#because people in smaller groups are easier to talk to

[thebirdandhersong]

💙

[olderthannetfic]

I know ao3 is supposed to house transgressive works but like, what’s the value in hosting actual racist screeds? Like a racist can post racist fanfic on their own blog or whatever. But why do we need to protect the rights of racists to be hosted on ao3

--

It's the same question we ask everywhere about free speech vs. protecting community members.

The biggest issue is that it's hard to find clear cut-offs. On smaller sites, it makes sense to have a mod make the call. When you're small enough for human curation by a few people who can talk things over, it's easier to sort through the gray areas. Small forums can have taste-based curation, and they're often nicer for it. AO3 is way too large for this, however.

I know it seems obvious which things are just completely beyond the pale, but it's difficult to make clear rules that will hit only those and not other things. Like it or not, every rule on every site is instantly weaponized by assholes. In the case of fanfic content rules, that usually ends up as people reaching really hard in order to attack a rival ship or fandom or explicit fic or shipping in general. Often, readers attack a fic because they can't imagine anyone could have genuinely found it hot or could have written it to work through personal trauma... but it turns out the author was absolutely in earnest and this is just a failure of imagination. And this doesn't just go for majority groups having oppressive fantasies: often, minorities grappling with things that affect them more are the ones who make dark or contentious art and then get attacked for it.

Thinking it's simple to sort different types of art is the black and white thinking of a child.

If an author is calling people slurs in the comments, we can judge their intent by their behavior. If the work itself seems offensive, it's harder to tell what's going on.

[caassette]

been on tumblr less than a week and already Trans Discourse is on my timeline front page dash...

idk i kind of just feel like...there are actual real threats right now in the world to all trans people, and like. trying to create in-groups and out-groups within the community is the most braindead thing you can do

they are killing us. they want us dead. any time you try to segregate one fraction of the queer community from another, their job gets a little easier. let me give you an example that happened recently in Texas while I was living there:

June 2022: Log Cabin Republican Praises Trump, "Don't Say Gay", Trans Hate

Also June 2022: Texas GOP's New Platform calls gay people "abnormal"

Log Cabin Republicans are essentially gay conservatives. And as part of trying to be accepted, under Trump, they decided trans people were the out-group and that gay people (specifically, white cisgender gay men) were the in-group.

If I had to guess, they probably figured so long as they also pointed the finger at us and called us groomers and said we were fetishists, they would be more accepted in the republican party.

Guess what happened? Not that! Instead, the Texas GOP, in 2022 (Two Thousand And Twenty Two) decided that being gay was once again Not Okay!

This is what I'm getting at: in queer spaces, always, always, there must be solidarity. There is no such thing as someone who is "not gay enough", or "not really trans", or "just looking for attention."

I, myself, am a binary trans woman. My current partner is a genderfluid transmasculine nonbinary person. Do I spend hours talking with them about how they do or don't face certain forms of oppression, or about how their identity is less valid than mine?

Of course not! We kiss and hold hands and fuck and have empathy for each other.

As a queer person it is YOUR RESPONSIBILITY to be one hundred percent accepting, validating, and encouraging of ALL QUEERNESS, because the second you decide to draw the line, the oppressor wins.

Maybe you're not a Log Cabin Republican. Maybe you're not advocating for trans genocide while being in a same-sex relationship. Maybe you just, idk, use the word "theyfab." Or you think pansexuals should "just call themselves bi."

It doesn't matter that the line you've drawn is farther left, or smaller, or excludes less of the community.

What matters is that you've drawn it at all.

[buckyalpine]

Heeey sweetie ! I hope you’re well !! I always look forward to your posts and check your page daily for updates ! Your writing is incredible and always leaves me with butterflies in my stomach !! I wanted to leave a request if that’s okay ! I was thinking about mob Bucky with grumpy-sunshine trope !? Bucky being the grumpiest little shit ! He’s arrogant and stares too much . But then he meets this ray of sunshine and she’s the only one to get him soft ! She’s the only one that can coax a smile out of him ! Gives her the gentlest touches and sweetest kisses ! He’s proud to have her next to him and loves how much smaller she looks compared to his massive size . Even tho he’s dominant in bed , he’s still careful and considerate with her ! Fluffy fluff with a big intimidating man

YESS Omg i love this so much its adorable. (18+, cause there’s fluffy fluff but also smutty smut) 

Disclaimer: I love fics where Bucky loves his much smaller reader compared to his larger size but I do my best to not describe the readers size too much because I want anyone to be able to imagine themselves in my fics. When I write, Bucky is obsessed over how he can just easily scoop you up into his arms and toss you over his shoulder effortlessly. 

First time meeting you I just imagine you both meet in the most wholesome way as well. He's truly the grumpiest shit anyone's ever met. Arrogant and cocky but he’s earned his reputation so no one dares question it. That being said, he has some principals, one of them being that family always comes first. He takes that very seriously. That's why he's out and about, looking for a present for Sam’s daughter’s birthday, hand picked himself (and by present, we’re talking presents plural, he already bought her a custom gold engraved locket and an Hermes baby blanket, no godchild of his would get any less).

Still, he wanted to give her more, wandering into a little book shop at the corner of the street that appeared to be empty. His men stood outside the door while he scanned the shelfs, huffing in frustration because there were so many choices and it would have been easier to just buy the all the books. He picked up a book and set it down, the store probably wouldn’t cost too much- 

"Can I help you?"

A sweet voice called him from behind and Bucky was ready to give the person hell, he hated sales people. Most people. Honestly all people. Except Steve. He'd maybe pee on Sam if he was on fire but that was as far as his love for him went. (its all a front, he loves Sam).

He turned around, about to tell whoever it was, to fuck off, blinking instead when he came face to face with you. You smiled up at him, eyes twinkling, setting down the pile of books you had in your arms to look at the shelf he was browsing. 

“What age group are you looking for?” 

Bucky hardly registered your words, staring at what looked like the human form of a cute little garden fairy straight out of a fairytale. You were in a blush pink sundress, covered in tiny flowers, standing on your tippy toes trying to reach the books higher on the shelf. Garden fairy, what the fuck was wrong with him, he shook his head trying to regain his train of thought. 

“Uh- a baby?” Bucky didn’t know what to do with himself, most people took his  staring as a sign to go away but you seemed unbothered. 

"Oh! Come with me, there’s a great section at the back, I’ll show you!” You happily led the 6′4 mob boss to the kids corner at the back of the store, colorful drawings, plush rugs and little bean bags covered the area. 

“Any of these would be great for a little one” You pointed to the shelves that were low to the ground, pulling out a few and handing them to him “let me know if you see anything you like” with that, you went back to putting books away. You returned a few minutes later, biting back a smile, looking at the tall man covered head to toe in dark ink, diligently reading through one of the books you handed to him. 

"You look so cute" You giggled, looking at Bucky sitting on one of the tiny chairs, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. 

"Cute?" Bucky had never been more insulted in his life, of all things to describe him, how dare you tell him he looked cute. 

“Of course” You grinned as you walked over and sat down beside him. The gentle sweet scent of your perfume evaded his senses, his heart jumped when he felt your warm hand brush against his. Bucky didn’t know why his heart was racing, he didn’t like it. His brows furrowed, trying to stop the blush that spread across his face when he saw your smile. 

“Do you like that one?” Bucky nodded, looking at the cover of the book; two bears sitting together looking at the moon. “I love you to the moon and back, its such a sweet book, I would have picked this one too” 

Bucky nodded again, not trusting himself to speak around you. You took the book to the front to check him out. After he paid, you placed a little brown bear that matched the ones on the book cover in the bag as well. Bucky cocked his head confusedly, reaching for his wallet again. 

“How much?”

“Just take it as part of the gift” You smiled, tying a ribbon around the handles of the bag. “I’m sure they’ll love it. Have a good day!” You gave him a little wave as he walked out, turning back to your books, while Bucky felt his insides melt. 

The pretty girl at the book store thinks I’m cute.

Bucky slid into his SUV, the corner of his lips twitching, his cheeks dusted pink. You thought he was cute. Cute. He continued to bite his bottom lip, fighting with his face muscles to keep from smiling, failing miserably instead. 

“Is he having a stroke”

Sam whispered, staring at Bucky through the rearview mirror while he sat at the front with Steve. Bucky’s face continued to twitch, trying to keep his classic scowl on his lips. 

“I think he’s smiling” snorted, cocking an eyebrow watching Bucky carefully inspect the little brown bear you put in the bag. 

“He knows how to smile?”

“You good punk?” Steve called out, smirking when Bucky stuffed the bear back in the bag, pretending he wasn’t giving it heart eyes while thinking about you. “You looked real cozy talking to the girl at that the bookstore” 

“Shut up” He ignored his two friends snickering, throwing them a growl before thinking about you again. 

She thinks I’m cute. 

After that meeting, imagine Bucky finds himself going back for more and more books; he doesn’t even have time to read but he can’t help it. Every time he steps into your bookstore, its like sliding into a comfy blanket. He’s addicted to your sweet smile; your always there with a new book for him to read. He can’t help but smile every time he sees you flit around the shelves, he felt like he was living in his own fairytale. 

The first kiss

Bucky watched you huff in frustration, trying to put a book back on the shelf but it was too high for you to reach. 

