#while you do all of that he even calls you a good brigade

[jonny-b-meowborn]

when I say I'm into Jarod Road 96, I don't mean I wanna kiss him or whatever. I mean I want him to hold a gun to my head and make me dig my own grave

[nothingenoughao3]

Why we wanna transition to Mad Scientist (or, revulsion and queerness in horror)

(Hi, @ash-eats-film! This is the thing I mentioned!)

Horror has a few baseline emotions it tries to inflict on the audience. This has been written about for decades, most famously by Stephen King, but the baseline elements most writers agree on are as follows.

Dread: Anxiety over what is about to happen

Terror: The fear of what is occurring right this second

Revulsion: Being forced to interact directly with what's happening right now

Black comedy: Being tricked into laughing at either the terror or the revulsion

Horror: The trauma response to what just happened

A great example of this can be seen in The Evil Dead II (YT link that doesn't include the full context, but does have the, uh, money shot). There's the dread of realizing there's something in the root cellar; the terror of when the Deadite pops up in the trapdoor; the combined revulsion and black comedy of Ash jumping on the Deadite's skull/the door, popping out its eyeball which shoots into Bobby Joe's mouth, and then the horror of what just went down rolling over Ash and his current companions.

Often, revulsion and black comedy go hand in hand. That's because they're tension relievers. The revolting thing becomes ridiculous, and you laugh at how ridiculous it is. This lets you settle down in the midst of the gore and death, just slightly, just enough to get through it... so the horror can fully set in for you, too, once it's over.

You also, often, question your own stability if you laugh in the middle of a gross-out horror scene: "Am I sick? Is there something wrong with me for laughing at X?" This is even worse if the villain starts laughing--now you're questioning whether you're IDing with the monster. Are you okay? Is something wrong with you?

Revulsion is often framed as the slutty member of the good, proper, morally-upright brigade of horror. We have a name for folks who seek out gross-out horror--they're gore-hounds, a term that is virtually always pejorative when applied to other people. We call certain types of horror "torture porn" or "gore porn", as though it is inherently sleazy and sexual to rely on this specific emotional reaction. (Note that we don't have "black comedy-porn", or "dread hounds", even though a dread hound sounds really fucking cool.)

Not to go off on a huge tangent, but I think the issue with media that overly relies on revulsion is that it's unbalanced, not that it's bad. A movie that's nothing but dread never has any emotional payoff. A movie that's nothing but terror never lets the audience relax back into their seats and, paradoxically, will become boring (imagine two hours of jumpscares).

So forth and so on: all aspects of horror rely on each other to survive. That includes scenes that make you go "Awww, sick" while nervously cackling.

Here's the thing: in previous generations, revulsion was similarly understood to be an essential part of horror, but what led to a revolted reaction was very different.

Lovecraft (boo this man! BOOOOO) understood the power of revulsion, which was the source of a lot of his strangest and most vivid descriptions. It was also the source of some of his most bigoted ideas working into his stories. The undercurrent of "non-WASPs are evil because they are repulsive" is as pervasive in his work as "the universe is incomprehensibly vast". You kind of can't get around that.

But there's another thing Lovecraft did to generate revulsion. He wrote a number of stories where an unhealthy focus on corpses, graveyards, graverobbing, and the like is, indirectly or directly, associated with sexual perversion. 

How many, you may ask? Off the top of my head, there's "The Loved Dead", "In the Vault", "The Disinterment", "Pickman's Model", The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, "The Hound" and "Herbert West: Re-Animator". All of these tales share certain themes, which don't repeat beat-for-beat in each tale but do overlap:

Male character becomes obsessed with dead bodies--whether that's stealing them, having sex with them, desecrating them, or resurrecting them.

He is comfortable around death and the dead to a degree that is unusual, sometimes explicitly stating that he prefers the smells/sights of death to those of life.

Terms like "fiendish", "hellish", "abnormal" and "perverse" are used to describe him; his gaze towards dead bodies or to experiments may be framed as "leering" or "speculative".

He is frequently a twink; often described as being frail, if not noticeably beautiful; he may recall being mocked for being "bookish" or "weak" as a child.

He is superficially charming in a way that gets him by in polite society, but not long-term nor in-depth.

He often ensnares an otherwise "normal" man to share his obsessions, effectively recruiting him as an assistant... until the "normal" guy realizes he's about to go on the chopping block (or, in at least one story, already was on the chopping block).

Their crimes involve a lot of sneaking around late at night, locked doors, whispering so they don't get caught (or they'll be killed), secretiveness, glee at getting away with it, and frequently, sharing the same living space.

The Unrepentant Evil Dude is often killed at the end of his tale in a way that implies vigilante/mob justice is at hand. 

The other may be allowed to live if he's very sorry and frames the whole story as being the fault of the other guy, or he may die too while affirming his horrible demise as just, even if it terrifies him.

(One could make an argument that Wilbur Whateley fits into some of these tropes. It's me I'm one)

If this all sounds very gay, Lovecraft probably would have agreed. He had as dim a view of homosexuality as he did on most other things that were Outside The Norm. In other words, we were supposed to see Richard Upton Pickman with his ghouls and think, "Ah, yes, this is a metaphor for queerness", only we were supposed to be revolted by that revelation.

This same attempt at revulsion can be easily read into Victor Frankenstein, and probably more Mad Scientists than I can name offhand (but feel free to in reblogs). Frankenstein's "crimes against nature" were connected to dead bodies as well, and likewise involved a lot of sneaking around, locked doors, and worry about what would happen were he caught with this naked man-thing he's keeping in his dorm. His crime, as with his parody character Herbert West, is creating life outside the bounds of heterosexual cisgender sex. This was meant to revolt readers' sensibilities as much as the whole cutting-up-corpses-and-stitching-them-back-together thing would.

This is why, if we're being honest, "Re-Animator" and "Bride of Re-Animator" are not necessarily gay… they're homophobic. This might be controversial, but stick with me.

I feel like Gordon and Yuzna were tapping into that old-fashioned Revulsion Handbook, including from the source material, which thematically linked Herbert West with queerness. (I'm using "queer" a lot here, but I would personally include trans-friendly readings under that rubric; I'm using "queer" in the analytical sense and not solely in the identity sense.) This means that, ironically, a lot of what we could point to as queer subtext is actually homophobic text.

This is reinforced by the novelization of the first film, written by a homophobe who got Trumpist brainworms later in life. He wanted to make West repulsive to the reader, and therefore, he tried to make West more gay. And IT WORKED. 

To be clear, I'm not accusing anybody, other than the novelist, of being a homophobe. There's a difference between possessing internalized bigoted beliefs which express themselves in writing, versus utilizing tropes originating in bigotry because That's What's Done Around Here. (I can understand why others might not perceive a meaningful difference.) Like the Cuzco lizards, this queerness-as-villainy is definitely a stupid thing ported in from the source material.

I do think that this is why everybody but Our Queen Barbara Crampton seems embarrassed or nonplussed by all the transfags pestering them about fellatio tapes. It's because they don't get why this thing appeals so much to us. It shouldn't. If anything, they should be canceled for having yet another queer-coded villain, along with a number of other plot choices of questionable taste (I'm looking at you, The Head Scene, and I don't like what I see).

Only, uh, it didn't work out that way long-term, did it?

I thank Cronenberg and venereal horror for this, in part. Brutally queer despite not being explicitly gay, venereal horror is what happens when the characters should be revolted, but aren't. 

This kind of thing is horrifying for crossing the line twice: first by being disgusting, then by having characters respond as though it is exciting, or sexually stimulating, or if nothing else, normal. They are perverse. They leer at the dead and the subjects of their experiments. And the disgusting monsters at the center of these narratives are celebrated. Their twisted sexualities are explored with the same brave frankness other filmmakers give to milquetoast cishet missionary nonsense. Their political views are given life and air, and usually, they're right. Their deaths, if they come at all, are framed as tragedies brought on by society's sick rejection of the flesh their brave experimentation.

Cronenberg's the dude who unironically thinks that Shivers (trigger warning for literally everything) has a happy ending. My man David's got subscriptions where others have issues.

Venereal horror has given us a new metaframework for looking at the repulsive, the monstrous, and the problematic and responding to it… differently.

Now here's another thing: Lovecraft likewise provided a structure for embracing the grotesque and the queer.

Pickman, the Decadent artist, paints photorealistic, enormous portraits of ghouls. Literal flesh-eaters. He is fascinated by them, comfortable with them. "Model" heavily implies that Pickman is a ghoul changeling--switched at birth with a human child. This leans into Lovecraft's ideas about heritability being a major source of horror, of course, and seems run of the mill until you get to The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath.

In there, Pickman appears again, but this time as a ghoul. He has cast off his human social shackles and joined the beings he loves, beings who understand him and support him. Kadath is notable in that the ghouls are actually... like... reliable, loyal, and morally good? Carter's opinion pretty much is, "They do eat human corpses and they smell awful, but they're all very nice and want to help me on my quest, so maybe they're not so bad (if not as good as the cat army)".

This feels like Lovecraft acknowledging that his entire approach of linking queerness, death, and revulsion is fundamentally flawed. Once you become familiar with the repulsive, it becomes not-really-that-repulsive-at-all. You can find beauty in it, and amusement, and love. Pickman embracing his ghoulish nature isn't all that different from Seth Brundle's overall lack of revulsion at his body's transformation. And it's not that different from what a lot of transmasculine folks go through, either.

It's not that transmascs, trans men, and/or transfags don't see what West does as crimes against nature. It's that we're all very fucking tired of being accused of crimes against nature. We're tired of not being able to look at socmed without finding accusations that we're disgusting perverts who sneak around behind closed doors to corrupt innocent, promising people to be our lackeys and partners in crime.

Hell, I refer to my wife as "my partner in crime" not because it's a cute way of acknowledging how well and how much we work together both in life and creativity. It's also because we could have been arrested for our relationship when we got together.

We were illegal.

There was a lot of sneaking around and whispering and trying not to get caught and "what if they call the cops on us if we're clocked". Can I tell my friends about this? Will they reject me or rat me out? Where am I safe? Nowhere. Best to lock the door and then check it again to be sure. Best to be very quiet.

Best to act like a graverobber trying to get their grisly wares back home before good, decent, Christian folk see them.

So when I hear "Blasphemy? Before what God?!", I read it as (whether he's ace or aro, gay or achillean, trans man or transmasc or genderfucked) a queer slogan of defiance, instead of a defense of graverobbing, corpse desecration, and non-consensual resurrection.

We're told we and our bodies are repulsive, so being told that Herbert is also repulsive makes him more relatable. Instead of wondering what the hell's wrong with him for shooting up reagent, we all theorize that it's actually T or has similar effects--because we're all told that T is a toxin that will horribly change and disfigure our bodies. He dresses in a three-piece suit for school, and instead of reading him as a stiff and overly-formal little freak, we assume he's layering up because he hasn't found a hoodie he likes yet. 

He cackles at his horrific creations, and instead of saying "What a fucking freak (anguished)", we say "What a fucking freak (affectionate)" and laugh along with him. Who among us hasn't taken apart our Barbies and tried to combine their parts with the Kens? What is a doll, or a human, but a collection of parts to be rearranged? Haven't we also been told we're freaks for rearranging our own parts?

We've already been told by society at large that we are Herbert West. We're just embracing it, in the proud tradition of venereal horror fans who are not revolted when they ought to be, and I think that's delightful.

[yannaryartside]

SYDNEY'S PART

THE ANALOGY OF THE PARTNER WITH ADDICTION

I just realized this parallel, and I have questions and feelings.

This second scene was one of the most frustrating moments for me, and that is saying a lot. It made me realize the crucial factor that could contribute to Sydcarmy not working despite the underlying feelings and connection.

The scene is obviously about how Sydeny feels guilty for not being able to stand to Carmy and make him stop the chaos. Maybe is also about feeling sad because she doesn't think that he wants to change for her, because if that were the case, he would have done it already. He has verbalized that intention and always, always, leaves her alone and behind (It is hard to keep with you sometimes).

I have been wrestling with the theory that Carmy's and Syd's relationship is acting as an analogy for an addict and their romantic partner. I have been reading this book: Loving someone in recovery. I still need to finish it, but it has given me some ideas. More extended meta-analyses on this subject are coming up. But I wanna concentrate on what the scene is hitting at (I miss ao3).

Notice in Brigade, the woman also says, "until the chemistry changes.", then in the very next scene, you have Sydney decipher a recipe just by chemistry logic, leaving Carmy impressed, and right after, carmy puts Sydney in charge of the restaurant. The clues are all there.

Also, notice how the woman at AA refers to the abuse of substances, but in Carmy's case, it also means abuse in the literal sense, verbal, psychological, and physical abuse.

The show has many scenes in which Sydney treats Carmy's issues with compassion and a firm hand.

"I don't want to be an asshole" "Don't be" aka: I know you know what is right and wrong despite feeling like shit, don't let it get over you.

She keeps her cool while Carmy makes impossible demands and screams. She helps Tina with her dish and completes the task without ever insulting or yelling back at anybody. The toxic techniques that Carmy learned that worked in the culinary industry, she refuses to accept as the norm. She is a chef Terry.

Finding the positive in the worst circumstances, aka, saying Cicero "You are here" or encouraging Richie and the staff. Even reviewing Carmy's recipes with patience and humor

"Is hard to keep with you sometimes' is key word here sometimes, aka: "because the problem is your issues, not you. You are a good person who is deeply hurting, but your actions have consequences for me and the people around you".

The thing is, if we are gonna talk about a partner with addiction, we need to establish the problem (the trauma) and the drugs. I remember watching a movie about addiction, a nurse saying, "Drugs are never the problem (for an addict), they are the solution.

So, the problem (the trauma)

The drug (solution)

You already know my theory that Claire is the equivalent of painkillers/anesthesia. A shallow but pleasing relationship that is always available to attend to your flaws without ever being actual medicine. Because to get better, painkillers are never enough.

BACK TO SYD

Syd really doesn't believe she has a say in what Carmy wants, (God she even believes she is not what Carmy wants, because he wants Claire, that is what it seems to her) just right before this dialogue, she asks him "Do you want me to say something?", from reading the book, it really reminded me of a partner feeling abandoned when the addict would resource to their drug of use to feel good or set back to old habits. That would leave the partner frustrated, depressed, and angry.

To be fair, the fact that Carmy is his boss should be added to the equation. They cannot even be called friends, so why should Sydney say something? Carmy is 24/7 in defense mode, saying things like "You don't have to say it, I already know."

He offered Syd equal partnership, but she didn’t get it. If they had been equal partners she definitely has the power to say something. But she didn’t take the offer, maybe because she suspected (or feared) they would never be on equal ground.

THE KEY QUESTION IS, WHAT DOES SYDNEY SAY?

I am genuinely curious about this. Is Syd (or her leaving) supposed to be a wake-up call to Carmy? That he fucked up something that brought him genuine joy and connection because Syd knew the real him, while Claire liked Logan and Carmy's brokenness? The way Claire would enable him in his bad tendencies? How is he gonna realize all that?

Sydney needs more emotional resources when it comes to conflict resolution. So far, her techniques have been using patience and love (water) against toxicity and bad patterns (fire). There is definitely a need for that. That is what turned everybody around and helped them become their best selves. But it has a toll. And she started the season with "I don't know what the fuck to do right now" and ended the season without a solution. Maybe walking away is the solution.

SYDNEY'S PART

What could this mean for Syd? Sydney may confront Carmy or not. I guess we will have to see.

[thebadgerclan]

Clueless

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Requested by @imabee-oralizard

Summary: Benedict is clueless to your affection...

It was painful to watch Benedict be so clueless.  The Bridgertons and L/Ns had been friends for as long as anyone could remember, your homes were across from one another’s, your father was a well-respected Earl.  And in your childhood, you and Benedict were as thick as thieves, spending nearly every day together.  Then Edmund had passed and you drifted apart, though you still made efforts to spend time with him.

