric and Emira, Amity’s siblings, who despite only showing up a few times as well seem to have a very worked out personality and background and also have a story that is (at least to some extent) going to be told according to the AMA.

There is at least one more seemingly important character whose role in the bigger story is hard to tell at this point, Raine, but according to the description of the episode, they’re probably going to influence the story a bunch.

There’s Alador and Odalia, who are responsible for a lot of their children’s toxic behaviors, and seem to have bigger plans that will probably be relevant later on.

The characters that are only focused on for an episode or two (like Matt and the troublemaker kids) all have very worked out personalities and even short arcs.

And heck, even characters like Boscha, who is extremely minor and seems like a very one-dimensional bully for the most part, get their moments that hint at there being more to them. We know Boscha has a clingy mom, that apparently has a rivalry with Odalia and works with Amity’s parents. The scene at the beginning of Wing It Like Witches tells us a lot about her general mindset and how she’s embraced that winning at whatever cost is the only thing that matters.

This leaves us with: 3-4 main characters

3 friends with fleshed out stories

Lilith, who is probably the most relevant aside from the main cast

Belos, the main antagonist, and the Golden Guard, currently starting to become a lot more relevant

A whole handful of minor reoccurring characters that have the potential to become bigger characters at any point in time

A handful of minor reoccurring characters that mainly seem to be there to further the story, but still get to have distinctive personalities and motivations (looking p.e. at the troublemaker kids)

That is AT LEAST 9 pretty major, relevant characters whose stories have to be tackled in the same show, in addition to the people that joined in season two and a huge supporting cast of well-developed characters that clearly also have stories of their own, even if not all of them will get told.

On top of that, the Owl House lives from exploring different relationships and different storylines. There’s the overarching story of how flawed the system is that will likely end with them overthrowing Belos, but there’s so much more.

Eda and the curse. Eda becoming a better mentor for Luz. Eda coming to terms with the loss of her magic.

Luz learning to cast magic with glyphs. Making friends for the first time. Slowly falling in love with Amity. Fighting to be able to learn whatever kind of magic she wants to. Learning that she’s not a burden to people. Struggling with her relationship with her mom, and trying to restore the portal so she can get back to her. Figuring out her future and what she really wants.

Lilith trying to cure Eda, and now in season two coming to terms with the loss of her magic and fixing her relationship with her sister. Lilith learning to ask for help.

Willow switching tracks. Willow growing more confident.

Amity becoming a better person, fixing her relationship with Willow, standing up to her parents, falling in love with Luz. Starting to fix her relationship with her siblings.

King finding out where he came from.

Hints at Gus struggling with decision making and stressing himself out less. Gus learning to be more selfless. Struggling with his magic track and being the youngest in his grade.

The newly introduced plot point with the Golden Guard. The plot point about the rebellion that will get introduced next episode.

The mystery with the letters.

And I’m like 90% sure I’ve forgotten something.

That is… a lot of different plots and relationships that are in some way important to the story.

In comparison, as stated, the last show I wrote for focused mostly on the same five characters and their relationships with each other, and one overarching plotline aside from some minor interpersonal relationships with two people’s family members that weren’t even introduced for several seasons. The first season fully focused on establishing the bond within this found family with exactly 1 important reoccurring character, an antagonist that had little personality and got a total of one line of backstory before he died.

If you have 90% of a season to develop 5 characters who live together, that’s a lot easier to do than developing twice the amount of important characters + introducing reoccurring characters season one of The Owl House has—the majority of which have separate lives and do not live together and thus can’t be focused on at the same time.

I’ve seen a bunch of people complain recently that the pacing of The Owl House is off, that the writing is bad, that the show is rushed, etc. etc.

And I get those complains. Believe me, as a viewer and also as an author that takes a lot of time to develop each character and their issues individually, I 100% get it.

But as an author that’s currently learning how hard it is to tackle a cast of the size that The Owl House has, I’ve also come to a whole different understanding from the perspective of the writers on the show.

For context, Locked Out focuses on a couple of serious themes, in the same way that the show does. It has 4 main plotlines: Amity Camila and Luz, Edric and Emira, Eda and Lilith, Willow and the Grudgby Squad (as well as a Gus arc that ties into the last one while also being its own thing, we’re getting to that part). So far, it prominently features: Luz, Amity, Camila, Eda, Emira, Edric, Willow and Gus, and to a lesser extent King, Lilith and Boscha, Skara and Amelia in relation to the separate plots.

That’s eight main characters across five different households. And then there’s the reoccurring characters that will have a larger role later on that I’ve not even had the opportunity to bring into the story yet/feature in a more prominent way. The cast is still growing.

And heck, I have all the time in the world to write this thing, because I don’t have an episode limit, or a deadline, or a limited amount of money to produce it.

For Locked Out, it took me 120k to get through a single week of plot at a very high level of character development, with about as many important characters as TOH has in season 1, and with an equally high number of reoccurring characters, some minor, some major. I think you can compare it to the show pretty well. I’d say, if I were to split Locked Out into episodes, I’d set one episode at about 10k. That would be 12 episodes. 12 episodes to get through a single week. Heck, even if I said 20k words were to be one episode, which I’m pretty sure is too much realistically, that would still be 6 episodes for one week.