“Um-could-would you please help me put this back?” You asked shyly, while Bucky smiled, nodding and coming up behind you, his hand gently holding your waist, placing the book on top with ease. His tall form towered over you, his chest brushing against your as you turned and looked up at him. 

“Th-thank you” you whispered, your eyes flicking from his blue eyes to his pink lips. His lips were curved in a soft smile that gave you butterflies; it wasn’t often that you saw him smile but it seemed he did it whenever he was close to you. 

“You look handsome when you smile” You squeaked, slapping your hand over your mouth as soon as the words slipped through. Bucky bit his lip, while you looked away embarrassed you had said that out loud. “Sorry I didn’t mean-” 

You gasped, feeling him pull you closer, his hand gently tilting your chin up to look at him. His head dipped down slightly and you felt your body moving on its own, standing on your tippy toes to be closer to him. 

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his nose nudging against yours. You nod, letting out a shuddered breath as his hand cupped your cheek, pressing his lips sweetly to yours. You hesitantly moved your arms to wrap around his shoulders, melting into his touch. 

You didn’t know how much time had passed, staying tucked in his arms, having waited ages for him to finally make a move. When he finally has to leave, he comes running back in mere seconds later. 

“Did you forget something?” 

Bucky nodded, his hands wrapping around you waist, pulling you close to him again, his lips kissing you softly as ever. 

“I wanted another kiss” 

That kiss turned into lots of kisses. Lingering hugs. When he finally brings you to his home, he keeps you his little secret for a while so he can enjoy your company. You bring out a softness in him he didn’t know was possible; soft fluffy dates with him cooking for you, or going on evening strolls. You’re his everything, he loves seeing his little garden fairy comfy in his home. You made everything warmer; the soft scent of candles always traveled down the halls; sweet baked goodies were always ready in the kitchen. Sam and Steve were definitely not complaining, pretending they didn’t notice Bucky’s classic grumpy face now also came with a cute little blush on his cheeks. 

The first time they meet you 

Imagine Bucky’s team finally find the mole they’d been hunting for months. They’re all riled up, throwing him into the van, threatening him within an inch of his life. They know Bucky likes to take care of business himself but it doesn’t stop them from warning him about the pure wrath he’s going to face. 

“You’re fucked”

“You thought we were bad? You’re gonna wish your mom swallowed you”

They drag him up the steps, bursting into his office, expecting Bucky to be waiting there with his knife twirling between his fingers. 

Instead...

Bucky’s men all stared at each other before looking at the sweet thing that was sitting in their bosses lap, feeding him pastries. Bucky grinned like a love struck puppy, cradling you to his chest while he sat on his office chair, moaning at the sweet caramel melting on his tongue. The last thing they expected to see was a delicate thing like you cuddled up with who they thought was a blood thirsty gang leader. 

Sam snorted, shaking his head, watching Bucky ignore the rest of them, his eyes still trained on you, peppering kisses onto your cheek. 

“Motherfucker, are you eating butter tarts right now?” 

“They taste good” Bucky shrugged, giving you one final sweet kiss to your lips before looking up at his team. 

“Why don’t you wait for me in my room, I’ll be there soon” Bucky pressed a soft kiss onto your temple, helping you off his lap. You smiled, brushing some of his hair back, kissing his forehead.

“Come soon bubba” Your bare feet padded through his office, giving the towering men a quick wave as you passed them “Hi Sam, Hi Steve!” 

Sam blinked, before grinning and giving you a friendly wave back. 

“She is adorable, fucks she doing with you” 

“Shut the fuck up bird brain” Bucky panned, a growl emitting from his chest, as he rounded the table, his previous soft demeanor dropping as soon as his eyes landed on the mole. “Have Steve keep him quiet, my angel doesn’t have to hear this shit” 

After Bucky’s men saw how soft he was for you, you become their secret weapon. You’re always there to soften the blow they’d face, making him smile even when delivering the worst news. 

“Boss, the deliveries were seized” Peter trembles at the door, while Bucky’s nostrils flare, he’s about to tell everyone off, but his anger dissipates as soon as your head pops into the room. 

“Bucky, come cuddle?” You push past the men, your hands draping around his shoulders. 

“They put you up to this, didn’t they?” Bucky snorted, rubbing his temples, melting as soon as you crawled into his lap. You giggled innocently, kissing his scruffy cheek while he lifted you into his arms, carrying you over to his room. 

“Hmm, they’re lucky you’re so sweet babygirl” 

The first time 

For months, Bucky didn’t do anything more than give you soft kisses, hugs and cuddles. He wanted you, he needed you in a way he never thought was possible, but he didn’t want to rush anything. You were special and if he was going to be intimate with you, it’d be whenever you were ready. 

He never wanted to pressure you into anything, but you reassured him you wanted this. Bucky swallowed thickly, looking at your smaller form curled up against his bed waiting for him. You looked so sweet and delicate, wearing just one of his shirts, nervously fidgeting with your hands while he crawled up the bed to you. 

“Are you sure about this prinţesă?” He kissed your knee, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb; you felt your face heat up and the name he had for you, nodding without meeting his eyes. “Look at me baby” He tilted your chin to meet his gaze, “I won’t be upset if you want to wait” 

You knew he meant it. Not once had he ever made you feel like doing something you didn’t want. His sweetness only made you want him more. 

“I want this, I-I want you” you whispered, moaning softly when his lips pressed against yours. He kissed you softly, his hand moving to your waist to lay you down against the pillows. He was on top of you, nipping your jaw, peppering kisses down your neck, his hand caressing the side of your thigh. 

Being with you was different. 

He natural instinct had always been rough and fast; clothes torn, no build up. 

He didn’t want that with his pretty doll. Yet. 

He slowly undressed you, pulling your shirt over your head, leaving you bare underneath him. He continued to kiss you while still being fully dressed, chuckling when he felt you squirm under him. 

“What is it baby?”  He cocked his head, picking up on what you wanted when you fiddled with the buttons on his shirt but he didn’t want to give in, enjoying your flustered state.

“I-um” You fisted his shirt, burning under his gaze, “Take it off” 

“Take what off?” He cocked his eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his pretty lips. 

“Ugh, I want to see you naked Bucky” You pouted, burying your face into his neck while he grinned, bringing your hands to unbutton his shirt. 

“Whatever my babydoll wants, go ahead prinţesă, m’all yours” You squeaked when he pulled you and rolled over so you were straddled on top of him, his hands stroking your bare waist and thighs. 

“Want you to take it off babygirl” He couldn't take his eyes off you as you shakily undid his tie, moving to his buttons next. As soon as his shirt was off, you managed to unbuckle his belt and tug off his pants. You blinked at his thick cock straining against his briefs. 

Bucky brought his fingers to rub though your soaked folds, groaning at the slick that easily coated his fingers. 

“Will you let me taste you?” 

“I-no one’s ever-

“I’ll be gentle baby, promise it’ll feel good” Bucky laid you on your back as he worshipped your body, trailing kisses down your skin, while you hesitantly parted your legs, his thick, wide shoulders forcing them apart further. 

“So pretty baby” Bucky groaned, kissing your clit, his lips sealing around your clit, sucking softly, careful not to apply too much pressure. “You have the sweetest clit doll”

He could feel his cock throb against the mattress at the way your face contorted, soft whine slipping past your lips as you tried to keep your moans down. He pushed a finger in, gently stretching you out, while you started to grow needy, your hips shifting under him. He pulled away, his beard glistening with your arousal, eyes heavy with lust. 

“Want to be inside you prinţesă” 

You nodded,  while he threw his briefs off, his cock standing tall and proud as he hovered above you.

“Bucky, it-it won’t fit” You whispered, watching his thick cock bob between his legs, grazing on your clit. 

“We’ll make it fit baby” His hand gently cupped your face, while your legs moved up to hug his waist. “Tell me if its too much and I’ll stop” He moved his cock through your folds, groaning at how you felt on the tip of his cock. 

“Ready?” You nodded, gasping feeling his thick blunt tip prod against your soaked entrance.

“Jaames...” You whimpered feeling him stretch you while he kissed your forehead, stopping his movements with just the tip inside you.

“Shhh angel, it’s just me sweet girl” Your body trembled under his, biting down onto his shoulder as he pushed himself further while holding your body close to his. You were still getting used to the burn and stretch of him as he buried himself to the hilt, clinging onto him while he stayed still. 

“I know baby” Bucky stroked your forehead, brushing your hair away from your face, kissing your cheeks. He felt a new type of feral, his sweet girl under him, whining and whimpering over his cock, your pussy dripping around him.  

“S’too big Bucky” You bit your lip, your pretty doe eyes locked with his. 

“My cocks too big for you baby?” Bucky cooed, while you nodded, throbbing at your nails digging into his skin “Your pussy’s too tight, huh angel, you need me to go slow?”

There was something addicting over how hard Bucky was trying to hold back, his brows furrowed, cock already leaking into you. He started off slow, gentle thrusts, letting you adjust, telling you how perfect you were, his hands laced with yours, pinned against the bed.

“Taking my cock like such a good girl baby”

“You know how pretty you look right now doll?”

You felt the burn start to melt, your moans growing louder while he pushed his entire length in and out of you, his bally smacking against your ass. 

“M-more Bucky, please?” 

Bucky’s breaths grew heavy, feeling his spine tingle already, you had a different affect on him, his cock already throbbing. 