Through your debut into society, Benedict had remained your closest friend.  However, as time passed and the two of you matured, Benedict found his feelings for you evolving.  Where he once saw a girl, he now saw a woman; a beautiful, graceful, elegant woman.  Where he once saw someone to play tag with, he now saw a woman he wanted to bring flowers to, a woman he wanted to spend…oh.

Little did he know, you were in a similar situation.  Benedict had once been a gangly stick of a boy, but he had grown into a devastatingly handsome man.  He wasn’t the head of his household, he wasn’t titled, but that had never mattered to you.  Your father had always made it clear that you could marry whoever you wished, that money or status needn’t play into it.  And as time went on, you found yourself no longer thinking about Benedict as a friend, but someone you wanted to be with, someone you were slowly falling in lo–oh.

The three eldest Bridgertons stood along the side of the ballroom, watching the dance floor.  Anthony watched as his wife danced with Lord Kent while Colin chatted with Miss Featherington.  Benedict, meanwhile, was staring at you, his gaze positively lovesick.  You were dancing with the Marquis of Winchester, who had apparently just inherited his title, and Benedict realized he would give almost anything to be in his place.

“Need we call the fire brigade, brother?” came Anthony’s voice, drawing Benedict’s focus from you.  “What?”  “Your gaze will certainly burn holes in the back of Lady Y/N’s head if you stare at her for much longer!”  Colin burst out in laughter, and Benedict rolled his eyes.  “Quite entertaining, brother, truly.”  Benedict felt his face warm, and he sought out a servant rounding with drinks.

Colin politely excused himself from his conversation with Penelope, and Anthony followed suit, wordlessly agreeing to continue their teasing.  “You know, ladies have dance cards for a purpose, brother,” Colin said, and Benedict barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.  “Yes,” he responded.  “They do; to keep track of the gentlemen vying for their hands for a dance.”  “Precisely,” Anthony chimed in, taking a drink from a nearby table.  “So, Benedict, do you think Lady Y/N still has room on her card?”

Benedict nearly spat out his drink.  “What?  I..whyever would you ask such a question?”  Colin disguised his laughter with a cough.  “Because, brother, she has been sneaking glances at you all evening!”  “She has?”  Anthony nodded, nodding gratefully at the gentleman who Kate had been dancing with as he returned her.  “Benedict, with how much you have been looking at her, I am shocked you have not noticed!”

Even now, Benedict was subtly watching you; watching as the Marquis escorted you to the refreshments table, watching as you smiled, as you laughed.  “Benedict!”  “What?”  “Good Lord, you are absolutely besotted!”  Colin clapped him on the shoulder.  “Go ask her to dance, you fool.  Please, if I have to watch you pine for her for another moment, I may be ill.”  Benedict shook his head, but set off across the room anyway.

“Pardon me, Lady Y/N?”  You turned to face Benedict, a warm smile on your face.  “Mister Bridgerton!  How lovely to see you!”  “Lovely to see you as well.  I know it is late in the evening, but do you have room on your dance card for me?”  Butterflies were running rampant in your stomach, and you held up your wrist, displaying the card.  “I happen to have one spot left.  A waltz.”

You left your waltz vacant at every ball you went to, hoping and praying Benedict would ask you to dance.  If others asked, you could play it off as being too intimate for an unwed lady, something no one would question you on.  It was truly a shot in the dark, but tonight, your aim was true.  Benedict smiled, taking the pencil attached to the card and signed his name.  “It would be my honor, Lady Y/N.”  “Please, just Y/N.”

Benedict smiled, and moments later, the musicians played the opening chords of the waltz.  You followed Benedict onto the dance floor, curtseying as he bowed.  The waltz was controversial, some saying it was far too intimate, some calling it outright scandalous.  But that was the farthest thing from your or Benedict’s minds as you began to dance.

His hand was on your waist, the other clasped in yours; your hand on his shoulder.  There was no more than 6 inches of space between your bodies, and you felt as if your heart could bean straight out of your chest.  “So tell me, Y/N,” Benedict said.  “Has the season been treating you well thus far?”  “Oh, I wish I could say it has.  There are plenty of suitors, yes, but…”  “But what, Y/N? We have no secrets, remember?”

It was a stupid pact you’d made years ago: to keep no secrets from Benedict, but it was a pact you’d stuck to….for the most part, that is.  “I have had my heart set on a true love match for so long, and I have yet to feel that with any men who have called upon me.”  “You will find that someday, Y/N, have faith.”  Benedict was trying so desperately not to get his hopes up, but then you spoke again.

“What if I already have?”  It might have been an innocuous thing to say, had you not pressed yourself ever so closer to Benedict, had you not squeezed his hand, and had you not looked so deeply into Benedict’s eyes.  It was so plain: the love you held for him, the desire to be his and for him to be yours, and how long you had wanted it.

“Y/N, are you…”  “I have no callers in the morning,” you said.  “And I hear the weather shall be wonderful for a promenade.”  Benedict’s heart skipped several beats, and when the dance ended, he made a bold move and kissed your hand.  “Well then, I shall call upon you in the morning.  Be warned, though, I have been told I am quite the romantic.”

You couldn’t hold the laugh that left your lips, and Benedict escorted you back to your chaperone.  In the morning, you were indeed greeted by Benedict, a bouquet of 20 red roses in hand.  No one in London was surprised when you were engaged a mere month and a half later, and married four months after that.

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

The return of your best friend was something that made your heart flutter and beat to the rhythm of his words, but there he was, framed before you like the mountain peaks of your small town, and he had a secret — a secret that would change everything.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊��𝒊𝒏𝒈 ☘︎ Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ☘︎ 3.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ☘︎ Light angst, copious amounts of fluff (literally and figuratively) ჻჻჻ TROPES: Idiots to lovers, best friends to lovers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ☘︎ You all know me by now, so this shouldn't be a surprise.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ☘︎ Tidal Wave (Acoustic) by Old Sea Brigade

჻჻჻჻჻჻���჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ☘︎ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟭 — Lumberjack AU — Masterlist

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬, 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The air was crisp with freshly fallen snow, and the mountain peaks in the backdrop of your small town were dusted with a coat of white – a picturesque view for the drive to work, with the heaters of your truck on full blast, of course. 

Music played quietly over the speakers as you hummed along, content and happy for the opportunistic day. Business had been booming. Your shop had turned into quite the hive of activity in the past few weeks from the season change – spring was on the way, and with it, came endless possibilities. 

It also meant that James would be setting out to start work for the busiest period of the year, given the blistering winter that had hammered your small town left the woods treacherous and dangerous, even for a man of his skill and wit. 

A lumberjack’s work was never easy.

Your shop – a perfect mix of a bakery, cafe, and bookstore – came into view as you turned the corner, the snow tires of your old truck crunching over the road. The sun was only just peeking over the horizon so the warm tones of the wood frames of the outside looked bleak. “Need to get some hardy vines…” you mumbled, pulling into your parking space. 

“Morning, babe,” a voice called. You looked up from your keys to find Wanda – the town’s florist, and your best friend. 

“Hey, you,” you returned, smiling happily. The click of the door lock sounded and you looked down to check it. “I can’t wait for this chill to be gone. How’re you?”

Wanda chuckled. “Same old, same old.” 

There was a sly smirk on her lips when you glanced up again, and you narrowed your eyes. “What are you planning? I know that look.”

“Bucky is coming into town today, or so, the rumours say…”

“Oh my god,” you grumbled. “Not again. Yes, I know. And I am looking forward to seeing him.”

“Maybe you could–?”

You sighed heavily, knowing all too well what she was implying – having fallen head over heels for the mountain of a brooding bear that was your best friend. “No, Wands. I don’t want to lose what I have all because I can’t get my head outta the clouds, you know that. Besides, I am also looking forward to seeing my babies, Koda and Sarge.”

Wanda hummed happily. “I do miss those balls of fluff. You make sure you give them kisses from me, alright?”

“Oh, I will. Have a good day, babe.” You waved goodbye as Wanda turned to walk down the street to her shop. 

The lights flicked on and your little slice of heaven came to life. Warm lights blazed over the earthy tones of browns and greens spread over the interior – golden spines of books shone, and the reflection of light on the glass display made you feel at home. Even though it had only been a few hours since you were last in your shop, coming back to it was like a tight, comforting hug. 

“Let’s get this day started, huh?” You said happily, taking off your coat and switching on the heater, all the while walking towards the counter. 

An hour later, the shop was filled with the smell of freshly baking bread, and the sweet smell of breakfast pastries. Coffee was brewing and the morning rush had just started – and your first customer? Steve, Bucky’s best friend. 

“Hey, love,” Steve greeted, his hair packed under a dark blue beanie while his broad chest was covered in red plaid. His smile was contagious and unusually bright, and you couldn’t help but beam back at the bearded lumberjack. “How’ve you been? Keepin’ warm?”

“Stevie,” you breathed, rounding the corner of the counter to pull him into a tight embrace. “I have been great, keeping busy.” Pulling back, you moved back behind the counter and began the process of making his usual order. “How about you? How is Cap?”

“Causin’ trouble as always,” Steve said fondly, shaking his head. “The ball of fluff is in my truck, waitin’ ever impatiently for his puppacino.”

“Wait.” You paused in making Steve’s order to stare at him incredulously. “You brought my boy all the way here, and yet, you’re making him wait in the car.” The look on Steve’s face bled sheepishness, a sharp contrast to his goofy nature, but you didn’t let up. “Steven Grant–you get out that door and you bring that good boy into my shop.”

If Steve had a tail, it would have been pulled between his legs as he slunk out the door to his truck. Not even a moment later, the barking of an over-excited Cap could be heard over Steve’s yell of, “Easy, boy! Down!” 

The door of your shop swung open, and a giant ball of fur bounded your way, tongue lolling, and black and white coat moving with his powerful muscles. “Cap!” you yelled, falling to your knees to greet the Malamute. “Hey, boy! Oh my gosh, look atchu!”

“It’s like you didn’t see him the other damn day,” Steve said, a ghost of a laugh in his words. “Drama queens, the pair a’you.”

“Don’t you dare insult my boy, Rogers,” you huffed, squishing Cap’s cheeks. The Malamute only opened his mouth in what could be perceived as one big smile. “He is precious, and for that, he is getting an extra treat.”

After sending Steve and Cap on their way, the morning rush began in earnest as the sun rose in the sky – casting yellow rays through the big windows that lined the front of your shop. People flocked to and fro on the sidewalk outside, stopping in for a steaming hot beverage or a sweet treat, and you felt at ease, falling into routine like a well oiled machine. 

It was only when it hit nine o’clock did the hustle and bustle pass, and you worked at a more sedate pace. The display case of baked treats was considerably much emptier than when you opened for the day, and you grabbed two trays full of cookies to restock for the imminent lunch rush, when the bell sounded at the door.

You smiled and turned to greet the customer, only to freeze; the air in your lungs evaporating into nothing at the sight silhouetted by the sun. 

“James,” you rushed, eyes wide, and smile even wider. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

The mountain that was your best friend stood in the doorway, a small smile on his full lips as he looked at you with such softness it turned your legs to jelly. His big boots were covered by black jeans that hugged his thighs, a dark blue and black plaid jacket stretched over his wide shoulders, and his long hair fell down in a swoop under his upturned collar. 

Bucky opened his arms wide. “Hey, darlin’,” he said, tone gravelly and eyes bright. “Need my Clover to come an’ gimme a hug.”

The trays lay abandoned on the display, and you ran to Bucky, giggling all the way and colliding with his chest. “Oof!” He grunted, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and lower back. “Fuck, it’s good to see you, sweetheart. How have you been, huh?”

“Good, good! It’s been so lonely without you here!” you gushed, pulling back to look at him. He had a dark shadow of a beard on his jaw, and his smile framed his handsome face perfectly. “How was the scouting? How are you?”

Bucky gave you one last squeeze and threw an arm over your shoulder, walking you to a couch in the reading nook in the back corner. “It was boring, as usual–should be ready to start this logging season. And I’m good, Sarge and Koda missed you, too. Almost as much as I did.”

“Oh, my babies,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around his middle so you could squeeze him tightly. “Alright, sit down and I’ll knock somethin’ together for you.”

“You betcha,” Bucky said. The couch creaked under him and he groaned loudly. “Fuck, this couch is my favourite fuckin’ thing–”

“I thought I was,” you interrupted, pouting at him. Bucky laughed. 

The hiss of the coffee machine filled the comfortable silence, when you realised something. “Wait, where are my babies, James?” Bucky froze on the couch, and eyed you apprehensively – the action made you put your hands on your hips and stare at him pointedly. “Where are my babies?” you asked again.

“I left them in the truck because I needed a damn minute of silence, and Iwantedyoutomyselfforaminute…” The last part was a rushed mumble, and you blinked.

“Wait, what?”

“Nothin’,” Bucky hastily said, and he stood from the couch. Another loud groan left his lips as he stretched – if you stared while his eyes were closed, that was your business. “I’ll go get ‘em.”

“Good, you do that, mister,” you huffed. “Coming in here without my babies. No wonder why you and Stevie are best friends.”

The comment made a loud howl of laughter to leave Bucky as he opened the door, and walked out. You shook your head fondly and made a round of two puppuccinos – extra large. 

“Sarge, heel. Good boy–no, Koda, baby, ah, fuck it,” Bucky rambled from just outside the shop, and you watched through the window as two giant balls of fur ran around his legs, bounding and yipping for all their worth. “Yes, you’re seein’ her! Calm down, easy.”

You laughed and strode around the corner to take a seat on the couch that Bucky had occupied just moments before – the two dogs that would burst through that door any second would have no qualms on bowling you over if you knelt on the wooden floor. 

“Alright, goddamn it, guys,” Bucky groaned, fending off paws and wet noses. “I open this door, and you two better be on your best behaviour.” Two loud barks answered his words, and the door flew open with a clatter of the bell. 

The same two balls of fur and fluff barrelled into the (thankfully, empty) shop, looking around for their friend, until they spotted you at last. “My babies!” 

You were lost in a flurry of black, white, and brown fur. “Oh my gosh, yesyesyes,” you gasped, shaking your head side to side to abate the worst of the incessant licks to your face. “Hi babies! Oh, lookatchu!”

A quiet chuckle sounded from above you, and you opened your eyes to find Bucky looming over you, phone in hand. “Are you recording my death–my death by fur and fluffiness?”

“Yep,” Bucky replied, grinning. “Gotta give somethin’ to everyone to remember you by.”

You rolled your eyes and attempted to sit up, though it was impossible with Koda laying over you, and Sarge hogging your legs. “Barnes, help me.”

“Nope.” He smirked, plopping down on the couch, right next to your head. “You can stay there for a lil’ while longer, darlin’.”

“You are the worst,” you groaned. “These babies are heavy. Fine. I will be crushed and it’ll be your fault.” 

Bucky only shrugged and slid down the couch cushions, then he gently moved your head so you could rest it on his thigh. “Thank you,” you hummed, and Bucky smiled, his hand resting on your shoulder. 

Silence fell between you two – the comfortable kind that was shared so often when you both were just content to be in one another’s presence. 

“I’ve fuckin’ missed you, Clover,” Bucky mumbled, and his hand moved to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek gently, lovingly. The rough skin of his hand was warm and it made something clunk in your mind – you could only hope it wouldn’t show on your face. “So damn much. I hate goin’ scoutin’–rather be home, here.”

You looked up at Bucky from your vantage point – his upside down face and thoughtful gaze, a small frown on his lips. 

“I know, I know, Jamie. I know,” you whispered soothingly back, running one hand through Koda’s black fur, and moving the other one to rest over Bucky’s. “But you’re here now, you know I will always wait for you–you’re my best friend.”

