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secretlittlerandezvous · 3 years

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Evermore - Jamie Benn

Summary: Back in summer 2013 Jamie ends his relationship with Y/n. Seven years later they run to each other on the street and both of them wonder what would happen if they tried to get back together.

Words: 2964

“We've been here before, you and me together. And we will again. Somewhere somehow we'll meet again.” - Leohearts on Tumblr

End of 2013

Y/n forgot about the time on July 22 at 5:33 pm. That was when her whole life fell apart and her world turned upside down. That was the moment he broke up with her and left her alone, confused and broken. It seemed so easy for him to walk away and forget about their love, but for Y/n it was a heartbreak she’s never experienced before. She was hurting, but everyone around her kept moving forward, life went on and on and Y/n stayed stuck in place. Summer ended as quickly as it came, the leaves turned brown and fell from the trees in the blink of an eye, Halloween passed and Thanksgiving was near but she didn’t acknowledge it and refused to make plans and she decided to stay home alone and cry. She didn’t want anyone to see her because the breakup seemed to take away all of her confidence and she feared everyone would look at her and think “what a fool, she thought she was going to get a fairytale ending with her hockey player prince”. As if the breakup put her in a bad light, as if it meant she wasn’t worthy of the love and the good company of her friends. The only reason she got out of bed every morning was her job that she didn’t enjoy anymore and for every minute she spent there she prayed for the end so she could go home and curl up in bed. No one saw her smile, no one heard her laugh, she stopped joining her colleagues for lunch and she avoided every conversation. She spent most days in her bed, crying and screaming whenever she needed to, and kept replaying every moment before the breakup to find the one where she went wrong. Maybe one day she’d find the mistake and it’d give her a fair chance of avoiding it the next time she’s in a relationship. Because what if it truly was all her fault? What if she ruined it? On the other days, she wrote letters, sometimes to Jamie, sometimes to herself just to get her thoughts out of her mind, and sometimes she stared at the blank paper and didn’t write a single word. All letters ended up in fire the moment she finished writing them.

Y/n used to believe she wasn’t the type of person who lets a heartbreak ruin her life but the end of her and Jamie’s love story had a bigger impact on her than she expected. She kept repeating to herself it was just a breakup, just a guy, just a temporary feeling but nothing could ease her pain. The pain was so overwhelming she was sure it would last for evermore.

The situation significantly changed in December. With all the Christmas decorations, songs, and movies that followed her everywhere, it was hard not to feel the joy. Suddenly she started craving the company of others and started hanging out with all her friends whenever there was a chance, sometimes she walked around the city on her own, she shopped for gifts and before she realized it, she was being her old self again; happy and cheerful. Her attitude towards the breakup changed as well although it highly depended on her mood each day. When Y/n felt good and confident, she wondered what she was even fighting for. For a relationship that ended weeks before he said it out loud? For a man who got so disgustingly comfortable in their relationship and took her for granted? On days like this, she refused to blame herself. On the days when she wasn’t in a good mood, she still cried a little and some doubts returned. But no matter what day she was having she knew now she was going to get through it.

Jamie on the other hand was doing better than ever before. He felt free to do whatever he wanted, he could go out and party all night every night, he had a different girl in his bed every time he went out, there was no one holding him back. In September he was named the sixth captain of the Dallas Stars, the new season started, and he felt like he owned the world. He had everything he ever wanted. But most of his old friends could hardly recognize him. He was the opposite of who he used to be. Cocky and foolish. Jamie naturally refused it and insisted on his truth: he was still the same person. Everyone could see how lost he was without Y/n, they saw it long before Jamie did. Jamie believed he was happy, however the breaking point came in December, just around Christmas. All his teammates were getting ready to spend the holidays with their wives and kids, girlfriends, and families, they all had someone to go to, someone who would greet them at home. But Jamie returned to an empty apartment every night and he started missing Y/n singing in the shower, her silly dance moves while she prepared the food, or her sleeping peacefully while he was about to leave for the morning skate. He missed her face and her voice and her support and love. Everything that he took for granted. He got overly comfortable and believed she would stay by his side no matter what.

And so, while Y/n started to feel better, Jamie started to feel the consequences of their breakup and the pain of all the things he lost.

Presence

Another horrible date, another idiot her friends set her up with. Another wasted day and time and a wasted outfit on someone who didn’t deserve it, not even a tiny bit. Y/n felt comfortable with being single, but her friends believed it was time for her to start seeing someone again. Since her brokeup with Jamie, she only had one longer relationship that lasted for almost three years. But that was three years ago and since then she only went on dates, but she was never satisfied with anyone. And unlike her friends, she already gave up on the hope of ever finding her soulmate.

On her way home, Y/n decided to take the longer route home to properly clear her mind and get some fresh air she so desperately needed. It was late spring, and the weather was nicely warm, the trees were green, and flowers bloomed around the sidewalk. Her mood was significantly decreased by that idiot her friends believed he could be the one, but she still couldn’t resist to smile as she looked around herself. New life always began with spring for her. And as she looked around, she noticed a familiar figure standing just across the street. A tall, muscular figure, dark hair, and tattoos covering his arms, the way he posed as he stood still. Y/n froze in place when she realized it was truly him, her heart started beating faster and she debated with herself whether she should quickly leave or continue walking and go to him to say hi. She then smiled even brightly and with confidence went to him. After all, there was no grudge against him anymore, no anger or pain, no need to cause a scene. She was at peace and she was now able to look back to 7 years ago and feel joy from all the memories she had of him and them together.

Jamie as if he knew felt a familiar presence behind him and slowly turned around. He didn’t expect to see anyone, and he believed it was just a random feeling but there she was. She was more beautiful than he remembered, her hair was longer, her face more mature now but the smile and bright eyes didn’t change at all. Panic took over Jamie when he realized she was heading his way and he wanted to run away. He wasn’t quite ready to face her because even after 7 years he couldn’t believe he made the mistake of letting her go. He knew now she was the love of his life and foolishly he let her go and he couldn’t believe his stupidity and naivety he was better off alone. What was going to happen now? Was he going to meet her on a beautiful spring day with the birds singing, trees blooming and the sunshine warming up his skin and learn some awful truth? What if she was on her way to pick up her children from kindergarten or school? What if he was about to learn she’s happily married and has everything she ever wanted? Of course, he would be happy for her but the selfish side of him couldn’t accept she would have that with someone else and that he was going to spend the rest of his life searching for her in some other girl and then die unhappy and alone.

“Hey there stranger,” her sweet voice brought him back to reality from his thoughts and sent shivers down his spine. It was like seeing a ghost.

“Y/n!” He breathed out and without thinking, he took a step closer to her, wrapped his hands around her, and gently picked her up. Y/n closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the moment and enjoyed his touch, his strong hands around her body, his beard slightly scratching her soft skin, his cologne, and the nostalgia. Jamie did the same, his heart was beating fast and he knew he would have trouble with letting her go once again. “How are you?” He asked as he put her back on her feet, unwillingly and full of fear he would never get to do this again.

“I’m good,” she said confidently. “Really good. I was just on a date.” She laughed.

“A date huh?” He said raising his eyebrow hoping she would give him more details.

“Yeah,” she nodded. Y/n knew she should’ve told him it was a bad date and that the guy was an idiot but Jamie was the last person she wanted to talk to about it and after all, he didn’t need to know anything about her personal life anyway. “But let’s not talk about that. How are you, Jamie? I’m so happy to see you!”

“I’m good too! Things are great with hockey and everything, you know? Couldn’t ask for more I guess.”

The two fell into a silence that was far from comfortable. They randomly and shyly looked at each other from time to time desperately trying to figure out what to say next. After so many years, after all the pain and moving on what could two people possibly talk about? They were done with the small talk and although neither one of them wanted to part ways just yet, they had no idea what to talk about. Y/n deep down knew meeting him would cause some damage, it would bring back some bad memories and possibly even pain and it would certainly leave her wondering what could’ve been if he didn’t end their relationships. Jamie wanted to grab her hand and never let go because he knew now without a single doubt that it was the biggest mistake of his life to let her go and even after seven years he didn’t fully move on.

“I should probably head home,” Y/n whispered unsurely.

“No! Don’t go, not yet,” Jamie said quickly. “We haven’t seen each other for so long we can catch up a little, grab a coffee or something and talk.”

“Jamie,” she said, rubbing the back of her head as always when she found herself in an uncomfortable situation. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea. Look, after the breakup I was not doing good and it took me so long to get over you. And just seeing you here in front of me is hard because it’s making me realize that it never faded, you know? Something’s still there, some feeling, and I can’t risk getting my heart broken again.” It took all her strength to say it out loud but she had it rehearsed in her mind for such a long time. After the breakup, Y/n often imagined running into him on the street and this was the speech she prepared and memorized.

Jamie knew this was coming, he deserved it. He deserved to know how much he hurt her and how much he screwed up. He had no illusions about himself anymore, for a few years now, he admitted to himself he was arrogant to everyone around him. But what for? It was probably too late. A girl like her, so kind and beautiful, funny and supportive couldn’t be alone.

“I know.” He nodded and looked away. He couldn’t bear looking at her, but he wasn’t gonna give up just yet. “Y/n, I know I made a terrible mistake and I’ve been regretting it for so long and if I had the chance, I would take it back. I was stupid, selfish and I took you for granted. I know it! But I also know that if you gave me a chance, I would be better this time.” This was the first time Jamie shamelessly and bravely admitted his feelings. He was never good with words, expressing his emotions, and avoided it as much as he could but 7 years was a long time to think and to change himself for the woman he loved. In the end, this was probably his only chance.

“I can’t Jamie, I’m sorry, I can’t do this again,” tears appeared in her eyes as she said the last word but she still found some courage to fight it back and smiled at Jamie before she walked away praying he won’t go after her. And he didn’t.

A couple of days later

A few days later Y/n found herself confused about her feelings for Jamie and she couldn’t stop thinking about him. He still had her wrapped around his finger. All these years of moving on and believing she was over him were destroyed. She thought deeply and constantly, wrote dozens of reasons why it’s not a good idea and why she could give him another chance, she cried, tried to forget, talk about it with her friends. But nothing worked. The memory of him kept coming back to her even in her dreams and ever since she ran into him she had a few dreams about the meeting, about their life together, and even a dream of their breakup. She was screwed once again.

“So, what you’re gonna do about it?” Y/n’s friend finally asked after the curiosity took over her. “I mean you’re thinking about him, right?”

“Of course, I am thinking about him! How could I not? It’s been 7 years and I was over him, over us and then I meet him for a few minutes, and he messes me up like this? What am I supposed to do now?” Y/n yelled out. Deep down she already knew what to do but didn’t want to admit it to anyone. Not even herself.

“Whatever you decide to do, I know it’ll be the right thing,” the friend smiled at her warmly.

That night Y/n couldn’t sleep. She kept tossing and turning in her bed, she tried to read a book, watch a movie, listen to a podcast but nothing could put her to sleep. The decision she made deep down haunted her because she knew if it was a bad one it would end in a total disaster and she wasn’t sure if she would survive it the second time around. And so, the next day she decided to go see Jamie in person and clean up the air.

Y/n arrived to the American Airlines Center early in the morning hoping she would find Jamie there. When they were dating, he liked to go there before anyone else arrived to have time for himself and Y/n hoped this habit didn’t change and she would find him on the ice.

“I hoped I’d find you here,” she said with relief when she spotted Jamie on the ice all by himself. “Some habits just don’t change huh?”

“Y/n!” Jamie said with surprised face. He was lost in his thoughts and didn’t notice her standing just a few feet away from him. It brought back so many memories of her coming with him to early morning skates, to his games, or when they sneaked in at night and skated until the late hours of the night. It reminded him of her smile and excitement, he heard her laugh and saw the sparkles in her eyes. “What you’re doing here?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said the last time we saw each other,” Y/n admitted. “And I came to the conclusion that I might survive giving you or perhaps giving us a second chance.” She smiled at Jamie and then quickly stopped as she realized he could’ve changed his mind and not want her back anymore. “If you still want that.”

Jamie’s face lit up immediately after she finished talking. He hoped and prayed for a second chance and he knew that if he was gonna get it he would make sure to treat Y/n right and appreciate her as he should’ve. He then quickly skated to Y/n and stood in front of her with hope and happiness visible on his face. “I promise I won’t make any stupid mistakes this time.”

“You will make stupid mistakes,” Y/n giggled. “Just don’t ever let me go again.”

“I won’t, I promise you that.”

“Then it’s for evermore,” Y/n whispered and kissed Jamie. And it was right. It felt right. They belonged together.

#jamie benn #jamie benn imagine #jamie benn writing #jamie benn one shot #jamie benn imagines #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars one shot #dallas stars writing #dallas stars imagines #nhl imagine #nhl players imagine #nhl writing #nhl imagines #nhl one shot #hockey imagine #hockey writing #hockey one shot #hockey imagines

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weirdthoughtsandideas · 2 years

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Ok, now I wanna hear your DCLA dreams that you remember

Of course!

Now, note that I remember many more Violetta dreams, as I only saw SL last september and I saw Violetta for the first time 9 years ago (context, season 1 started airing 2013 in Sweden because we are fucking late with everything)

So, my Violetta dreams first:

- The first one I remember was... really weird. I dreamed this when I was 11. It was about Matias asking Violetta if she was on her period or something, and then Germán pulled Violetta aside and said "You shouldn't discuss periods with Matias". I woke up feeling very off. In retrospect, I think I dreamed that because 1. I had recently gotten my first period at the time, so that subject was in my head 2. Violetta was literally the only thing I watched, so it was also in my head

- One I dreamt when I was like 12-13, and it was Leon and Violetta just almost-kissing on a field. That was the whole dream. I liked it though.

- This one dream where I was myself, but I "observed" the characters - basically I was there but I was invincible. Anyway, I was in this random room filled with small stairs up and down, and Diego and Leon chasing each other into a room. Olga was there and she muttered something like "ugh, those boys are impossible." The room they had ran into had a window, and when I looked through the window, Leon and Diego had regressed to 10 year olds and were sitting in a circle with Violetta and Francesca (who also had regressed). They talked, but I couldn't hear what they said. Then they all ran around the room and laughed.

- One taking place in my high school. There's a staircase in my high school where Leon, Violetta and Francesca were having a dramatic scene. Leon and Violetta were arguing on one staircase, and every time Leon said something, Violetta gave a look to Fran, who was standing on the staircase on the other side and just smirked. In this dream, Camila also said she had won a cheesecake competition her mother had, because her siblings couldn't cook anyway so she won. Napo also bragged that he won a dance competiton.

- I had a dream where Violetta and Francesca were making out behind a rock while trying to not get Leon and Diego to see them. I wrote a oneshot based on this

- I one time dreamt that Federico proposed to Violetta during the final episode and I was like "I don't think ANYONE saw that coming!"

- In this one dream, I dreamt that there was this old website that basically was tumblr but more kid friendly?? Anyway, someone had posted a gif of Diego and Leon sharing looks while passing each other in a performance, and they had written "Today we won. Today the Dieleon's won. The leonetta people say we don't but we are. #dieleonforever #leonettaisgoingDOWN" and I remember being like "ah, memories"

- The latest dream I had was that I had found an old magazine discussing the new season, which in this case was season 2. In the magazine they described a new character named Sebi, who was the owner of a swim center and was a substitute at the Studio, and he was basically a military. Even Gregorio feared him, but Antonio was like "nah he's fine <3". I woke up really confused and tried to remember anyone named Sebi who was a substitute

Aight now for my Soy Luna dreams, which aren't as many but there are a few:

- I had one Lumon dream once after watching their scenes around 1x36-1x39. Don't know the plot of the dream tho, it was just them being cute

- I had this dream about Ámbar sitting on the couch with a wine glass (i don't know if it was wine in the glass though), and she turned to Luna who was walking towards the front door. She said "Oy, Luna!" and then told her to come over. Then she told her something else, and I don't remember what, but I do remember her holding that wine glass proudly while sitting on the couch

- This one dream where Ámbar and Luna grew up together and Luna had the great idea as a child to skate down the stairs, only for her to trip, and the two girls decided to never tell Sharon about this

And that's all the dreams I remember lol

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hypocrisyofandrewdobson · 3 years

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Dobson's Patreon: An Addendum to His Monument of Sins

(The following is a submission from @soyouareandrewdobson, meant to be an addendum to the multi-post submission @ripsinfest made a while back. Ironically, this one also had issues when being submitted, so I’ll be copypasting it here with all the images and links originally intended.)

In 2018, user @ripsinfest wrote a multipart series of posts for THOAD, recounting Dobson’s attempt to establish a patreon in 2015 and how it resulted in failure on a massive scale, to the point that his patreon is arguably “a monument to all his sins”.

Personally I think the post series is extremely well researched, rather “neutral” in terms of tone (letting the posts provided as evidence speak more for themselves than the opinion of the writer) and gives a detailed but quick rundown on what went wrong. Primarily that Dobson overestimated his own “value” as an artist and did NOT attempt to give his few supporters what they wanted through his artwork posted around the time.

I do however want to use the opportunity to also point out at certain obvious things that in my opinion (and likely the opinions of others) added to the failure of the patreon account, that were not accounted for in detail and are primarily related to how the internet perceives popularity and Dobson’s inability to understand, how to “sell” and make himself look good to the public.

To begin with, let’s just point out a certain truth about making money via Patreon: To do so, depends a lot on your popularity as a content creator online. That is simply because the more popular you are, the bigger your fanbase is and as such the more likely a certain percentage of people may be willing to donate money to you and your work in hopes they get something out of it, even if it is just the altruistic feeling of having helped someone they “like”. It doesn’t take a genius to see, how e.g. internet reviewers such as Linkara or moviebob (around 2800 and 4400$ earnings via patreon each month respectively) can make quite some money, while other, more obscure content creator or artists barely make money to go by, earning essentially pocket money at best.