“You’re beautiful prinţesă”

“Could make love to you like this for hours my baby” 

“Taking me so well babydoll, making my cock throb, you’re so tight” 

He craved so much more of your warmth, his pace speeding up, moaning and grunting each time you cried out. He gripped onto the head board as he started to pound you, the sounds of skin slapping carrying through the room. 

“F-uck baby, you feel so good” He moaned into your neck, the muscles on his back tensed as he fucked you harder. “Am-am I too rough sweet girl”

“F-feels g-good James” You cried out from under him, your walls starting to flutter as he hit your g-spot. Bucky moaned, his forehead coming down to rest on yours, lips parted and brushing against each other. “Bucky, harder, please”

The sound your moaning his name made him almost cum on the spot. 

“Oh fuck don’t stop, tell me it feels good baby, tell me how bad you want it, keep saying my name” 

“JAMESS” The headboard practically slammed against the wall as he abandoned all softness, the both of you feral over each other, chasing your highs. 

“Tell me how good my cock makes you feel baby” His hand snaked between your bodies, rubbing and teasing your clit, making you nearly sob. 

“S’good Bucky, stretching me, I- fuck m’gonna cum!” 

“Cum my gorgeous girl, CUM”  “JAMES-I-F-FUCK” You clenched around his cock, cumming and squirting around him while he roared, his pace stuttering as he spilled ropes of cum into you. You both held onto each other, moaning and panting as you came down from your orgasm, your body still convulsing feeling his cum drip out of you. 

“Fuck I love you” He panted against your skin, pressing sloppy kisses all over your face. He had a goofy grin, sweeping you into his arms to run you a hot bath. 

(Which was a waste of time, considering he spent the rest of the night with you,  making an utter sticky mess in his bed)

Bonus: The first tattoo (dedicated to you)

Most of Bucky’s body is covered in dark ink, but none of his pieces were done impulsively. Each piece had a meaning behind it, and his latest one was his favorite. 

“Close your eyes baby” He picked you up and placed you on his desk, unbuttoning his shirt while you impatiently waited for him to tell you, you could look. “Alright, open” 

“A fairy?” You gasped, looking at his newest piece, your fingers gently tracing over his chest. Above his heart, was his latest piece, a little fairy reading a book while sitting on the moon. 

“From when I first met you. I thought you were like a little garden fairy” Bucky blushed, kissing your nose. “Could never get enough of you, the only little fairy to think I’m cute” 

Tears stung your eyes, sniffling while he wrapped his arms around you. You smiled against his skin, kissing his chest. 

“You like it baby?” His thumbs swiped across your cheeks, stroking your hair while you nodded, struggling to formulate words. 

“I-I love y-ou” You choked out, hugging him tighter

“I adore you sweet girl, love you to the moon and back”

Tags:

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[nthspecialll]

I think it is funny that in 1899 we see Dutch as like the action man and Hosea more as the house husband, the guy making sure the camp is running around and teaching people to read, when we got evidence that they were the other way around when they were young.

Okay so a smaller thing that suggests this that I love is the photo we have from them where Hosea is sitting with his cigar, ankle over knee and Dutch is standing in the back with a hand on Hosea's and Arthur's shoulders and practically in every old 1800 family portrait i have seen with that arrangement it is the wife in the back😭

A bigger thing is the convosation we have with Hosea as Arthur in the hunting quest (which in itself is crazy because Hosea wasn't planning on bringing Arthur but just did so anyways because he was around, like man just decided to go hunt a massive bear by himself). We hear Arthur asking if Hosea had ever thought about quitting "the life" and Hosea says that he had already tried to but he had "slipped back into it" and Bessie had known what he was, and who he was (Hosea's own words). In 1899 Hosea is the one running scams and how do you just "slip back into" making scams? Like did you just accidently think up a whole organised plan? It is a lot easier to just pull the trigger on a gun, that is something you slip back into like John proves in 1907.

And as for Dutch being more calm? He was the one who taught Arthur and John to read, Arthur says so himself in chapter one. Imagine teaching two street kids to read, that got to take some calm time and dedication I do not think 1899 Dutch has.

In 1899 we hear Hosea talk to Dutch about wanting the group to be safe because he "does have long left", that and a convosation he has with Abigail where he says his body is failing him to me indicates that he might have started to step back from the aggression when his body started to give in and let Dutch take the aggressive role, but we do still see the aggression in Hosea like him pointing a gun and threatning to shoot Bill in camp when he got too drunk and literally the entire Braithwaithe mission?? Hosea held a damn aggressive role there.

I also think the reason Hosea is the one teaching Jack to read and not Dutch is, yes because Dutch would not have the patience, but also because Hosea has probably accepted that they have switches their roles and it is now his job to make sure that the kids they raise are civilised.

Added: in chapter 3 when Dutch says that they can play the Gray/Braithwath situation from both sides Arthur says "this is starting to sound like yound Dutch again."

Anyways autism is so weird like wdym i am using a historical family protrait from the 1800s high society to explain the changing dynamic of two fictional gang leaders in a video game?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not wanting my friends to visit?

(English isn't my first language and this might be too long)

I (26 X) live in a different city from a bunch of friends who constantly travel here due to concerts and other massive events (think at least twice per year). I've always tried being welcoming in the past bc I too used to live in a much smaller city and wished I could attend concerts on a more regular basis, plus I've been friends with people in this group for more than 10 years, so I tend to be comfortable around them in almost any situation.

One friend (26M) from such group has recently moved in with me, and we've been roomates for almost half a year now, however I noticed the number of request to coming over and staying has exponentially increased since he moved in last year (think at least one person every two months and the number of days increasing to up to one week when previously they used to stay not more than four).

Normally, this wouldn't bother me considering that they are all common friends, but recenetly I've been going through a particular depressive episode where all I want to do is not being bothered by anyone in my own house (my roomate being the exception since I'm used to him being there) and I've been having trouble getting along with the more often visits. While adding the fact that since my friemd moved in, everyone just sort of stoped directly asking me if it was okay to stay and just asking the roomate instead and making him tell me.

I've expressed my fatigue to my roomate, along my dislike of not being considered as an essential part of the plan when other friends prepare their stay, I've been certainly feel used by them while also being aware that my depression fuels any negative feeling that crosses my way, but he and the others have reasurred me that it's just easier to bother him with such details since they know I'm not doing so well. I've agreed with their plans nonetheless thinking I could get better or just ignore them, but there's this big concert next month where a bunch of people are coming to stay for over a week and I'm just feeling overwheled thinking about it.

There is one particular case that troubles me the most as a guest, bc since other friends might just be a little draining, she (24F) and I used to be in some sort of "situationship" about a year ago that never really went anywhere and while we put some distance we did end up in relatively good terms. I've been told multiple times that I can't throw away this long friendship just because I caught feelings at some point and while I can act normal around her in public, there's just this terrible dreadful feeling of imagining her being back in my house as though nothing has happened.

The three of us (her, my roomate and I) used to be the closest from the group of friends and as such I've allowed him to invite her over (mind you, a completly diferent city) while I've been away, but can't stand the idea of her being there at the same time as me. My roomate has told both of us we ought to patch things down (so everything can be as before) but every instance we've tried to talk I've just been convinced I want her less and less inside my house.

This should be pretty obvious for me, but I've gotten to a point of avoiding my own house for weeks bc depression keeps telling me no one wants me there and I'm the problematic one while not wanting to upset my roomate (it is also his house afterall) or the other friends who keep making plans to visit, with my irritable mood and also being reminded that THEY have no problem with me and its okay if I need to take my space.

AITA if I'm considering completly shuting down all visits for a what's left of the year despite people having made plans since last year and (inderctly) telling me said plans with anticipation? I just don't know what else to do but changing most of these people plans when I'm feeling bad all the time around other people and not being able to properly express that in a way where everyone don't just think I'm a resentful toxic ex and that my problem is just with one person.

What are these acronyms?

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Long list of Nimona headcanons cause I didn't post yesterday

I feel like Nimona doesn’t really have great control of her shifting/strength when she’s experiencing really intense emotions 

When she’s angry or frustrated she tends to get bigger 

Sometimes it’s her whole body sometimes it’s just her arms 

She has a bad habit of breaking things on accident when she’s upset 

When they’re sad or hurt they’ll get smaller 

One time Nimona and Bal got into a really intense argument and Bal said something he didn’t mean and they shrunk like 5 inches and he knew he fucked up instantly 

When he gets happy or excited is when his shifting really goes haywire  

Sometimes when he’s really happy with someone he’ll subconsciously take on some of their characteristics 

Ambrosius complimented him one time and Nimona had his dimples for the rest of the day 

Bal fixed her headphones and she took on his laugh for two days 

At first it kind of unsettled them but they understood that it was just another way of her showing love so they got used to seeing their freckles on her face and hearing their laughs from her 

Bal needs glasses and contacts most of the time but he never uses them

He says glasses are a pain and he’s terrified of anything and everything near his eyes 

Ambrosius needs to do it for him because it’s easier for some reason 

He also has a bad habit of misplacing his glasses and recruits Nimona and Ambrosius to help him look for them the second they're supposed to leave 

Half the time they give up on looking for them and he relies on Ambrosius to help him read things 

He loves that man to death but if he has to read one more menu out loud he’s gonna lose it 

There have also been close calls where people tried to start a fight cause they thought Bal was glaring at them