The small frown turned into a fond smile. “Luckiest fella, I am. Havin’ a sweetheart like you to call his–”

Your heart seized. The words, while you knew they didn’t mean what you hoped for, still hit like a punch to the guts, and it was an effort to keep your face blank and void of the realisation. You wanted Bucky, and for much more than just a best friend. 

“–Girl, huh? Why don’t we get an early lunch, darlin’?”

“I own the best cafe, James.” 

Bucky laughed at your comment and shook his head. “I didn’t say we couldn’t have lunch here, you dork. Why don’t you make it to go, and we take my truck out to the clearin’?”

“Okay,” you agreed. “Let’s go.”

Half an hour later, you brought a basket to the counter and pointed to it. “Lunch, and you get to carry it because it is heavy.”

“You just want an excuse to see me be a man, sweetheart,” Bucky teased, and you narrowed your eyes. 

“Shut up, you idiot. Now, c’mon,” you urged, “I gotta be back for the actual lunch rush.”

Bucky saluted and took the aforementioned basket, only for his eyes to widen. “The hell you pack in this? Bricks?”

“I packed for Koda and Sarge,” you said simply, shrugging one shoulder. The two dogs ran to the door after Bucky, and you followed, your heart in your throat. 

The drive to the clearing was pleasant, if only chilly – but it gave you the excuse to steal one of Bucky’s good jackets from the back seat. He only rolled his eyes and pulled into a parking spot. “Sure, you can use one,” he said, “Don’t want my darlin’ gettin’ cold now, do I?”

“No,” you replied smugly. “Thank you.”

Bucky snorted and opened the door, sliding out. “Koda, Sarge, c’mon.” The two dogs jumped from the car and bounded into the trees, kicking grass and snow up in their wake. 

Something felt off, however – a sense of impending something was hanging tantalisingly over your head. Something was going to happen, and you had no idea what it could have been. You swallowed thickly, and opened your door to exit the warm cabin of Bucky’s truck. “It’s not that bad out here, thank god,” you commented.

It was the truth. The sun had warmed the chill in the air to be bearable, and while the snow hadn’t fully melted just yet, it was stunningly pretty to see the light bounce off crisp white mounds – that both Koda and Sarge barrelled through, their coats becoming covered in the soft snow. 

“Sure is pretty,” Bucky affirmed, smiling at you – and the feeling of apprehension doubled in intensity. “Let’s dig in, I’m starvin’.”

“One thing we can agree on,” you hummed, walking to a picnic table under a gazebo. “I packed extra because you are a garbage disposal.” 

“Hey!” Bucky chided. “Ain’t my fault that I’m a growin’ man, alright?”

You raised a brow and stared at him, and then you broke into a fit of laughter as Bucky scowled. “You’re not wrong, Jamie–you look like a bear on steroids. Have you been weightlifting trees?”

It was Bucky’s turn to laugh. “Well, it’s my job, sweetheart, kinda have to lift them somehow.”

You shrugged. “I dunno, I would have thought you wrestled with a bear, considering you’re one of ‘em now.” The urge to repeat the joke you had made with him became overwhelming. “You could say… you’re a Bucky Bear.”

“Ha ha,” Bucky deadpanned, reaching for the basket. “Real funny, Clover–real funny.”

The meal passed in spurs of conversation – you caught Bucky up on the gossip of the town and what Wanda had been up to, and then Bucky caught you up on Steve and Sam’s ventures on site, or how they wouldn’t stop teasing him about a situation that he refused to divulge. 

“So,” you began, watching Bucky’s flickering gaze, and how his hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting. “What did Stevie and Sam tease you for?” Taking a bite of your lunch, you chewed slowly, growing increasingly intrigued by Bucky’s show of nerves. 

“Y’know, normal shit,” Bucky said evasively, “they were bein’ assholes, like usual.”

Deciding to poke the bear, you probed further. “Doesn’t sound like it’s nothing, Jamie. Do I gotta tell them boys off?”

“No,” Bucky rushed, flushing slightly. “No, I got it.”

“Uh-huh,” you drawled, narrowing your eyes. Bucky was fidgeting something fierce, his usual aloof and charming aura had vanished – replaced with something akin to what he was like as a nervous teenager. “Jamie… are you alright?”

Bucky looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and he swallowed. “Clover, if you had-” His brows furrowed, like he was considering, or regretting, his words. “If you had the chance to tell the one–the one, would you do it? Tell them, or- Or ask them out?”

“Oh,” you said immediately. The question made the air in your lungs leave in a sweep – it was happening, Bucky had found someone. “Um, I-I,” you faltered, and you cleared your throat while placing your lunch down on the paper wrapping. “I, uh- Yeah. Yeah I would. Why?”

Something flashed across Bucky’s eyes and your stomach twisted. It was almost too much to bear. 

“Well,” Bucky said slowly, his hand twitching on the table, like he wanted to move it but couldn’t. “Clover, darlin’–uh, would you-”

Two loud barks cut him off and Koda, followed by Sarge, ran up to Bucky and pawed at his thighs. “Really? Now?” Bucky grit out. He fished through the basket and split a large dog biscuit. “Now go on, get.”

“You were saying?” you chuckled, watching the dogs run off with their trophy. 

Bucky flushed a deeper pink, and he tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. His hand that had twitched just before reached across the table, open. Automatically, you took it, knowing he must need the comfort – hell, you needed it yourself, your heart was hammering so hard it felt like a rib was breaking. Whatever he was going to say was obviously hard, but you would take it and help him, he was your best friend. 

“Would you wanna be- God fuckin’ damn, why is this so hard,” he cursed, frowning.

“Take your time, Bucky, baby, you’re okay,” you soothed, rubbing your thumb over his scarred knuckles. “I’m here, and I don’t mind waiting. You say it when you’re ready.”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart fracture – surely he would only be acting this way if-

“Would you wanna be my Clover? My girl?”

What?

“Wait- What? Did you- Did you just–?” you floundered. Shock cascaded through every fibre of your being, and you watched as Bucky stared at you, almost imploringly. “Hang on, hang on.” 

“Okay,” Bucky whispered, his hand squeezing yours once.

You took a singular second to think about what he had just asked. After all this time, after all that pining, the teasing from Sam and Steve must have been about you. It must have been about how- But that meant Bucky was serious. And… “Oh my god. Yes,” you blurted, staring into his eyes. “Yes–fuck, Jamie, I have–”

“I knew.”

“What?” you squeaked, terrified you had been far too obvious. 

“I knew that I, uh- Liked you, sweetheart,” he admitted, smiling sheepishly. “I just… didn’t know how to approach it ‘till the assholes cornered me on site, demanding to know why the fuck I looked like a loon–smiling at nothing, when I was remembering you.”

A heavy breath left your lips, trembling only slightly. “So that’s why Stevie came into my shop this morning, smiling so big! After all this time,” you wondered out loud. “Just- Wow. Wow.” 

“Well, now,” he began, chuckling quietly when his much larger hand engulfed yours. “Now I have my own lil’ four leaf clover.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[trensu]

Time travel AU, that takes place during in-universe present day and the time travel is actually future middle aged Steve getting accidentally sent back.

Like our 19yo steve is puttering about in his empty house minding his own business. And then he hears someone behind him Mutter vehemently, "fuck!" It gives him a heart attack, especially when he whirls around and sees, "dad?? What are you doing here? I thought you were in New York?"

The man who looks like his father gapes at him, and says "oh my god, I'm a toddler, jesus christ."

He then passes out and steve immediately lunges towards his phone to call Dustin.

Your typical time travel shenanigans ensue. It's all fine and dandy at first. Everyone oohs and ahhs over Future Steve. Present Day Steve is a bit in awe of his future self because the dude seems to have his life together. He's not saying anything no matter how many questions Steve throws at him because it might ruin the timeline or whatever the hell, but Steve can see it in the way he carries himself with a sort of relaxed confidence that Steve couldn't have faked even during his King days.

That awe lasts until Eddie shows up. Eddie burst into the room with his usual exuberance and beamed at Steve the way he always does when he visits that makes warmth bloom in Steve's chest like a carnivorous jungle flower. But then Eddie catches sight of Future Steve and he freezes. Future Steve grins at him and wiggles his fingers as a hello, which Eddie dimly mimics.

Steve and Dustin quickly inform Eddie what's up. Eddie laughs in disbelief, "two Steves. One from the future. Why the fuck not."

Future Steve laughs. "God, Eddie, you're so young! You're all kids."

Eddie flushes, "hey, I'm a grown man!"

"Boy, you can't even go for a drink without breaking the law right now."

Eddie splutters in embarrassment, and yet he proceeds to follow Future Steve around like a lost puppy. Steve doesn't like it. He especially doesn't like how squirmy and red Eddie gets whenever Future Steve pays him the slightest bit of attention. It's stupid. Eddie is acting stupid for no damn reason and it's like Steve doesn't even exist anymore.

(Steve pettily starts calling his future self Old Man Steve in his mind because fuck that guy, he thinks he's sooo cool but he isn't, he's just some boring old man that hasn't done anything to deserve Eddie's unwavering attention, what the fuck).

While Steve starts channeling his bitchy kingly self around Future Steve, the rest of the gang is working diligently to find a way to get Future Steve back home. Eventually some vague yet menacing government types show up. There has been, apparently, an entire branch of the research department created to figure out teleportation and other such sci-fi things that Steve is pretty sure they're making up on the spot.

Apparently, they noticed some weird readings on whatever fancy machines they got and came to investigate. Steve may not be a genius math whiz, but he's good at reading people. He can tell these guys know a hell of a lot more than they're saying. And he could've sworn that his future self actually recognized a couple of the scientists.

Steve lingers by the scientists, both miniature and full size, even though he's useless there because if he has to watch his future self laugh indulgently at Eddie's constant bids for attention he might have to dig out the nail bat. Instead he watches from the corner of his eye as Eddie excitedly asks about any dnd updates he could look forward to in the future; he watches Eddie shyly tug his hair over his mouth when Future Steve asks about his music. Steve's stomach sours at the way Eddie unconsciously sways into Future Steve's space during their conversation. He tries not to gag at how his future self's eyes glimmer with mirth at Eddie's antics.

Steve hates everything.

Eventually between the kid nerd brigade and the grown up nerd brigade, some sort of contraption is cobbled together that should send Future Steve back. Not that Future Steve or Eddie seem to notice, too wrapped up in each other. Has Steve mentioned he hates everything?

The lead scientist, the one Steve thinks his future self recognized, finishes calibrating the contraption with a pleased grin. She then turns to where Eddie and Future Steve are talking.

"Mr. Munson," she calls. Both Eddie and Future Steve turn around.

"Yeah?" they respond simultaneously. Future Steve freezes. The scientist chuckles.

"Apologies, I meant Steve Munson. Are you ready to go home?"

Steve is pretty sure his heart stopped in his chest. Eddie is gaping at Future Steve.

"Wait," Dustin says. "What?? Did you--Steve MUNSON?"

Future Steve smiles sheepishly. "Uh...I'd say I can explain, but I'm not sure if I should? You know. With the timeline and everything."

Dustin is running his mouth but Steve is absorbing none of it. He looks over to Eddie who looks as stunned as he feels. Steve goes and grabs his future self.

"Fuck the timeline," Steve chokes out past the lump in his throat. He grips Future Steve's arm desperately. "Are we--?" His voice cracks. "We're not alone? In the future? We're m-married?"

Future Steve softens. He places a firm hand on Steve's shoulder. "I know you won't believe this right now. I remember how I felt at this age. But yeah. We find someone who love us as much as we loved Nancy. We get married. He's our whole world, Steve."

Steve swallows. "...Eddie?" Future Steve nods and Steve takes a shaky breath. "He loves us back?"

"I know, right? I still don't know how we got so lucky."

Later, after Future Steve has gone back where he belongs (with his husband, Steve thinks in a daze), Eddie shows up on his doorstep. Steve lets him in and they stand there together in silence for a while. Eddie breaks first, tugging his hair over his mouth again.

"I never thought I'd get married," he says hesitantly. "I told myself it was because I didn't want to; forced conformity is bullshit, yeah? But that was a lie.

I mean forced conformity IS bullshit but I secretly thought being married would be...nice." Eddie's breath hitches. "To have someone in your corner. Someone who saw you and said yeah, that's the person I want to keep forever."

Steve reaches over and grabs Eddie's hand from where it's started to tug painfully at his curls. "I want to be in your corner." He doesn't say he wants to keep him forever, but he's pretty sure his expression betrays him if Eddie's quivering smile is anything to go by.

"Yeah, I'm getting that," he leans forward, resting his forehead on Steve's collar. Eddie sucks in a shaky breath. "Queers don't get married though. Queers get hunted down and murdered, Steve."

"Yeah, I know," he presses his cheek against Eddie's mop of curls. "Future me said we have to be careful. Patient. It'll be years and years, but someday we'll be able to, like, hold hands right out in the open and shit. We'd be able to marry. If you think you can be with me for that long, I'll make it happen, Eddie."

"You havent even asked me out for real yet," Eddie whines against Steve's shoulder. "Where's that charm? I may be a poor boy but I deserve to be wooed."

Steve barks out a surprised laugh.

"The drive in is doing a double feature this Friday, what do you think?"

Eddie pulls back with an exaggerated sigh.

"If that's the best you can do--"

"Hey!"

"--then I guess it's a start. But I'm expecting something fancy for a second date. I'm a girl with refined taste, you know."

"Confident about getting a second date already?"

"Mmhmm. I have it on good authority that this is gonna go for the long run, Stevie boy."

[felice-jaganshi]

My Fallen Apple

Lucifer X Reader

Chapter 5

He seemed distant all day, and you didn't know why. “Hey, Lucifer, what's wrong? You don't seem like yourself.” He had been looking out a window at the city, it seemed more on fire than usual.

 

“Hm? Oh, nothing nothing, everything's fine!” He tried to smile at you, but it felt fake.

 

“Does it have to do with whatever that ‘extermination’ thing was last week? What even was that? And why couldn't I visit?”

 

“Wait, you… you don't know about the exterminations?” He was shocked. “The yearly massacre heaven conducts on Hell.”

 

“The what?!” You look shocked and horrified. “No, no one's ever said anything about that!”

 

“Oh fuck. So they just keep all the rest of you in the dark when Adam runs his little slaughter brigade every year?”

 

“Adam runs it?! Oh God, that makes so much sense. That fucking dickbag. I've got to tell everyone! They have to know what he's been doing!”

 

Lucifer suddenly grabs your shoulders, “whoa, whoa! Slow your roll there. That's not a good idea! You could get actually kicked out of heaven for telling anyone! Then… then you'd be stuck here with me. Forever.” His eyes filled with hurt, “I could never do that to you.”

 

You take his hands from your shoulders into yours, “What if I wanted to stay here with you?”

A blush spread across his face, “wha- Becca, I'm married, remember?”

 

“And she's been gone for seven years without a word! Is she really coming back? Besides, you need a friend you can rely on. Someone who's got your back no matter what.” You held his hands a little tighter. He sighed and squeezed back.

 

“I should push you away for your own good… while I still can. But… honestly I'm tired of being alone. So if you really want to stay as a friend , you can. I'll take responsibility for you and you can stay here in my palace.”

 

“Thank you. I'll just have to go back once more and get all my stuff. Next week, I'll move in, and our weekly hangouts can be daily.” You smile and he can't help but smile back, 

 

“yeah, that sounds… that sounds nice.” 