In addition, popularity is fleeting. A few years ago e.g. internet personality Noah Antweiler aka The SpoonyOne managed to earn 5000$ a month via patreon, just shortly after establishing his account. But his lack of content over the years AND his toxic behavior online resulted in a decline of popularity and with it people jumping off his Patreon. As such, Antweiler only earns nowadays around 290$ a month via Patreon and most of that money is likely form people who have forgotten they donate to him in the first place anyway.

And Noah is not the only one who over the course of the last couple of years lost earnings. Brianna Wu makes barely more than he does, despite having once been the “darling” of the internet when the Gamergate controversy was at its peak. Many Bronies who once made more than 2k via video reviews on a show about little horses at the peak of its popularity (2013-15) earn less than 300-800 on average nowadays because interest on the show as well as people talking about it has declined.

Heck, in preparation of writing this piece I found out, that one of the highest grossing patreons nowadays is “The last podcast on the left”, a podcast that earns more than 67k a month by making recordings on obscure and macabre subjects on a regular basis.

So there you have it folks: As the interests of the internet users change, so does the popularity of certain people online and -in case they have a patreon account or similar plattforms- their chances of making money via their content.

Which now brings us back to Dobson, who was not popular at all at that particular time and managed to become even less popular as the months and years passed by.

Sure, Dobson had his fans via deviantart, people knew who he was. But the later was more because of “infamy” than popularity and the number of fans he had accumulated online were representing people interested in him at least since 2005 and did not quite represent his actual present day numbers of supporters at the time.

And mind you, the number of supporters was less than 100k, most of them likely underaged deviantart users. And if my research indicates something, then that most content creators with a halfway decent patreon earning need at least 100k+ followers in total. Because of those fans, only around 1-3% will on average then spend money on you, if you actually create content they enjoy and on a regular basis.

Which brings up the next major problem: Dobson did not create content people enjoyed and that in more than one meaning of the word.

On one hand, as pointed out by ripsinfest, he barely released any content at all over 2015 after a few initial months, despite the fact that he was obviously active online a lot, as shown by his presence on twitter. On the other hand, the few things he did create were not the stuff people wanted.

As an example: If you go to a restaurant and pay for a pizza, you expect the cook to give you a pizza. If however for some reason he just gives you a soda, you get ripped off and never come back. In Dobson’s case, the thing people wanted was not pizza but comic pages. But what he delivered was mostly bland fanart, such as of Disney and Marvel characters crossing over or KorraSami. Sure, a few strips of “So…you are a cartoonist” were still released at the time, but not really many.

To give an overview: Taking the release dates on Dobson’s official SYAC site into account, he released around 16 strips of it between March and August of 2015, the last two being “No Leia” being titled “Zip line”

Afterwards, the next official strip released was “Anything at all” in October of 2016.

Now to be fair, there was at least one more strip at the time Dobson released via patreon, that is also save to see on kiwifarms and other plattforms, which has not been uploaded to his official SYAC page. Likely because he simply forgot about it.

But I think that in itself should tell you something about Dobson’s work ethics when it comes to his webcomics. He promoted his patreon in his own video as a way to ensure he can make comics in a timely fashion again for others to enjoy, but in an environment where certain artists are capable to create multiple strips per week at minimum, Dobson could overall not manage to produce more than 16 over a course of six months, which means an average production of 3 strips per month.

For comparison, Tatsuya Ishida of the infamous sinfest webcomic (a garbage fire of epic proportions from a TERF who I think should be put on a watch list) has produced on average 4 strips per week, including full page Sunday strips, for years and nowadays even releases stuff on a daily basis to pass the covid crisis. So a mad man who wants to see trnas people die, has better work ethics than Dobson.

In other words, people expected Dobson to actually get back into creating comics (with some even expecting a return of Alex ze Pirate), but he got in fact even lazier than before, releasing only SYAC strips and random fanart as a product. Which he then also tried to justify as his choice to make because a) he had mental health issues and b) no one can tell him what to do.

And sure, people do not need to tell you what to do. But when people pay/donate money to you expecting to get a certain product in return, they should get the product. Linkara e.g. by all means doesn’t NEED to review comics to have a fullfilling life, but he got famous for his reviews, people want to see his reviews and they pay him for those reviews. So obviously, he will continue those things.

Then there is also the fact that despite Dobson’s claims how he wants to create comics for everone to enjoy and that he aims to keep his artwork online for free so anyone can view it…(his exact words in his promotional video AND text on his patreon once upon a time)

youtube

…the reality was, that he wanted to use patreon as a paywall. Something I actually kinda pointed out at on my own account (shameless self promotion) once, but want now to elaborate a bit. Basically at the time Dobson opened up his patreon, he also was on the verge of leaving deviantart as a platform people could look at his work behind. Which he eventually did.

Meaning that the only major platforms for people to watch any “new” stuff by him were his patreon or art sites such as the SYAC homepage or andysartwork. Which granted, he did EVENTUALLY put his stuff on.

But unlike other content creators who would put “patreon exclusive” new content up on more public plattforms often within a few days, weeks or a month after making them “patreon only” at first, Dobson waited longer and did barely anything to promote his sites as places to look his stuff up for a public audience. In doing so creating a “bubble” for himself that hurt him more than it helped, as Dobson made himself essentially come off as a snob.

A snob who did not create content for everybody to enjoy, but ONLY for those willing to pay him at least one dollar per month. As evident e.g. by the fact that as time went by, certain content was never released outside of his patreon at all, such as a SYAC strip involving Dobbear screaming at the computer because he saw a piece of art that featured tumblr nose.

Lastly, there is the issue of his patreon perks and stretch goals.

See, his perks were essentially non existent. Aside of the beggars reward of “my eternal thank you if you donate 1 dollar”, two other perks that come to my mind were the following: If you donated up to 5$ at minimum, you got your name thrown into a lottery to potentially win buttons and postcards of his artwork. Unsold cheap merch from years prior he failed to sell at conventions basically. There was just a problem with that thing: That lottery thing, which he also was only going to initiate when he reached a stretch goal of 150 dollar a month? It was illegal!

Patreon itself has in their user agreement a rule that forbids people from offering perks that essentially boil down to “earning” something via gambling, which this lottery by Dobson was.

(THOAD chiming in here to add that, in addition to all this, he fully admitted he would be excluding Patrons that he “knew were clearly trolls” from the lottery. Which made the already illegal lottery also fixed, so...yeah.)

The next thing coming to mind was his “discount” on previous books of his he offered online, if you donated at least 10 bucks per month to him. Or to translate it: You would get a bare minimum discount at pdf files of books such as Alex ze Pirate and Formera (you know, the permanently cancelled Dobson comics) if you paid up 50-75% of their original price on Patreon already. And considering the quality of his early works, he should have given you at least a book per month for free if you dared to donate him that much.

As for the stretch goals… lets go through them, shall we:

100$: A wallpaper per month. Something he did provide with eventually, but barely. And after less than five of those he stopped to make them overall

150$: Monthly Gift basket Lottery, which as I stated, was illegal and almost got him into serious trouble with his account. Also not an initial stretch goal he made up but instead came up with a few months into his accounts existence. Finally it got temporarily replaced by Dobson playing with the idea to use 150$ per month to open up a server and art site where people could upload stuff for free similar to deviantart, but under his administration. Promising a “safe space” for other artists. Which considering Dobson’s ego and inability to accept criticism or delegate responsibilities would have likely ended like this:

175$: Establishing a Minecraft server for him and his fans to play on. Meaning Dobson would have just wasted time he could spend on creating comics to endulge in his Minecraft obsession.

200$: Writing a Skyrim children book. Aside of the legal nightmare that this could have been (I doubt Valve would have been happy of someone else profiting of their property) I have to ask, who was even interested in Skyrim by 2015 anymore? Sure, Skyrim was a popular game and it had its qualities, but it was also a trend that had passed by that time. So in other words, there was not a market to cater towards here.

300$: A strip per week guaranteed.

… are you fucking kidding me? 75$ per strip essentially? Something people expect you to produce anyway if you want to be considered a “prolific” creator worth supporting online? Imagine if certain internet reviewers would do that, telling you that if they do not earn at least a certain amount of money, they will not produce anything, period, or less than usual. And Dobson had already proven that he can release more than just one comic within a few days, if he is motivated by enough spite.

600$: Starting a podcast with his friends to talk about nerd culture. In my opinion could only work under the assumption that people even like the idea of listening to Dobson and his opinions. Which considering how very little people like talking to him sounds doubtful. Also, considering how Dobson tends to be late to the party when it comes to nerd culture, likely tending to be out of date faster than he could upload. Finally... what friends?

700$: Returning the love, as he says it, by donating some of the money patreon users gave him to other content creators. This in my opinion is the most self defeating cause possible. On one hand sure, being generous and all that. But essentially Dobson admits here he would blow the money people give him to support HIS art on others, essentially defeating the purpose of HIS own account. He also does not clarify how much of that money he would donate, meaning there was a high chance that he would spend less than 10% of it on other creators, only creating the illusion of support while putting the actual earnings/donations into his own pocket.

2000$: A massive jump ahead. 2000$ per month would result in him getting better equipment (as in a new computer e.g.) and as such “potentially” make more comics. Mind you, only potentially.

This goal in my opinion is also the most fucked up one. Primarily for the following reasons:

Lets say Dobson would have achieved the goal and actually earned over 2000$ per month for at least a year. His annual earning would have been 24k, minus whatever he had to pay as taxes and payment for using the patreon service. And what would he do with this money? Get himself a better computer and equipment by paying a minor fraction of it once. Then he could use that computer for years to come while still having over 10k in his account, plus his monthly earnings. And he may still just produce 3-4 comics a month of a series that has as much depth to it than Peppa Pig if not less.

Sure, many patreon users have 2k+ as a stretch goal on their accounts to signify that if they could make that much monthly, they could have the necessary financial security to focus their time primarily on their content instead of a regular job. And if the content they create is actually well made, many people would support that or be okay with it.

But 2000 dollars to buy ONE computer and not account for how this money will add up over time? And that in light of such profits people may actually expect you to create more than you barely do already? That is either a case of narcissism, plain stupidity because you can't look further than 5 feet or just shows how Dobson did not understand at all the tool he had at his disposal.

Bottom line: Dobson, like many times before, fucked it up. He overestimated the potential support and resulting profits he could make, he expected that his name alone would be enough to assure gainings instead of creating content to justify support and he was unwilling to really give his supporters anything worthwhile back.

And while I am sure that there were also many other factors guaranteeing his failure, those at least to me, were his "common" mistakes most other people familiar even with the basics of internet popularity would ahve avoided.

#long post #patreon #syac #submission #very long post #andrew dobson #adobsonartworks #tom preston #adobsonart #soyouareandrewdobson #ripsinfest

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acespec-ed · 3 years

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A Night of Self-Discovery

Thursday, February 21st, 2013.

That was the day I discovered demisexuality. Like, within the first two hours of that day.

I had joined Tumblr several weeks before then, but wasn’t reblogging anything yet. Just lurking about. And yet I never came across the term “asexual.” Nor “demisexual.” Nor any of the acespec identities.

But gee golly whiz, isn’t Tumblr known for being the website full of special snowflakes with their special, made-up orientations? How could you be on Tumblr for nearly a month and not come across any of that?

Good question. But I bet you have a more pressing question to ask me. If I had not discovered the existence of demisexuals from Tumblr, then where the hell else would I ever come across that term in the year of 2013?

Reddit.

That’s right. Reddit. The site known for incels and anti-SJWs and people complaining about the special snowflakes on Tumblr.

The night of February 20th was no different than any other 2013 night. I don’t remember jack shit about what I did, that’s how insignificant of a night it was. And if anything significant did happen, it left my memory in favor of the significant event that was yet to come when the 20th rolled over to the 21st.

I was scrolling through Reddit, as I often do. And I spotted an eye-catching thread title, from the AskWomen subreddit.

“How often do you see a man and think ‘i’d fuck him?’”

I almost laughed. Women gazing upon a man with the desire to fuck him? What nonsense is this?? Maybe men do that with women. But it’s certainly not the other way around!

Do note that I had a lot of fucked up views about men vs women back then, and those views changed the moment I clicked that link.

Every comment I came across could be summed up as a “yes.” Women do think about fucking men. Women do want to fuck men. And we’re not talking boyfriends and husbands. Not even friends. Some of these comments were about wanting to fuck random strangers! Some of these women had these thoughts often!

I scrolled through so many comment chains, desperate to find someone, anyone, who could see how irrational these people sounded! Surely I wasn’t the only person who never felt any interest in fucking a stranger? I couldn’t be. Could I?

After what felt like an eternity, I came across a comment that sounded as close to rationality as possible. The person said they didn’t feel attraction until they got to know the man’s personality. Someone responded saying they could be demisexual. Of course, I hopped right onto Google for more information.

And everything clicked.

The sex-repulsion. The lack of interest in wanting a boyfriend. How I cannot fathom the appeal of one night stands. How I could not understand needing sex. Why people seemed to have a hard time keeping it in their pants. Why “dying a virgin” was considered a bad thing, when it was originally part of my life plan. The confusion I felt when I first started developing sexual attraction towards my boyfriend. A weight lifted from my shoulders. A weight I didn’t realize I was even carrying.

Demisexual. I was demisexual. It explained so much.

I stayed up until 2 in the morning researching all of this. Finally feeling understood in a way I never thought possible.

After much debate, I decided to share this exciting news with my boyfriend, who had long past gone to bed. I sent him a big message about it, summarizing my feelings.

He responded: “Okays! I <3 you!”

I was hoping for a bit more, but was relieved that he was okay and supportive of it.

Since my boyfriend was the only person I was ever sexually attracted to, and I wasn’t sure when exactly that attraction took hold, I eventually decided to call myself gray asexual instead. It’s hard to know how you experience sexual attraction if it’s only happened once. And when the years flew by with him being the only person, I figured I might as well call myself asexual. I related to them more than any other identity anyway. But of course, sexual attraction had to sneak up on me again in December of 2020. So now I’m back to gray asexual. Although I do wonder if I’m demi from time to time, given it has taken time for the sexual attraction to hit. I just don’t feel like I know the person well enough to call it a “bond.” So gray asexual it is!

#asexual #gray asexual #demisexual #my experiences #okay to reblog #i actually had to do a bit of digging around to figure out the time period of all this #didn't know it all offhand other than february 2013 #but yeah feb 21 i need to remember that so i can celebrate it next year

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mcrmadness · 3 years

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This is just me talking about (my) asexuality and aromanticism and mainly about how I figured I'm aroace. I'm from Finland and recently turned 30 so my experience and "lgbt+ history" might not be what you know it as, especially if you are not from Europe, or if your native language is English.

Also this is highly personal, so I doubt anyone here will have 100% same experience. But that's fine because remember: we're all individuals here and these are NEVER universal. You're still valid even if you wouldn't relate to what being aspec is to me.

It might be IS a long post so beware, but I've just been feeling like writing down some thoughts so here we go...

What I have been able to track is that I was 17, in 2008, when I first stumbled upon the term "asexuality". I don't remember exactly how, but I just remember reading about it and immediately going "yeah that's me". But what I do remember is that no one talked it being about sexual attraction. Basically how understood it was: asexuality = sex-repulsion.

I was 17, and somehow I knew I was sex-repulsed, but at the same time also thought I'm just a minor, so it's normal to be sex-repulsed. But even after turning 18, I don't recall ever feeling sexual attraction. I didn't think of myself as a "late bloomer" but just as someone who just has no interest towards sex. At some point I became really anxious of men, however. Nothing has ever happened to me* but still I, for some reason, developed terrible fear of men. I'm afab and just did not want to be seen as an object, and it made, still makes me, terrified to think someone might look at me and have Emotions. I know that we can't control our brains, I mean, I can't look at someone and force myself to feel attraction - just like those who do feel attraction, can't force themselves to stop feeling attraction. They can only control their actions. But yeah, I also had horrible (sexual) intrusive thoughts due to my generalized anxiety disorder at some point, which did not really help. They got a bit better when I came into terms with my asexuality and aromanticism, but sometimes they still come at me and it's never fun, but at least they're not as strong as what they used to be.

*(Unless if you can count that as sexual harrasment when, CW, I was 11 and a classmate was "into" me and tried to touch my face and talk "sweet things" to me but made it into a show despite me being uncomfortable and usually crying cos as a neurodivergent I didn't know how else to react.)

But anyway, back to the topic. So for years I understood asexuality as sex-repulsion, but I guess it's because I, well, am a sex-repulsed ace. So if I'm sex-repulsed, why would I then look at someone and feel something if I'm repulsed by the thing anyway? Like, it probably can't get any simpler than this :D And I know today that it's not as simple anymore. But that was 2008, at school (in ~2005) they only talked about gays a little, on one page in a sex.ed. book that otherwise was maybe 100 pages long. Only one page. About gays. And it was basically "Some boys like boys or some girls like girls and it's totally fine." and that was it, but the overall assumption was that everyone likes someone. And also there were no romantic orientations. Liking someone = both sexually and romantically. Not liking = not a thing except when you were depressed or otherwise mentally ill, or autistic or mentally disabled (which is a SUPER ableist take btw). I don't remember teachers ever talking about this, but it could also just be my adhd, maybe they did mention, but I just don't remember. At least in my notebooks there is no mention of this, everything was very much heteronormative and amatonormative, and also there was only two genders. I don't remember ever hearing about transgender people, apart from foreign documentaries and in them they were always portrayed as some shocking freaks of the nature, and loads of wrong terms were used. And this is still the mid and late 2000s we're talking about!

So this takes us to the other part aka aromanticism. Back then asexuality was not only sex-repulsion but also merged together with aromanticism, because people didn't talk about romantic orientations yet. So asexuality was not only sex-repulsion, but also you simply just not wanting a relationship. Again, nothing about attraction, just someone who did not care about sex nor relationships. A "forever single", if you will.