In reality he was just trying to read the sign next to them 

No one should let this man drive he’s a terror to society when he’s behind the wheel

He always insists that he doesn’t need his glasses to drive 

Nimona offers to drive but no one lets them because the last time they were behind the wheel they aimed for a group of people yelling “That’s at least 50 points”

Ambrosius is the most responsible driver but as I said in this post that man can’t find his way out of a paper bag 

So his directions are always on and Bal always complains that he could find a faster way in his sleep

Ambrosius turns to him and says “Love you couldn’t find your hand in front of your face” 

And Bal shoved him so hard he almost crashed the carriage and his passenger privileges were revoked for a week

Both Bal and Nimona have resting bitch faces 

A lot of people think Bal is this mean horrible stuck-up person 

And then they talk to him for more than five seconds and realize he’s got a heart of gold and big puppy dog eyes to match

A lot of people see Nimona’s resting bitch face and get a little scared but they also have this thought of “but she’s just a teenager with a squishy little face how bad could she be”

And then they realize they’re talking to a chaos gremlin and the resting bitch face was there to protect them

Ambrosius has been trained not to frown in public 

This man puts Disney Employees to shame with his bright smile and his energetic personality 

But the literal second he’s home that mask drops 

Bal and Ambrosius are so used to this routine that they aren’t even fazed anymore 

But Nimona always pretends like they’re cutting the string over Ambrosius' head whenever the door closes 

It’s almost comical to see because the second they do it his face drops and his shoulders droop and his once energetic voice is a monotone mumble 

He’s not always like this tho being in the public eye just drains the life out of him

But when he gets to stay home with people who love and care about him he could put the damn energizer bunny out of business

[stxrvel]

closer

summary: reader has had many losses in her life, and when she meets Bucky she thinks she's found the one, until life proves otherwise.

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!f!reader

words: 4k

warnings: some bad words and angst? also some miscommunication, past trauma, reader letting her past dominate her out of fear, a somewhat slow and indecisive Bucky, no happy ending.

note: i was in front of the computer all day thinking about what i could write, looking for information from everywhere, and this is what finally came out. it's almost three o'clock in the morning. i think i definitely write after midnight. let me know what you think of this piece, i'm not quite sure how it came out. i'll be happy to read your comments tomorrow, feedback is always appreciated! for now, i'm going to rest! love you all and thank you for reading!! <3

there's no part two

You were being indifferent. You were trying to be indifferent. Bucky would talk to you only to talk about the missions, about the objectives and about trivial things like the weather, and you were trying to be indifferent. You'd been on that mission for a week, and you were failing terribly. Sometimes you were so dry when you responded to him that he just frowned at you with a confused look on his face. It was awful. You had never been through so much grief than when he asked you if you were okay, in front of the rest of the group.

Maybe you should put that act aside and start dealing with what was really important.

You were in love with Bucky Barnes.

And well, that should be normal. Innocent. Warm. But the truth was, you were afraid to acknowledge those feelings. You wanted to forget them, reject them and never have them around again. Or maybe you could let them out. Let the receiver of the message know what was going on and maybe with the rejection you could move on. But no, you were too afraid. You had clung too tightly to people throughout your life and that had never ended well. And yet, despite all the sadness and disappointments, you were still walking through life with your heart in your hand.

Not learning from the mistakes of your past had led you to where you were. You always thought you were making the best decisions, you were guided by that feeling, but those decisions had led you down a lousy path.

Bucky was talking. His lips were moving and from his throat came the words you weren't hearing. It had become a habit to get so lost in your thoughts that you lost yourself entirely from reality. It had cost you a couple of wake-up calls before, and now, seeing Bucky's expression, it looked like you were going to get another one.

Many of those days, you wished you could go back to the way everything was in the beginning, before your heart and your loneliness intruded on the equation. When you shared pleasant chats with Bucky, when you were a perfect duo on missions, when you ate in silence in the big kitchen of the Complex, when he accompanied you in the evenings to watch movies.

Everything was so much easier when you stayed away from people sentimentally, when you didn't want to see them more often, when you didn't want to tell them every single thing that happened in your day, when your heart didn't race just because your looks collided, when you didn't openly want to have someone's company in the solitude of the nights. Your life was so much easier when you didn't compromise with your feelings, and life had shown you that. You had been living well for months, alone, even when you came to the team and a couple of months later everything was fine. You didn't really know at what point things started to deteriorate.

“That's it,” the man in front of the table dismissed the rest of the team and kept his gaze on yours, as if that way he could keep you sitting quietly. And it was working. You hated that it did.

When the last person left the room and it was just you and Bucky inside the room, it seemed like the walls got a lot smaller around you.

“Are you okay?” he was the first to speak.

“Yeah, sure, why?”

“It's seemed to me that you've been a little distracted these days.”

“No, no, not at all, I'm fine.”

“If you need to talk to someone…” Bucky paused, his gaze flitting across the place, and your heart leaping wildly in your chest, “…I think Sam's making small talk.”

Ah.

“Ah, I see,” you mused, trying to keep your tone normal, “Thank you.”

“Let me know when you do, and you'll be back in the field.”

“What?”

Bucky stopped at your exclamation, pausing halfway to the door. His brow was furrowed and you were sure his confused look matched yours.

“Didn't you hear everything I said earlier?”

You avoided his gaze. You had told him not long ago that you weren't being distracted and of course that lie was going to come back to you soon.

Bucky sighed, his shoulders languid at his sides. His medium-length hair fell over his eyes as he ducked his head, and with his right hand he rubbed his eyes. You missed when you allowed yourself to share smiles with him, which now seemed like distant memories from other lives.

Only when he looked at you again did you realize the weariness that dominated his face.

“You're not going on missions for a while,” he finally said, and you were about to protest when he added, “Direct order from Fury.”

“Bucky-”

“I'm sorry, Y/N, but I can't risk your safety or the safety of the team or the mission because you're not well now.”

“I'm fine. I swear!”

“You're not.”

You snort. “You only see a quarter of what I do on a daily basis.”

“And that's enough to know that Fury made the right decision.”

“What the hell do you people know about right decisions?” you muttered angrily to yourself, turning your head away.

“What did you just say?” Bucky turned back entirely, his face much more disgruntled than before.

Fuck. You'd forgotten he had good hearing.

“Just… Just leave it at that. It's okay. I'll let you know when I talk to Sam.”

You took a deep breath before standing up and matching the path of the man in front of you. His frown was still furrowed, his tense posture a clear indication that he wasn't exactly pleased with what you had said. You were close enough to catch the scent of his shampoo, but not too close to be able to decipher what was going through his head. You were never too close.

“Anything else to say?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, you couldn't decide if because of your closeness or because of how coarse your words came out, as they always did for the last couple of days.

“No.”

And without further ado, he left the room.

---

As much as you wanted to get back in the field, get back to having missions and serving for something on the team, you couldn't find the strength within yourself to talk to Sam. Maybe because he was an acquaintance and it would be weird to tell him everything you were carrying and then pretend nothing had happened. You were too self-aware to be able to do that. It also came into play that it had been almost years since you last came clean with someone, and that didn't really go well. Talking to Sam, at that time, for you, was not the solution.

Maybe the only solution was to sort out your feelings for Bucky. That was what kept you on edge. That was what made you question the life you had formed over the past few years. In any other situation or time in your life, surely a man would not move you so much; however, you knew you were facing a situation you could not repeat. That you did not want to repeat.

The stark reality of the feelings you had for him was like a dagger to the heart, because you felt you had finally found a place where you belonged, where you could be; you felt you had found a home. But it was hard to live in a place like that without making a sentimental commitment to the people around you, and you knew it. You'd only fallen easily for Bucky because…. fuck, he was so caring, so thoughtful, so kind. On the outside he looked like he wanted everyone around him to disappear, but it only took you a couple of chats to understand that he really did have a big, welcoming heart.

The reality of your feelings was the end of you, because it was something you couldn't afford. You couldn't go on living there if you didn't fix that soon. You couldn't risk it again.

“Hey.”

Speaking of…

“Hi.”

Your stoic reply made him turn his head.

You were in the kitchen, sunk deep in thought in a strange calm, when Bucky showed up after three days without seeing him. You knew they had been on a mission, Natasha had told you some things. Internally, you were glad to see that they had arrived without any complications. You were glad to see that Bucky was okay.

“How are you?”

“All good.”

“You sure?”

“Why do you ask?”

You turned your gaze from your now cold coffee to the clear eyes of the man who had pulled a bottle of water from the cooler.

“Just curious.”

Hold on. Don't see beyond what he shows you.

You sighed before replying, “If what you really want to know is if I've talked to Sam, the answer is no.”

“Why?”

You picked up the white cup in front of you and absentmindedly began stirring the liquid inside it.

“I don't think I'd feel comfortable talking to him.”

You felt Bucky move around the kitchen, until he came to the island where you were sitting and sat down across from you with his bottle. You looked up to meet his blue eyes focused directly into yours. He had such a deep gaze that, for a moment, you almost allowed yourself to think beyond what he was giving you. For a second, you felt like you were in a space that was too intimate.

“And who would you feel comfortable talking to?”

You.

You hated that you didn't even need less than a second to think about it. You had the answer so clear it hurt…..

“What?”

You looked at his eyes and raised eyebrows. Fuck.

“Did I say it out loud?”

“Yeah...”