Suddenly, his phone rang and he pulled away, “augh, that ringtone.. sorry this one's important. Work stuff.” He looked at his phone contact and grimaced at it. “Hooo, okay… you can do this, just the biggest idiot you've ever met, and your eternal beloath-ed.” He took a deep breath and answered the call. “Adam. What? You literally just finished. What could you possibly- a fucking meeting? You can't just say what your ugly- HE HUNG UP ON ME?!! THAT BITCH!!” Suddenly Lucifer grew horns and a tail, a little fire lighting above his head. You squeak and jump back a bit. His devil form was out and… you know… the more you looked at it, the less scary and the more… attractive it actually was.

 

After he was done cursing the phone, he turned and looked at you, confused by your staring till he realized his horns were out. “Ah… uh, sorry. This happens when I get too angry.” He returned to his normal form. “I didn't scare you, did I? I promise, I'd never hurt you, I'm not that kinda guy.” He held his hands out in front of himself, pleading with you.

 

You shook off the shock and stepped closer, taking one of his hands. “No, no, I'm fine. I just… that form looks really nice.” You're blushing, you can feel it. And he sees it too.

 

“Oh! Oh. A heh… Well, thank you for thinking I look nice! That's a nice ego boost coming from someone as pretty as you.” He then realized he said that out loud! “I mean I um, hey excuse me a minute while i call my daughter!” He then ran off to hide from you in the palace.

You roll your eyes, well, at least he thinks you're pretty. That's a good first step. Probably the most important step will be getting him to accept Lilith's not coming back… but that would be a hard one. Ten thousand years they were together for… just taking 7 years apart for a break was a drop in the bucket for that long of a marriage. 

 

Regardless, the next step was to move in and act naturally. Get him comfortable around you, enough to introduce you to his daughter. That was something you only do when fully committed to keeping someone in your life. Plus, maybe Charlie will help with the “get over lilith” campaign you were going to eventually need to run.

You decide to wander the palace and see if you could find where Lucifer had disappeared to.

 

It took an hour before you found him curled up in his bed.

“Lucifer? What's wrong?”

“I- I'm a bad father…” He was trying not to sob, tears in his eyes as his head peeked out from a burrito of blankets.

 

“Hey now, what makes you say that?” You walk over and sit on the edge of his bed.

 

“I called her and asked her to talk to Adam for me! I can't even take care of my own shit!” You sigh and lay next to him, pulling him into a tight hug. “Oh you silly burrito… there, there.” You pull the blankets back enough to free his hair and play with it. Eventually the waterworks stop and he starts to calm down, looking sleepy. You can't help but giggle a little, “Uh oh, is it nap time for hell's king? Come on, let's get you back up on the pillows at least.” You adjust him back up with ease and get him comfy before draping one of your own wings over him. He actually starts purring as his eyes close.

 

“Hm… you'd make a great mother.” He said sleepily, and your eyes tear up. You can't help it, and you keep playing with his hair. 

 

“Thank you… I tried very hard in life.” His eyes open back up, and he looks at you in a moment of wonder and curiosity, but decides not to bring up something that might cause you more pain. You two just enjoy a peaceful moment in each others company till you both fall asleep. 

[mayhemscorner]

Hold my drink

König x f!reader (x slight Alejandro)

⚠️18+ MINORS DNI⚠️

Summary: a night of drinking turns a chivalrous König in to a jealous man before the club is infiltrated. (A/N: i strongly agree König is socially anxious. I also believe this man is a dirty, DIRTY top who gets jealous easily. I wanted to make this a series but feel it’s too short to even bother stretching out.) (also open to ideas and requests)

Warnings: tobacco use, swearing, violence, mentions of anxiety, ANGST, pure unadulterated sex that stems from anger, orgasm denial.

“König! Hold my drink, I’ll be right back!” Y/N shouts over the foreign music throbbing at her ears, hoping to use the excuse of slipping outside for a smoke to clear her head. König gives a thumbs up from the secluded corner of their table, neither of them wanting to be here but trying their best at being good sports. The three at the table, better known as the grumpy brigade, included a brooding Ghost who refused to take off his signature mask. While passing the glimmering dance floor, Y/N is both mesmerized and disgusted as the others dance fluidly to the beat, flashing smiles and heaving out deep laughs of pure enjoyment while she suffers from anxiety in silence... and feeling like a horrible teammate for leaving König in the same situation.

“How adorable. I hate it.” Y/N mumbles to herself, turning away while smirking and lighting a cigarette as soon as her hand hits the door. The wind creeps against her bare arms, the only thing more uncomfortable than an issued uniform is a strapless dress, tight to the skin and leaving no secrets. 

“You must come from the heavens if you’re freezing under the desert heat, querida.” Alejandro steps out, lighting a fragrant cigar, letting it hang loosely from his lips as he takes off his dashing suit jacket. Y/N wondered if tonight was an excuse to see everyone dressed to the nines, a day off turning in to everyone finding flashy garments in the local Mercado, and Y/N begrudgingly being pulled around by Farah.

“If you call Texas heaven, then sure Vargas. And I appreciate the gesture but im not all that cold.” Y/N grumbles, taking several seconds before giving in and snatching the jacket that was still outstretched in Alejandro’s hand roughly. Once draped over her shoulders, Alejandro is quick to button the top notch that fell just below her breasts. He stops to look at her anxious face, quickly gripping her shoulder and sighing,” Y/N, this is a good opportunity for the units to mingle… get to know each other. I only do these things to extend a hand of friendship. Do not be misguided by my actions.”

“The way you haven’t stopped looking at me has me thinking otherwise, vaquero.” Y/N smirks,  letting the cigarette smoke escape her lips and plume to the side, slipping a hand on his chest and stretching upwards to whisper in his ear,” and I might let that hand of friendship wander if it gets me out of here.”

The smell of tequila wafts heavily in the air, signaling her less than sober words were a guise of being anywhere but here, even if it meant staying in someone else’s bed for the night. Y/N knew the vaqueros had actual beds to sleep on instead of cots, though it wasn’t who she would’ve preferred. 

Alejandro sinks his teeth lower in to his cigar, eyebrows crinkling at the woman in front of him,” Y/N. Tequila has a way of bringing our desires to the surface, but I must admit, I’m flattered by the offer.”

Alejandro suavely removes the cigar from his mouth, holding it gently as he stoops to leave a tobacco fragrant kiss on the back of her hand, and sliding the suit jacket up just enough to kiss her wrist as well. He pauses, eyes slowly creeping to Y/N’s in question,” but I must ask, is this truly what you desire, or do you feel I’m your only escape?”

Y/N puffs on the end of her cigarette before flicking it away, heat rising to her cheeks as she grips both hands at the deep blue collars of his shirt, dragging him back up for a heated kiss. Her mind raced, it was so wrong, but the promise of getting out of here was more important than her dignity at this very moment.

Her back hits against the surprisingly warm brick wall as Alejandro hoists her legs to wrap around his torso, kisses becoming more rapid with the expert use of tongue from Alejandro. Y/N gasps for air, turning to catch a glimpse of König’s hulking figure, and rage glazed eyes staring directly in to her perverse soul as he steps out the door. Even with his lower face covered with a black surgical mask in place of his usual sniper veil, she could see the disgust creep at his expression as her drink crushes in his hand before being tossed against the wall. König turns, stepping back through the doorway and slamming the door shut.

“König!” Y/N shouts, pushing off of Alejandro to rush after her desired team member.

“König, wait!” Y/N shouts out again, tearing through the doorway and crowd, trying to close the distance and being quickly thwarted by the sea of bodies that bumped and grinded against each other. König stalked to their table, grabbing his own suit jacket and aggressively throwing it on before turning to his shorter companion tugging at the back of his shirt in an effort to turn him around.

“You should stay, Y/N. Seems like you were really uniting the units back there. I don’t see why you’re so worried about me.” König bites his inner cheek, rage choking his throat and stinging at his eyes. She was supposed to be his, it was a silent promise he made to himself. The one he’s carried through battlefields, shielded with his own body, he was positive she was his. 

“König, you don’t understand! Just let me explain! Why do you even care? We’re teammates!” Y/N pleads, tugging at his shirt enough to pull the tuck loose from his pants and reveal his scarred side. 

“We can talk when we’re on base and sober. We both have some explaining to do.” He seethes out, encircling his fingers around her tiring wrist and tossing her hand to the side. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Enough you two. Sit down. There’s no reason to be in a tiff on our night off.” Ghost barks, clamping a hand against the two and forcing them to sit. 

“Right then, now talk. Out with it… both of you.” Ghost growls at them, sitting across from them safely with the table used as a buffer. 

Just as Y/N begins to talk, gun fire rings out, dulling the pulsating music as screams shriek violently in the air. König and Ghost both reach to pull an inebriated Y/N to the safety underneath the table, but the situation itself has quickly sobered her… as if the tequila itself evaporated from her system as soon as the first shot sounded. König and Ghost shielded her, knowing a flak jacket couldn’t be hidden under the skin tight and shimmering dress that encased her delicate body. 

“So much for a day off.” Ghost groans, pulling a hand gun from the hem of his pants and crouching in front of them to assess the situation. König reaches for his own, as Y/N scans the area for her purse that contained hers. Her eyes landing on the disgustingly sparkling bag discarded under a table nearby, most likely knocked around from the initial shock from the shootout. Y/N attempts to crawl over the shattered glasses and rubbish on the floor, only to be pulled back by a tight hand against Alejandro’s jacket that she still wore, landing directly in König’s lap and being restrained by his free arm. 

“You’re staying right here. Anytime you run off, you end up in danger, or locking lips with someone you barely know.” König huffs out, heavy breathing rattling them both as their anxieties build.

“Are you still bent up about me kissing someone? You’re my teammate, not my father, damnit!” Y/N grits her teeth, trying to wriggle free to no avail.

“I said you’re staying here, verdammt!” König tightens his arm and hooks an ankle over her flailing legs, quickly suppressing the woman that was a weapon herself, and hoping she was humble enough not to fight back any longer. His hopes couldn’t be anymore wrong as her elbow digs in to the nearest pressure point, causing his teeth to almost crack under the restrained pressure. 

“If you’re jealous, say so, damnit!” Y/N spits, moving to another pressure point and slowly sliding from his grasp, just for König to regrip at the next opportunity.

“I’m trying to protect you!” He yells back, trying his best to keep a close eye on Ghost at the same time. Y/N digs once again, head now locked between his legs in a sloppy triangle,” I don’t need protecting for fucks sake! I need my gun!”

“We protect each other, and your only protection right now is me!” König clips out, tightening his legs around her windpipe, if knocking her unconscious was the best action to protect her, he’d apologize when she woke up swinging… and so he did. 

Y/N’s eyes snap open, anger boiling under her skin as the bottom of the table slowly comes in to focus and the sounds of crying stabs at her eardrums. Crying always meant it was over. During traumatic events, bystanders and victims are flushed with so much anxiety and adrenaline, leaving no time to cry. That’s how she knew her previous platoon was leaving Iraq, it was the pure terror releasing itself in the form of crying as her teammates embraced each other and made calls to home. 

She coaxed her aching body to roll, watching as the remaining who could walk were guided out by her teammates and the other units. Glass bit in to her knees as she used the table to hoist herself up, ankles wobbling against her raised heels that she’d prefer to rip off. 

Y/N trudged aimlessly in to the reckless crowd groggily and trying to focus, looking for any sign of König to give him a piece of her mind. She was quickly pushed around as others rushed for the door or their friends. The one thing that came with crying, was chaos. People wailing over covered bodies as others tried to coax them out, the pure silence that was only broken from the crying. It only made her get pent up even more as she finally heard König shouting directions to the victims, however duty came before rage. Y/N gracefully formed in line next to Ghost, creating a herding barrier to safely guide the remaining crowd out. Ghost bends down to her ear, speaking gruffly,” cartel. 7 dead. No motive has been found so far.”

“There’s always motive dear friend, but this is quite curious.” Alejandro sidles up to the two, looking slightly disheveled and splotched in blood. 

“Maybe they’re after you.” König butts in, looking down at Alejandro menacingly and folding his arms tightly. 

“That might’ve been the case, but if you remember I was still outside when this began. They could’ve easily taken me out without ever having to step inside.” Alejandro says back monotonously, picking up the jealousy that bites in his words as he obscures Alejandro’s view of Y/N. 

“And you let them through? Are we sure we can even trust him?” König directs his question to Ghost who sighs back,” enough. Just as they can’t tell us apart from civilians, we can’t either, König. At ease.”

König drops his shoulders in reply, rearing out the last of the civilians and walking out the door.

“Whatever you three have going on tonight can wait until this is all figured out. Until then, you can apologize or forget about it. Are we clear?” Ghost adresses the three, knowing König was still looming near the door. Alejandro nods, but the other two kept silent, finding anything but Ghost entertaining in that moment.

“I said, are we clear?” Ghost threatens.

“Yes.” The three chime together, huffing a few naughty words under their breaths while following Ghost outside and back to base.

Several hours and several interrogations later, it was an open and shut mission. The cartel members responsible already apprehended by the Los Vaqueros and disposed of or incarcerated respectfully. 

“Well then, I think that’s enough for one night.” Alejandro yawns, stretching upwards before standing and heading for the door. König steps in his direction, sealing the door with his frame and glaring between him and Y/N. 

“Not before we have a nice, civil conversation.” König grips at Alejandro’s shirt, opening his mouth and being quickly cut off by a still present, but quickly leaving Ghost,” civil, König. Hands off.”

Y/N lets fear set in as the two stare each other down with no words to speak. König jerks his balled up fist away and huffs. It was only her that was to blame, and it was only her that could knock any sense in to the man that choked her out. 

“First of all, I’m sorry. Both of you. Alejandro, you’re great. And a… phenomenal kisser. But I’ll be honest and agree that tequila persuades us to do irrational things, especially if it means an excuse to leave a club and sleep in anything that’s not a cot. I’m sorry for even thinking of using you in that way, and hope this doesn’t affect our work together.” Y/N begins sheepishly, taking a moment before even daring to look at the other man in question,” and König, you’re my partner… my battle buddy. Protecting me applies to the field, not when I don’t need protecting. But like you said, we protect each other. So the fact you had the audacity to even THINK of choking me out has me questioning every thing about you.” Y/N cuts off, slightly baffled and even hurt König did it. Her eyes finally meet his, just to watch his head turn away,” if it meant protecting you, it was an action I was willing to take.”

“And how the HELL is knocking me unconscious even close to protecting me?” Y/N raises her voice, stalking closer to the brutish figure that still refused to look her way. Her questions were only met with tense silence and ongoing refusal to look her way.

“Answer me König or so help me,” she’s quickly cut off by Alejandro clamping a hand on her shoulder,” if this no longer involves me, I’ll take my leave. I appreciate the honesty at the least. No bitter feelings as I’d do the same.” 

With Alejandro’s final words, he exits through the slight gap König leaves for him, showing at least some gratuity and promising to lick his jealous wounds in private. He had someone more threatening in that moment about to sink her teeth in to him, whether it be verbally or physically… maybe he deserved it. With the two being the only ones left in the room, the atmosphere changes, anger washes over König and finally alone, he unleashes the pain and confusion of the night.

“You were trying to put yourself in the line of fire and out of protection, for what? Of course dealing with you being unconscious was better than holding your lifeless body, Scheisse Y/N!” König bites, leaning down so their faces were eye level with each other. 

“And in that action you stopped me from reaching my gun! I could’ve helped, instead of lying helpless on the floor for fucks sake! Why did you really do it?” Y/N rises on her tiptoes, trying to gain the upper hand and seem more dominant, but with every word exchanged she only felt smaller, shrinking at the thought of losing the thing that mattered most… the man that might as well be beat down and wounded standing right in front of her.