This was already annoying me a lot back then because I was really annoyed by sex "running the world". I was so angry because why is asexual the only sexuality that doesn't like sex? All the other sexualities had the assumption of them always wanting to have sex. Like, even think about someone who is straight, you hear that someone is straight, and you automatically assume(d) that oh they're into sex too cos why wouldn't they be. This was really driving me nuts because I was sure there are people who want to have a partner, but never want to have sex! I was still experiencing crushes, and I knew for sure it was nothing sexual, so it annoyed me that just because I'm asexual, it means I can't have crushes. That's why I actually called myself as "asexual bi" for a while, because "bisexual" indicated I would have not been sex-repulsed and I wanted to point out that I'm NOT into sexual things, at all - and remember that this was still the late 2000s or early 2010s and I had not heard of romantic orientations yet! So I was up to something, there just were no terms for that yet! Today that would be called bi-/panromantic asexual.

I haven't been able to track the exact date or even year when did I figure out I'm aromantic, or when did I hear about romantic orientations for the first time. From the messages I've been able to find, I was already in my early 20s. Aka somewhere around maybe 2011-2013. In those, I have still been wondering what I am or if I even want to have a relationship, not being really able to tell what I wanted or didn't want. Again, no one told me romantic orientations are about ATTRACTION and not about whether you have commitment issues or not (this as a half-joke, cos I have severe commitment issues with everything :D I need to feel free!).

Anyway, I do remember my key moment with aromanticism, or the "aromantic awakening" as you could call it too, was when I was 17 or 18. Or maybe I was older? I don't know, I have time blindness. Anyway, I had this one online friend I had a "crush" on (I think it was just undiagnosed adhd's person hyperfixation) and I even told her about it. Everything just is super shady, from those years, I was not really on my best and there are so many overlapping memories that feel like different alternative universes instead of memories on a same timeline. Anyway, I just remember at some point thinking about this girl and I thought about some "romantic" stuff, like kissing, and I just remember my brain going "NOOOOOPE!" I had wanted to meet with her some day so bad, but when I started thinking about actually meeting with her, I started to nope the fuck out. All I had in my head was awkward embarrassing "first kiss" scenarios from movies and I just was not having it! I basically went "lol I guess I'm aro too, then XD" but I still don't remember when did I have this realization. Was I 17? Or was I, say, 22? I guess I need to go through my old MSN Messenger and Skype convos some day to investigate this further because I really want to know. I couldn't even find anything from my Tumblr from those times (I registered here in 2011), but I don't know if that's just me not tagging or Tumblr search functioning normally (aka it never finds anything).

But yeah, I am touch-repulsed. And kiss-repulsed, and romance-repulsed, too, (unless it's my OTP we're talking about). I'm still not exactly sure if I'm touch repulsed because I'm aromantic, or if I'm aromantic because I'm touch-repulsed. I only know that because of my sensory issues (I'm neurodivergent), I have never liked touching nor being touched. Even as a little kid I hated hugs and never liked sitting on anyone's lap. I only tolerated my parents, mainly my mom, because they were my safe place as an extremely shy baby/toddler/kid, who was especially wary about men. I can't explain the latter, but there was something about adult men that caused me (as a baby) to hide my face against my mom's shoulder if they talked to me. I did that to everyone I didn't know, but especially to men I didn't know. No idea why.

I also remember how my siblings loved to sit on people's laps and were always climbing onto their laps, and I didn't like this. And once my (late) grandma was so touched when she asked me if I want to sit on her lap (I was maybe 5-7?) and I agreed just to make her happy. I still remember how it felt, and I did not like it at all, but it still made my grandma so happy that I THINK she almost cried when she told my mom I actually agreed to sit on her lap. I'm not sure how real this last part of the memory is because I was so young. But I do remember thinking I do that for a change because I knew my grandma would be happy.

So yeah, my touch-repulsion is not exactly a new thing but just something that has been a part of my personality forever. But is that the core reason for why I only feel aesthetic attraction? I never look at people and feel like I wanna touch. More of the opposite, the idea of having to touch them or them touching me makes me go "eeewww". If you have seen that video of a gibbon shaking their whole body after seeing a rat in their exhibit? That's what I feel like when I think about touching or being touched, in just any way, also platonically.

The only time I feel "sensual attraction" is when I see photos or videos of animals. The urge to pet a tiger is insane. But the feel of another human's skin or muscle (or hair or whatever) is very repulsive to me.

I still remember how disgusting it felt to e.g. sit on a cousin's lap. We sometimes used swings like this, and somehow I was aware of it not feeling nice, but still not doing anything about it cos it also was okay? Only later I have realized I really, really loathe the texture of human skin. Or the warmth and overall feeling of a human body. For example, I was at least 7 or younger when I sat on my cousin's lap while we were sitting on a swing and STILL, after over 20 years, I have that all in my body memory. I remember how the thigh bone felt under my legs and how freaking disgusting the muscles felt inbetween. Also at school, on the 1st grade, we often had to walk in a line of twos after the teacher and hold the pair's hand so no one gets lost. My then-friend had so ridiculously dry skin that the only thing I could think of was how I felt like throwing up because the skin on her palm felt so damn disgusting. I still can feel that in my hand when I think of it. That's one of my "core memories" from 1st grade - how disgusting the human skin can feel like.

I don't think I have ever felt actual romantic attraction towards anyone. It's really difficult to differentiate because as I mentioned, I get those people hyperfixations easily. I guess it's the same hormones but I never really want to do anything with them? I guess it's the emotional intimacy that "attracts" me and what gets me excited, but I'm still not exactly sure what emotional intimacy means to me. I don't exactly fall into the QPR category either, in a way I wish I had a best friend whose best friend also I would be, and that neither would have anyone else who is "better" than the other one. But the only intimacy there would be emotional intimacy, nothing else. And I need my freedom so I wouldn't move in with any human being, either.

Sometimes I've thought my "ideal partner" would be a robot because if I get annoyed, I could just turn it off and stuff into a closet and leave there, and if I felt like not having a "relationship" anymore, I could just remove the harddrive and destroy the robot, or both. That way I would be the only one with the memories, and I wouldn't have to worry about someone out there knowing things about me, things that only the closest can know, and I'm really afraid of letting anyone close in case it won't work (also with regular friendships) because I can't stop thinking about how much I wish I had that MIB memory cancelling device so that they would again know almost nothing, or at least much much less about me. There's already one friendship that ended a few years ago and I still keep thinking about how I wish I could take everything back and how I wish they delete(d) all the files and drawings and stuff I sent them. There are so many things about me I wish I never told them, now as we are no longer friends. Back then it felt like "of course this is gonna last a lifetime!" but turns out that nope, not all friendships will.

I guess it's time to stop rambling. This post is really long already. If you read it all the way here: congrats. And thanks. You probably just wasted your time but... that's on you I guess :DDD But yeah, some thoughts from a 30-years-old aroace who has been aware of their identity for at least or almost 10 years now.

#mcrmadness' deep thoughts #asexuality #aromantic #aroace #aspec

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orbitariums · 4 years

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𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟓)

note - once again, thank you for reading!! it took me a while for this chapter and i wanted to execute it properly. it’s long so i hope y’all got a place to sittt!!! srry if it has typos i didn’t go thru in depth!!

i introduced a new character in this named alex. i see him being portrayed as alex turner or oscar isaac, but you’re free to picture anyone!!!

let me know what y’all think of this chapter!!!!! i love some of the scenes in this, i feel like i structured it differently than how i usually do and you get to see their lives a lil more <3

new taglist

playlist

warnings - angst, stucky mission!, angst!, cigarette smoking, hints of 2013-2014 tumblr vibes for sure

word count: 9.7k

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

"Back to working late nights, I see."

As Steve looked over his shoulder, he was met with the sight of Natasha leaning against the jamb of the open door to his office. The light from the hallway flooded into his dimly lit office, the only lighting being the lamp on his desk. She had her arms folded, a small smile on her face as Steve looked up at her.

Locking eyes with him, it was no surprise that he had the same tired gaze that had been lingering in his eyes for the past three weeks since he'd stopped talking to you, almost a month. And while Nat may not have been surprised, she, like everyone else, was concerned. Steve was different from the man he had been just a few weeks ago, the man who seemed suddenly uplifted. He had rose up from his bad mood only to re-enter the slump he was in before, only worse.

This time, the slump Steve was in wasn't irritated and unnecessarily aggressive due to pent up sexual frustration, but it was lethargic, a melancholia that creeped in slowly. He seemed sad and gloomy, "not in the mood." Before any of Steve's mood swings, he was just the kind of calm and serious person that Steve Rogers was.

Then you came along and he was Steve Rogers in Wonderland. Now that you were gone, it was like he'd buried himself into a dark and deep hole, and not the one that Alice fell into. He was just sort of somber and quiet, too quiet. Isolated, like he was now - deep into his work, but not in a good way.

Steve didn't even muster a smile. He just slumped back slightly into his chair and sighed, the cold gloom in his eyes unwavering.

"Working on something from the Sokovia unit."

Nat offered a small, sad smile,

"Need anything? You're missing out on movie night."

Steve shook his head. He knew that Nat was checking on him for other reasons, but he didn't want to be the one to address it. He hadn't talked to anyone about it, not even Bucky, who was the only one to flat out ask what was happening. The others sort of danced around the topic. But it bothered Natasha greatly. She had to ask, because even she couldn't figure it out.

"Don't need anything. Thanks."

"Steve. What's going on?" Nat asked, fed up. She walked in further and closed the door behind her. "You're acting strange again."

Steve mustered the tiniest of smiles, shrugging,

"Just been busy these days."

"No, you've been purposefully making yourself busy. You're all cooped up in here. You're by yourself all the time, even when you're around us. What's going on?" Nat sat on the edge of the table, looking down at him with her eyebrows drawn together. "No one else is asking, but we're all wondering it."

Steve sighed. He'd been isolating himself, burying himself in work to distract himself from the thought of you. The two of you had ended on such a rough note, and it was hard for him to even process it. It scared him, how much more he thought about you now that he had stopped talking to you, thinking that would be the solution.

Thinking that leaving you alone would stop things from escalating. And they had, maybe in the way of your actual relationship with each other. But for Steve individually? The feelings were worse than they had been. He was hurt that he had hurt you, and it was like leaving you only exposed how much he really did need you.

And to think of it that way felt like his biggest defeat. Like he was letting his responsibilities down. He couldn't feel this way about someone he met online, not in the way that he met you. He couldn't let it get to this point, and yet it was impacting him so strongly, much more than he'd expected.

So he retracted, recoiled to be alone. He hated the way it had gone down - hated the fact that he had scared himself, hated the fact that he had even allowed things to feel that serious. But mostly he hated the fact that he couldn't be honest with himself - or maybe he hated the fact that now that he was being honest with himself, he was depriving himself of a good thing out of fear. And he had virtually no one to talk this out with, because he'd have to tell the full story, and he still forbid himself to do that.

It was over, and he didn't want to put this on his team's plate, even if it was over with. Now that he had ended things, he didn't have anything to hide anymore, but that didn't mean he was just going to reveal everything. He still felt like his leadership would be at stake if he were to, although not selfishly. It felt like something so private. He needed to think this out with himself.

So while he knew why Natasha was checking in, and knew that she was right to, because clearly something was happening, he still couldn't open up. So he just dismissed it with a wave of his hand and a false smile,

"Don't worry, I've just been tired." Steve hopped up from his desk, allowing a burst of energy, even if ingenuine, to take over.

He didn't want the others to worry about him like this. The situation was a big enough deal already. He didn't want them in on his own personal pain, which he had fully decided to take care of himself - though he wasn't doing a very good job of it. He continued, grinning.

"I'll join you guys for movie night," he decided.

He hadn't magically gotten better, but if this was what it might take to ensure his team that he was fine, he would bring himself out of his little hole, just for a few hours. He needed a break anyway, he'd been starting to drift when Natalie came in, thinking of you specifically.

But Natasha wasn't buying it, the fake smile, the sudden burst of energy. It was like he was putting on a show, but she wasn't a fan of his performance.

She stood up and sort of blocked him, staring him down with a dead serious look in her eyes, her arms folded. She wasn't angry, but she was disappointed by Steve's behavior. The past few months had been so topsy turvy with him, his changes in mood weren't making any sense. Out of anyone on the team, she felt like he understood her, had made the effort to make a true connection with her, rather than just gaze on, intimidated by her.

"I know you, Steve. You're not fooling anyone." As Steve's smile turned into a frown, Natasha turned around, walking out of his office. On her way out she followed with, "Come back when you're ready to be honest."

♡ ♡ ♡

"Can we get another round of mimosas, please?"

Aaliyah's voice brought you back down to earth. The spring air bristled against your dewy skin, the sun shining down on you from where you were both sitting in the seating area outside the cafe. If anything, you were grateful for California's sunshine. It kept you sane, and reminded you that no matter what, you'd always have the sun.

You were sitting outside you and Aaliyah's favorite brunch place (with bottomless mimosas), just to catch up and talk. You'd been busy dealing with school work and your personal life. And just now, you were a bit distracted, thinking of all the things that led you to this point. You were thinking of Steve, who still came around the wild landscape of your mind once in a while, like the shadow of a maintenance man who you never quite met. It had been almost a month since you stopped talking to Steve.

It still hurt sometimes when you thought about it, because you missed the rush of talking to him - your experience with Steve was so unique to your experience with any other customer. But it wasn't all about the rush - you missed really talking to him and getting to know him. Even though it felt like it had been all for naught, you felt a warm feeling in your chest when you thought about him.

You hadn't felt that way with a customer, and while you realized it was silly and irresponsible for the both of you to get as caught up as you had, you still loved every moment of talking to him. It took a special person for you to want to talk to Steve as much as you did - doing private shows for him, requesting him instead of the other way around. It was truly one of the more wholesome experiences you'd had with a customer. The rush was a part of it - it was exciting and thrilling.

But it was also calming, full of comforting conversation and freeing interactions. It was like this unhinged pleasure you were inviting each other to share, in every sense of the word - it wasn't just you servicing him, though that was a part of it. It felt like in a sense, he also served you.

The feelings were mutual. You listened to each other, you felt like you knew each other. So, since you were being honest with yourself, you could admit it hurt. But you didn't let it drag you down, especially now that it had been over three weeks. Mostly, when you thought of him, it was nostalgic, like you were waking up from a dream and only remembering traces of it. Just remembering, not grieving.

Aaliyah noticed your silence and offered you a tiny, shy smile. Ever you had been focusing on yourself, you hadn't been talking to Aaliyah nearly as much. Now that you felt comfortable being in the same spaces as before, you were together, talking it out.

You'd only told her bits and pieces of the story - that meant she only really knew about the situation with your ex and schoolwork. As for Steve, you kept most of that to yourself.

"You good, babe?" she reached over and squeezed your shoulder, clad in a loose blouse top.

You grinned, and it was genuine, biting down on your straw as you shook your head playfully,

"More now than ever."

Aaliyah's smile widened. She knew when you were being genuine, and she was glad to see that this was one of those times. You'd been withdrawn recently, but with good purpose and even better intentions. You were taking all that time to heal for yourself. And amazingly, you had never been more honest with yourself in your life. Ever since Steve, you went through it for a few days.

You were saddened by the abrupt loss of Steve, even if he was only in your life for a short time. But you didn't lose sight of the realities of your relationship - it would never work out that way. You let yourself sink into sadness only for the first few days afterwards.

You knew that to let your sadness continue would be extremely unhealthy, and would only cause you to question whether or not you were really fit for this job, where making connections with strangers was pretty important. This couldn't happen frequently, or at all.

And on top of that, you had been drowning in stress from school and stress from your personal life: morose after the situation with Steve, feeling so much emotional turmoil from your situation with your ex boyfriend. But after a while, you were able to lift yourself up. You knew how unhealthy it would be if you let yourself stay sad because of Steve - you didn't even know him and he had proven that he was just a customer.

Though that didn't mean you doubted your connection for one minute. You just hated the way you had underestimated what that meant when it came to boundaries, both for you and Steve. You had overshared. It just reminded you that there seemed to be a certain pattern in the relationships in your life, and they all taught you one thing: don't get too comfortable.

But after about a week of beating yourself up over that, feeling stupid and naive and embarrassed for opening up, you moved on to the more important things that needed to be handled - your school work, and how you would successfully move on from your toxic ex. You already had, but when you got that text, it felt like you were relapsing.

This wasn't just moving on, it was moving on completely and fully. It wouldn't be done by magic, through a divine snap of the fingers. But instead it was a process, an incredibly healing process, one that you actually wanted to find your way through.

It felt like despite all the progress you had made- all the patching up you'd done as a result of not just that one, but many toxic relationships in your life - you cracked so easily just being reminded of one of them. You didn't want that to be you anymore, even if it didn't mean you weren't strong. It just meant you were human.

You didn't dismiss all the growth you had made ever since you broke up with your ex, all the bad habits you had broken and the new spaces you had welcomed yourself into. But you didn't want to be the kind of person who cracked under pressure. Part of those toxic relationships was acknowledging the fact that those people will try again to get back into your life after realizing their loss.

And you understood that now. Your ultimate goal now was to get back on your feet and allow yourself to be as strong as you were and work on how you dealt with personal stressors such as these.

Your campus offered professional mental help and you took advantage of it as much as possible. You didn't disclose everything, especially not the details of your other job, but you talked about your emotions and your relationships and how you felt like you needed to learn how to handle times of duress. So, you got into therapy; it was a life saver. It wasn't that the incident with Steve had triggered you so much that you needed to get therapy, but the context of the incident and the feelings that roused you to that breaking point on screen with him made you realize you needed help.

You had done everything yourself before, all your healing, all your growth - but it wasn't shameful to get help. You realized that while you felt sated being a lone wolf and doing everything yourself, that while it was what you were used to and you never complained about it, you didn't have to go through this alone.

Part of why you never did before was because you didn't realize you could, too. That therapy wasn't just for people who were in situations much worse than your own. You could have a place to healthily let out your feelings, instead of letting them overflow inside of you, or to strangers.