You growled in frustration. You ran your hands through your hair as Bucky spoke again, “I didn't think you held me in such high regard.”

“Really?”

“You barely even look at me lately.”

That was true. But it was for your sake. It was all for your sake. Or at least that's what you wanted to convince yourself of. You'd rather think that than the fact that your limbs ached just from wanting to get closer to him in the middle of his everyday, when he came back injured from missions and you wanted to help him heal his wounds because you knew enough to be a nurse, or help him release tension when he got too stressed out because something went wrong on a mission or they lost track of someone. You just wanted to be a person who could be present in his life. Who could be close. Closer.

“It's because I'm going through something right now.”

“And that something is my fault?”

You pursed your lips. Maybe.

“No.”

Bucky let out a short laugh.

“Those eyes say otherwise.”

“Is there something pointed you want to know, Bucky?”

“Argh,” the man twisted his expression, as if in weariness, and turned his head away. “There's that coldness again.”

You hardened your gaze as much as you could, even though all you wanted to do was let go of the string of thoughts eating away at your head; even though you just wanted to use those arms as a sheet at night so you could sleep in a safe place.

“Okay. I'm sorry,” Bucky held up his hands, retracting under your gaze. “I'd like to know, if like you said you'd rather talk to me than Sam, what's been keeping you beside yourself the last few days?”

Mmm, tough question. You took a deep breath trying to think of a quick answer, but it was difficult having his watchful eye on every millimeter of your face. Would it be too bad to tell the truth? Your past experiences said yes, but… what if it was different with him? It had been too long, he could not be the same as the others…

You shouldn't, the rational part of your brain repeated alarmingly, but he seemed so willing to truly listen to you that you couldn't pass up the opportunity. You didn't want to.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was the end of your cycle of bad luck and bad death that had haunted and burdened you for as long as you could remember. Maybe Bucky was the start of something new.

At least you hoped so. You were trying to convince yourself.

“I do what I do because I've lost too many people to give up now. Fury found me in a pot, a city where there was nothing but chaos and hopelessness. I was trying to make things different, I wanted my hope to be enough to be able to remove the evil from the hearts of the people who hurt. But no, it was not enough. And I began to work alone because all the people who got too close to me died or decided to leave on their own, they abandoned me. I was too much to bear. The life I was leading was too much.

My mother died in a raid on my house. She was the first victim of my enemies' revenge. I thought that was enough pain a person could go through in a lifetime, but the deaths didn't stop. And sometimes I didn't know if it was worse that someone died because of me, or that my last memory of them was a look of contempt and their hateful words towards me like I was in some shit they didn't have to put up with or that I was draining their vitality, among many other things.

And the truth is, that has happened so many times that I don't even try to maintain relationships with people anymore. Any kind of relationship. And every time I feel like that's going to happen, I have to leave, because I can't stand the pain of a death or a disappointment anymore. When a person leaves, willingly or unwillingly, it's not something you get used to as time goes by. Loneliness is good, but too much of anything is bad. And even though after a while you long for the company, you know you can't risk it once again because everything is at stake. Those are already things that are way beyond me, that I wish I could control, but I can't.”

You loved and hated the way those words had rolled out of your mouth like butter. It had been a while since you had been that honest with someone, because that last person had walked out on you. After listening to you, after telling you that you could lean on their shoulder when you needed it, that person left as if they weren't breaking a promise; as if they hadn't taken a big chunk of your hope with them; as if they hadn't ripped out a little bit of that hope you still held in your heart.

And you hoped that with Bucky it would be different, because you believed that the two of you were meeting at a common ground through the darkness of your minds. From the beginning, Bucky had proven to be different. Even from before you suspected that he already knew what you had been through, because he often tiptoed around you. Bucky was not a distracted person, he was someone extremely intelligent and definitely someone who knew which people he could and could not relate to. He couldn't be the same as everyone else, because you knew he could understand you.

Or so you wanted to believe.

Bucky's eyes moved over the marble of the island, his lips half-opened and his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. You had been so sure about talking about it with him that you hadn't even given it a second thought, but if he went a few more seconds without responding, you would begin to regret it and devise an escape plan.

You wished you were a little closer to him so you could dare to ask what was going on in his head.

“Wow, that was…”

“Too much?”

“Deep, rather.”

You forced your lips into a smile, avoiding his clear eyes now that he had lifted his head and seemed to have organized his thoughts.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-”

“No. No, it's okay. You needed to get that out. Mmm, how do you feel now?”

You hated the way he seemed to be testing the waters when it came to addressing you after everything you just said. Before he was always sure of what he was saying. What could have changed so quickly? Could it be that you were really wrong? No, that couldn't be.

“Pretty much the same.”

“Oh, I see. But do you think you can improve from now on?”

“Well, it's a problem of years. I doubt I can solve much with a little talk.”

“Ah, yes, of course, you're right.”

Bucky folded his hands together on the countertop, his gaze now avoiding yours and entering a tense silence.

“So…” Bucky spoke a couple of seconds later, “…at this point you feel like that? Like you developed one of those relationships with someone and now you want to run away?”

“Yes,” you answered almost instantly, because there was no reason really to hide it. You had already been crudely honest, so what was the point in continuing to lie?

“With whom?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Maybe we could find a solution.”

“I doubt it.”

You narrowed your eyes as Bucky pursed his lips. You'd been through too much throughout your life, and one thing you'd definitely learned was how to read people. With so many disappointments and betrayals, you had to learn to identify a person's true intentions, and nothing else screamed intentions more than body language. You could identify when someone was comfortable with you, when they trusted you, and also when they were uncomfortable with your presence.

“And I think you doubt it too,” you added, after a couple of seconds watching him.

“Why do you say that?”

“You don't need me to tell you who I was referring to. I think you already know.”

“What?”

“You can do with that information what you want. Time will give me the answer.”

“Y/N…”

You stood up and walked out of the kitchen as if you hadn't just opened your heart to that man, your brow raised and your breathing deep. It seemed that in the end you weren't close enough to know the truth, and you couldn't be close enough in the future either.

---

A week went by and time kept proving you right. Bucky took a mission the day after your talk and still hadn't returned. You had begun to worry, but you didn't dare ask anyone on the team. You couldn't afford to be so obvious at such critical times.

However, asking could give you the last piece of information you needed to make a decision.

Because you still had a little bit of hope. You still hoped that Bucky would appear through one of the doors of the Complex to tell you that he understood, that he appreciated your honesty, and that he could walk that long road with you. You still hoped you were wrong, because you couldn't have made such a big mistake again. You couldn't have opened the doors of your mind to someone who was going to leave you because it was too much.

But as the hours passed you only confirmed that you weren't good enough for someone to stay by your side. You just weren't enough, you weren't worth the effort. Not even for someone like Bucky, who was one of the kindest and most condescending person you had ever met.

So you'd read it all wrong, and even though you were honest, you couldn't even come up with an answer.

But you preferred to get the doubt out of your mind at once, even if it threw you overboard.

Wanda Maximoff was in the control room when you arrived. No one else was there.

“Hey.”

She flipped over the chair and returned your greeting with a small smile.

“What brings you here?”

“Do you know how Bucky's mission is going?”

“Bucky's?”

Wanda frowned and promptly moved across the room to one of the computers where she typed rapidly. You shifted your legs in anticipation, shifting your weight trying to cope with your nerves.

“Bucky is… on an indefinite.”

“Indefinite?”

“Yes, it says so plainly. It was with Sam and Natasha. We don't have a date yet.”

Wanda watched you over her shoulder, and your expression had to have told her something because she quickly got up from her chair with a frown.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you replied automatically, regaining power over your emotions. You sent her a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, Wanda.”

You barely and paced for a few seconds with bated breath when you heard her call out to you.

When your eyes met hers, you didn't like what you saw at all.

“You're leaving?”

“Stay out of my head.”

You turned around and ran to your room.

Of course you did. Of course you were going to leave. What the fuck did you expect from the talk with Bucky? That you could suddenly have a happy ending with a person who seemed to care about you? You should never have taken that job in the first place. You always knew it was a big risk, but Fury assured you that you could continue working on your own without getting too involved with others. The problem was when you thought you were past the feelings stage, that you could surround yourself with people without getting involved.

How fucking wrong you were.

You didn't take long to pack a suitcase. You didn't bother to write a letter of resignation either. Before you took the job, you told the Director that you were likely to one day just leave. That you would disappear. And he agreed to that. So you weren't going to bother with goodbyes, with absolutely nothing. You were going to carry that suitcase to a cab and leave without looking back. Because that was what you always did, for your sake, because it was the right thing to do, because you couldn't afford to take risks after so much suffering.

At that moment, as you packed the few things you had, you felt every memory of every abandonment and death come back to your head, filling you with fear and insecurity. Of sadness and anger. You didn't know how you had allowed yourself to go so far when you knew you shouldn't have, that this life was not for you, that these feelings were not meant for you to experience, that you didn't deserve to have a life like this. You allowed yourself to dream, but at the end of the day it was just that, a dream.

When you left the Complex, you took a cab directly to the airport. On the way, you were tempted too many times to ask the driver to turn back, thinking that maybe it was a hasty decision, that maybe you should wait for him to come back. But an indefinite mission could last weeks, even months, and you couldn't be on tenterhooks for so long only to get the same old answer at the end. You didn't want to risk it. The cost was too high.