“Y/N, enough.” König warns, pique anger present at the calmness in his voice, only to be punched in the shoulder of an equally raged Y/N whose anger is shown in completely different ways,” no! I want answers, damnit! The one man I trust to protect me, leaves me lying defenseless on the floor and for what? To get back at me for kissing someone? I’m not your property! Fuck!” Y/N rambles, breath quickening as she punches König with deadly precision due to exceptional training in hand to hand combat. He braced for every blow, wincing every few good punches, but otherwise refusing to react. After a wind knocking gut punch, he grasps her hands in mid air. He quickly maneuvers them above her head, spinning them both around to pin her against the wall,” are you finished?”

“I still got my legs.” Y/N gruffly huffs out, already winded but still managing to kick at him with the same velocity as her punches. His grip causes forgotten glass to dig in to her palms, blood trickling down to her wrist and dripping down at a quickened rate thanks to her tantrum and quickened heart rate. König pins her legs down with his own, and wipes the blood trailing down her arm with his now discarded mask before lowering his hands to her wrists. 

“I was jealous. I’ll be the bigger person and admit that. But incapacitating you had NOTHING to do with it. That was your sheer drunken stupidity that caused that!” König barks back, heaving his chest as his anger is released through yelling. 

“Drunk? You’re being ridiculous right now! Even inebriated I can handle myself!” Y/N yells directly in his face, once again finding herself trying to break free from his hold. 

“But can you handle a gun? Can you handle the death of a teammate? Stop acting like a child before I put you in your place!” König practically foams at the mouth, both of their faces purple from arguing.

“Then do it! Put me in my place and stop being a pussy!” Y/N attempts to head butt his chest, resulting in König hoisting her up by her wrists with his single hand until they were eye level, both sets of eyes beaming red with hate. 

“Put you in your place? Fine.” König places a hand around her neck, for a second, fear instills itself square in Y/N’s chest. Before she could even gasp for air or react, his lips haphazardly crash in to hers, tongue penetrating her lips to slip in to her mouth aggressively. The hand that gripped her wrists slides to her waist, comforting Y/N’s back as his groin presses her against the wall. At first Y/N thought of pushing away with her newly freed hands, but lust out ruled anger and her fingers automatically entwine through his disheveled hair while her legs wrap around his waist, hands tugging and clawing at his head with every kiss. Her own tongue massages against his, exiting only to nibble at his bottom lip and drag it down.

“Thought you were going to put me in my place.” Y/N quips between kisses and strained breath. König squeezes her throat slightly, canines showing through his wicked grin,” and I am. If you want to scream at me, you can at least scream my name, Y/N.”

The seduction rolled off his tongue, and mixed with his accent, it sent a jolt of electricity down Y/N’s spine. He was only in this crazed state in moments of danger, and knowing he had no limits in this mood, Y/N genuinely feared just how far he’d go.

Königs hand slipped between the two, and under the slip of Y/N’s dress to massage perfect circles against her clothed and throbbing clit. A gasp escapes Y/N’s mouth, only to be hushed by König,” that’s not my name, Y/N.”

His hand squeezes tighter, hips grinding against her in the same rhythm as his fingers, pushing them deeper in to the wall while his lips trail down to her neck to leave purple welts just above her breasts. 

“K-König…” Y/N trails off with a slight moan, returned with a hum of approval. König removes the hand around her throat briefly to hike her dress up, giving another squeeze as he settles it back around her throat. His lips return to hers as he moves his lower hand to her ass, keeping her balanced against his waist and moving to the table, lowering Y/N against the cool metal. Y/N pulls at his hair once again, guiding it down lower. He presses a pressured kiss against her soaked panties, tilting his head side to side to tease her throbbing cunt. 

“Tell me who you really wanted pinning you against that club wall Y/N.” König mumbles against her, accentuating every word so it vibrated deep in to her core.

“Y-you, König. I only want you.” Y/N moans out, causing one of his hands to press against her entrance as he smiled, teeth brushing against her panties,” tell me you were just using him.”

“I was!” She clips out.

“You were what?” König questions, nuzzling his face in deeper, tongue now tracing circles opposite of his finger.

“I was just using him t-to leave the club! Fuck, König!” Y/N chokes against the saliva rapidly flushing to her mouth in anticipation of release. König growls deeply with satisfaction, but quickly growing impatient with the barrier that separated them.

“Fuck indeed.” He huffs, sharply inhaling a breath of air and pushing her panties out of the way, tongue immediately massaging Y/N’s clit and fingers instantly soaked upon entering her dripping cunt. Y/N can only recoil at the overstimulation, body tensing and relaxing at every push, pull… and curl of his fingers. 

“König, I’m going to-“ Y/N is revoked of ecstasy as his hand withdraws from her, tongue slowing to a soft lap that slows further in to lazy kisses.

“I don’t think so, Y/N. You wanted to be put in your place, you can start by learning that I’m in charge in this moment. You are going to lay here and obey every word I say, and do what I ask. Are we clear?” König growls lowly, gently massaging at his hardening erection and stripping to his boxers. 

“And if I say no?” She questions lustfully, posturing up to her elbows for a better view.

“Then I guess I’ll have to fuck you until all you can say is yes, or even better, not talk at all.” König smirks, pulling his fully hardened cock out but refusing to move until Y/N becomes antsy,” kiss it.”

She raises an eyebrow, considering on refusing but ultimately follows his order. Leaning from the table, she places a kiss directly on his leaking tip, then moves lower while leaving a trail of kisses to his shaft. Upon making her way back to the tip, she attempts to wrap her lips around, only to be stopped.

“Turn around Y/N.” He unleashes another command, and Y/N obliges, leaning against the cool metal of the table and baring her ass to him.

A daft smack against her ass rings out in the room, receiving a light whimper from Y/N.

“I guess you can follow orders.” König chuckles, Dick pressed directly at her entrance but refusing to push past the barrier. Y/N attempts to push against him, receiving another smack before König harshly rams in to her and hits her wall roughly. She winces at the quick change, trying her best to adjust before he slides out once again, quickly ramming back in. This time, a clipped scream bubbles from Y/N’s throat at the pleasurable pain of taking his length. His hands find steadiness at the back of her head, pulling back roughly from the roots of her hair with every thrust. 

“K-König! Please!” Y/N gasps out in a moan, receiving a guttural growl,” K-König! please, what?”

His mocking of her causes Y/N’s eyes to roll to the back of her head as another moan racks her body. 

“Please, let me cum!” She winces, ecstasy becoming pain as it knots in her stomach.

“Do you think you’ve been put in your place?” He barks in question.

“Y-yes!” Y/N whimpers in a pathetic answer.

“Are you going to call me a pussy again, Y/N?” König replies with a tinge of anger, quickening his pace and hitting even deeper.

“No!” She sputters out, receiving another smack against her already reddening ass,” don’t lie to me, Y/N. I’ll choke you out again if I have to.”

His hand snakes away from her hair, trailing down to her throat and locking tightly to emphasize his threat. The world vibrates in and out of focus, black splotches forming in Y/N’s vision as she screams, the heaviest orgasm tearing through her,” I-I’m not! I’m c-cu-“ 

Another vicious moan rips at her throat before she can even finish, the feeling of relief so strong it makes her nauseous, but König only quickens his pace and prolongs the ache in her core. 

“What’s the matter, Y/N? Are your words bigger than your actions? Bit off more than you could chew?” His words become strained, showing his own bluff as the rest of his movements become sloppy and even more erratic. 

“Seems like you’re all talk too, big guy.” Y/N pushes at him, a laugh quickly dying off as his strokes become vicious once again.  

“You ever, even look at someone again the way you did Alejandro, you’ll only be able to think of me fucking you to a senseless pulp.” König growls in finality, giving a final heave before pulling out and slamming his back against the table next to her after finishing. Between gasps for air, Y/N turns to look at the disheveled man beside her who was particularly entertained by the ceiling. His hooded eyes drag slowly to her own, toothy smirk quickly following,” if that didn’t put you in your place, maybe water boarding will do the trick.”

“König, no!” Y/N smack his chest lightly, taking the time to slide her dress back in to place and grab his hand to examine every cut and scar that molded intricately in to him. 

“Don’t pay too close attention to what defines a monster dear Y/N.” He grumbles, pulling his hand away to rest it on his still heaving chest. She only threads her fingers in to his tightly before replying,” if you’re a monster, I’m only worse. Because I’m dumb enough to believe we could ever find love in each other. You’re too good for me, König.”

“Or we’re too horrible for each other. Like gasoline and an unruly fire.” He corrects her, circling his large thumb in the crook of her palm. 

“So what do we do?” Y/N ponders, draping her leg over his torso and curling in to him.

“I suppose we become a blazing fire, burning hot and unruly. It’s hard to control a fire, and I was always told sometimes it’s good to just let it burn.” He answers, pulling Y/N on top of him and cradling her in his arms so tightly in fear that if he let her go, she’d never return. Her resting head rises to meet his eyes once again,” then we’ll burn together.”

[rubyreduji]

at the top — bsk

summary: it’s always said that it’s lonely at the top, you just didn’t believe it

tags: angst, fluff, idolverse, can be read as platonic or romantic wc: 2.8k an: this is very y/n centric but uhhh i hope its still enjoyable (y/n is basically IU in this universe if we wanna talk about popularity and success)

The flashing lights almost burn against your skin as a brigade of cameras relentlessly attack you from all sides. You stand still, a painful wide smile plastered onto your face just like you were trained to do all those years ago. You can hear voices shouting out to you, but they just sound like ringing in your ears.

After what feels like an eternity of being blinded you’re ushered into the event hall where the actual ceremony will be taking place. You can’t relax yet, though. The dress you’ve been forced into fits you uncomfortably and has been irritating you since the moment you put it on, but you can’t let it show as you shake hands with all the necessary people and exchange niceties. You nod along to whatever they’re saying and hope you don’t look too dead in the eyes as you do. 

“Y/N-ah, it’s good to see you again.” Your brain finally releases you from its stupor to turn towards the familiar voice.

It’s a coping tactic you developed years ago, when you were too young to really deal with all of the fame and networking and diplomacy. You call it your Professionalism Haze where you just block out as much as you can while still maintaining a level of propriety. As you got older you never did lose the habit. If anything it’s probably the only thing getting you through these types of events without going mad.

“Hyunae-unnie,” you bow slightly to the woman who has approached you. Hyunae is one of the people in the industry who you wholeheartedly enjoy the company of. You two did your training together as it was believed you two would debut in the same group before it was decided you would both debut as solo artists instead.

“Congratulations on your recent comeback, and your many nominations tonight.” If it was any other artist speaking to you, you might believe there was malice or envy behind the words, but you know Hyunae is being completely sincere.

“Thank you. I send you good regards towards your own comeback as well.” You know your words don’t mean much as Hyunae’s comeback was not nearly as successful as yours, but you still hope to convey how proud you are of both of your successes, no matter how big or small.

You hear a loud commotion coming from the entrance of the building and you glance over to see SEVENTEEN entering the venue. The loud boys all move further into the venues, greeting people as they do. 

You stare at them as they move as a unit. Their crisp suit jackets and styled hair and meticulously picked jewelry. Despite the gender difference between you two, you know that just as much time was put into making them presentable as it was with you. You wonder if their shoes pinch their feet the way yours do to you.

The group of thirteen men are up for a couple awards themselves tonight. You wouldn’t call yourself a fan of them, but you are well versed in their status. They interest you to say the least. You’ve never met another K-Pop idol like them individually, let alone a whole group of them.

Your eyes land on Boo Seungkwan. You find him the most interesting out of the whole group with his big personality and outstanding vocal talents. His hair is styled out of his face, slightly pushed back to change up his normal style. He’s dressed in a suit like the rest of his group. His suit is a navy color that is styled with a silky white under shirt. He has more necklaces than you do adorning his neck and like always, his signature smile graces his face.

The lights in the room are on the dimmer side, but he still shines, standing out from the rest of the crowd. One of his members says something to him and you can hear him laugh even from across the room. You stare at the way his face lights up even more, something you didn’t know was possible.

You study his body movements and the way he interacts with everyone around him. You see him smile at multiple people, but that’s not a surprise. Seungkwan is very popular. He’s very open with his body language and how he carries himself, something you’re not sure if you emulate properly.

You ponder how Seungkwan is objectively attractive, but to you he’s also subjectively attractive with his smooth skin and high cheekbones and bright eyes.

“Y/N?” Your attention is pulled back to your unnie and you apologize for spacing off. She brushes it off, far too well-versed in similar actions herself.

“Excuse me, I think I should go find my seat before the ceremony starts.” You bow once more to Hyunae before heading off in the general direction of where your manager told you your seat is. It doesn’t take you long to find it and you sit down in your chair, the first one at the table.

“Y/N!” You look up to see three men approaching you. One of them being the man you are guilty of staring at a few moments ago.

You stand and bow to them. “Hoshi-ssi, Dokyeom-ssi, Seungkwan-ssi.”

“Congratulations on another successful year,” Hoshi tells you. You know he’s not just referencing your recent comeback but all of the projects you’ve done within the past year including the first leg of your tour, premiering in a movie, the release a new fashion line, and several record-breaking comebacks.

“Ah, Y/N-noona you’re so cool,” DK says. “You do so much, it’s amazing that you’re still standing.”

“Yah, don’t say stuff like that!” Seungkwan smacks at DK’s arm. “Your diligence is very commendable Y/N-noona.”

“Thank you, though the work SEVENTEEN does is just as exemplary as mine.” It’s no secret how hard the boys work and how they’re constantly doing something whether it’s promotions, comebacks, variety shows, and anything of the like.

“Yah, you three! Stop walking off!” You turn your head to see S.Coups approaching. “I apologize for any troubles my members may have given you.” S.Coups bows to you. “Come on you guys.” Before you can even respond to S.Coups, the four men are walking off to their own table.

It doesn’t take long for things to start to settle down as the guests start to find their tables. You’re sitting at a table with a couple more solo artists. They all talk to one another but nobody spares you much of a glance. Or maybe it’s you who isn’t paying them any attention. It doesn’t matter either.

The ceremony starts and you sit there and stare at the shoes of everyone who walks on stage because the lights are shining too bright to look at their faces. You go through all the normal motions of what you’re supposed to. Clap when someone gets introduced, laugh when they make a joke, smile when something nice is said.

It’s not until the awards start that you force yourself to listen, and even then you start to space out at times. You’re nominated for four categories tonight. You’ll most likely win all four of them. You know you should be appreciative, but it all feels meaningless to you.

“This year’s Top Solo Female Idol is…L/N Y/N!”

You hear your voice called over the surround system and you automatically stand and smile, waving at where the cameras are placed. Your feet start to move to the stage before you can tell them to and then all of a sudden you’re standing on the stage, staring out at the crowd.

Your eyes try to focus on something in the audience. This time it just happens to be the arrangement of blue flowers sitting on a table near the back. 

For once you’re thankful for all of the pre-written speeches that were shoved down your throat a week ago as you recite it like it’s the most natural thing to you. You make a note to send a thank you basket to your PR manager.

You finish your speech and go back to your seat. You feel awkward sitting at the table with your award placed in front of you. The night is only going to get worse. More speeches, more smiling, more standing. Shake this hand and greet this person and say these words and always make sure your dress isn’t bunched up. You feel like a puppet.

You do end up winning all of the awards you were nominated for and you have to go to a press conference afterward to show your gratitude for all of the support.

You don’t miss the looks the other idols shoot you. You don’t have to interpret what they mean. It’s been the same since your first successful album as a rookie. None of them believed in you and now that you’re levels above them they don’t want to talk to you. You don’t blame them.

At the end of the night you’re finally loaded into your car and you slip your shoes off of your feet in the car. You’re in your apartment for about two seconds before you unzip your dress and let it fall to the ground before moving to your room to change into something comfortable.

You undo your hair and clean off your makeup before sliding on a mask and slipping your hood over your head. You walk down the block to the convenience store on the corner and browse the sodas and chips before making a selection. You pay for your treats and are thankful the cashier doesn’t recognize you. It’s not that too hard to believe though. Sometimes you can’t even recognize yourself without your makeup.