And TOH covers more than three months.

That would be at least 72 total episodes to get through the three months of summer camp. And we’re currently progressing past that point.

72 episodes.

Let that sit for a while o.o

Everything that’s happened in season one (which as we know now was about 2 months) would have happened in 48 episodes rather than 19. Pacing-wise, everything would happen at less than 0.5x the speed. The first four episodes of season two would’ve been 24 episodes, assuming we hadn’t skipped a week and a half and had instead shown the immediate aftermath of the petrification ceremony, too.

And I’d love if we could have that, and if we could actually develop the characters and their relationships that thoroughly.

But the sad fact is that shows like The Owl House do not get the amount of episodes that would be required to develop every single aspect of the show to its fullest potential. Disney rarely greenlits shows of 150 episodes anymore. They used to, once, (Phineas&Ferb for example had 130+ episodes—you could tell one hell of a story in that many episodes), but that’s not a thing anymore. And the writers know that going into a show. They know the chances their story will be told in that way are very low.

And thus, the writers, especially ones working with large casts, have to make a choice: cut characters they love, and plots that are important to them, because they know they won’t get the amount of episodes required to do everything perfectly, OR include most of what they want to do, but at the cost of the pacing being off and everything seemingly happening too fast.

The Owl House crew went with the second option. The biggest issue the show has isn’t bad writing. The show’s biggest issue is that its cast and the story the crew members want to tell are too big for the amount of episodes they’ve been given (especially now that Disney decided to cut season 3 down into just three 44 minute specials).

And that’s on Disney, and Disney alone.

The crew is making the most of the amount of episodes they have, and unfortunately the lack of time forces them to rush things, and to sometimes sideline characters to focus on others.

Lilith got a bunch of screen time in the first four episodes. I’m sad to see her go, but she’s basically guaranteed to be back by season 2B. And there’s other people that have gotten way less focus than her so far. We‘ve seen basically nothing of Willow and Gus for the first few episodes, and I’m super happy Gus finally got some focus! We haven’t been inside Hexside all season except to see Luz expelled! And episode seven is even going to introduce a new character. Sometimes there’s parts of the story that certain characters don’t have a place in. And it sucks if they’re characters you like. But Lilith has to go for a bit so other characters can get the same amount of spotlight she did. At the end of the day, Lilith is not part of the main cast. She’s a very important reoccurring character, yes, but so are Amity, Willow and Gus. The main characters are Eda, Luz and King, and they’re the only ones that will always be around. And heck, even Eda got sidelined for a bit in the last two episodes, because we needed to focus on other characters. If not even the main characters are always around because we need some spotlight time for other characters, you can’t expect any more minor reoccurring cast member to be.

God, I wish they’d be given more time and more episodes to bring every part of the plot to its full potential, but they don’t have those, so they sometimes have to take shortcuts that unfortunately cheapen the story here and there. It’s the only way they can hope to tell their story to the end at all. And that makes me hella sad because it’s so obvious that they have an incredible story to tell, and that there’s so much more to so many of the characters we just don’t have the time to focus on.

The thing is: I liked the episode with Gwendolyn. It sends an important message that will hopefully get some parents who watch with their children thinking, and I’ve seen a couple of people talk about how close to home it hit for them. I have also seen a couple of people complain about that being too fast—and also just in general about things in the show getting sorted out too fast. And I get it. At least with this particular episode, I 100% get it.

(I’ve also seen some people complain that “Amity stood up to her parents too fast in Escaping Expulsion”, but I vehemently disagree with that. We’ve been building towards that moment since season one, with her doing more and more things that were technically defying her parents. I don’t see how this was rushed.)

Just… please don’t blame the writers. Dana even said that Keeping Up A-Fearances is one of the episodes that hit very close to home for her in the recent stream iirc? So I highly doubt this was rushed on purpose, or because the whole thing is “bad writing” when the entire writing quality of the show says otherwise.

A lot of shows in general have the issue that they have to be written season by season rather than as a full story these days, because there’s always a chance that they won’t get a next season. How large scale the story they want to tell actually is doesn’t matter if there’s a solid chance they won’t get to do any of it.

From a viewer perspective, I get being frustrated at the pacing being off. But from a writer perspective, the chances are very high that this is a choice they had to make, rather than one they wanted to make. And I don’t think you can truly see this if you’ve never worked with a fleshed out cast that large—Locked Out was really eye-opening for me in that regard.

This isn’t simply a case of bad writing/bad pacing by choice. It’s forced. They’re forced to rush through their plots because otherwise they won’t get the chance to tell certain parts of the story at all. And the saddest thing about this is really that those 72+ episodes to flesh out these plot points further wouldn’t have been an impossible thing to get, at a time.

Go for Disney’s head. Yell at the industry for being what it is today, for constantly axing shows before even giving them a real chance. But this isn’t on the crew.