It was better to root out those feelings while they were still fresh, and never allow them to grow again.

---

Bucky returned from his mission two weeks later and the first thing he did was run around looking for you in every corner of the Complex until he decided to go to your room. Seeing the empty closets made his heart sink.

“She's gone,” a female voice spoke behind him.

Wanda was leaning against the door frame.

“She thought you weren't coming back and left.”

“No…”

“I know it was wrong for me to snoop around in her head, but I had a feeling that would happen. I thought I could avoid it. But her thoughts were too ingrained. She was fighting uncontainable fear. Nothing I would have said would have convinced her to stay.”

Bucky turned to look at the empty closets, not a hint that you had ever been there. If it weren't for Wanda, the man would already be thinking you were just a figment of his imagination.

“Sorry, Bucky.”

“Fuck. Damn it!”

Sitting on what had been your bed, Bucky kept thinking that the worst thing he could have done was to take that mission in Steve's stead, thinking he'd get there soon, thinking that way he could get his head together before talking to you again. But things got complicated and what was a two-day mission turned into a three-week mission.

Maybe he should have sought you out before he left instead of letting his thoughts eat away at him. Maybe he should have insisted a little more, should have come a little closer...

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Feynman: When we were talking about the atoms, one of the troubles that people have with the atoms is that they're so tiny, and it's so hard to imagine the scale.

The size of the atoms are in size - compared to an apple, it's the same scale as an apple is to the size of the Earth. And that's a kind of a hard thing to take, and you have to go through all these things all the time, and people find these numbers inconceivable. And I do too.

The only thing you do is you just change your scale. I mean, you're just thinking of small balls, but you don't try to think of exactly how small they are too often! Or you'd get kind of a bit nutty, alright?

But in astronomy, you have the same thing in reverse because the distances to these stars is so enormous, you see. You know that light goes so fast that it only takes a few seconds to go to the moon and back, or it goes around the Earth seven-and-a-half times in a second. And goes for a year, two years, three years before it gets to the nearest other star that there is to us.

But all of our stars are... the stars that are nearby in a great galaxy, a big mass of stars, which is called a galaxy, a group, well this, our galaxy is... what is it? Something like a hundred thousand light years, a hundred thousand years.

And then there's another patch of stars. It takes a million years for the light to get here, going at this enormous rate.

And you just go crazy trying to make too "real" that distance, you have to do everything in proportion. It's easy - you say the galaxies are little patches of stars and they're ten times as far apart as they are big.

So that's an easy picture, you know - he gets it. But you just go to a different scale, that's easier. You know, once in a while you try to come back to... Earth scale to discuss the galaxies but it's kind of hard.

The number of stars that we see at night is about - only about 5,000. But the number of stars in our galaxy, the telescopes have shown when you improve the instrument... Oh! We look at a galaxy. We look at the stars. All the light that we see, the little tiny and influent spreads from the star over this enormous distance of what? Three light years, for the nearest star. On, on, on! This light from the stars spreading, the wavefronts are getting wider and wider, weaker and weaker, weaker and weaker out into all of space, and finally the tiny fraction of it comes in one square, eighth of an inch, tiny little black hole and does something to me, so I know it's there.

Well, to know a little bit more about it, I'd rather gather a little more of this little, this tiny fraction of this front of light, and so I make a big telescope, which is a kind of funnel that the light that comes over this big area - 200 inches across - is very carefully organised, so it's all concentrated back so it can go through a... pupil. Actually, it's better to photograph it, or nowadays they use photo cells, they're a better instrument.

But anyway, the idea of the telescope is to focus the light from a bigger area into a smaller area so that we can see things that are weaker, less light, and in that way we find there's a very large number of stars in the galaxy.

There's so many that if you tried to name them, one a second, naming all the stars in our galaxy, I don't mean all the stars in the universe, just this galaxy here, it takes 3,000 years.

And yet, that's not a very big number. Because if those stars were to drop one dollar bill on the Earth during a year, each star dropping one dollar bill, they might take care of the deficit which is suggested for the budget of the United States.

So you see what kind of numbers we have to deal with!

[local-lesbrarian]

Yesterday, the board of trustees for the library I work at voted unanimously against banning This Book Is Gay by Juno Dawson! This was a huge relief for me (and my fellow staff), and I just wanted to share a few takeaways from this experience.

For context, a library patron had submitted a formal request to have the book removed after seeing it displayed alongside other recent additions to our YA section. He took issue with, of course, the chapter on sex ed and provided pages of out-of-context quotes and straight-up lies to make the book appear "dangerous." Lots of the homophobia and puritanism you'd expect. Per our policies, we formed a committee to address his request, and the committee decided the book was fine where it was. Again per policy, he had the option to appeal to the board of trustees, which he took.

We found out he was doing this 5 days before the next board meeting. And even with that short warning, we had over 150 people show up to a small-town library board meeting that often has few or no public attendees! We couldn't fit everyone in our biggest room! Look at us all!!

Public comments are limited to 3 minutes or less, and that still lasted for more than an hour. People spoke who were parents, teachers, nurses, therapists, voting activists, workers at other libraries, and of course, many queer people. They talked about censorship, freedom of expression, freedom to read, the positive impacts of this book and books like it on youth, their own experiences as queer kids and teens or parents or such, and more--too many perspectives to list here. Every single speaker opposed the book ban. Every. One.

The patron who initiated this challenge was present, but left before public comment was over, without speaking.

So, those takeaways:

This is further evidence that campaigns of censorship and queer erasure are perpetuated by individuals and small groups, and don't represent the common view. You can check out stats on ala.org to back this up, but most people, including most parents, oppose book bans.

This turnout was gathered mainly through texts, email, chats (like Discord), phone calls, and word of mouth. Every town and city has people willing to fight and support those fighting the tides of fascism--keep in touch with your community and your allies, your local friends and trusted acquaintances, and when the time comes for action, they will show up.

Pushback, especially public, visible pushback, demoralizes bad actors. These are often people with little to do except organize and promote their hatred, often people with few material problems demanding their attention. (In this case, a retired eye doctor.) Give them a fight, and they often back down. If they don't back down, see #2 and beat them with numbers and passion.

Even after a victory, stay alert. We're prepping for litigation (not that we think he has a case, but he does have a reputation). We're also keeping a close eye on the smaller libraries in nearby towns and townships. Even if someone like this backs down once, they might try their luck somewhere easier. Keep those contact networks from #2 ready to go.

None of this is comprehensive, and your particular situation may well require different tactics. I'm not an expert, just a chronically online trans woman and librarian who's gotten unexpectedly attached to her current town. It was incredibly heartwarming to see so many people stand up for queer teens where I live, when it usually feels like nobody cares about what's happening to queers in the States. This post has already gone on longer than I expected, I'm just still quite emotional and wanted to talk about it. (Also still mentally drained from the past few days of stress...)

Huge shoutout to everyone who helped make this community action happen. Many of them were more eloquent or piercing in their comments, but here's my 3-minute spiel. It was delivered with none of the eye contact or dramatic reading I'd rehearsed because, holy shit, there were a lot of people there!

[lemissingmask]

[ID: Dark red sketch of Hardison and Eliot sitting at a table together. Hardison is leaning forward on the table with his arms crossed, looking over at Eliot. Eliot, who had a beer and a whisky in front of him, is sitting back in his chair and looking uneasily back at Hardison. end ID]

-

Not happy with how this turned out, but I wanted some art to accompany a prompt fill ficlet, and had little time to refine either. There, enough making excuses for myself 😂 Ficlet below the cut and on ao3. It's set just after The Big Bang Job before the crew heads back to Boston, but after all their bomb disarming etc. shenanigans are done for the day.

-

Eliot had his back to the wall.

Not right up against it.  Just close enough to make it impossible for anyone to sneak around or behind him, and positioned to give himself an unobstructed view of most of the hotel bar.  And, most importantly, clear sight lines to the elevator and door - the only two ways into the room, and to his crew.  Parker and Hardison were sitting close beside each other at the bar, Nate and Sophie were sitting opposite each other at a smaller table, all four people and the areas around them visible to him.  Damien Moreau might have fled to San Lorenzo, but that didn't mean they were out of danger.  He had reach far beyond what anyone, including Nate, appreciated, and he was far, far more dangerous than the others seemed to comprehend.

Right now, they were all unharmed, and seemed outwardly unaffected by the events of the past few days.

That could very easily not have been the case.

Eliot knew he should have taken his shot at Moreau before Nate got this close. Taken their target out before anyone was in danger.

He could have done it, too.

Today had proved to Eliot that he was still the man he had once been.  Still capable of killing swiftly and efficiently, and without a fraction of a second's hesitation.

The elevator doors opened. Eliot watched intently, ready to move if anything about the occupants seemed threatening.  But it was just a group of tourists, laughing together, pretty drunk already, and without the least hint of danger about them.

But Hardison had stood up almost at the same time. If he was going back up to his room, that would be a problem. Eliot would have to decide where to situate himself, make a calculation regarding the potential dangers. Isolated in a room versus in a public area with witnesses.  One location easier to access but harder to achieve an unseen execution, the other more difficult to reach, but private.

Eliot would wait for privacy or a packed, bustling, environment to carry out a single target hit.  This bar was neither of those things.  Unless you could get poison subtly into a drink, it was a poor choice of location to carry out a hit.  A professional hitter would choose the hotel room or an empty hallway or elevator en route to the room.