A deep sigh escapes your mouth as you start to walk back home. Tonight should be one of the happiest nights for you, but here you are, alone, buying junk food from the convenience store, feeling miserable. You are grateful for your job, you really are, but it’s all so…exhausting.

Your feet still hurt from wearing your heels for so long so you find a bench to sit on and rest your feet for a moment. As you sit down everything starts to crash down on you. You place your head in your hands and start to silently cry.

You don’t know how long you’ve been there when you hear a voice address you. “Excuse me have you- oh, are you okay?” You look up to see a familiar face. “Y/N?”

You quickly wipe away your tears and straighten up though you know that Seungkwan has already seen it all. “I- I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what? Are you okay? What are you doing out here all alone? Why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry that you have to see me like this,” you say to Seungkwan. You’re embarrassed if you’re being honest. Out of everyone in the world to find you, it has to be Seungkwan. 

He’s changed into street clothes and even through your distress you note how nice he looks. There’s always been something satisfying to you about idols in normal clothing. Maybe it’s because it makes them look like actual people.

“What are you doing here? It’s late and you’re all alone. Are you not celebrating your wins?”

“I…don’t have anyone to celebrate with,” you admit. “I don’t have many friends in the industry.”

“Well, you have me! We’re friends.” Seungkwan sits down on the bench next to you. 

“Why are you here?” You change the subject.

“Ah, SEVENTEEN is celebrating our win at a bar nearby. I just needed a walk to clear my head for a moment,” Seungkwan explains. “Now, why are you crying on the street alone?”

You never knew if Seungkwan is as nice as he seems on camera, but apparently he is and it’s somehow making everything worse. You’re not sure if you want to just dump all of your problems on him at 1am on a random street right after crying when he should be celebrating with his group, but it’s not like you have anyone else to tell.

“I’m not sure what I’m even doing,” you finally say. “I’ve dreamed of this being my life since I was little, and now that I have it I feel…lost.”

“Lost?”

“I don’t know who I am anymore. I live my life day in and day out doing more or less the same thing, it’s like I’m on autopilot. This whole night I felt just like a doll, just something to play with and control. It’s exhausting.”

“You need to take time to take care of yourself. You’re going to burn yourself out if you keep doing all of the things you are now. You should spend time with friends or take a vacation,” Seungkwan says.

You laugh a bit incredulously. “Take a vacation? My manager would kill me. The next leg of my tour starts in two weeks and I’m filming ad collabs and working on my next album in the meantime,” you tell the other idol. You hope he understands a bit. “As for the friend one…I don’t have friends. Everyone is either too intimidated or too resentful to spend time with me. I’m one of the most successful idols in Korea, and I can’t even get someone to spend time with me.”

“Don’t say that. I’m your friend. I’m spending time with you right now, aren’t I?”

“Only because you found me crying alone. It’s pathetic I know. The media would have a field day with this if they saw me now.” 

“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to spend time with you in other situations. Honestly, all of SEVENTEEN would like to be your friend. You deserve to have people who care for you.” The words hit harder than you’re expecting and you feel your eyes start to well up with tears again. “Our jobs aren’t easy, but you’re is even harder than mine. You are so strong to do as much as you do, and all alone. I wouldn’t be able to do what I do without my members for support, and you deserve support as well.”

“Thank you, Seungkwan-ssi.” Your voice is soft, afraid that if you speak louder you might start sobbing.

“I think we can drop formalities,” Seungkwan says. “We’re friends now, remember.” You just nod.

It’s quiet between you two for a moment before you speak up. “Do you ever…wish your life was different? That you weren’t an idol?”

“This job is not for the weak of heart,” Seungkwan starts, “and sometimes it is hard, but I wouldn’t change a thing. Why? Do you…not want to be an idol anymore?”

“I’m not sure.” You take a moment to choose your words carefully. “I’m not happy. I love my fans and I love making everyone proud, but I don’t know if I’m being true to myself anymore.”

Seungkwan thinks over what you just said before responding slowly. “If you’re not happy anymore, then why do you keep doing it?”

“I’m too far in. I can’t be anyone else after the image I’ve built up. I don’t hate the job, I just…don’t feel anything anymore.”

“You should always choose yourself before anything else. I understand your feeling of obligation to this industry though. How about this? You come to me when you need support and I’ll be here for you and if you still feel like this later down the road, you have to promise me you’ll take a step back. You don’t have to quit, not yet, just take a break.”

You’ve truly never met someone like Boo Seungkwan. You can’t help but feel fondness towards him at this moment. No one has ever looked out for you the way Seungkwan is doing right now, and even just from this small conversation you’re starting to feel better. Maybe he is on to something with this support system he’s talking about.

“Okay Boo Seungkwan,” you say. “I think you might have yourself a deal.”

“Good. When your tour is done, I’ll show you what it’s like to spend time with a friend. We’ll do all of the funnest things I can think of and you’ll be able to relax. In the meantime, tell your manager to lessen your workload before you completely crash, or I’ll hunt him down and do it myself.” Seungkwan’s voice is dead serious and you know he’s not kidding. 

“Thank you Seungkwan-ah, I don’t know how to repay you.”

“You don’t need to. That’s what friends are for.” And for the first time this whole night you crack genuine smile. 

Seungkwan then stands. “Come on.” He holds his hand out for you to stand as well. “Join me and my members for tonight. You deserve to be celebrated as well.”

You tentatively take Seungkwan’s hand and he helps pull you to your feet before leading you back towards where his group is residing and you secretly smile to yourself about how things are already starting to look up.

taglist: @pandorashbox @leejihoonownsmyheart @soonhoonietrash @chaimi-yuta @embrace-themagic @kayleeshinee @coupsgyus @joonsytip @heyxxitsxxtay @synthetickitsune @chwecardcaptor @candidupped @dreamhannies @d0nghyck @niyizh @baldi-2 @wolfgurl2600-blog @enhacolor @noniestars @heavenly-mobo @sunnyteume @debsworld23 @m1nghaos @just-here-to-read-01 @blxckswxnxge @17kwans @jeanjacketjesus @x-veex @namjoonbaby @ovai @belladaises @todorokiskitten @jihoonliker @valentxi @raevyng @im-gemmy @prpldahy

join my taglist: here!

[thedroloisms]

like ultimately speaking i don't even think that public discussions into the identity of shubble's ex are that necessary. at a certain point i think it's up to personal discretion, especially in terms of different platforms - for example, having a certain amount of discretion when it comes to spaces where it's more likely for shubble to see. that being said, at a certain point, it was obvious that the calls to Not Speculate, to Not Bring Up Him why are you saying his name he doesn't have to do with this i'm going to wait until shubble makes a statement if she wanted us to know then she'd say his name :) were doing a shit ton more harm than good?

like, shubble wasn't making an accusation. why people were flat out expecting her to say more in itself is beyond me. at the end of the day, people's willingness to continue supporting a content creator is a personal decision - shelby certainly wasn't trying to frame her stream as an allegation with proof. it was an ancedote about a personal experience with relevant details. along that same note, taking up pitchforks and banging on the door of the person in question is ??? again, the stream was hardly framed as an accusation & proof, and that was on purpose. whether or not one believes that he deserves a platform, with the great pains that shelby has taken in order to keep themselves from directly pointing at any specific person and making a direct accusation, brigading in their name in ways meant to directly attack the person in question feels...distasteful, literally for her sake.

like, any fan is capable and has the right to withdraw their support at any time, and giving other people reasons to withdraw their support isn't wrong either, as stating one's opinion is obviously perfectly fine. but uhhhh direct attacks without an explicit accusation being made are a bit of a different story.

but back to the first point, watching people in real time go Oh Don't Bring Up [Name] Sweaty :) was ???? like, it's impossible to go without acknowledging that if it wasn't him, that the amount of coincidences between her ex and the cc would be EXTREMELY high. "there's millions of ccs in england" and shubble was spending hours a day and in the apartment of every single one of them??? like be fucking fr??? this isn't even a case of it's a 50/50 between him and some other guy just based on the number of coincidences as described by shelby's one (1) stream alone, not to mention the corroborating evidence of things like the year's worth of content they produced with each other in recent years. and like, the literal album. which meant that even with the extremely likely possibility of him being the person, people were fucking tripping over themselves to scream NOT TO SPECULATE !!! DONT SAY IT'S [NAME] !!! to the point where when i clicked on the trending tab, tweets along those lines made up at least half if not more of the results. tweets she clearly saw, based on statements by her and her mods. like, look, even if the calls not to speculate came from a place of good intentions, they were all getting swallowed up by the noise of people explicitly telling other people Out Loud not to bring up the possibility of the man who was very likely the person she was talking about as being her ex - all while claiming to speak in her name #believevictims [words they continue to put in her mouth].

like, yeah, when you're going DONT TALK ABOUT HIM!!!!! this totally looks like you care about her and her story and not like a silencing tactic.

[orange-peony]

Thanks for tagging me @artsyunderstudy!

I've been working on my fic for the @carryon-reverse-bang and I'm almost done with the last chapter. Here's a snippet from chapter 2:

“My flat always felt so empty,” he told me one evening last week. I was busy doing the washing up, and he was sitting at the kitchen table, peeling an orange. “I mean, not that I had a lot of stuff, but—it’s not about the things you have, if you know what I mean. It just felt…empty.”

“Hm,” I hummed, turning around to watch the way his eyebrows creased, as if he was trying to say something difficult.

“I guess I’ve never learnt what a real home felt like,” he added softly, his voice hesitant while his fingers shook a little. The orange peel gathered on the plate, and Simon kept on working on the fruit, stripping it of all the white bits until it looked almost naked. “It was hard to make a home for myself, but…”

“But?” I prompted after a long moment of silence.

“But this—” he said, pointing at the kitchen around us, at Viola, dozing on her favourite spot by the radiator. At me. “This feels like home.”

He said it in a tiny voice, as if he was terrified that I could take it away from him.

“Good,” I said, instead, my voice solid and warm. There was no way he couldn’t see the love in my eyes, spilling from every word that escaped my mouth. “I want you to have it.”

“Why?” he asked after a while, looking confused with his nose scrunched up and his freckled face so open in his surprise.

“Because you deserve a place to call home,” I simply replied.

Tagging (apologies if you've already done it): @pato-roldnart, @bubble-gumhead, @avenueofesc, @martsonmars, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @rimeswithpurple , @thewholelemon , @letraspal , @crazybutgood , @okay-sky , @littlewinnow , @fatalfangirl , @cutestkilla , @j-nipper-95 , @hushed-chorus , @facewithoutheart , @imagineacoolusername , @blackberrysummerblog , @tea-brigade , @ivelovedhimthroughworse , @ebbpettier , @captain-aralias , @alexalexinii , @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @regretfulcorrine, @larkral and anyone who fancies sharing their WIPs.

[heloflor]

Unpopular opinion: The ending of Mario Odyssey is amazing and one of the best Mario games endings.

First off, it’s hilarious. Between Mario being pushed out of the way, Peach low-key considering Bowser when he gives her flowers, Mario and Bowser fighting like idiots, their faces when Peach rejects them, Mario comforting Bowser, Peach trolling Mario with the Odyssey, Cappy and Tiara just watching the chaos unfold, all while there’s a music playing that doesn’t even sound like a Mario song... All of it is just so good!

Second, about the way Mario acts, it actually makes sense. Something random I noticed a while ago is that, when Mario and Bowser are shouldering each other, Bowser barely looks at Mario and remains focused on Peach, while Mario looks more pissed and glaces at him more than once. And in general, that’s the whole vibe of this scene. Bowser is still genuinely trying to court Peach, while Mario is instead fully focused on his rivalry with Bowser, completely forgetting to consider Peach’s feelings as a result. It was definitely a shitty move from Mario, but he’s not doing it to impress Peach, he’s doing it to one-up Bowser.

On that note, this scene is great because it helps in giving the headcanon of this game taking place very early on in the Mario timeline (or is that just me?), I’m talking a year and a half into Mario and Luigi being in this world. As a result, you could see Mario being a bit too caught up into the fantasy of being the hero saving the princess, and this game would give him a reality check. You could also imagine that, once they get back to the Mushroom Kingdom, he and Peach have a talk, basically starting their friendship all over again but this time on better terms, with Mario having no expectations of a romance and Peach being more open to him about who she is as a person rather than keeping up her royal appearances around him.

Third, I love that Peach is allowed to be angry at the situation. She has every right to say no. She doesn’t owe Mario a romantic relationship, especially when he’s acting exactly like her captor does. I especially like how we see her take a breath when she gets on the Odyssey before bringing her smile again. It shows that she’s still angry but willing to put it on the side for now.

This scene also shows what I talked about in previous posts with Peach being sassy in a playful way. It’s obvious she has no intentions of leaving Mario behind, but also she’s mad at him so she only calls for him after starting the Odyssey, forcing Mario to run and jump to get on. And she does it all with her usual smile, showing even more that it’s playful rather than petty.

Oh and for those worried about Bowser “being left behind”, he literally came to the Moon by airship, airship he spent the whole game in and that Mario never destroys in any way. He’ll be fine. I’ll be more concerned for all the kidnapped guests who have no way home and were inside the church when shit went down. Speaking of which, are the guests the characters looking at the Earth at the end? No because that also implies they don’t really have a way home unless the Toad Brigade helps them. Or the taxi.

[forest-falcon]

WIP Wednesday

Adding to my Thunderbirds fic with OC Lieutenant Tamara Fielding & Jonesy (both firefighters who work with Chief McCready). The fic is written completely out of order (my brain refuses to be anything but chaotic!)

💙👨‍🚒👩‍🚒🚀☔

Tam set her coffee down on the countertop of the front desk and dragged an office chair towards her.

God she hated paperwork, especially during the winter months. Maybe she could shred the whole pile...create a fire in the foyer - anything to thaw out her frozen hands. Then again, arson, as a rule, was somewhat frowned upon within the firefighting community. Killjoys.

Tam cradled the quickly cooling coffee, attempting to leech the remaining heat from it. 

"You gonna drink that or buy it dinner?"

"Oh I'd take it to bed with me if I could, but I've somehow gotta make your numbers look good so Chief McCready doesn't fire your ass."

"Sounds like an easy day to me. I am, after all, Jonesy... the living legend."

Tam arched a brow as he flexed 

"Hmmm...those weren't the words I was thinking of."

"Well I'm not sure you can use ruggedly handsome in a report?"  

Tam took a sip of her coffee.

"I've known cats with smaller egos than yours."

Jonesy grinned. 

"So why's Chief got you hooled up here anyway? I miss my partner in crime. The probie ain't bad, but I want my work wife back."

Tam took an elongated slurp of her now-iced-latte, before the phone mercifully rang.

"Hold up, I've gotta take this."

Jonesy gave a mock salute, winked, then headed in the general direction of the lockers.

"London Fire Brigade"

"Guess who?"

"Scott?"

"Guilty as charged!"

"How...err...how are you? Sorry, I wasn't expecting it to be you. Is everything okay, I mean, is there a situation we can assist with?"

"Oh! No, it's just a friendly call. I've asked EOS and John to cover any incoming calls to the station  while we chat."

"That's...erm...thanks?"

"So! In answer to your earlier question - I'm well. Bored as hell, stuck doing paperwork, but you know what they say...no rest for the wicked!"

"I'm not sure anyone in your family really fits that description."

"Honestly? Even after Gordon switched the letters  around on your keyboard?"

"That was him?"

"Like I said, wicked."

There was a brief pause.

"How's everyone else? I don't think I managed to catch Virgil before I left."

"Ah yes. Tyre factory fire in Madrid. To be fair, he's not one for goodbyes. But yes - the rest of the family's well. Kayo, I think, is missing the female company already as she's being proper ornery today. I think Alan's gonna have to game standing up as she kicked his arse good n proper sparring this morning."