"Therapy's helping," you nodded, and Aaliyah sat back and listened. "It's helpful for situational things like this, but I think I should've been in therapy like, a really long time ago."

"I'll drink to that," Aaliyah nodded intensely and raised her mimosa glass to clink with yours before bringing it to her lips and taking a sip.

You laughed, and you were almost surprised to hear the sound of your own laugh, so uncaring and so free. Not the kind of laugh you let out when you're restricting your joy. Just full, pure, laughter. You didn't have to become this hysterical ultrasad woman just because of your experiences - you were proof that things could and did get better.

You were living just fine before the crash of life came down upon you, you were satisfied with life. But now you felt like you had accomplished some form of ego death, and realized there was more than just being "satisfied." You hadn't thought there was before.

"For real though, I'm proud of you," Aaliyah nodded, making direct eye contact with you. "I'm glad you took this time to yourself. You glow better when you're happy."

"And when I'm not being bothered by idiotic men," you rolled your eyes.

Multiple, your brain reminded you - your ex-boyfriend, your idiot professor, and Steve, to an extent. You appreciated what it was that you two had, an undeniable chemistry, but he reminded you of most men - afraid to open up. Though you couldn't feel spiteful towards him. In this context, it made perfect sense that he didn't want to open up.

"Oh yeah, update me on that? I know it's over with your ex-"

"Yup. I told him not to contact me again. Then I blocked him," you replied with a heaving sigh - a sigh of release. It felt good to say that out loud again. It felt good to know that your response was final, and that any further badgering you received wasn't as a result of your invitation.

It was as easy as that, even though it took you days just to even figure out what kind of message to send. You could've met up with him, talked things out - at the worst, gotten together again, but you knew you'd never let that happen. You could've listened to whatever he had to say.

But you had decided that whatever he wanted to tell you, whatever apology he was going to issue, could've been avoided had he just treated you right, instead of constantly dismissing you, instead of reacting to everything with nonchalance. So you didn't need to hear it, and you didn't need to light yourself on fire just to decide whether or not to forgive him- you didn't need to decide at all. So you left it alone, and left him blocked.

Aaliyah just smiled softly at you, so grateful for your steady energy and your strong presence. You were such close friends, it felt like your experiences were mutual. Everything you went through, she was by your side, and vice versa. She was so proud of you for making the decisions you made, and so proud that you came to that result.

"As you should!" Aaliyah squealed, reaching over and squeezing your hands excitedly. "You really are that bitch. And your project... he said it's a go?"

You smiled bashfully as you squeezed Aaliyah's hands back.

"Yeah, we talked it out. I still have to modify it which is a huge pain in my ass, but I can manage. So it's fine. At least I'm not dealing with a million other things on top of that."

Aaliyah smirked, again raising her glass to tap it against yours,

"Cheers to that, babe."

So you had been on this journey, and you had sought out help where it was most valuable - in yourself, in friends, in professionals, and in the world around you. And in return you had learned that you didn't have to be strong all the time, that it was okay to break sometimes - as long as you knew how to cope. And that advice went such a long way.

Things were looking up from here.

♡ ♡ ♡

Ever since his confrontation with Natasha, Steve had been in deep thought. He was disappointed in himself for letting it get to the point where his interactions with his team felt hostile. Where he appeared so lonely and even sulky. It wasn't like him as a leader, and it wasn't who his team looked up to.

He didn't want his interactions with people to feel so unfulfilling as a result of his own personal catastrophes, especially when it came to someone like Nat, who was the only one to boldly address his change in mood. He felt like a loser for allowing himself to go as dark as he had. It was something he should've had more control over, something he should've never let creep into his life the way it had.

Steve wasn't some creepy old man slowly dilapidating in a lonesome one-bedroom home, with no friends and no lovers. He had gone onto the site to find some kind of sexual release, because he had nowhere else to realistically take out his pent up energy, at least not in his eyes. He wanted that connection, and he found it with you.

He should've been satisfied. The only problem was that he was in for more than he was prepared for. And maybe it was because he was old fashioned and really wanted that kind of connection, because Stark easily went through girls like Moonrose like it was nothing, no strings attached. It only further proved that Steve wasn't built for that.

He figured that as long as he was distracting himself from the problem by burying himself in work and isolating himself, he at least wasn't doing his job any harm. That was the most important to him - his work.

But the people that mattered most to Steve were beginning to point out to him that ignoring a personal problem wasn't going to solve it. And Steve should've known that naturally, because one of the biggest elements of his job was to solve problems. He was a logical person, he loved answering the unanswered and finding solutions.

But that was his job. This was a personal issue, and it was unlike anything he'd been through. He supposed he'd never known how to cope, and that talking to you was just a sliver of one of the ways he did cope.

He didn't put everything on you, nor did he want to - that was why he'd stopped talking to you. You knowing everything he was going through would be dangerous for the both of you, for obvious reasons. Though you felt like you knew each other, you didn't really know who he was, and maybe that wouldn't have been such a big deal if it weren't for the fact that he was Captain America.

So when he stopped talking to you, it was like a part of him stopped coping. Lucky for him, not everyone was just going to let him sulk around.

"Alright, Steve. What's this all about?" Bucky asked, walking beside Steve while they were on a mission together. This may have been the worst time for Bucky to bring this up, considering Steve was focused on nothing less and nothing more than his mission. He thought of you a lot, sure, but not during times like these.

"What's what all about?" Steve replied gruffly, mindlessly elbowing some approaching Hydra member off the ship they were infiltrating, the sound of splashing water resonating in the distance.

"You know," Bucky grunted, sweep kicking another member and sending him flying.

The two of them often talked to each other side by side on missions, so disciplined and highly skilled that they could easily do both at once, but not about things like this, and not conversations that required much more attention. Bucky continued,

"You've been all sad lately."

Steve sighed and shook his head, latching his shield back onto his back,

"Is that what we're going to be talking about?"

"Are you gonna answer me?" Bucky raised his brows, cocking the gun he had tucked under his arm and firing ahead of him.

"Can't really talk right now, Buck," Steve grunted, preparing himself for what was ahead.

"I think I know what it is!" Bucky exclaimed, jumping away from Steve as he took on a combatant in front of him, Steve doing the same.

"Please, enlighten me!" Steve called out sarcastically, going hand to hand with another guy, flinging his shield out in front of him.

Bucky aimed a kick at his guy's crotch, sending him flying to the floor, then standing over him and continuing to pummel him, all the while yelling over at Steve.

"You think you don't have anyone to talk to about how you're feeling so you're isolating yourself! I know you. It's a very Steve thing to do!"

Steve sighed, shaking his head. He wasn't too keen on having this conversation at all, but especially not now. But he knew once Bucky got started, there was no stopping it. Even in the midst of a fight, in the midst of a mission. But Bucky wasn't entirely wrong, and that was the dangerous part about it - Steve knew Bucky could figure him out if he really set his mind to it. And he was constantly being reminded how much other people knew him, whether it was you, Natasha, or Bucky.

He may have masked himself as un-phased and even tempered, but anyone could see past that now. Natasha had been close to figuring out just what was going on, and although she was one of the smarter Avengers, who could figure anybody out, Bucky and Steve were the closest of friends, twin flames. Steve knew Bucky would have him figured out in a minute, and he was getting dangerously close.

"Buck, not now!" he had to at least try.

"You still talking to that girl?" Bucky ignored Steve's pleas and continued - he had came to his own conclusion, putting together the pieces.

Steve sighed again, kneeling down on the floor and hanging his head. His silence, his lack of a response, told Bucky all he needed to know. He was in his head, thinking about you, something he never did on a mission. He was thinking of how before this, you were one of the people he actually talked to to cope, even though he didn't delve too deep into his personal problems. But still, you had been there.

And now that you weren't, he was thinking of all the reasons why you weren't, almost all of them rooted in his own silly fear. The fear he'd been letting go for weeks until you asked him that question. Before you opened up to him to that extent.

Bucky got up, dusting his hands off. Both him and Steve had knocked their guys clean. Bucky signaled into his ear piece that the coast was clear and they were leaving the building, before heading over to walk next to Steve. Bucky had a sort of victorious smile on his face, knowing he had cracked the code.

Steve had been withdrawn before you, then excitingly different when you came around. It would make sense that he'd be withdrawn without you again. Especially if things had ended harshly. Since Bucky was the only one who knew about the connection Steve felt he had with Moonrose, it was easier for him to guess. The others might have known that Steve was using the site, but Steve made sure they didn't know all the specifics.

Although, Bucky did. And he wanted to know just what was going on. He put his arm around Steve's shoulders as a way of letting him know he was there, and that he did have someone to talk to besides you.

"You know, Steve, whatever happened, you've got me. You've got all of us."

Steve shook his head and looked down at the ground, mustering a small smile that was one of the more genuine smiles he'd shown in the past few weeks,

"I know."

"Then why didn't you talk to any of us? You've been like a hermit for the past month almost," Bucky inquired.

He wasn't attacking Steve, but he still had questions to ask. He wanted to have an honest conversation. He didn't want to have to sit back and watch as Steve alienated himself because he didn't know how to properly deal with his own issues. As an Avenger, it made both him and Steve look irresponsible. And as a friend, he physically couldn't watch any longer.

He didn't think he'd seen Steve so withdrawn, not even when his parents died, because Bucky forced his way in every chance he could get. When Steve was alone, things got dark. Bucky decided he'd be the one to actually help guide Steve out of it, by any means.

Although, he was surprised that all this was caused by a girl who Steve hadn't even met. A girl who Steve had expressed his worries about to Bucky. It seemed as though Steve wouldn't let things get this far or impact him this much. He had been so quick to deny Bucky when he asked if there was anything more there, and maybe it was because it scared him to think about because it was true. Was it expected, though? Not entirely.

"I didn't just want to air this out to everyone. It felt like something I shouldn't be doing, not in the position I'm in... I didn't want to disappoint people. And I feel like I have just by acting like this, even though they don't know why I've been this way. It's bad, I know, and I feel stupid for it. It's embarrassing to feel like this. Like... like I don't know any better," Steve replied, and Bucky understood, nodding.

"I get it. It's like, why would boss man have some strange attachment to a naked stranger?" Bucky responded, not realizing how crude he sounded, making Steve glare over at him with his brows knit together.

"Well, especially when you put it like that, Buck," Steve said, but he couldn't help but chuckle.

"Sorry," Bucky smiled, shaking his head. A beat, then he continued. "So you've stopped talking to this girl. For what reason?"

"I was afraid. It just... got too serious. And I guess it shows, because I've been acting like this as a result," Steve laughed bitterly. "I can't say I expected this to be the result. I think it hurts, but I've really been acting this way because..."

Steve took a deep breath. It felt like a lot to express his feelings or emotions on any given day, but especially when it came to this. He had been keeping nearly everything associated with you to himself. It felt like such a big deal to express something out loud when he had intentionally been keeping it extra personal. Even if it was Bucky. It felt like something so close to him - he still felt slightly idiotic for the entire ordeal.

He continued,

"I guess because I've been trying hard not to think about her as much as my mind does when I'm not distracted. So I have to keep to myself and do work so that I'm not thinking about it as much. And I guess in the process I just neglected my own self care."

Bucky nodded with a hum of assurance.

"Mm. Well you're right. Maybe it did go too far. But that can't always be a bad thing."

Steve cocked his head,

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's like me and Nat. No one would've trusted us years ago, but here we are now. On this incredibly elite team, fighting injustice with the best of them. I get it, you have to be safe, you can't let strangers get too close, you can't just do anything. But that doesn't mean you have to be so afraid all the time. You care about her. I knew that the minute you asked me about her. Because if it wasn't destined to end up this way, you would've never said a thing. You're good at keeping things to yourself, Rogers. The fact that you even asked me for advice on this, all those weeks ago. It says something. And maybe this all means that not only can you not stay away - but that maybe... you shouldn't."

♡ ♡ ♡

You hadn't been out out in a long time. You had been using the past three or more weeks to focus on yourself, to fully heal and regenerate and learn to cope. This was your therapeutic week, your week of release.

But now, you were going out. You made an effort to look extra cute, because it had been a while since you got all dolled up. You couldn't be out super late, you still had a show later tonight, but you'd go out and enjoy a few drinks with friends. You were also going to be meeting new people, which was something you didn't do regardless of your emotional situation, unless it was for work - but those were colleagues.

These were people who were potential friends, and potential lovers. But you couldn't have made it more clear to Aaliyah, who was tying this all together:

"I'm not looking for a relationship right now! You know that!" you exclaimed, shaking your head, but she just smirked at you, and pulled the straps of your dress tighter as you both walked into the bar where you would be meeting some friends and new people tonight.

"Mhm," Aaliyah said dismissively, slinging her arm around your shoulders. "That doesn't mean you can't meet someone and you know..."

"Aht aht," you chuckled, though you appreciated her vigor. "I don't do random hookups unless it's online."

Both of you cackled at that, but it was true. You were very put together and determined, especially when it came to actual relationships. Your sex life outside of your job on the internet was sort of quiet at the moment, and you liked it that way. You enjoyed sex and the sensual, pleasurable and freeing feeling that came with having sex in real life, or performing sexual acts on the internet for money. But it wasn't everything to you, you still navigated the world like any human would, except maybe you were hyper aware of your mindfulness, even more than people with conventional jobs.

You didn't let just anybody in, emotionally or physically, not when it came to real life. Though maybe Aaliyah had a little bit of a point. Not wanting a relationship didn't mean you couldn't have fun. You wouldn't force it though. If it were meant to be, it would be.

Tonight, you were going to be watching a local band play, sitting at a table in the audience with some friends, ordering drinks and just having a good time together. You were excited - it felt good to get out, good to be back on your feet. You were getting the normality back into your life, and you were enjoying it, as well as the healing process that came with it - no toxic ex, no hardships with school... when it came to Steve, you still missed him. But it didn't interrupt your ability to function, not anymore. You weren't quite preoccupied with him in this moment.

You were glad to be sitting down with friends, and meeting new people as well. It felt almost strange - you felt out of the loop, like you were getting back onto the scene for the first time in years, when it hadn't even been that long. You figured it was just the fact that there had been such an intense shift, and you had matured so much in just less than a month. You felt excited for the endless possibilities.

The bar was dimly lit, the band was tuning their instruments, drinks were going around, everyone seemed to be in a good, vivacious mood. It was very lively in a way you could appreciate, because you liked the spontaneity and eventfulness of life just like you enjoyed the organized, pragmatic parts of life that you endured in all of your careers and your lifestyle. You liked to have fun, there was no doubt about that. It was just a matter of when you had time for it.

As you sat down at the table, reunions and introductions went all around. Everyone was friendly, and everyone was a college student. You were excited to be with this specific group of people, full of friends and new faces. But there was one new face that truly intrigued you, belonging to a ridiculously attractive guy with a rockabilly quiff and a strand of hair styled at the front, a knowing look in his deep brown eyes. He didn't have to say he was cool, the oversized leather jacket he wore practically spelled that out.

He leaned across the table to shake your hand, his eyes sparkling when he looked at you, his smile bright and charming,

"Hey. I'm Alex. It's nice to meet you."

It must have shown on your face how immediately taken you were - he was hot and the energy he emanated was good, and purely sensual. Aaliyah took notice, smirking over at you and watching as you took his hand. You blinked, and smiled. He felt it, you felt it. There was no use in hiding it. You thought about how much you insisted to Aaliyah that you weren't looking to hook up - but this one guy may have changed your mind, just by his smile.

"I'm YN. Nice to meet you too."

Even as he let go of your hand and sat back in his chair, he didn't break eye contact with you, a small, playful smirk on his lips. But two could play at that game. Your job, doing what you did, made you ten times more confident than the average person. Just because you weren't on the dating scene didn't mean you didn't know how to flirt.

And just because you weren't interested in dating didn't mean you couldn't get to know someone in a different sense of the word. Just from looking into his eyes, reading the smirk on his smooth lips, you knew you would definitely be getting to know him tonight. With no strings attached.

| | |

"You smoke?" you asked Alex, standing in front of him outside the bar as he lit a cigarette. You were both standing in the alleyway beside the bar.

The both of you had ended up here, not completely on purpose, but Alex couldn't say he didn't notice when you excused yourself so that you could make a call to confirm another therapy appointment. You ended up out there for longer than intended as you started scrolling on your phone. But it was Alex who kept you out there, the night sky starry and clear above you. It was quiet, except for the faint sound of indie rock music coming from inside the bar. But it was a calming, comforting atmosphere. It felt like it was just the two of you, and in a sense, it really was.

"Yeah," Alex smiled almost shyly, unsure how you might approach that. People usually turned up their noses.

You in particular didn't see cigarette smoking as your idea of a good time- recreational marijuana, in moderation. You only ever really drank or smoked socially, but sometimes you could have a lot of fun drinking wine alone. In the heat of the moment though, it wasn't a very big deal to you. That was the other thing about you - you were spontaneous but well balanced, and let people live their lives how they wanted to, even if they were living just a bit on the edge. You knew people definitely would have choice words for your own lifestyle, and that just made you more open minded.

"Hmm," you hummed, simply thinking to yourself and nodding.

Alex shifted slightly, as if he were unsure of himself, but took a drag anyway.

"Nasty habit, I'm sure."

"Can I try?" you asked, leaning up against the brick wall behind you, and gazing up at him.

Looking into your eyes, he could see the glint of innocence and anticipation there, but there was something more- this sort of hot and flashy desire. The chemistry in your simple introduction was undoubtable, and it led you both to think there could be something else. But if there was, there was already an unspoken agreement in Alex's smirk and your smile - whatever it was would be purely physical.

You were too deep into your process of healing to fully put yourself out there, to even want to share yourself with another. Ever since your last relationship, you weren't looking for any one - no one to be your baby, no one to depend on, and no one who depended on you. You didn't want that. But this, whatever it was, was just a little bit of fun. You only ever really engaged in this kind of banter on the internet. It was about time you got a taste of it in real life.