Which gave him the decision - if Hardison chose to go up to his room alone, Eliot would follow.  Protect the more likely point of attack.

But Hardison wasn't going back to his room.

He was walking over and taking a seat beside Eliot, and he hadn’t brought his drink with him, so he was coming over to say something specific, not just to sit and talk.

Which was good.

Eliot didn’t feel like talking.

He felt frayed.

The ache in his back, his hands, and his knees that his hasty cold shower on returning had done nothing to soothe.  The much worse pain from all the memories seeing Moreau brought back. Seeing his men, seeing the man who had taken his place as Moreau’s personal lapdog, and feeling an infuriating hostility because some part of his mind still felt that was his position.

Eliot sat back in his chair so he could see Hardison without losing his view of the rest of the room.

He tried to appear unconcerned, indifferent. Hardison didn’t know what he had done, and he wanted it to stay that way.  He didn’t need to know that Eliot could still feel the weight of the guns in his hands, and that he could still smell blood and smoke and fire.

The hacker didn’t say anything for a while. He had come over for a reason, but he was struggling to get to it.

Eliot didn’t push.

He was too tired for that.

“Why’d you take me with you?” Hardison asked at last, “To meet with Moreau. You coulda handled it yourself. Did handle it yourself. And you would’ve been able to keep lying to us about you knowing Moreau.”

That last was said with an anger that was justified and understandable, but that point was one thing Eliot had no apology for.

He didn’t regret not telling them about his connection to Moreau, not one bit. If he had said something to them, Nate would have used it. Would’ve found a way to exploit that connection, go at Moreau more directly, and he would have destroyed them.

But Hardison should be angry. Eliot had put him in danger, done exactly the opposite of his job.  And, worst of all, he had done it for selfish reasons.  For pathetic reasons.  Because he was too afraid to go alone.

“Eliot?”

Hardison’s voice had softened. He sounded concerned, and he was looking intently at Eliot, examining him.

Could he see the smoke still on his skin, gunshot residue on his hands even though he had washed them repeatedly since returning?

“Hey man, look-“

“I shouldn’t have taken you,” Eliot cut him off, “I put you in danger…”

The sentence dissipated, his mind a confusion of what he should say, what he wanted to say, and the truth.

He’d never have let Hardison drown. He’d been counting the seconds, knew how long he had before he would have to save him, but that didn't justify putting him in that situation in the first place.

“So why did you?”

The gentleness of Hardison’s voice was wrong. It would be easier if he was angry.  That was the least Eliot deserved for what he had done.

But even when Eliot failed to answer, his voice was just as trusting, willing to understand, “It would’ve been the same outcome whether or not I was there, so just tell me why.”

“It wouldn’t. Have been the same,” Eliot replied, “If you’d not come.”

Hardison waited, silently asking Eliot to continue.

The hitter looked up, just briefly, met Hardison's gaze, “I'd have killed ‘im.”

“Atherton?”  Hardison shook his head in disbelief or disagreement, but Eliot cut him off before he could conjure some argument that framed Eliot as anything other than the killer he was.

“Moreau.”

The two guards at the elevator first so they couldn't follow and take his back. Eliot had already mapped it out when he approached them that day. How he would snap one’s neck, using him as a shield until he had a chance to get to the other. It would only have taken a couple of seconds.

Then he’d have taken their guns, felt the familiar weight of a weapon he had dismissed so long ago, and gone down to the basement.

The gunfight would have been messy, but he would have the element of surprise and cover from the pillars near the door.

He could do it.  He knew he could.  He’d done it before.

He’d done worse.

But he would have killed Moreau’s men, killed Moreau himself, without any hesitation or conscious thought, acting on training and experience and the instinct to survive.

Maybe he would get shot a couple of times in the process. Maybe he would get killed.  But he would have killed Moreau so he could never get near to, could never hurt, the people he cared about.

“Then I’m glad I did come with you,” Hardison said at last, "Like Sophie said, that's not who you are anymore."

Eliot wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. The blood of fourteen men was still fresh on his hands, the scent of fire and iron still cling to his skin and hair.

He is that man. He always would be. There was no escaping that devil, and it terrified him more than any bad guy, any army, and torture or brutal execution ever could.

“Yeah, I am” Eliot said quietly, speaking into his beer as he raised it to his lips seconds after Hardison had left him, returned to Parker, and said something that had the thief looking briefly, but intently, over towards him.

Of all the crew, she probably already knew, even if she didn't know she knew. She probably saw what Eliot had done in some part of his expression, and she somehow understood that, no matter what the others said, Eliot was still a killer. He was always going to be a killer, and he needed to be that for them.

He had given into his fear of that part of himself, and Hardison had suffered for it.

It was a mistake he would never make again.

[olderthannetfic]

"Why I don't write F/F" thread proceeded just as unproductively as I expected. It wasn't about moralizing about the women not writing F/F, it was a question about why personal reasons for avoiding a configuration aren't reflected in opposite directions by other groups. Unlike race, gender has an almost 50/50 split, there's a scale to the proportions not there for other types of identity category. "The femslash police suck" is a factor I can understand. But why wouldn't "personal reasons I just don't feel it towards this configuration" end up an even distribution across the population? The expectation for women to write about women isn't a moral rule, it's that if you allow the logic "men in control of stories write about men (and that's why more mainstream stories center men)", then the flip side is, well, why people clamor for more women behind the camera and in the writers' room. Either accept the logic for both sides or challenge it for both sides. Instead we have the worst of both worlds, we accept it for one side and challenge it for the other. Where's the parallel universe where this imbalance somehow resulted in a different quadrant being the smallest proportion of ships?

--

Why wouldn't "personal reasons" be even? Because the kinds of issues people face based on their demographic aren't.

But I think the larger factor is how socialization affects choice of hobbies and volunteer efforts. Cis men and cis women, on average, go in for different flavors. The dudes tend to be more bothered by the idea of "not getting anything back" for what feels like work. When they do do unpaid labor, it's often the kind that accrues glory and career prospects rather than less showy social ties. Open source coding projects where they can be important, yes. Writing fanfic, no.

Looking up any analysis of volunteering and unpaid work that makes such-and-such a part of society function will get you a lot of discussion of this gendered difference. It's pervasive.

Of course, this is just a broad trend. Plenty of guys do write fanfic, and when they dominate a fanfic space, we see tons of fic focused on the female characters they find attractive, including f/f fic.

And if you're asking about cis gay men specifically... well... again, gendered socialization means that the issues faced by cis lesbians and cis gay men are not equivalent. The reasons and ways that people employ allegory to talk about things "too close to home" will likewise not be exactly the same. Traditional US gay male culture goes in for drag and for an obsession with Hollywood divas and The Golden Girls. Plenty is being mediated through female personas; it's just not translating into fanfic specifically. But most people making "Leave the fujoshi alone" arguments are not thinking about cis gays: they're thinking about people in messier identity categories.

The biggest difference is not behavior but simply that cis men are a small minority on FFN, AO3, and Wattpad, the three big fanfic archives. (Some ancient FFN research found that it was 78% female, and that's the archive known for having more men!) The places with more cis guys are much smaller and don't get talked about as much by most fandom history and fandom meta types from the AO3 side of things.

The reason cis men's taste in favorite characters isn't being "pushed back against" isn't a double standard: it's because:

Cis men simply aren't that relevant to site-wide trends on AO3

and

2. The reverse pattern does happen all the time with vanishingly little m/m and lots of f/f

You sound like you think we'd make this fanfic-specific argument about pro media. In fact, plenty of queer women are open that they produce original f/f but not f/f fanfic or they produce f/f fanworks but not fic. A lot of the "too close to home" arguments are specifically about the kind of id fuel, naked-in-public vibes of AO3-style fanfic. Writing that is less id-driven may not feel that same way. A given woman might have a much easier time writing a mystery novel about a lesbian detective who never gets laid on page than a steamy f/f bodice ripper.

The parallel universe you ask about exists. It's horny imageboards full of fan art of anime girls.

The reason you sound judgmental and are getting "unproductive" responses is that you're phrasing things as though we're refusing to solve a problem. In reality, we're attempting to analyze the situation that exists. It's a descriptive approach.

[feralcorpses]

Féachann Siad AU - Designs: Grian and Scar.

(Master-post) - Explains the au.

I was gonna post three designs for my au together but was struggling with Mumbos and decided to do his later. (I also just love how Scar and Grians designs came out.)

(Click for better quality!)

More info on these guys under the cut.

|

V

Their Dynamic!

Scar and Grian have a similar relationship to 3rd life just more distant due to their group getting spilt up.

They actually managed to find each other by accident while raiding an older medical tower for obviously medical supplies.

Both of them have trust issues so it’s definitely a situation of I’m cuddling this person so they don’t get a chance to stab me yet.

Grians feathers and wings are quite damaged making them overly sensitive and sore to the touch, but magic magic Scar worked his way around it he’s gradually been gaslighting Grian so he gets to touch his feathers so it gets to a point where Grian will let him preen them.

Individual Dynamics:

(just random stuff ig idk man)

Scar:

Vex (he’s a fancy variant of one but I don’t wanna spoil it cause ✨angst✨)

Hides Vexian features due to stigma around anything to do with their species.

You may be thinking but his tail was visible?? Well that’s a lot easier to lie about since there’s a lot of "safer" mutants with tails.