Tam chuckled despite herself. 

"Poor Alan." 

"Anyway, just thought I'd drop you a line to see how life back at the station was going?"

"Oh. Well...s'been okay. Chief McCready has me on desk duty today thanks to the whole surfboard incident. Told her my head was fine, but, yeah. Here I am checking fire alarms, fitting car seats and making coffee. Life in the fast lane..."

"Hey, don't knock it. I've spent the day crunching numbers."

"You love numbers."

"Yeah, not these numbers though. Hey! We could swap? You do my Tracy Industries calcs and I'll brew the coffees?"

"Sure, I mean, only if I get to work in your office? The London drizzle and concrete doesn't quite stand up to your sea view."

"Deal! I'll bring One around as soon as I can suit up!"

"Oh, and I should warn you...don't drink the coffee. It's the cheapest instant sh*t they could find...and it's decaf."

"Ah now, that may be a deal-breaker you see..."

"Damnit"

"Yeah. Can't be pulling all night rescues on weak wanna-be-coffee."

"You wouldn't cut it here then Commander...better stick to your paperwork."

"Touché! Anyway...I better head off and let you get back to it. It was nice hearing your voice. Maybe we can grab lunch whenever I'm next in London?"

"I'd like that."

"Great, I'll get John to locate the nearest McDonald's for us."

There was a click as Scott hung up.

Tam chuckled.

"Jackass."

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts (Act One: Chapter Eighteen)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N:

While I did try and do my research, I just want to remind you all that I know fuck all about the military lmaoooo

Also, fun fact; in the UK the word fanny doesn't mean ass like it does in the US. It actually means female genitals lolololol

Simon was distracted and it made guilt bloom in his stomach. Lottie had planned a nice day out for them for Bonfire Night and here he was, a million miles away in his head. He had been since the day before when his Commanding Officer had called him into the office and broke the news. He’d been excited at first, a deep sense of pride filling him so much he thought he might explode. He’d wanted this for so long and now it was within reach, his dreams finally able to become a reality. But then he’d thought about Charlotte, thought about what it meant for their relationship, thought about how it would change things, thought about how this might be too much for her and she might say fuck it and walk away. 

All of his excitement got sucked right out of him and he’d been stuck in his head since the day before, worry tearing him apart from the inside out at how to break the news. And she’d noticed something was off with him, of course she did. She noticed how he was more withdrawn, more distant and when he’d given her lies as she asked if he was okay, she’d given up with words and settled for just being close to him, trying to show him she cared and she was there for him and it made him feel like a bastard. 

They were walking hand in hand, Lottie pressed against his side as they made their way through Platt Fields park where the bonfire was. She’d asked him if he’d ever been to a firework display and he’d told her hadn't been to a proper one but back in Gorton some of the kids would light a bonfire at the fields out back. He and Tommy would sneak over to watch it as they let some fireworks off but it always ended with the fire brigade being called and sometimes even the police. She hadn't ever been to one either and she thought it would be nice for them to go. But now he was here and he couldn't smile to save his life and he knew he was casting a dark and gloomy cloud over something she thought was special and he hated it. 

He knew he’d have to tell her about it when they got back, he knew he couldn't last another day like this keeping it from her. It made him feel sick, not knowing how she’d react and even just knowing things would change even if she was okay with it. It almost felt like he had to sacrifice in order to get what he’d wanted for the longest time and it was an uncomfortable feeling. For so long now he’d been in a comfortable part of his life where everything seemed to be going great and he wished he could have what he wanted without things changing with them. 

They'd watched the firework display silently, Charlotte glancing at him worriedly every few minutes and making his guilt increase. Everyone else was in high spirits, kids running around yelling ‘remember, remember the fifth of November’, everyone just enjoying themselves. Once it was over, they stayed around the bonfire for a little while longer before she turned to him.

“Let's go home,” she gave him a soft smile but he saw right through it. She was worried about him but she was also disappointed that her planned day didn't go as she wanted it to. He really wished his CO had given him the news after Bonfire Night instead. 

“Alright, love,” he murmured, getting tugged along by his hand and she led him out of the park. 

The wait for the bus was rather uncomfortable. He knew she was dying to ask him what was up with him again but she didn't want to push it since it was obvious he didn't want to talk about it. He was trying to will some confidence within himself for when they got back. He needed to rip it off like a fucking plaster and just tell her so he knew how it would all go. It was no good ruminating in his mind, thinking over every possibility of how the conversation would go. 

When they got back to theirs, they shrugged off their coats and hung them up and he could feel her eyes burning into him before she meandered off to the kitchen. He heard the kettle boil and he blew out a deep breath, rolling his shoulders before he walked over to the couch and sat down heavily on it. She came back with two steaming cups and settled them on the coffee table and he hated how she hovered uncertainly like she wasn't sure if he even wanted her around him.

“Come here, love. There's somethin’ I need to talk to you about,” he uttered, trying to keep the nerves out of his tone but failing. This has been his plan for years, the goal he'd set his sights on long ago. Now he was there, now it was in reach and he wanted to share that with her despite his nerves. He wanted to be happy about it.

“That sounds… ominous,” she murmured with a frown, anxiously twisting her fingers in front of her. 

He could see her brain was probably going through every bad thing he could be about to tell her, no doubt settling on some bullshit about him leaving her. As if he ever would. So he held his hand out to her, looking at her with warm and expectant eyes that made her relax a little. She padded over, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her to sit in his lap. She watched him warily and he settled his hands on her hips, squeezing them affectionately.

“I uh… I'm gonna be trying out for the SAS,” he admitted. 

He knew it would be tough going and yet he knew he'd fucking thrive there. He'd known for a long while that was where he wanted to end up but he didn't have someone else to think about then. Now he had a girlfriend to think about, things would change. He'd be gone for training for a while, his base would be different and a lot further away. Ultimately, he knew it would mean less time with her, a fact that had bothered him deeply since the day before after his Commanding Officer put his paperwork through for him. He was eligible now to try out, had his CO’s blessing and approval, had his fucking backing. But he'd been tying himself in knots over it because of how it would change things with them. 

It had been a hard choice for him to settle on, despite it being his dream for a while, because he didn't want to hurt her, didn't want to upset her, didn't want the relationship to fall apart with more distance and time between them. He wanted this though, he really fucking wanted this and it felt like his entire military career had been building up to this moment for him. He'd try and convince her and if she still wasn't happy about it, then he'd give it all up. Of course he would, he'd give up anything if she asked him to. But he would plead his case first because he did genuinely want this. And even though it would be rough going with all the changes, he knew they could make it work. He'd always make it work when it came to her. 

“Isn't that where they simulate torture?!” She asked mortified, brows pinching together. He wondered how the fuck she knew that, what she'd been reading. He was well aware of RTI training and it wasn’t something he was exactly looking forward to but he’d put in the fucking work because he was good at what he did.

“Yeah… it is,” he sighed, not wanting to lie to her.

“Simon…” She started, a panicked edge to her tone that softened his hard lump of a heart.

“I'll be fine, love, they're not gonna kill me. It's just to make sure you can take it, to weed out the weak ones. And I'm anythin' but weak,” he replied firmly, raising a brow at her. 

He knew it wasn't that she thought he was weak, knew it wasn't that she didn't believe in him. It was just the idea of him going through something horrible like that cut her bleeding gold heart in half. She cared about him, soft hearted sweetheart she was, and she didn't like the idea of him being hurt in any way. He could see she wanted to protest, wanted to confess her true feelings on the matter as her blue eyes swirled like twin stormy seas. She didn't though. She schooled her face, eyes glued to his chest where she toyed with the fabric of his t-shirt. 

“And you're sure?” She asked him, dragging her eyes to his face. The heaviness that looked back at him weighed him down as he nodded.

“I'm sure. Been wantin’ this for years,” he confessed but it felt like it left a bad taste in his mouth, saw the look that rapidly passed across her face. 

He hadn't meant to say it the way it came out but he knew his words would burrow deep in her insecure brain. Knew she realised he'd wanted this since before she was even in his miserable life and he knew she wouldn't protest it now. Felt a bit like manipulation to him despite that it hadn't been intended. Knowing she was soft for him, weak like he was for her. Knowing that she cared enough to not want to take his dreams away. But he didn't like the idea of his words twisting her arm like that, didn't like the idea of her once again putting others first and herself last ‘cause she thought that was how it should be. 

“If you really don't want me to, then I won't. You'll always come first, Charlotte, you need to know that,” he insisted sincerely and he meant every word of it. Fuck, if she told him to leave the army full stop and get a fucking office job like a monkey in a suit he'd do it for her. She looked away from him, licking her lower lip as she shook her head.

“You know I’d never ask you to do that,” she started with a frown and he did know but he still needed her to know. “How… how will it affect us?” she asked him carefully, still unable to look at him and he hated the wall it felt like she’d put up. He massaged her hips, watching her sadly as he tried to summon the words.

“Honestly, I dunno yet. I’ll have to leave for selection which takes about five weeks but then… if I’m selected… I’ll have to go through a lot of trainin’... I’ll be gone for most of the year,” he admitted and her face crumpled as she looked down quickly, her hands balling into fists with his shirt. She let out a shaky breath and it felt like someone had lodged a stone the size of his fist in his throat seeing her this way.

“Where will your new base be?” she asked in a whisper and he frowned, his heart thudding dully against his ribs.

“Herefordshire,” he answered. It was just over two hours away and while it didn't seem like much it still meant less time with her. If he stayed here and not on base then he’d have to get up much earlier to get there and he’d be home two hours late every night. It would be worth it though, he knew it would. He hadn't been away from her properly since his deployment back at the start of their relationship and he was glad that even though he’d be away longer, she at least had Tommy, Beth and his mum this time.

“When will you be going?” she asked him, eyes glued to his chest.

“January 7th,” he murmured and she nodded, taking a few deep breaths. 

“I… I won’t be able to contact you there, will I?” she asked knowingly and a deep ache formed in his chest at her words. When he'd released that himself it had been a hard pill to swallow but the SAS was highly classified which meant there would be no contact at all, that also went for any deployments he went on. 

“No, love,” he lamented. He didn't know what else to say, didn't know how to make this better for her as she sat there looking like she was trying to sort through her thoughts and feelings. He knew it was a lot to take in, a lot to spring on her, especially when it meant he’d be gone in only a couple of months. She looked so sad and it broke his heart. 

She didn't say anything more, just moved to lay her head on his shoulder and while his heart was heavy, he was glad for the closeness. He wrapped his arms around her, a hand cradling her head and playing with her soft hair. The quietness wasn't pleasant and it felt like it was suffocating him. After a long while, she seemed to have gathered herself enough as she sat up once again, looking at him now. A shot of fear ricocheted through him, suddenly panicked she was about to say she was leaving him.

“I love you,” she murmured softly and instantly eased his worries. He melted, dark eyes gazing up at her affectionately as he gave her a sad smile and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I love you too, more than I could put into words,” he confessed. Relief flooded him when she smiled, as if he’d just witnessed one of the seven wonders of the world. 

“I’m… I’m upset… just because I worry about you and I'll miss you. But… I am proud of you. I don't really know what you have to do to even go for this but I know it isn't easy. I know you’ll pass it all with flying colours,” she said sincerely, her hands smoothing up his chest. 

Her words made his throat clog up, a warm emotion settling deep into his bones. Her approval, her belief in him, it was something he hadn't even known he’d craved from her, yet having it now meant more than his own CO telling him he knew he’d pass. He smiled at her, eyes shining with emotion as he cupped her cheek, watching as she leaned into his touch. 

“I know you’d never ask, but I’d give up everythin’ for you, Lottie and I hope you know that. You… You’re the most important person in my life and there isn’t a fuckin’ thing I wouldn’t do if you asked me to,” he blurted and her eyes widened a fraction, a pretty pink blush dusting her cheeks. 

“I hope you know that I feel the same,” she uttered softly and deep down he did know it because she was allowing him to go off chasing his dream even though it meant he’d be gone for almost a year with no contact. 

He gripped her jaw, pulling her down for a slow and gentle kiss. He tried to put all of his feelings into the kiss, all his love, his appreciation, his gratitude. She kissed him back, melting into him and he soaked her up like a greedy sponge. He had no idea how he was going to cope so long without her but then again, he’d be going through hell so his mind would be pretty preoccupied. 

A week passed by in a blink and at first, it had felt a little off. She tried her best to seem normal, act happy for him, but he could tell it was still playing over in her mind. He’d started to worry things wouldn't ever go back to normal, that he’d somehow broken the relationship and he didn't know how to fix it. Luckily though, as the week wore on, things started settling back to normal and he figured maybe she just needed time to wrap her head around it. Hell, he didn't think he’d fully wrapped his head around it yet and maybe he wouldn't until the day he was fucking off for almost a year, but he tried not to think about that. 

They’d had a pretty normal Friday night. He’d met her at her work, they’d gone home together and they cooked tea together, this time some cheeseburgers. After that, they’d snuggled up and watched some shitty TV and then went off to bed, knackered from a full day's work. It was such a simple routine yet it became one he craved. It was 2.56 am when his phone started ringing and he sat up like a shot, eyes darting around for a moment before he reached over and grabbed it from the bedside cupboard. Tommy’s name flashed on the screen and a sudden swell of dread smacked him in the face. There was no reason for his brother to call at his time, not unless something bad happened. What if something happened to mum?

“What is it?” he asked quickly as he pressed answer and Tommy snorted down the line.

“Wow, hi to you too, arse wipe,” he muttered playfully and the tone instantly made Simon relax. He wiped a weary hand over his face and shook his head.

“Any reason why you're callin’ at this time?” he bit out and Tommy took a deep breath.

“Beth went into labour last night, little Joseph was born an hour ago,” he breathed and Simon sat up straighter, an emotional warmth settling over him.

“Fuckin’ hell… is he… is he alright? Beth alright?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips that he couldn't have fought off even if he wanted. 

“Yeah, yeah, both really good. Labour was tough. Women are crazy, I tell you. I ain’t pushin’ something that size out of my fuckin’ fanny,” Tommy laughed and Simon shook his head incredulously as he breathed a chuckle.

“Good job you don’t fuckin’ have one then, innit?” he asked wryly and Tommy laughed down the line again. “You told mum yet?” he asked curiously.

“Told her when Beth started having the contractions, she’s been here this whole time,” Tommy chuckled and Simon smiled to himself. Didn't surprise him in the least, as if she’d miss the birth of her first grandchild. The line went silent for a moment and Simon didn't need to see his brother to pick up on his change in breathing, the shift that suddenly happened.

“I can't believe I’m a dad. I mean… I knew it was coming for nine months but… now he's here it just feels so real. What if I mess up? What if I end up like da-” he started anxiously rambling and Simon cut him off right away.

“You won't be. You're nothin’ like that fuckin’ cunt. You're gonna be a good dad, Tommy, just like you're a good husband. I’m happy for you,” he murmured, trying his hardest to stop his voice from wavering. His baby brother was all grown up and had a kid of his own. 

“That really means a lot from you, Si,” Tommy whispered and Simon swallowed thickly. 

“Do you want us to come down then?” he asked, glancing at the clock before at Charlotte who was beginning to stir, her eyes fluttering open blearily.

“No, not yet. Visiting hours aren't until 10 am so, come down then. I’ll text you all the details and stuff,” Tommy explained and Simon nodded despite him not being able to see. His eyes were on Lottie as she yawned, looking at him questioningly with her cute and sleepy face.

“Alright then, I’ll let you go. I’ll see you later,” Simon murmured and after Tommy said his goodbyes, he hung up.

“Who was that?” Charlotte asked sleepily.