Alex raised his brows at you, surprised. You didn't strike him as the type, and honestly, you didn't strike yourself as the type, either. You were just going with the flow. He just glanced at you and cocked his head to the side,

"I don't know if you really want to do that."

"What makes you say that?" you challenged, quirking your eyebrow quizzically, and tilting your head up at him. He wasn't wrong though - you almost immediately questioned why you asked if you could try.

"You don't strike me as the type. And you're a very pretty girl," Alex eased closer to you, and you felt his rough, wide hand against your cheek, caressing gently as he looked down at you, looking intently into your eyes. You felt his thumb against your cheek, running against your soft skin in smooth, slow circles, and you couldn't help but grin devilishly at the sense of danger it gave you, the kind of danger you only found deep within layers of pleasure. He continued. "Wouldn't want your... skin to fall off."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his anti-cigarette warning, shaking your head and laughing quietly, him joining in. He couldn't ignore the brightness of your smile, how genuine it seemed, how much it struck him. For you, laughter felt like medicine right now, like it was pushing you through this transition phase you were in.

"Really, is that what's gonna happen?" you smirked playfully, never looking away from him. He smiled, nodding,

"Yeah, that's exactly what happens."

A beat of silence passed between of you, but the tension emanating between the two of you was louder than ever, pulling you to each other with a tantalizing magnetic force. You watched his lids flutter gently as his eyes traveled down to your lips, the thumb that had previously been on your cheek drifting to your lips, hands moving languidly against your skin. A shiver ran all through your body, resonating in your core, just at the feeling of his touch, and at the knowledge that eyes were on you.

Real, human eyes, eyes that you had summoned through the power of your divine sensuality. You could find these connections online, but in real life it was so electrifying, so genuine- almost like it had been with Steve, though he was the last thing on your mind right now.

"Pretty girls have the nastiest habits," you blinked, letting him toy with your lips until you gently took his thumb in your mouth, wrapping your lips around it, all the while never breaking eye contact with him.

You knew exactly what you were doing, and you knew your intentions while you were doing it. They weren't anything good, but they weren't bad either.

Alex nearly shuddered, taking in a deep breath. You both had amazing sex appeal and an instant connection, but you were taking him for a ride that he didn't even expect. He nodded slowly, his eyelids heavy, watching your lips around his fingers.

"Mm," he hummed.

He placed his hand on the wall above you as he towered over you. You felt covered by him, in a good way. He was all over you in the only way either of you wanted to be. His fingers left your lips and now held his cigarette. He leaned in and lifted your chin up, the cigarette smoke lifting up from his cigarette and swirling around your nose, just before he pressed his lips against yours.

Your lips were hot against his, which were smoky and tasted like his own vice, an open mouthed kiss with nothing but passion and craving within the little space between your lips. The kiss lingered, his hands then beginning to travel all around you, not just your face, but your entire body. You felt his hands on your sides, traveling up your thighs, his body and his lips smashing into your own. There was nothing wholesome about it, and yet you couldn't help but want more.

You only pulled away, panting, to remind him of one thing,

"You know this is it, right? I'm not looking for a relationship."

He shook his head, reattaching his lips to yours, breathlessly replying,

"Me neither."

He couldn't care less for the clarifications - he was caught up in you, he just wanted more, in whatever way you would allow. It was quick and fast paced, that seemed to be the basis of your newly forged relationship. Not much thought went into your very needy motions, all abrupt and reckless.

But you pulled away again, placing a hand on his chest,

"And we're not having sex."

"Fine. That's fine. I just want to kiss you. Can I kiss you?" he asked, unable to keep his eyes from flickering between your eyes and your lips.

You smiled, nodding eagerly, sated by his needy disposition and the sexual prowess you had over him. He didn't even know the half of your nasty habits. In response, you cooed,

"Yeah, you can kiss me."

♡ ♡ ♡

Ever since the mission, it was both lucky and unfortunate for Steve that all he had left on his hands was time. All that time consumed him, and you were on his mind all through it. He also thought about what Bucky had to say. Bucky's words were a reminder that he couldn't let things consume him out of fear. It reminded Steve that while he was right to feel weary, he was right to trust, too. Trust was a big part of the Avengers Initiative.

They all depended on it, and it took a lot of trust in individuals that no one else would probably ever take under their wing. But placing that trust in each other worked, and formed the greatest group of justice defenders on this earth. The people Steve considered his closest friends still had yet to gain true trust from some of the most important figures in the country. That didn't mean Steve trusted them any less.

He'd had the revelation many times before, but he was having it again. The two of you had something- you had almost everything except for trust.

It was a big leap he was taking, a big contrast from the way he felt beforehand. But he'd spent all his time thinking and worrying and letting fear and irrational darkness take over him for too long. It was time he took the matters that involved his feelings and personal health into his own hands. And to start, he had to take that big leap of faith.

Was he making a stupid decision? Likely. But was it rash? No, it was the result of so much reflection and thought. It was like he took a look inside of himself and realized what he had to do. And even though this wouldn't solve the problem entirely, it was at least a start. A promise to himself and an apology to you. If this was how it was without you, then he didn't want it to feel that way ever again, by any means.

You were more than the controversy of the relationship you had with him and the context surrounding that relationship. Loyalty was one of the most important qualities to Steve. He didn't want a friend if they weren't loyal, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that you were a friend, no matter how much he tried to push away the legitimacy of the connection.

Months ago, he would've never done this. On any conditions. But that was before he met you. So now, he was sitting in his room after a shower, falling back into the old routine. It was Friday. You'd be live in a few hours.

♡ ♡ ♡

You came back home from the bar exhilarated, the touch of the man you'd been so close with lingering on your body, and in the best way you could imagine. You knew he wanted more physically, but you weren't at an emotional position where you could give it to him.

And he had respected that, even though the yearning was so clear. The thrill of the moment felt like it would never dissipate. The spontaneity of the moment and the heat of it all reminded you how powerful you were.

He had practically whined into your mouth for more. Sure, you had men online who would give up all their belongings for you, but it felt different when you were experiencing this with a man who you could touch, a man who you could genuinely feel that zing! feeling with just by looking at him.

You weren't sure when you'd see him again, or if you ever would. And that was the beauty of the entire situation. You didn't feel like you had some type of emotional obligation to him, or like you would have to follow up. You could leave it at that and hold this moment in your heart guilt free. It didn't matter that you didn't know him well - all that mattered was that you still felt whole afterwards and not trapped, that it brought you just as much pleasure as it brought him. And it did. It was like your hot girl summer was starting early.

And you had enjoyed your night out, ending it on a positive note as you watched the bands close up. You filled Aaliyah in on your little detour with Alex. You came home so amped for your performance. This was the most excited you had been for a show since Steve left. You loved your work, but the knowledge that Steve would be watching or would be talking to you afterwards made your shows just a little better.

But now, Steve wasn't on your mind, and you couldn't even say Alex was either. So what was on your mind? Mainly the joie de vivre, the sudden burst of energy you felt after a night out, the invigorating feeling that you were returning to normalcy.

So when you logged on that night, you were more than ready to give a show, not knowing that you were in for a big storm.

Steve got the notification that you were on, but he decided to wait it out. He didn't necessarily want to watch the show because he wanted to talk to you. He didn't want to feel awkward, watching you perform overtly sexual acts when all he wanted to do was talk to you. This way you could talk alone. So he didn't watch the show, just waited until you were off. He did some things to occupy himself while he waited, leaving his screen for a moment.

Your show went by smoothly. It was quick, and mainly full of interaction. You didn't do anything too crazy that night, except for parade around on screen in your lingerie and strike suggestive poses, and make conversation with your regulars as well as welcome new comers. You appreciated the simple life — no extra special connection with anyone made your life a lot easier, even though you had to say that special connection felt like a bonus. But this was nice. Just sitting and talking about the most mundane of things. Dry eyed, cute, and paid.

You read a few comments as you prepared to finish. Almost everyone was talking about how happy you seemed, how you were glowing more than usual. You just chuckled as you read them, and thanked each commenter.

"Okay guys!" you cooed into the camera, smiling and giving a three fingered wave as you prepared to sign off. "I'm gonna get going, but it was so great talking to each and every one of you. I hope you guys have a good night. Private sessions tomorrow!"

You blew a kiss into the camera, and ended the show for that night. You would've logged off completely and gotten ready for bed had it not been for the notification you received, and boy did it grab your attention.

Grant Rogers would like to chat.

You made a face, blinking as you looked at the screen. It had been about a month since you had last talked to Steve. You thought for sure he was a goner, and you had gotten accustomed to the fact a long time ago. You were surprised he was coming back to talk to you at all, though you were glad your reaction was solely surprise and confusion. You weren't reacting in a way that would send you into another spiral, and you also didn't expect yourself to.

But you couldn't help but think of the odd circumstances that you had left on, and wonder if it was worth the stress of reconnecting.

Fuck it, you thought. You'd been through so much. What was a little more? You had the skills you needed to react accordingly, to keep sight of who you were and who you were talking to. You could cope. So you pressed "accept."

Again, you were met with a black screen. You weren't sure why some part of you expected anything else, but for some reason you had this little voice in you that was cheering to see what Steve looked like. You swallowed that voice down though, and listened to his own, which came after moments of an awkward silence.

"Hi," Steve said, and you flushed at the sound of his voice, remembering the things it did to you, the way it made you feel — remembering the sound of his voice when he decided to cut things off.

Don't get emotional, you reminded yourself. It doesn't make sense.

"... Hi," you replied, still confused, not able to hide your furrowed brows and slightly open mouth.

"I know this is weird of me, and maybe even selfish..." Steve sighed, and in that sigh was his final decision. Even when he decided that he was going to go through with this, the whole time he waited for your show to be over, he went back and forth with himself.

Was this even a slightly plausible idea that he was going through with? He wondered. He had to reassure himself that it wasn't as dangerous as he had convinced himself it was, because you weren't dangerous, because he trusted you. As scary as it was to say. And lastly, what were the consequences?

It wasn't like Bucky told him to do this, but his talk with Bucky made him realize that it was what he had to do. He didn't want anybody else taking the blame if there was a major fall. It was all on him, and the knowledge of that make him panic. Yet, not enough to stop.

So in that sigh, he was making that final decision to really follow through with it. He was already speaking, so he finished his thought, letting the weight lift off his chest.

"But I felt like it was only right. We left off on a strange note, and that’s entirely my own fault. I want you to know that. I want you to know that I didn't mean to shut you down, and it's not about me, but I feel... terrible for letting that happen. I shouldn't have let you open up like that if I knew I wasn't even accepting what it was that we had. If I was going to be scared."

You were starting to become worried, furrowing your brows as you gazed into the black screen ahead of you. It didn't make any sense, what he was saying. It was verging into the same kind of conversation that had made him uncomfortable. The kind of unnecessarily emotional conversation that neither of you were ready to have with each other.

And you didn't know exactly what he was saying, but you had an idea. He was going back to try and reignite this connection, but it felt like he was overthinking it. Like he was about to blow things out of proportion. And for your own safety, you didn't want to let him.

"Steve, I don't think-" you started, shaking your head as your face morphed into further confusion, but he cut you off.

"Just... let me show you what I'm talking about."

This conversation couldn't get anymore confusing. He was being so unnatural and cryptic, so randomly opening up to you. It scared you, and it didn't feel like the conversations you had with Steve before all this. You were rethinking everything, ready to just call it a night and take a break for a few days just so you could process what he was even saying and why he was coming back after nearly a month.

It was irregular before, but in the way that you liked — irregular in the sense that you felt such a strong connection with a customer that you'd never felt before, irregular in the sense that you wanted to talk to him so often, irregular in the sense that it made you happy, but it didn't take up all your time. Now it was just strange. And you almost laughed at the way the universe seemed to be taunting you - of course right when you were feeling free, of course right when you were ridding yourself of your emotional baggage, taking your sexual freedom into your own hands, this would happen. It felt like a compromise right now, even if a part of you was happy to be hearing from him.

And then, a pause. The sound of shuffling. And then he turned his own camera on. And you weren't looking at a black screen anymore. Confusion, a blur in your mind — were you mistaking exactly who you were looking at? A brain hiccup, followed by clarity. An abrupt realization that you weren't mistaken.

The sight in front of you when that camera turned on made you sit right up, your eyes nearly popping out of your head. There was no fucking way. It was some sort of sick joke. Because the man behind the camera simply could not be who you thought it was.

"What. The. Fuck."

note: ummm!!!!

!!!

i told y’all it’d be getting crazyyyy

yes there will b a part six!!!

give me all of ur thoughts !!! gimme all of them !

will be adding tags in reblogs <3

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers reader insert #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america smut #steve rogers smut #girls on film #orbitariums #marvel smut #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel series #smut #reader insert #steve rogers x y/n

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serinemolecule · 3 years

Note

Not to harp on the obvious, but the discussion feels hollow without it: the only reason some people - not all, maybe not most, but definitely some - push for "equality" and "inclusiveness" and etc. in tech is because it's seen as a desirable and powerful position. No one's been belly-aching about it back when it was fashionable to tell nerds to stop being fat and ugly and what a bunch of losers they are. It's only up for discussion now that there's something to be gained from it. It's hypocrisy.

(context: a lot of women-in-tech discourse)

I mean, I was belly-aching about it.

I like to say I was a feminist until I met other feminists. I definitely saw plenty of things nerds could be doing better for equality. But then the first time I met other feminists, they were harassing nerds and writing long essays about how nerds were even worse than average men (which still seems to me like an absolutely insane position).

That was... a really big crisis of faith there. I spent years reading feminist literature, trying to understand their point. And the crazy thing was, a lot of the principles and concepts do appeal to me. But then the way they’d apply it, talking about how privileged nerds were, or just using it as an excuse to be assholes to people, that’s always seemed wrong to me.

My approach at the time was just to try to understand it better in private, and never talk about it in public. This lasted until I read the SSC essays on social justice which I entirely agreed on, then I joined Tumblr to hit on Scott, and since then I started getting more comfortable with writing out my thoughts, but also the really bad SJ of the early 2010s just mostly faded away from the spaces I’m in. I still hear insane stories from other places (like the New York Times! wtf!) but it no longer feels like a crisis afflicting my own community, so I never wrote anything out.

Part of it’s that my community is the rats, now. SJWs may still exist here, but they don’t have a social power to turn us against each other. Whatever effect Topher’s tweet had on the rest of the world, it means he’s no longer welcome among rats anymore. We dismiss them with equanimity using the ancient proverb, “Haters gonna hate”.

Anyway, I suppose now’s as good a time as any for me to talk about what I think about feminist theory.

I get the impression that Scott is embarrassed by his old posts on gender politics, but I still endorse every word. Even the words people like to criticize the most, I endorse as an angry expression of “Why don’t you care about how many people your ideology is hurting?” That said:

Privilege theory – I remember encountering privilege theory and thinking “yes, this totally fits the model that normies are privileged and nerds are marginalized”, until I got to the part where they started talking about how privileged nerds were. I think the theory is still pretty good, and of course the practice about writing privilege checklists and using it to silence people is incredibly fucked up.

Patriarchy theory – Fortunately, no one talks about patriarchy theory anymore. It came from the radfems and it always seemed horrible to me. It's uncontroversially true that ruling class is mostly male, but patriarchy theory seems to just equivocate between that and insane conspiracy theories.

For example, “culture is built for the benefit of men at the expense of women” requires you to just dismiss everything that hurts men and helps women, to excuse that fashion policing is nearly solely perpetuated by other women, and even if it’s true, the fact that it is perpetuated by everyone means pointing the finger at a specific group will not help fix the problem. Did Kamala Harris exercise “girl power” when she kept black prisoners in jail past their release date?

Cultural appropriation – The usual steelman I hear for this is “it sucks when white people take your culture for themselves, and yet still call it cringe when you practice your own culture” – but the only objectionable part is the latter! Stop objecting to the former part! There’s nothing wrong with culture mixing and it is in fact one of the most beautiful things in the world!

Part of it’s that I’m a first-gen immigrant, and cultural appropriation attitudes often come from insecurities second-gen immigrants have. Cultural appropriation just means I’m now an expert on your new culture and you’re not allowed to stop me from infodumping on it.

The other steelman is “misusing religious artifacts is bad” and I think to the extent that it’s bad, it’s bad whether you’re doing it to your own culture or to other cultures.

In general I think Halloween was, among other things, a great celebration of diversity that did not need to be cancelled, and I don’t think any costume was offensive to the majority of any culture.

Intersectionality – This word confused me for so long. People kept explaining it as “black women often have problems specific to their group that neither women’s groups nor black groups themselves are equipped to fight” which just seemed obviously true and didn’t seem like we needed a word for it.

Over the years, I’ve seen it be used as a reminder of “don’t forget how your activism affects other marginalized groups”, so it’s probably a useful concept to keep around.

Microaggressions – I think being oblivious to microaggressions is an autism thing, but I still think it’s insane to make them a political issue. Sure, you can vent about them, but acting like they’re on par with actual aggressions just seems like a losing cause.

On second thought, I don’t think I have a problem with making them a political issue in general. I think the whole tactic of SJWs being a hateful harassment mob makes the microaggressions thing just come off as especially petty.

I also think there’s a lot of competing access needs here. I actually really like infodumping about what kind of Asian I am to anyone willing to listen, and I think acting like the question is the root of all evil is really unfair, especially since literally everyone who’s ever asked has been happy to learn about the finer points about Chinese ethnic groups.

Isms as prejudice + power – People have mostly stopped discoursing about this, which is good. Language policing always seemed bad to me.

Objectification – SSC says everything I feel on the topic: https://slatestarcodex.com/2013/03/17/my-objections-to-objectification/

The last time this came up in Discord, people said that objectification is more than the straw-man being criticized in this article, that it’s about people being entitled to your body or whatever. But I think the article does address that: “This is obviously a legitimate complaint. It’s just not a complaint about objectification.”