Under strong emotions he can’t exactly hold back his Vexian features so they just pop out, sometimes if the emotion is less but still strong his scars will change colour.

All his scars are from different incidents. (Good old Scar luck, gotta love it.)

His eye appears to be fully black but in reality he’s missing an eye there and chooses to put a black eye prosthetic sort of thing on, to protect it from dust, dirt, water and just really whatever.

Around 34, he always avoids the question how old are you for no real reason so they all guessed he was around 34.

Grian:

Inspired by a Great Horned Owl.

He also hides his actual wings because of the damage but still uses them when needed it’s just not the best for his health even if he’s tucking them into his back (avians wings shrink down and pierce back into the skin in which they protrude from when tucking them away.) or not.

He has three eyes so two on his right and one on his left.

He has a dagger he’s always carrying with him no matter what really.

Scar gave him the poppy and lilac necklace around whenever they started becoming great friends in return Grian gave Scar two of his smaller flight feathers to use to wear, write with, really anything Scar decided on.

He secretly does know Scar is gaslighting him about the whole feathers thing but he doesn’t mind it’s pretty funny to him and in general he does love it when people pet his feathers.

Again no one’s really asked about his age but he’s around 32-33.

W@T(h6^

1st image is Scar trying to get Grian to trust him with touching his wing feathers.

2nd image is Scars scars changing colour.

(Click for better quality!!)

(We’re not gonna talk abt the first images portions, OK!?)

[emerging-jew]

Hi, I read your spicy take and I really strongly agree. I think you're so right. I saw someone say recently that the left talking about Jews/Indigeneity have effectively weaponized blood quantum again and I think this goes along with what you're saying. Like, even if the left doesn't care about Jews, do they not realize that they're doing actual harm to other groups, too? You do not want to resuscitate blood quantum as a definition of indigeneity??

I have straight up seen people using blood quantum for actual Native North Americans seemingly without realizing. Like there was one post where someone was looking for a Native sensitivity reader but specifically wanted them to have a "native look" and not be white passing. I'm sure there's tons of examples if you ask Native people on here their experiences.

Idk I've worked with and been close friends with a lot of Native people (mostly Lakota) over the years and like, I see a lot of places where the same discrimination is happening to both groups.

The left has a big antisemitism problem and a big racism problem, especially for indigenous groups. It's like they care more about the prop than the person, and to be honest a blood quantum helps do that because it limits whose voice counts to a smaller group of people that's easier to talk over.

[cyncerity]

ok guys bit of a serious poll today.

don’t read if you don’t wanna think about or read about the controversy stuff rn (talking about mostly George and bringing up Wil a little bit)

i have a bunch of wips (like, a lot) that i’ve been looking to finish for a while. With my first year of college coming to an end next week (yippee!) i’ll hopefully have more time to write again and finish those. The downside here is that a significant amount of them involve someone who has had recent controversy. Not that one, but George’s.

If you wanna answer this poll without all the context (i’m physically incapable of writing a post without making it a wall of text), go right ahead, the tldr is that I believe the situation is extremely opinionated and there’s no right or wrong way to view it. With a community this size and the larger group of gnf fans so divided on how to feel, I feel it better to let you guys pick whether or not he should still be in stories.

context under the cut for those who wanna read everything before voting on the poll. I kinda wrote a lot tho so sorry lol

I wanted to give it time before I made this post given that unlike with the first situation, there are a lot more holes and a lot more nuance. I wanted to wait until both sides stated their cases and make my own decision from there. And in my opinion, this situation 1) should have been handled personally and 2) is entirely based on opinion. Both sides did right and wrong, but there isn’t a correct way to perceive this. Some people will believe one side while others will believe the other because the evidence presented can be taken in many ways. I know I personally lean one way, but this post isn’t about my own opinions.

I’m making this post to ask if people would still be ok with me using his character in stories. I’ll say it again: I haven’t really ever watched the DTeam so I do mean it when I say that I base what I write around a character and not him. I stopped writing for C!Wil because I am uncomfortable with writing his character interacting with the characters of people who have spoken against him, but so far most of George’s friends have defended him or stayed silent since this situation isn’t like Wil’s at all. It’s mostly all died down since both sides have moved on (i think?) knowing that they won’t agree on what happened.

I’ve already given my piece on You Know Who, and how numerous people spoke against him and many of his close friends dropped him. This post is not about him, I believe that there is no argument to be made for him. The facts are clear and the testimonies clearer: he is a bad person. As of right now and for the foreseeable future, I will not write him or his character, not unless he gets some serious help or makes some serious changes. I believe that people can change, but trust is easier destroyed than built. You shouldn’t forgive someone who doesn’t seek forgiveness.

anyway i know that this is a smaller community, so i wanna know how many people want me to just re-write things or feel uncomfortable with him in stories now. This isn’t asking if you think George is innocent or if you think he’s a bad person or anything like that, this poll has nothing to do with personal opinions of the situation itself. It’s simply asking if you would be uncomfortable with reading about his character because of the situation.

[panigamermauser]

Cut stuff thought part 4

Halsin and Minthara. Ending stuff(getting on the soapbox there to scream). Plus various smaller quests, gods options for clerics and paladins etc.

I very appreciate them adding Halsin as companion at all, so I am very forgiving of him having less content than others. But knowing he was supposed to have Druid Circle quest in Act3 makes me sad it was cut. 

First, it would tie into his ingame wishes to bring more of nature/civilization balance to Baldur's Gate. Also, that was probably where you could develop his romance. 

I am _personally_ fine with him not being committed to long-term relationship despite his big romantic words. I have a deep fear of commitment myself, no matter how in love I am. You talk marriage - I run off. So I feel seen, and I get how he feels in his current version. But for very same reason I am keenly aware how frustrating it can be to be with someone like me. 

So if his quest is restored, I really hope his romance gets more fulfilling and just as developed as others.

Speaking of others... What happened to Minthara is a crime. I do not even have her, and will never have her (because I - as a player - like tieflings too much to ever side against them). And still I feel she was done dirty. Cannot imagine how people who have her and love her feel.

This is just like Karlach situation. It should have been restored in Patch 1 already. Especially since she was there from Early Access, not a late addition like Halsin and Karlach. She should have been as polished as other primary companions. No words just indignation.

Not to mention that from meta perspective it would be so interesting to see a romanciable character who is already pregnant with someone else's child. That is a unique story. And makes her actual literal MILF too 😏 And the salt from gamer bros... Can you even imagine?! 🤣🤣🤣

Justice for Minthara NOW!!!

Withers revealed as Jergal is a small thing. Like, EVERYONE who knows dnd gods knows who he is anyways. But it would be a nice thing for new people to learn/look into.

And naturally all of the cut post-game stuff should not only be restored, but also expanded. 

Post-campaign discussion is a very important part of dnd. DM should tell you how you affected the state of the world in great detail. You should discuss what happens to your characters with other players. In case of BG3 the game is our DM and companions are our co-players. 

That last talking post-game session is so very important for the campaign. Headcanons are good and all, but they are nothing compared to a good post-game discussion. 

It should have been it's own epilogue setpiece. At least prologue-sized in scope. One last walk around. You can just limit it to Wyrm Rock castle if necessary. Not just companions, but all of your allies gathered there too. Or some cool space shit for Illithid ending😁

Right now it feels like the group fell apart at the very end. And this is an unironic tragedy. Realistic? Sure(most groups fall apart long before campaign ends). But it does not have to be! 

They showed with Act 1 and Act 2 endings and some other stories (Astarion, Shadowheart, House of Hope, Bhaal stuff for Dark Urge) that they both KNOW how to give closure and CAN do it. So why not apply the same for actual game ending? 

Probably they just ran out of time.

One tiny bit of me hopes that they removed it because they plan to restore cut content, and it will be easier to make one proper ending that accounts for all those variables instead of making ending with current available choices and then tweak it for added stuff.

But realist in me says it's just a time issue, and not much more.

Onto smaller stuff that does not call for its own post, so I'll stick it there.

Hag Coven sounds very interesting. I get why it was cut - it has nothing to do with the main plot, so if they had to cut something, it makes sense to cut this subplot. Still, hags are awesome enemies, and if Larian decides to make DLC with extra adventures (I'll make a separate post about my DLC wishlist) - it will be a welcome addition.

Raven Queen plot line. Same as hags. Shame it was cut tho. I am very thirsty for He Who Was. But it explains why his quest felt so random and weird. Just your basic fetch quest. Which is generally not a thing in BG3. Now it makes sense. It was a beginning of its own subplot. Again, not a necessity, but would be nice to see it restored.

Idk what that Halfling Werewolf thing even refers too. But the concept is awesome, and I'd love to see it!

Shar, Myrkil, Bhaal and Bane as cleric/paladin gods.

On one hand it would add cool 'No, _I_ am the Chosen One moments in Shadowheart, Gortash, Ketheric and Orin (in case of Durge, literally!) convos.

In case of Shadowheart it could have been heartbreaking besties-to-deadly rivals over who gets to kill Nightsong too.

But... it would be applicable to only two classes. So if they had to cut something, it made sense to cut this. Most classes would never see those options anyways, so it's not that big of a loss. But it would be a very neat addition for Definitive Edition for sure.

They already have voice lines for Durge to claim the brain in dad's name. So they could easily reuse it. Just change name/pronoun.