“Tommy. Beth went into labour last night, Joseph’s here,” he smiled, pride filling him up like a fucking balloon. 

Her eyes went big like saucers and a beaming grin spread across her face. Before he knew what was happening, she was up, squealing something like ‘oh my god’ before diving off the bed. Problem was that her foot got stuck in the quilt and she hit the floor with a loud oof. He didn't know whether he should be worried or laugh. 

“Fuckin’ hell. You alright?” he asked in amusement, peering over the bed at her crumpled up form tangled in the blankets. The look she gave him was scathing and he couldn't help but laugh.

“Aren’t you excited to go and see him?” she asked him, giving him an accusing stare.

“‘Course I am but we can’t go yet anyway, visitin’ hours aren't until ten,” he explained, reaching out and grabbing her before hoisting her back into the bed. She flopped against him like she had no bones and he sunk back into the bed with her sprawled out on top of him.

 “I hurt my arse,” she whined, her lower lip jutting out in a little pout. His large hands smoothed down her back, cupping her arse cheeks and giving them a cheeky rub.

“Want me to kiss it better, love?” he asked impishly and she snorted, shaking her head.

“You wish,” she muttered and he hummed in agreement. He didn't stop massaging her arse cheeks and she relaxed even more on him.

“Should get some more sleep, yeah? We’ll go see ‘em in the mornin’ when it's time,” he suggested and she shook her head.

“I'm not tired,” she mumbled and he knew she was a barefaced liar because she could barely keep her eyes open. 

He huffed a laugh, not saying anything and allowing her to fall back asleep on her own. Didn't take long. It took him a little longer with how excited he was. He didn't think he’d be feeling this way when his nephew was born. Not because he hadn't been excited or anything, but this was a little overwhelming. He had no idea how Tommy himself must be feeling right about now if this was how he felt. 

Eventually he did fall asleep and then when they got up in the morning, the pair of them were full of anxious and excited energy. They were both dressed and ready to go by 9 am, a little early but Lottie was adamant she wanted to get gifts on the way. She’d gotten Beth some pretty white roses, interspersed between some baby’s breath. She’d bought Joseph a little dinosaur teddy and she didn't need to get Tommy anything because Simon already had that covered in the form of a cigar. He’d bought it a few months ago in preparation. When he asked Charlotte if he should get his mother something, they’d decided it would be a nice thing to do so he got her a mug that had the words 'world's best grandma’ on it. They topped it all off with a blue baby boy balloon and Simon had to force her to get going before she bought the entire shop. 

They arrived at the hospital at 10:06 am, checking in at the desk and then went to the room they were given. He was a little overwhelmed from the second he stepped foot in the room. His mum came to him first, wrapping him in a hug as she cried, blubbering about something, he couldn't understand her through her tears and they only got worse when he gave her the mug. Tommy was next as his mum latched onto Charlotte and Simon hugged his tearful brother, slapping him on the back roughly to compensate for his own damp eyes. 

“Congrats, Tom,” he murmured and Tommy grinned at him when he pulled away and he handed his brother the cigar. Tommy’s eyes lit up and he wound up with another hug for good measure. When he glanced around for Charlotte, she was no longer in his mother's grasp but was now next to Beth, giving her the flowers as she cooed over the baby in Beth's arms. Simon walked over, eyes glued to the tiny bundle Beth was holding and she looked up with a smile, eyes knackered, and he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“Fuckin’ hell, he’s tiny, ain’t he?” he asked quietly, not wanting to bother the small boy. 

“He’s a baby, Simon, he’s supposed to be tiny,” his mother piped up from across the room and he levelled a look at her to tell her she wasn't funny. Tommy disagreed with him though as he snorted. 

“You should hold him,” Tommy declared excitedly and Simon could do little else but be shoved into the armchair beside the bed and then a baby was being placed in his arms. 

Tommy mumbled to himself as if reciting steps he’d been told, rearranging Simon’s arms to cradle the baby better. He was mumbling something about the head and a soft spot but Simon wasn't listening, he was staring at the baby. He was blinking up at him slowly, totally unbothered by the large man who was holding him and Simon felt a lump form in his throat as he smiled down at him. 

“Hey, little man,” he whispered, touching the tiniest hand he’d ever laid eyes on and the boy wrapped it around his finger.

“He’s adorable,” Lottie beamed, hovering next to him as she leaned down to get a good look at him. He looked up at her then and her soft eyes warmed him right up.

“You wanna hold him, sweetheart?” he asked her, still keeping his voice low. Her eyes widened and she stood up straighter, shaking her head frantically.

“Oh… no… I-” she rambled but Beth cut her off.

“You should hold him, Charlotte, you're his auntie,” she smirked and Lottie turned to her.

“What if I… What if I drop him?” she asked, sounding mortified. Tommy laughed at her question but Simon could tell she was deadly serious. 

“You won’t drop him, you can sit here,” Simon stood at a snail’s pace, terrified of dropping the boy himself. 

Once he was up, he gestured with his head and Lottie obediently sat down. Tommy came over then and Simon was glad because while he could handle guns, bullets and explosives, babies were a whole other fucking thing. Tommy took Joseph and gave Charlotte the same treatment, arranging her arms in a certain way. He could tell by her face that she was observing his movements carefully, as if trying to memorise them. Tommy placed Joseph in her arms before smiling triumphantly and moving away. 

Simon was helpless, unable to not look at her as she held the tiny boy so gently. She smiled down at him, a smile he’d never seen before which shocked him because he thought he'd seen them all, but this one was new. Reserved only for this special little boy who looked up at her curiously. She swiped a tender finger down his small face, eyes sparkling brightly as she watched him in awe. She looked enamoured with him, so full of love that he felt ready to burst at the seams watching her. 

A thought struck him then that startled the shit out of him. One where she was holding a different baby. One with blonde hair and dark brown eyes, one that was half her and half him. He’d never thought about kids before, been sure he wouldn't have any and didn't have the desire to either. But then again, he’d felt the same about relationships too, hadn't he? 

She’d thrown all that right out of the window and now she was doing it again because as he looked at her, he felt a deep yearning inside of him for something he never thought he wanted. Made him ache for it so badly he almost forgot how to breathe. Not yet, of course not yet, it was far too soon and he’d be fucking off to the SAS soon enough. But one day… maybe. He hoped.

[lewis-winters]

Hello!

I am hoping you'll be willing to listen to answer a question i have about Lewis Nixon's supposed demotion.

I've never been in the military, so I'm very interested in your perspective since you mentioned military service in your VERY thorough post about how the 'military culture' is constantly in the background of BoB but never really explored or discussed.

Ok So Nixon is Regimental S-3 between Bastogne sometime & Operation Varsity. He's a Captain. To me, a non-military person, S-3 is his job and Captain is his rank. When Sink/Dick decide he should bump back to S-3 at 2nd Battalion with Dick, that's NOT a demotion. That's a transfer. He's doing the same job, at the same rank, at the same pay, just in a different place. In a large org, maybe there is some loss of PRESTIGE, but you have not lost anything. Maybe you even WANT the lateral transfer, maybe all of your friends are over in that other office/unit/store whatever. A demotion would be getting bumped back to 2nd Lieutenant or something, losing pay, losing rank.... in my head anyway.

So, tl;dr, IS the Nixon situation actually a 'demotion' or more like a transfer from an Army culture perspective?

Also thank you for your thoughts on how the show ignored some important aspects of Army systems & Army culture....in favor of THE DRAMA! (which yeah ok...it's a show...drama! psychology!...) I thought it was really interesting and an excellent critique!

I wanna start this off with a little oops! sorry! my bad! I've been calling Nix Regimental S2 this whole time only ahdshaddsfj you are right he WAS Regimental S3 and then he got demoted to Battalion S2. Lmao!! Yeah!! Ok!! He's still a good intelligence officer, though! Can you fucking imagine your Regimental S3 walking the line with you? that's like if you were a desk worker writing your report with the COO of your company sitting right next to you, lol.

EDIT: Ok, wait. Sorry. I got a little confused, because I was so sure Nix was an intelligence officer, therefore he couldn't have been S3 because S3 is planning and operations. So I went and searched it up and slight correction!! Lewis Nixon was not Regimental S3, he was Regimental S2 and then he was demoted to Battalion S3. At least, in show. I still need to cross reference with the books, but... yeah! The rest of this post has also been edited to reflect this.

Anyway. No, it's not a lateral transfer, that's still a demotion. It would have been a lateral transfer if Nix was moved from Regiment S2 to Regiment S3. But he wasn't. He was moved to Battalion.

While you are correct in the observation that Staff Section Designations (i.e. S1-S8 and others) are equal (they are literally just different jobs descriptions; S2 handles the processing of intelligence and tactical information for the commander while S3 handles plans, operations, and training), Regiment S2 is still higher in rank than Battalion S3 because Regiment, Battalion, Brigade, Company, etc. etc. are ranks/follow the hierarchy of rank. Mostly due to the sheer sizes that are being handled.

A Regiment is divided into several companies, squadrons, or batteries and often into two battalions, and is run by a colonel. A Battalion is typically consisting of 300 to 1,000 soldiers commanded by a lieutenant colonel, and subdivided into a number of companies (usually each commanded by a major or a captain). The rule of thumb is this: the bigger the amount of men you handle, the more senior your staff officers, supposedly. Bigger numbers mean bigger operations and logistics, and senior officers (allegedly, heh) have more experience and more schooling to handle those!

Now! However!! a colonel of a regiment can have anybody in his staff regardless of rank (but with certain caveats i.e. chain of command isn't broken). Either through necessity (soldiers die, the positions have to be filled), meritocracy (unlikely, but not impossible), or because he plays favorites (yeah, this is more realistic). Nix being just a Captain who happens to be Regiment S3 is not uncommon. It's fine. Happens a lot, especially in dire constraints like in the middle of an actual War. And Nix is very intelligent and, though I guess some people would call him lazy, Dick (and several others, too) thought he did his job very well, AND was probably there the longest, as compared to other candidates. On top of that, he comes from a family that is rich and might have had some significant pull in the military. Nix being in regiment as a mere captain is not weird. BUT it gets fucking weird (read: the chain of command is broken) when the Regimental S3 is just a Captain, while the Battalion S1 or S2, S3, S4, etc.-- who is EXPECTED to answer to and take orders from all officers in Regiment-- is a Major. Or a Lt. Col. Or anybody ranked higher than a Captain.

It's just not done! For a Major or a Lt. Col. or higher to answer to and take orders from the likes of a mere Captain! That breaks Chain of Command! Usually, to remedy this there is some reshuffling! So, either Regimental S3 is moved elsewhere laterally (i.e. Regimental S1, S3, S4, S5, etc), or if it is seen fit (i.e. said Regimental S3 is someone the upper brass have a vendetta against or cannot manipulate 👀👀👀👀👀), they will be demoted to Battalion. Or maybe even lower.

That's what I meant by the military is so so precious about chain of command. If a regimental officer is good! and has saved your regiment many times with his skill! it's only logical that you keep him where he is, right? Lmao. No. Wrong. If someone with less skill but higher rank were to come along, you have to defer to them. That's the rules of the chain of command!

Anyway. Even if Nix's demotion was just a reshuffling of manpower, it's still a public snub! It would look really bad on your career profile.

[nightswithkookmin]

Hi goldy hope u r fine ❤️ so I have been thinking alot about the army reaction toward the members how is it different from member to another specialy (jimin , tae , jk , hopi ) first of all I have been army and pjms since 2018 I saw jimin on yt video from then every thing begin, in the stars I was on Instagram most of the armys I followed was Arabic big Stan accounts and for my bad luck most of them were either teakook Stan or sheeper but anyway after some time I move to twitter and it was hell for me when I say there's days were I couldn't sleep and cried because the hate jimin was and honestly still getting from doing absolutely nothing but good things I'm not overacting but when I saw and heard rumours about tea from last year as example dating and smoking clubs and other things you will never see a big reaction from army thay ignor the whole thing I sometimes imagine if jimin did one thing of those what will happen, with jk the whole army feel like his parents that they know what good for him and that he's child and will learn from his mistakes and they will scold him sometimes but eventually when there is project from him or even a photo he got all the ot7 and jkks support and for hopi he got all the empathy and support but like they always will remind you oh poor hopi and hyung line the didn't get any support when the are have a very successful career with their solo career and very much happy with their life . I respect and love all of them and know very well that all of them worked so hard on their career and their private life is theirs and they can do whatever they want but why is forbidden to speak about tae or hopi and it's okay to speak about jimin or jk? And it's the same even In the Arab army so I want your take goldy 🥺

Not Hobi💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

I'm gonna have to hug you and sweep this under the carpet cos Hobi is immune from criticisms on this page💀

Every member of BTS has their own anti brigade full of haters and recieve the most disturbing amount of vitriol I've ever seen on the internet.

It's just some have intersecting identities that goes against them or for them. Draw of luck at this point.

Jimin gets compared to female artists and gets subjected to the same misogyny and sexism that any female kpop artist face in the industry right down to the language they use to insult him.

Right down to the body shaming, he’s fat, he’s atrophied, he’s a slut- you name it.

While Jungkook may not be slut shamed as much as Jimin for his effeminate expressions, he’s made the poster child for fuck boyry and every Park and Bailey is ready to take a dig at him for all the crimes of men- for cheating, being a community penis, having toxic masculinity, being noncommittal, emotionally unavailable, unromantic, hard hearted and just plain stupid.

You add homophobia to the equation and it's not looking good for either of them.

Then there's this whole infantilization bit of Jungkook where because he started out as a child artist everyone assumes he is still a child at his grown age. There's a reason he hates being called baby.

And I think Namjoon addressed this recently during his promos of his Indigo. That people either assume they are innocent or the worse.

To this day some fans still think they all live together like the seven little dwarfs in their tiny cabins in the woods.

Then you look at the members people are most threatened by and Jimin sits on top of that list. Jk solo stans are threatened by him on behalf of their fave, Tae solos are threatened by him on behalf of Tae.

This is not to absolve Jimin solos cos they equally feel threatened by Hobi and Tae Kook.

Hobi because his talents as a dancer directly threatens Jimin's as a dancer. You often see them attacking Hobi stans and fighting over the whole best dancer title thingy. It's stupid really cos as far as I'm concerned no one in BTS is Jimin's competition whether in dance or singing. NO ONE.

And yes they have a lot to fear from Jimin if he were to compete with them on anything. May be not rapping 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

That's not to say these men aren't talented. They are. But Jimin will eat them up hands down.

I like to think the Fandom is biased and prejudiced against Jimin but frankly Tae has established himself as one not to be trifled with💀

He has a reputation

Gotta call a spade a spade you know?

People are afraid to mess with him. He shoots to kill and that's what it boils down to.

If high school taught me anything it's that good boys finish last and the kind ones are the easiest to bully.

This is why I hated this whole kumbaya peace be onto humanity pacifist vibes JM had going on.

He's diplomatic and classy but sometimes you gotta wet those nails with the blood of your enemies remind them just how insane you are underneath

It doesn't help that he didn't have the numbers to back him up. I mean we said it all along yet they gaslit us into thinking we were being divisive and everyone loved everyone equally. Ot7 nonesense.

Bottom line is, they pick on those they think are less likely to fight back but don't worry. I know there's something in JMs album that will snatch the pants off their waist and expose the sagging balls they hide under there

The love and support for the hyung line is affirmative action on the part of the Fandom to compensate for hate and discrimination against them. It used to be bad won't lie.

But you are right, Jimin deserves to be treated fairly if not equally. I know better than to rely on anyone to do for Jimin what I think he deserves. I worry for his mental health and his sanity and I pray for him constantly.

The best revenge will be his success.

He's gon sit on the throne and everyone else will bow to him just as he predicted. Hate him or love him HE IS BOUND TO BE THE GREATEST ARTIST OF ALL TIME.

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