I got exposed to objectification as a criticism of hot girls in video games. And I just can’t see hot girls in video games as a bad thing.

Rape culture – [cw rape] This is an incredibly sensitive subject so I’m going to give you some time to stop reading here.

Our culture has a serious problem with rape. I think it’s important to understand that it’s usually committed by friends and family, that it’s depressingly common and has nearly definitely happened to people you know, that it’s usually committed by people who don’t think of what they’re doing as rape, and that all the discourse on it is really fucked up.

I also think that calling this “rape culture” entirely misses the point. I’m sympathetic that SSC doesn’t understand it: https://slatestarcodex.com/2013/04/19/i-do-not-understand-rape-culture/

Our problem isn’t that we glorify rape. Our problem is that we consider it a special kind of evil so bad that of course no normal person would ever do it, and this makes it easy to rationalize that whatever this normal person did couldn’t have been rape, which causes huge harms.

I don’t have answers, but I think it’s incredibly clear that calling it “rape culture” doesn’t help.

In general, I don’t think feminist activism on the topic of rape goes in the right direction. The smug “consent is like tea” video has the exact same problem. People don’t need to hear more “normal people would never rape” messaging.

#gender politics

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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

Text

leaves to high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || Also on AO3

Chapter 51: Statement of Walter Sims, regarding a list. Recorded direct from subject, twenty-sixth of January, 1990.

[CLICK]

GERTRUDE

You’re certain you don’t mind?

WALTER

Not at all. Honestly, when you said you would come to me rather than have me come to you, I assumed this wasn’t going to be…official.

GERTRUDE

Yes, well.

People don’t often send messages ahead of time. They simply…come to give their statements. I admit I was intrigued.

WALTER

I’m here most of the hours the Institute is open. Simple as that.

GERTRUDE

Still. I have a…feeling, shall we say, that your statement doesn’t need to be available for research.

WALTER

I don’t think you’re wrong about that.

Are you ready?

GERTRUDE

One moment.

Statement of Walter Sims, regarding—how would you term it?

WALTER

Let’s just say “a list.”

GERTRUDE

Recorded direct from subject, twenty-sixth of January, 1990.

Whenever you’re ready.

WALTER (Statement)

I’ve worked here for almost three years now—ever since we found out we were going to be parents. My mother made it clear that she was not going to make herself responsible for what she termed “my careless mistakes,” and Sarah’s only family is a sister over in America with a family of her own. My choices were to drop out of school and get a job or let us both starve. Put like that, it’s no choice at all, really.

I’d thought to go to sea. My best mate and I always talked about it, and he had a job on a commercial deep-sea fishing vessel, so I asked him about getting a job. He talked me out of it, though. The captain’s a bit…odd, he says. He knew his father-in-law was looking for a handyman and suggested I apply. The old man and I suited each other well enough, and he hired me on the spot.

The work isn’t hard. I’m a general man about the place. I do repairs, painting, gardening, a bit of housework. He buys the groceries, but I put them away. Sometimes I do a bit of cooking for him. He’s not infirm or an invalid—well, obviously—but he can’t climb ladders or do a lot of bending over, so anything regarding hard labor, I handle for him. (heh) My biggest job these days is keeping next door’s grandson from getting at the entire cherry crop in the summer. They hang pretty near the property line, and the lad’s learned to climb pretty well these last couple years.

It’s nice for a lot of reasons, probably the biggest of which is that I can bring my boy with me sometimes. Sarah’s trying to finish her degree, at least part time, so on days she has classes, I bring him to work. He adores the old man—it’s the closest he’s got to a grandfather—and my best mate’s boy is only a bit older than him, so they play together. Can’t separate them with a pry bar. They’re good lads, both of them.

Neither one was here the first day I saw it.

It was just after the first of the year. The couple next door must have had some sort of party; there were paper streamers and fragments of fireworks all over this side of the fence. I was picking up all the bits when I saw a figure standing by the house.

He wore a suit, a three-piece suit. All of it was black as night, except for his tie, which was pure white—or so I thought at the time. His hands and face were white as snow, too. No, more than that. He was colorless. Completely devoid of any color. He was staring up at the house. When I got a little closer, I realized he was staring up at the old man’s bedroom window. He had a clipboard in one hand—black, like his suit—and a pen in the other. It was the only splash of real color about him, and it was gold, very pale gold. Like a shaft of light.

I saw him write something down on the clipboard. I called out to him, just like I did when you came up—told him this was private property. There’s a place down the road with an orchard open to the public, and the numbers are reversed, so sometimes we get people coming here by mistake. It’s not usually a big deal.

But this one…he looked at me. He didn’t have any eyebrows, or, well, they were so pale they didn’t show up, but I thought he looked…surprised. Like he hadn’t expected anyone to be there. I asked him again if I could help him, but he just—he vanished. It was like he’d never been there at all.

It gave me a bit of a turn, I won’t deny it, but for the most part, I shrugged it off. Either I was having a hallucination, or he’d just moved very quickly. I wouldn’t ever have thought of it again, except that a couple of days later, I saw him again.

He was in the same place, just underneath one of the cherry trees. Matter of fact, I’d seen the branches rattling and thought it was next door’s grandson again, climbing up. (soft laugh) Obviously there aren’t any cherries this time of year; the trees are bare as bones. But we’d had something of a freeze the night before, and the branches were slick with ice. I was worried he might slip and hurt himself, so I went over to get him down. But when I got closer, I saw the same man again.

This time, he was looking away from the house, towards the Stokers’ place. He was peering very intently over there, not moving except to make a note on his clipboard. I called out to him again, a little louder and a little less friendly this time, wanting to know what he was doing and where he came from.

He vanished again, but this time, just after he disappeared, the old man came out onto the porch here and wanted to know what was going on. I told him about the strange visitor, and the fact that he just kept…leaving so quickly.

To my surprise, the old man got pretty agitated. He wasn’t mad at me—wasn’t even mad, really. Just…agitated. He told me not to have anything to do with the man if he turned up again. I asked if he knew him, and he said no, not exactly, but that he’d been around enough to know something related to one of the Fourteen when he heard it.

We’ve talked, of course. I knew what he meant. He obviously couldn’t say which one it was, not without seeing it for himself, but he told me to keep away from him, not make eye contact, and hope he didn’t turn his attention to me. I asked if I should come talk to someone from your Institute, and he said no again. Said it was such a small thing, not worth bothering about. Nothing for you all to really sink your teeth into. And he said he didn’t want you lot touching me, either.

So I left it alone. Kept my head down and got back to work. Until yesterday.

Both the boys were here. I let them “help” me a bit, but, well, they’re two. Eventually I told them to go play on the porch while I cleaned out the gutters. I don’t want them running about under the ladders when I’m up high. It’s a good way for someone to get hurt.

I was just coming down when I saw him again. Standing behind the skeletal remains of the privet hedge, facing the house again. Facing the porch. He was watching the boys, just as intently as he’d looked at all the others, but this time he was watching the boys.

I didn’t call out to him this time. I jumped off the ladder and went for him. When I got close enough, I shouted, “Hey!” Just to get his attention, you know, before I grabbed him.

Well…it worked, insofar as it got his attention. He looked even more surprised than the first two times. This time, I was close enough to see the barely-there shape of his eyebrows, the thin lines of his mouth, the way light just slid off his suit, still solid black except for the tie. This time, though, I was close enough to see it wasn’t pure white. There were faint lines and whorls in it—like a feather from a gigantic wing. But when I grabbed at him, he vanished again.

This time, though…he dropped his clipboard.

I picked it up and studied it. I half expected it to be some oddity as well, like black paper written on in gold ink, but…no, it was perfectly ordinary stock, good quality paper, and it was neatly written in a deep black ink. The handwriting was clear as daylight, as were the contents of the note.

It was a list of names. Seven of them. With yours truly right at the top.

GERTRUDE

Do you still have the list?

WALTER

No. I was almost done reading it when it…disintegrated in my hand, I guess.

But I have it memorized. It burned itself into my mind. Not just the names, but each one had a pair of dates after it, separated by a single dash. Like a range.

GERTRUDE

Seven names, you say? And what were the dates?

WALTER

If you mean “what do they mean”…I’m not sure, but I have a guess. I know what the first date means, anyway, and I have my suspicions about the second. But the list itself…

GERTRUDE

Let’s record it. For posterity.

WALTER

(deep breath) Walter Sims, fourth July 1976 to seventh April 1990.

Alastair Koskiewicz, twenty-sixth January 1935 to eighteenth March 1997.

Daniel Stoker, first May 1990 to fourteenth August 2013.

Gertrude Robinson, seventeenth December 1934 to fifteenth May 2015.

[GERTRUDE INHALES SHARPLY]

WALTER

Timothy Stoker, thirteenth January 1985 to—and that’s when it started to dissolve.

It was like a drop of black ink on the page, obscuring the second half of the date, and then it just…spread. It absorbed the bottom three names and dates first. Then it burned all the way through the paper, and the clipboard, and just kept spreading until…until it was just dust in the wind.

I talked to Kier—my best mate—when he turned up to get his son, while the old man was helping them (slight laugh) conspire to let them spend the night. Gave him the whole rundown. I think it would have stopped there, except that while I was telling him, I suddenly remembered that, right before the paper started dissolving, when it was still just the ink blot—for just a moment, where the dates at the bottom would have been, it coalesced into a drawing of an eye.

And I swear it blinked.

That’s when we sent the note round. I’m sorry to make you come all the way out here. I’d have been perfectly willing to come to you if you’d been willing to work with me.

GERTRUDE

I don’t know that this would keep.

Did you see any of the dates on the last two?

WALTER

No. Didn’t need to, really. Saw the names, which means I know the first dates, and—oh, hang on.

[FAINT SINGING CAN BE HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND, INDISTINCT AT FIRST BUT GRADUALLY LOUDER UNTIL THE WORDS TO “FISH OF THE SEA” CAN BE MADE OUT]

[A SUDDEN PATTER OF RUNNING FOOTSTEPS]

YOUNG JON

Papa!

WALTER

Hey, there’s my boy.

[RUSTLE OF FABRIC]

All right there, Kier?

KEEPER

All right there, Walt.

Ma’am.

WALTER

This is Gertrude Robinson. The Archivist at the Magnus Institute. Ms. Robinson, this is Kieran Blackwood, my best mate, and this is my boy.

Go on, say hello.

YOUNG JON

Hello! I’m Jonny. I’m two and one-quarter.

GERTRUDE

A pleasure to meet you both. And who is this?

KEEPER

(gently) It’s all right, Wickie. Tell her your name.

YOUNG MARTIN

(mumbled) Martin.

YOUNG JON

He’s my very best friend in the whole wide world. And that’s a very wide place. Uncle Kier told me that, and he’s almost the smartest man there is, so he should know.

[WALTER AND THE KEEPER BOTH LAUGH]

GERTRUDE

Yes, well…that’s wonderful.

WALTER

Tell you what. Ms. Robinson’s never seen how fast you can run. Why don’t you two race to see who can be the first one to run all the way around the house and get back?

YOUNG JON

We can do that! Come on, Martin!

YOUNG MARTIN

Ready, steady, go!

[POUNDING FOOTSTEPS AND CHILDISH GIGGLING RECEDE INTO THE BACKGROUND]

GERTRUDE

Hmm. How long do you estimate this will take?

KEEPER

As long as we need. They’ll probably race around to the far side of the house, slow down, and sing a few rousing choruses of the song I taught them a couple months ago.

It’s the one that goes, “La la la, la la la la la, the grown-ups are talking.”

WALTER

They’re two, not stupid.

GERTRUDE

…Right.

KEEPER

You’ve told her, then?

WALTER

Aye. We just finished up.

KEEPER

Terminus?

GERTRUDE

…How do you know about the Fourteen?

WALTER

…Ma’am, you do know I work for Alastair Koskiewicz, right?

GERTRUDE

Yes, I…oh.

Oh, I see.

He told you?

WALTER

In bits and bobs. Enough to avoid them, anyway. Or at least I think that was his intention. Doesn’t always work.

KEEPER

Obviously.

GERTRUDE

Of course.

…

(sigh) Yes. I believe you’re correct. The person you saw was likely an agent of Terminus.

WALTER

Thought as much.

Well. Suppose I’d best let the old man know. Seventh of April, that’s…what, three weeks before you leave on your next run?

KEEPER

More or less. Depends on the tides, really.

WALTER

Well, I should be able to get supplies ordered in, at least, but that’s a bit early to have the garden laid out. He’ll need to get someone else for that.

GERTRUDE

I must say, you’re taking this remarkably well.

WALTER

What do you expect me to do? Start crying? Curl up in a ball in a dark room and mourn?

At least I know. And I’m not ill or anything—not that I know of, anyway—so it’s going to be an accident. It’ll be sudden. Which means that, if I hadn’t seen this list, it would catch us all off-guard. Now I’ve got time to put things in order. I can make arrangements to make sure Sarah and Jonny will be taken care of. I can get whatever work around here needs to be done finished, or at least started.

There’s always more work to do, I suppose. Always one more job. But at least I won’t have to worry that I didn’t do all I could.

KEEPER

He says, as though he had ever, in his life, put forth less than one hundred percent effort into anything he did.

[WALTER LAUGHS]

WALTER

That’s as may be. But still.

I’m sorry I won’t get to see my boy grow up. I can’t imagine what he and Martin will be like when they’re our age, or when they’re thirty, or when they’re old men.

You, I can easily imagine as an old man. Some grizzled old lighthouse keeper with a weatherbeaten face and snow-white hair, staring out over the storm-tossed ocean and longing…

KEEPER

Blackwoods don’t go white. We go silver.

You know I’ll look out for them for you, right?

WALTER

I thought that went without saying. But…thank you.

[SOUNDS OF CAR TIRES ON GRAVEL DRIVE]

KEEPER

Incoming.

WALTER

(sigh) Damn. Hoped we could get you out of here before he got back.

[CAR DOOR SHUTS]

[FOOTSTEPS, PUNCTUATED BY THE REGULAR THUNK OF A CANE]

ALASTAIR

Trudy.

GERTRUDE

Alastair.

ALASTAIR

And what brings you out to the haunts of coot and hearn?

WALTER

She came to get my statement about the man I saw.

ALASTAIR

(gruffly) Told you to have nothing to do with him. Or the Institute. You want them to mark you?

WALTER

I think it’s a bit late for that. He showed up yesterday and was watching the boys, and—well, he dropped his clipboard. List of names and dates.

ALASTAIR

…

(more gently) How long have you got?

WALTER

Ten weeks, give or take. Enough time to finish the painting. Patch the roof over the dormer. I might even be able to get that shed built for you. I can definitely get the ground prepped, but I think you’ll need to get someone else to do the planting this year.

ALASTAIR

How can you think of that at a time like this, what?

WALTER

Like I told Ms. Robinson here, what else am I supposed to do? Spend the rest of my life mourning that I won’t have more time? That just wastes the time I do have.

ALASTAIR

You’re facing down the End—

WALTER

I’m facing death.

GERTRUDE

It is the same thing.

WALTER

I can see how they’d get lumped together, but they’re really not. Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you.

[A BRIEF SILENCE]

[RUNNING FOOTSTEPS]

WALTER

(audibly grinning) Look out, here comes trouble.

YOUNG MARTIN

Granddad! Granddad!

ALASTAIR

All right, come here, you rips. What have you been up to?

YOUNG JON

We were just racing around the house and then we saw a skylark, honest we did, and Martin told me the poem about it, and—

YOUNG MARTIN

And then it flew away and, and we heard your car and came to see you, and here you are!

YOUNG JON

(whispering loudly) Papa, is Mr. K’s surprise ready?

WALTER

(matching his volume) Just about.

ALASTAIR

(also whispering loudly) I’m not deaf, laddie buck.

WALTER

Why don’t you two go wash your hands and set the table for tea? I trust you to be careful.

YOUNG MARTIN/YOUNG JON

Yes, sir!

[RUNNING FEET, A SCREEN DOOR BANGING SHUT]

GERTRUDE

Well. I won’t take up any more of your time. I suppose I’d best be getting back to the Institute.

ALASTAIR

Oh, hang the Institute, Trudy. Surely your assistants can spare you for the afternoon. I’m sure Mendelson won’t mind, what?

GERTRUDE

Mendelson retired more than fifteen years ago. James Wright is the current head of the Institute.

ALASTAIR

Wright? That little dog’s todger?

GERTRUDE

He does well. It surprised me, too.

I—I shouldn’t.

KEEPER

You’re not even a little curious to see what those two little nippers have conjured up as a surprise for Alastair’s birthday?

GERTRUDE

Speaking of those two, I am curious why Jonny calls you “Mr. K”.

ALASTAIR

“Koskiewicz” is a bit of a mouthful for a two-year-old.

WALTER/KEEPER

(simultaneously and accurately mimicking Jon’s tones) Two and a quarter.

GERTRUDE

So why don’t they both call you “Granddad?”

WALTER

We used to refer to him that way for both, but once Jonny started talking, he decided that if Martin can’t call my mother “Grandmother,” he wasn’t going to steal Martin’s grandfather. He wanted Martin to have someone of his very own.

ALASTAIR

Gertrude, he’s Lily’s boy.

GERTRUDE

(softly) My God.

WALTER

I did tell you Kier got me a job with his father-in-law. Did you just not make the connection?

GERTRUDE

No, I—I didn’t.

How is Lily these days?

[ALASTAIR MAKES A NOISE BETWEEN A SPUTTER AND A GROWL]

KEEPER

Lily’s…fine, ma’am.

ALASTAIR

Should’ve stayed at the Institute and left her to be raised by wolves. Would’ve solved a lot of problems.

KEEPER

Aye, but then we wouldn’t have our Wickie. And I wouldn’t trade him for a king’s ransom.

ALASTAIR

Hmm, yes, yes. Thank God he takes after his father, what?

GERTRUDE

…I take it she hasn’t improved with maturity, then.

ALASTAIR

Let’s just say there’s a reason Martin spends most of his days here when Kieran’s away for work.

[DOOR CREAKS OPEN]

YOUNG MARTIN

U-um, ‘scuse me. Are—are you going to stay for tea, Ms. Robinson?

GERTRUDE

I really shouldn’t.

ALASTAIR

Come on, Trudy. Just an hour or two.

I have missed you, what?

Say you’ll join us.

YOUNG MARTIN

Please?

[A SHORT PAUSE]

GERTRUDE

Since you ask so politely…I’d be delighted.

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

GERTRUDE

Final notes.

I…I really don’t quite know what to say here. The statement itself is…fairly straightforward. Obviously those dates bear watching, but I suppose I can’t be certain of them. Of all the abilities I seem to have developed in the last twenty-five years, the ability to Know the future is not one of them.

Still, I suppose finding a way to warn the Stokers would not go amiss. Mr. Sims did give me a bit more to go on there.

I am not made of stone. I do feel very keenly for that young father and his…situation. He did finally get the chance to give me the last two names on the list, and I suppose it’s no surprise that they belonged to his son and his godson. (heh) They’re quite a pair, those two. I admit that I’m somewhat relieved the dates on their names were obscured before he could see them. No parent should have to know when their child is going to die.

And he has given me much to think about. I have a date. If his statement is accurate, I have a little over twenty-five years to accomplish all I need to accomplish. Of course, it’s entirely possible that those dates are the absolute limit, not the concrete end—that I will live no longer than that—but…well. That should give me time, if I work hard at it.

He’s right. There will always be more to do. (heh) Unless I fail, and it all ends. Perhaps that’s why the last three dates are—no. No, I have to believe that these rituals can be stopped, will be stopped. And now I have even more of a reason to work at them than before.

Honestly, I’m not sure what about this whole experience has shaken me more. Finding out the date of my own death…(voice hitches) or meeting my grandson.

I don’t think I’ll make a file in the Archives for this one.

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

[LONG, HEAVILY CHARGED SILENCE]

MELANIE

What. The. Fuck.

PAST ARCHIVIST

(softly) Oh, God.

SASHA

Gertrude Robinson was your grandmother?

PAST MARTIN

I—I didn’t know…

MARTIN

Neither did I. I don’t—

It kind of explains a lot.

ARCHIVIST

Like what?

MARTIN

Like why she avoided me? Like why errands to the Archives were the only ones Diana never sent me on?

PAST MARTIN

A-and it’s—when, when Elias—when Jonah made me experience her death. I-it was—you said it wasn’t usually that intense.

Was that why? I could f-feel her thoughts and emotions because we’re not just connected by the Eye, we’re—related.

ARCHIVIST

I—

[STATIC BEGINS, SOFTLY AT FIRST BUT GRADUALLY BUILDING]

Yes.

No one ever knew. No one apart from Alastair Koskiewicz, and Liliana herself, ever knew that Gertrude gave birth shortly before being appointed Archivist. The baby was placed with Alastair’s parents, for a while anyway, but they were quite elderly and died within a few months of each other four years later, at which time Alastair resigned his position in Research to raise her. Gertrude always made absolutely sure that nobody knew about Liliana. The one and only time she ever tried to reach out to her, Liliana made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with the woman who had given her life and nothing else, as far as she was concerned.

Gertrude didn’t know about you until that day, but afterward, you became the single driving force behind her war against the Fears. She worried that the appearance of the eye on the list might mean that the Ceaseless Watcher had taken an interest in you, and she became ruthless in her zeal to keep it away from you. She spoke with you only twice after that day, taking care to be in disguise and using a false name, just in case.

When she found out you had joined the Institute, she was devastated and terrified in equal measures. It was only when Elias Bouchard did not come down to the Archives to casually mention that he had hired Alastair Koskiewicz’s grandson that she realized her steps to protect you had been, in some small way, successful, and Jonah Magnus had no idea of the connection between her and you. Still, she redoubled her efforts, becoming ever more ruthless in her determination to stop the rituals, to make the world—

MARTIN

J-Jon. Jon!

[STATIC ABRUPTLY STOPS]

ARCHIVIST

Wh—(realizes) Oh, God. Martin, I’m sorry, I—

MARTIN

It’s okay. It’s okay. Just—settle down, okay?

ARCHIVIST

Okay.

Okay, I—

(sighs) Are you three all right?

MELANIE

Do you all need a minute?

PAST MARTIN

Yeah. Thanks, Melanie.

MELANIE

Sure.

[CHAIRS CREAKING AND SCRAPING]

SASHA

We’ll probably be down in the tunnels. Whenever you’re ready.

[FOOTSTEPS, DOOR CLOSING]

[SILENCE, EXCEPT FOR SLIGHTLY RAGGED BREATHING]

TIM

(softly) They moved.

Grandmother and Grandfather, they—just before Danny was born. They’d always lived on this little farm, but they abruptly decided they wanted something smaller and moved to a flat not far from where we were living at the time. We moved a few months later. I never knew why, but…

PAST ARCHIVIST

Y-you think it was because Gertrude…found them. Tried to, to warn them. About Danny, about you.

PAST MARTIN

Oh, Tim.

[FABRIC RUSTLES, SOME MINOR SCRAPING SOUNDS; IT’S PRETTY OBVIOUS THERE’S A GROUP HUG GOING ON]

TIM

It’s okay. It’s okay.

It’s going to be okay.

PAST MARTIN

Sure.

PAST ARCHIVIST

We can get through this.

Together.

PAST MARTIN

I like the sound of that.

Jon, I—I’m sorry your dad didn’t get to see the man you’ve become. I think he’d be proud of you.

TIM

Sounds like your grandfather would have been proud of you both.

PAST MARTIN

He’d have been proud of you, too. I-if he’d had the chance to—I think you would have liked him.

I know he would have liked you.

TIM

…Thanks, Martin.

[A COUPLE OF HEAVY SIGHS]

PAST MARTIN

So—so now what? We go…up to Hainault, find the storage unit, figure out what it is—what’s up there?

PAST ARCHIVIST

…

No.

No, not—not now. I-I need the weekend. I’ve…it’s been one thing after another for so long. I’ve been going non-stop. It’s not time-sensitive, not really, and…I’m tired.

Let’s just…not think about it for a couple of days. Let’s close down the Archives early and, I don’t know, go meet Charlie when he gets home from school and take him out for ice cream. Something like that. Let me have a couple of days to enjoy being home and with you again and—a-and we can worry about it on Monday.

We won’t talk about it. We won’t think about it. We’ll just…take a break. I think we all deserve it.

PAST MARTIN

…Okay. Okay, that—that sounds good.

Tim?

TIM

(deep sigh) Sure. Sounds great.

PAST ARCHIVIST

All right then. Let’s go.

[CLICK]

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #death tw #grief tw #slight misuse of beholding powers #the formatting's better on AO3

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redhoodedwolf · 4 years

Text

A Week-ish of Sterek Fics

Hello all! So I recently accidentally fell back into my AO3 bookmarks and have fallen down a rabbit (fox? eh?) hole that leaves me entirely unproductive and sleep deprived but full of feels, so I thought I’d share all of the fics that I’ve rerereread thus far in the last week (it’s over 75 guys) (since friday 😬). Each has the fic name and description, length, and year pub/finished because it makes me feel old. Also all of these are complete because I am weak and cannot handle WIPs.

Note: I’m not adding any tags to the descriptions, so make sure to read the tags and ratings on each fic first before reading!!!

Teaching Derek How to Text (and Other Shenanigans) by neilwrites | 9K | 2018

yo derek Who’s dying

---

I see your 'Derek doesn't have a phone' line and raise you 'Derek has a phone, he and Stiles text all the fucking time.'

The Hoodie by ladiekatie | 1.7K | 2017

“You shouldn’t be able to see me. What are you?” The guy in the hoodie says, the ball of energy grows hotter under Derek’s chin.

or the one where Derek is just trying to talk to the guy at the back of the subway.

Nothing You Could Say by SylvieW | 13K | 2016

Stiles’ second year of college is not working out as he planned. He rarely sees Scott, his job is exhausting, and to get home after his shift, he has to walk at three in the morning. Nearly getting mugged is the icing on the cake, but luckily a gruff stranger is there to rescue him. But now Stiles can’t seem to shake the feeling that he’s not alone in the dark.

Old Traditions, Werewolf Edition by Footloose | 3.6K | 2014

Stiles does not work his Omega ass off to attract frat boy Alphas. Absolutely not. He's at college to get his degree. If he's crushing on an Alpha who never crosses the lines of propriety, well, no one needs to know, right?

Stiles Stilinski, Boyfriend Extraordinaire by MereLoup | 14K | 2016

“Beacon County Sheriff's Department, this is deputy Mahealani speaking.”

“Oh thank god!”

“Stiles?”

“I, uh, I need some advice.”

“Advice?”

“Yeah. So, hypothetically, say you met your boyfriend’s mother and sister for the first time ever. Completely by accident. In the grocery store. And they convinced you to help them make a dinner to surprise aforementioned boyfriend when he got home after work. What would you do?”

Danny paused, and then, “Stiles, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not the point! And I said hypothetically.”

“Stiles...what are you doing right now?”

***

Stiles never imagined he’d be in Derek’s kitchen cooking a surprise dinner with Derek’s family while they waited for Derek to get home from work.

Partly because their visit was a complete surprise.

But mostly because Stiles didn’t have a boyfriend.

Or even know who Derek was.

But he’d already come this far and Papa didn’t raise no quitter!

third time's the charm by stilinski | 4.9K | 2016

Sure, Stiles has a mark on his chest that belies the depth of his feelings, but it's not something anyone can see unless he decides to show it, or unless werewolves suddenly have x-ray vision.

Which—worrying. And probably-definitely-likely a possibility – if it was to manifest anywhere, Beacon Hills would be top of the list.

Stiles almost turns around there and then to ask Scott how his visual acuity is but is stopped by the teenager at the register finally looking up long enough to spot Derek. Stiles watches her mouth fall open and her expression—studiously blank but with a faint flush rising in her cheeks—is one Stiles knows far too well, particularly when faced with Derek in all his snug-fitting-jeans, v-neck-wearing, canvas-jacketed glory.

Stiles is pretty sure he invented that expression.

Ukochany by VincentMeoblinn| 34K | 2016

Derek comes home to find a mail order husband and two amused betas waiting for him. When he realizes their prank was far from harmless he ends up saddled with a husband who barely speaks English but insists Derek is the love of his life. He's also determined to win him over.

only if for a night by stilinskisparkles | 3.2K | 2016

“I’m Stiles,” he says breathlessly.

“Derek.”

“Derek, hi, do you—”

Derek doesn’t let him finish, kisses the words right out of his mouth.

Hypothetically by alisvolatpropiis | 6.6K | 2015

Stiles holds his hand up to shield his eyes from the sinking sun, its orange-yellow light reflected infinitely across the vast, calm ocean. As utterly stunning as the sunset over the Pacific is, especially while floating leisurely on a surfboard a few hundred feet from shore, it’s a mere backdrop that pales in comparison to who he’s looking at.

Derek Hale, whose eyes are their own oceans that Stiles feels like he’s been floating on since the first time they met. The older man’s eyes are as ever-changing and colorful as the sea they’ve spent the day on, a palette of greens and blues filigreed with gold around the pupils. And if that weren’t enough, the rest of Derek is also transcendentally exquisite: high, arching cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, although that particular perfection is a bit obscured these days by his ever-thickening beard, night-black like his hair, nearly shoulder-length but almost always knotted in a messy bun at the crown of his head.

sincerely, derek by stilinskisparkles | 8.1K | 2016

September, 2009

Hi Stiles, it’s Derek. Derek Hale, from space camp. I’m writing this in English because my teacher Ms Grady said I had to write about my summer, but I spent my summer with you, so I decided to write to you, instead.

Please write back. Love from Derek.

Pancakes and Murder by Amethyst Shard (AmethystShard) | 14K | 2012

Stiles' life has been a roller-coaster filled with awesome highs and terrifying drops ever since his best friend Scott got bit by a werewolf. The ride hits a bump when a dead body turns up at the Hale house (again) and Derek's only alibi is Stiles. Which would be fine, except that Stiles' dad is the sheriff and has no idea his son has been hanging out with the former fugitive. Awkward.

The Witching Hour by MellytheHun | 8.2K | 2016

The radio host AU no one ever asked for but I have written anyway because sometimes when DJ’s play several sad songs in a row, I worry about their mental health and then this AU was born

Derek Hale, The Hero Beacon Hills Needs (Series) by MellytheHun | 11K | 4 Works | 2016

This series started with this Tumblr prompt, "it’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me” au

Stiles is walking home when he's stalked by a dangerous stranger and an even more dangerous stranger comes to his rescue.

Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill | 32K | 2013

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?

Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

You are the Moon by skoosiepants | 10K | 2012

Stuff Stiles doesn’t like to deal with first thing: hot, moist dog breath in his face, a cuddly werewolf creepifying his perfectly normal morning wood with shades of bestiality, and his dad holding his service revolver up against the skull of his bedmate, never mind the fact that his bedmate could possibly be a vicious unhinged rogue omega.

Baby, you should stick around by ElisAttack | 9.5K | 2016

Derek's driving along a stretch of highway when an unusual sight makes him slow down, the engine of his old pickup rattling in protest.

There's a kid standing by the side of the road.

It's the middle of nowhere, the goddamn apocalypse, and this kid is standing by the side of the road with his thumb pointed skyward. Like he's playing at being a hitchhiker.

Or the one where Stiles thinks he's all alone in a post-apocalyptic world, until he meets Derek.

Don’t Be Anything But Okay by skoosiepants | 4.8K | 2016

“Oh my god.”

Ben pops open the car door and says, “Please don’t embarrass me, Dad.”

Stiles flaps a hand, still staring at the magnificent sight before him. There are glistening arm muscles and a sweaty tank top and then the vision bends over and holy god. He has to look away; it’s too much to take in all at once, he might swoon.

OR-

Stiles has a teenager and Derek has a plant nursery.

covalent bonds (Series) by HalfFizzbin | 9.2K | 3 Works | 2015

Derek's a hot nerd. Stiles is a nerdy jock. A LOVE STORY FOR THE AGES.

Disappear Here by AgnesBlue | 28K | 2016

Stiles was quiet. “What?” Derek said again. “My first heat is coming up soon,” Stiles said at last. Derek closed his eyes, disinterested. He knew where Stiles was going with this. “I was thinking…hoping, really,” Stiles said. “Maybe you could stay with me during that time.”

AU in which wounded in a fire that killed off his entire family, Derek wants nothing more than to be left alone as he finishes off his senior year in high school. That all changes when omega Stiles Stilinski asks him to help him through his first heat.

Money Isn't Everything by TroubleIWant | 6.3K | 2015

Stiles slurps at the dregs of his iced hazelnut latté, pretending he doesn’t need a refill just yet. Supporting your local business is great and all, but Isaac charging $5 for a coffee with syrup is highway robbery. He’s already cut his expenses down to the bare minimum, and splurging for foofy drinks is not in the budget. Except that he can’t really help himself: black coffee is plain gross. Maybe I should plan on marrying rich, he thinks darkly.

Or,

Stiles has a huge crush on the super-hot guy he always sees at Isaac's coffee shop, but when he finds out that they guy's an unemployed orphan he has to decide if the difference in their financial situations is a deal-breaker, or just a bump on the path to true love.

So Shed Your Skin and Lets Get Started by halfhardtorock | 21K | 2014

He's sixteen and in the woods on the wrong side of the town-line and he's so fucking fucked.

He knows he's not supposed to run, they teach that to you in preschool (don't run from a Were, back away slowly and walk with care), but they never told you how it would feel, standing alone in the dark with your heart beating in your throat as those glowing eyes tracked you from the shadows.

you and me (and my best friend) by trilliastra | 1.5K | 2016

“Come on, I shouldn’t be the only one having orgasms. Let me help you out.”

“Uh –” someone clears their throat and Derek jumps, startled, hits his elbow on the wall and curses, “am I interrupting something?” Stiles asks, cheeks red.

Derek looks up, sighing. Of all the people working in this damn school, Stiles had to be the one to catch him and Erica talking about sex. It’s just Derek’s luck. He spills juice on his pants? Stiles walks into the classroom; Laura starts yelling at him about something that happened when they were kids? Stiles is right behind them, waiting for his coffee; Boyd accidentally throws a ball at his face? Stiles is at the E.R. when Derek gets there with a swollen face and a broken nose.

The universe hates him.

Easy Alpha by interropunct | 4.6K | 2012

Easy A/Teen Wolf AU. Wherein, Derek Hale is the high school hussy, Jackson and Scott really need to learn to use their inside voices. And, contrary to popular belief, everyone is still a virgin.

Body Language by LadyMerlin | 2.3K | 2016

In an alternate universe, soulmates exist, and they can communicate with each other by writing on their own skin.

The catch? No one knows their soulmates' name. It could literally be anyone under the sun, and Stiles just doesn't have that kind of patience.

chantes une nouvelle chanson pour moi by pr1nc3ssp34ch (dallisons) | 13K | 2013

Stiles Stilinski has been at Hogwarts since his first year, okay. That's six years of experience. He knows how Hogwarts works, how it operates. He's not quite an expert or anything, but he's pretty damn sure he knows this school.

So why the hell have they waited like a million years to start taking transfer students?

And why is he the only one who can't get a French date?

C’était Salement Romantique by Swing Set in December (swing_set13) | 2.2K | 2015

The Triwizard tournament is really about fostering wizarding relations. Ask anyone. Just not Stiles, he’s busy French kissing Derek.

Hogwarts really should teach some linguistic classes.

The Long Way Home by MyChemicalRachel | 19K | 2016

Stiles didn’t plan to sleep with his best friend’s dad. It just kind of happened. And then it happened again. And again. And again…

All that once was, remains. by countrygirlsfun | 8.8K | 2016

Life is only a long list of constants.

Being a part of a royal family, being a prince, has been a constant in Derek Hale’s life since he was born and swaddled in silk cloths.

Wherein Derek finds himself in love with a stable boy who is more than he seems.

Driver's Education by arrowofcarnations | 9.2K | 2014

This is the moment he realizes he can never have Derek Hale – that he was stupid to ever think he could. Maybe their moms made them hang out when they were little and maybe they’ve managed to get along these past few weeks, but they’re too different. Derek’s cool, he plays a million sports, he drives a Camaro, he’s friends with Jackson. Stiles doesn’t fit into the equation and he never will.

Letters by ericaismeg | 8.9K | 2014

“Stiles, this is getting ridiculous. Can you please do something about it?” Lydia demands. “Do anything. I don’t care. Go up and kiss him, ask him to prom this year, write him secret admirer love letters, whatever. Just do something.”

***

OR: The one where Lydia sets up an email account for Stiles to "confess his love" for Derek. And as fate would have it, they also end up becoming friends in person at the same time.

We're One of a Kind (Like Dip Da Dip Da Dip Do Whap De Dobby Do) by orphan_account | 3.5K | 2012

Derek is your classic greaser—with a leather jacket, a hot rod, a hot bike, and a duck butt. Genim “Stiles” Stilinski a total fream—he’s too cool to be a poindexter but he’s so far from a cat that Derek almost feels bad for him. All that’s missing in this love story is some oddly perfectly timed musical numbers.

do it for our country by HalfFizzbin | 936 | 2012

In which Derek tries to play it cool but Stiles is totally hep to his jive.

Fast Times At Clairemont High by MonsieurBlueSky (MyChemicalRachel) | 6.9K | 2016

Stiles is stoked when he's chosen for an undercover operation to take down a drug ring. He's less stoked when he discovers that he'll be posing as a seventeen year old student at the High School where Derek teaches.

It's Too Early For This by thepsychicclam | 4.9K | 2016

Derek loves his job at the coffee shop, especially because Stiles comes in for coffee before early Saturday morning lacrosse practices. The problem is that Derek is too shy to do anything about his crush, and the situation is not helped by the rivalry between the basketball and lacrosse teams.

A Tentative Truce by Inell | 8.5K | 2016

Stiles and Derek have a long standing rivalry that has extended beyond the Beacon Hills High School theater department to every other area of their high school lives. With the announcement of the winter production, their competitiveness has to be set to the side so the musical can be successful. With a tentative truce in place, Stiles unable to ignore his growing infatuation for his co-star.

we keep living anyway by bistiles (alis) | 10K | 2015

“Oh, damn, my manners. What an example I’m setting, am I right? I’m Stiles Stilinski, but call me Stiles, please,” Stilinski extended his hand for Derek to shake, and Derek took it, feeling the solid grip and the long fingers around his own hand. For some reason, he blushed on the spot.

“Derek. Derek Hale. Call me just Derek,” He answered, still holding Stiles’ hand in his.

By the look on Stiles’ face, he felt much the same as what Derek was feeling, whatever that unnamed reaction was.

“And this little barnacle attached to me,” Stiles continued, letting go of Derek and flushing pink, “is Leigh.”

Stiles is struggling to raise his only child all alone, while dealing with financial problems, a new job, and Adrian Harris, the worst boss in the world.

But then he meets Derek Hale, a dreamy co-workers, and what is a terrible situation becomes considerably less grim, when he has Derek by his side.

Don't Judge a Derek By His Cover by captaintinymite (augopher) | 4.5K | 2015

Stiles doesn't care about the rumors surrounding Beacon Hills High School's resident bad boy, Derek Hale. In fact, he thinks the rumors are total crap. Of course, being secretly in love with someone has a way of clouding one's judgment.

However, he knew for a fact that Derek liked books. So when the two paired up for a final English project, he was excited (but also a little terrified).

But you know what they say...never judge a book by its cover. The same goes for people.

sometimes fate is like a small snowstorm by thepsychicclam | 8.1K | 2014

In a coffee shop two days before Christmas, Derek meets Stiles. Despite neither of them being interested in relationships, they spend an unforgettable evening together, but then part ways. During the following years, Stiles competes in the Olympics, Derek tours the world - and neither of them forget. Then twelve years later, two days before Christmas, Derek finds Stiles in that same coffee shop.

aka a kinda sorta serendipity au

should the pillars of memory topple out of my reach by bleep0bleep | 4.3K | 2015

If Stiles didn’t know any better he’d say that look in Derek's eyes is adoring, but he does know better, and also amnesiac Derek thinks they’re married. Which is the only fact he hasn’t questioned so far, which is the weirdest thing.

Just High School by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 4.5K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been dating for some time.

The only thing is, nobody else really knows.

Tis The Season Baristas Fear The Most by stilinskisparkles | 5.4K | 2012

Scott is hands down the worst barista Derek has ever hired. But it's Christmas and apparently that means something to some people.

Mind Reading Can Be Such a Pain in the A** (Series) by Fanhag102 | 21K | 2 Works | 2015

Derek Hale can read minds. If he could have chosen a mutant power for himself instead of being given one by random, genetic happenstance it's safe to say mind-reading would not have been his 1st, 2nd, or even 96th choice.

Maybe if he'd gotten the power of invisibility he wouldn't be sitting in a senior Economics class next to a hyperactive kid with a buzz cut who won’t stop thinking about dicks.

A Criminal and His Lucky Charm by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 5.9K | 2015

Please forgive yourself.

For what?

For allowing yourself to let someone in. For letting me love you. I didn’t deserve it, but that wasn’t your fault. Derek, please, just do it. Please— please don’t drag this out.

Derek Hale valued Stiles above everyone—everything. And Stiles betrayed that. In the end, he figured if he had to die, dying in Derek’s arms wasn’t so bad. He could at least have that.

the things you said when we were the happiest we’ve ever been by foxerica (ericaismeg) | 4.8K | 2015

Derek and Stiles meet again at their high school reunion.

From Dirty Paws by Surreal | 9.9K | 2014

Stiles finds a wolf in the woods. Well, it's more like the wolf finds him. Either way, he's happy to have a new friend in his otherwise boring social circle.

flawless by bibliosexual | 4.9K | 2015

“I know you and I are, like, werewolf-married, but dude, if I ever met Lydia Martin in person . . . All bets are off, is all I'm saying."

It's not like Stiles really means it (does he?), but it still makes Derek’s hands clench into claws on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, if," he says, and keeps his eyes on the road.

Those Hidden Places by Mimiminaj | 18K | 2015

He doesn’t belong here.

It’s the first thought that crosses Derek’s mind as he watches the new inmates spill into the cafeteria. The kid stays close to the wall, eyes scanning all the exits and skimming over the tables. If he’s trying to get a barring for his surroundings he’s doing a shit job of it, something made completely evident as Lewis shoulders him from behind and the kid almost jumps to flatten himself against the wall.

Stiles is the new inmate at Derek's prison. He really didn't expect to fall in love with the mouthy little brat.

Baseball Pants by thatfamoushappyending (betsytheoven) | 2.8K | 2015

Scott shows Stiles a picture of the new pitcher for the Dodgers, and Stiles is suddenly an avid Dodgers fan.

While You Were(n't Quite) Sleeping by mikkimouse | 13K | 2015

Scott’s mom, Melissa, had given Stiles the basics on Derek’s condition when he’d first come over here a month ago. Derek had been here six years, the only survivor of a horrific house fire that had killed the rest of his family. It had left him burned, half his face puckered with scars, and he’d been in a catatonic state the entire time. Stiles couldn’t even begin to imagine how awful that would be, being trapped in your own body for years on end, all alone.

Stiles had an inkling of how much being alone sucked, anyway.

(An AU in which Derek is the one who was trapped in the fire, and then in the hospital, based on a set of pictures from littlecofiegirl.)

dhale25 by ericaismeg | 8.1K | 2014

Derek Hale is an actor in Los Angeles, Stiles is a fanboy in Toronto. When Derek posts his Snap Chat username on Twitter, inviting people to add him, Stiles gets brave and adds him.

They develop a snapping relationship, and it gets intense.

I Settle for Long Distance Calls by iamursforevrmre | 4.3K | 2014

Derek is the guy who Stiles met on some random band page on MySpace because Derek made a ridiculously hilarious comment and with a spurt of confidence, Stiles had messaged him to tell him just how hilarious it was and they got to talking. Derek is the guy that made a FaceBook account just to talk to Stiles on the messenger so they could talk more when MySpace was slowly dying out. Derek is the guy that changed his text message plan to unlimited when he finally sent Stiles his cell phone number. Derek is the guy that has been on the phone with Stiles at any and all hours through the day.

And Derek is the guy that Stiles is in love with.

You look like my next mistake by Vendelin | 15K | 2015

“So, are you dating someone new? Someone who doesn’t mind that you’re frigid?” Kate cocks her head to the side, smiling as though she just asked him about where he bought his shoes.

His entire body sighs in defeat as his shoulders grow square. Just as he opens his mouth, someone comes up to stand beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders. When he glances to his side, expecting to see Isaac, his brain seems to malfunction. Because it isn’t Isaac. It’s Stiles Stilinski, the lacrosse talent of the year, a senior who Derek has seen multiple times from far away, but never ever talked to.

In which Derek is a nerd jock, and Stiles is a frat guy, and Derek falls for him even though he knows he shouldn't.

Coaches Cupcake Coffee House by ChildOfTheRevolution | 4.8K | 2013

Danny looked at him as if he were crazy, ‘It means he wants to ride the dick Stiles.’ He said slowly, as if talking to the mentally insane.

‘Ride the dick, my dick?’ Stiles asked weakly.

‘Figuratively speaking of course, Derek looks more like a topper to me. And you, my friend, are a twink of the most twinkiest standards, but I’m not one to judge.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Stiles admitted, finding himself in a weird crouch-like stance that he apparently now adopts when he’s overwhelmed about finding out Derek Hotcakes wants to bone him three ways to Sunday.

Gladiator AU ( Series) by HaleHole (SweetFanfics) | 9.9K | 2 Works | 2013

He looks up at the door and waits. He hopes that whoever it is, they will be go easy on him. Werewolf he might be, with superhuman healing, but that does not mean that he will not be sore the next day. And he is scheduled for a fight.

Let it be someone easy to please, Derek hopes. Someone who will be quick to take their pleasure and even quicker to leave. He keeps hoping this as the door is pushed open. A voice murmurs a quick set of instructions to whoever has hired him for this session. It is cut off half way through by a familiar, impatient voice that makes Derek strain against his bonds. -- Rome based, Gladiator AU

Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain | 35K | 2013

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.”

“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly.

Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding:

DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

---

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

Theory of Overprotective Canines by rosepetals42 | 11K | 2015

Stiles is totally looking forward to living alone in his super cool apartment off-campus. He is. He is also very excited to bike to school every day, ready to set up an awesome game room, and definitely over his crush on Derek Hale. Completely over it.

Or at least he is until Derek decides he's moving in with him. And then turns out to be the perfect roommate. And then starts attending all his classes. As a wolf.

This is not going according to plan.

Hot for Teacher('s Aide) by linksofmemories_archive | 8K | 2013

“He invited you to his apartment.”

“To do a lesson plan.”

“Yeah and to probably lesson your plan while you’re there,” Scott said, waggling his eyebrows.

“That made no sense, but you still managed to make it sound dirty,” Stiles said. “I’m impressed.”

The healing touch by devilscut | 96K | 2015

Stiles loses his temper with the rest of the pack when they all make excuses not to volunteer to help their Alpha. Deaton has instructed that for the next 24 hours Derek can't use his hands after he seriously injures them in a magical entrapment. Seeing the emotional hurt that Derek's selfish pack has inflicted on him when they argue and try to get out of it, Stiles volunteers to stay and then proceeds to give the rest of them a verbal ass-kicking. He then takes care of his friend, the Alpha, Derek Hale, while trying to work out what his feelings are towards the werewolf.

Quit Dragon Me Around (Seies) by WonderWolf | 17K | 3 Works | 2015

Stiles makes the mistake of taking Derek’s sword and now the grumpy werewolf seems determined to stop him from stealing and landing himself in jail.

Stiles is not pleased. He’s also starving.

(Or the one in which Derek has good intentions, but little understanding of how Dragon biology works. He just wants the cute mole-speckled kid to be safe). -----

“Five meals, Scott. Derek Hale has stopped me from eating five meals. I can’t believe he’s really trying to kill me over stealing his sword. That’s so petty of him. It isn’t like I meant to steal it,” Stiles complains.

“You kind of did mean to, dude,” Scott adds unhelpfully.

“But you don’t understand, Scott. It-”

“Just smelled so good? I know, you’ve said that like fifty times over the past two weeks,” Scott says.

“This is the equivalent of him stealing my lunch money, right? Thanks to him, I didn’t have a meal this week. Or last week! He’s a bully, is what he is. A nice smelling, douchebag of a bully.”

You'll See Me Again by matildajones | 10K | 2015

Stiles is standing there in his uniform, hair long and hands behind his back. There’s a blush on his cheeks and he can barely look Derek in the eye.

“Hey,” he whispers. He’s wearing the medal Derek had presented to him.

Derek stares. He doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore.

Stiles is the soldier who saved Derek and brought him back home. He doesn't seem to care that Derek's a prince or that he's a little bit broken. Derek falls, quick and sure, but it's not easy knowing that Stiles will soon have to return to the war.

Thousand by ericaismeg | 4.2K | 2014

“Seriously, Erica, I could tell him a thousand times in a thousand ways and he's never going to understand what I mean.”

“I thought I told you to spell it out to him,” Erica says. “Derek's has trust issues. I told you this would be difficult.”

Stop Crossing Oceans by greenleaf | 11K | 2015

“There are no absolutes, Scott! No hard rights or hard wrongs! The world doesn’t fucking work that way and we can’t afford to think like that, because people are going to die! We signed up for that the moment we got involved with all this!”

“We? We?” Scott hisses. “Don’t you think you? Don’t forget that you’re the one who dragged us into that forest the night it all started, Stiles. So if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”

Something inside Stiles cracks, so strong and so deep that he practically hears it.

The Wolf that whispered into Stiles' Heart by ElStark | 9.9K | 2015

Basically the Union of the prompts:

Mute!Stiles + Wolf!Derek + Soulmates/Mates AU

“Don’t you have a pack?” Stiles asks him –by then he had discovered that the wolf was in fact a male wolf –“I mean, wolves move in packs, right? Lone wolves don’t make it on their own. I read it yesterday.” He says while they’re both sprawled on the fallen leaves in Stiles’ secret-thinking spot in the woods. Derek licks his face, and Stiles laughs. “Is that your way to tell me that I’m your pack?” Derek licks him again on the nose, making the boy’s face scrunch up, “Ugh. Gross, dude!” he wipes his drool covered face with his sleeve and then gives the wolf a pointed look, “I’m not a wolf, you should have noticed, you know, I don’t exactly have fur and I don’t growl and I don’t have glowing eyes…” He says leaning in to look them closer, “Are you even supposed to have those kind of eyes? I couldn’t find anything about wolves and glowing eyes on the internet..” The wolf snorts.

Aftermath by GhostwithShotgun | 11K | 2015

Stiles suffers from PTSD and insomnia after the events with the nogitsune. He has nightmares, gets at most one hour of sleep every night and has daily panic attacks. He tries his best to hide it because they all have their own troubles and he doesn't want to burden his friends further.

Meanwhile, Derek has made a habit out of checking all pack members every night to make sure they're alright.

Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit | 18K | 2015

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That's... huh.

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

It's a Schlong Story by floatingstark | 33K | 2015

"Do you like him?"

"Of course I do, he’s great!"

"Then what is the fucking problem?"

"My dick!"

-or-

Ex-Porn Star Derek Hale has a lot of issues but Ice Cream Parlor Owner Stiles Stilinski is not one of them.

Bad Dog Bakery and Café by Boom | 27K | 2015

Stiles saves an Omega from wolfsbane poisoning. Said Omega now won't leave Stiles alone. Stiles doesn't really have a problem with this.

Beat The Blues by lilpeas | 2.9K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been childhood friends since the sandpit. When Talia realises Stiles is in love with Derek, she knows Derek has to stop seeing him: Derek’s a werewolf and Stiles is human. It can’t be.

But things never go according to plan.

Red Light's Already Off by orphan_account | 3.3K | 2015

Stiles isn't a hooker. He just plays one on TV.

Noteworthy Observations by LadyDrace | 3.7K | 2015

In which Derek recieves complimentary notes in his locker from a secret admirer, and though it turns out they weren't actually for him, things turn out pretty well in the end.

One Hale of a Sandwich by whatthehale | 10K | 2014

Stiles in bed isn’t really something Derek should be thinking about.

Ever.

Because the person who normally picks Lily up from school? Is Scott.

Lily’s other parent. And Stiles’s partner.

Not to mention the entire source of Derek’s current misery.

AKA, the one in which Derek thinks Scott and Stiles are in a relationship and that they want to threesome with Derek. Spoiler Alert? They aren't and they don't.

Choice by Omni | 8.6K | 2015

Derek knows what it feels like to not really have a choice, what it's like to be manipulated. He'd never take away someone's right to choose freely. The fear of even accidentally doing so is enough to hold him back from acting on his own feelings.

Stiles has never had a problem making his own choices, and fuck anyone who would try to tell him he can't.

(Or: Stiles gets bitten by a different alpha, but of course would prefer to have Derek as his alpha. And also just, you know, have Derek.)

Emergency Love by Kedreeva | 13K | 2012

Wherein Derek is a firefighter and Stiles is a paramedic, and they just keep meeting.

gave your smile to me by Sarageek16 | 4.7K | 2013

In which Stiles is a hooker (but not really), Derek wants to feed his skinny little body, and there is soup. Not necessarily in that order.

#sterek #eternalsterek #sterek fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #fic rec list

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