#why am i this obsessed with him being concussed

[angeltk]

2.08 + concussed!tk

[slytherweasley]

Concussion (Oliver Wood x reader)

Warnings: smut, oral male receiving, swearing

Summary: Oliver gets knocked out after being thrown off his broom by a Slytherin. You stay by his side but his concussion makes him irritable. He’s in so much pain you decide to take care of him.

Oliver lays on the hospital bed still knocked out after being thrown off his broom by a Slytherin at todays game. You sit by his side rubbing his scalp trying to soothe him in hope he will awaken. You were frozen in fear as you watched him fall, you couldn’t get up to see if he was okay until others from the crowd assured you he was alive.

Slowly Oliver’s eyes begin to open, his team mates are also here to show support for their captain. He groans in pain and Madam Pomfrey rushes to his aid. Once the team had given him their best wishes she sent them off so he could have some space.

You stayed by his side the whole time, you tried to cheer him up in every way you could think but he was short with you. “Oli, do you want me to go?” You ask softly “No stay” he says holding your hand firmly “i am in a lot of pain so I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings it’s not my intention” “I know, it’s okay” he reaches up slightly but you meet him with a kiss.

Madam Pomfrey releases him from the hospital wing and gives you everything you need as well as instructions on how to take care of him. He refuses to be wheeled in a wheelchair so you put your arm around him and let him lean on you as you walk to his dorm.

Oliver is well liked which is why it wasn’t a surprise that everyone wanted to talk to him but you tried to get him to his dorm as quick and safely as possible. You finally get him there and into bed “thank you darling” he kisses your forehead as you stack pillows behind him.

Once he is comfortable you organise his meds and everything he needs. “Darling?” He asks “Yes, Oli?” “Can you come cuddle? It will help my pain.”

He makes some space for you and you get into bed with him and try to adjust the pillows but he hits his head on the bed post “fuck” he yells “shit, baby I’m so sorry” you gently rub his head “stop. Just stop” he yells. “I’m sorry, I failed at everything” you mumble “I know you’re trying to help and you’re doing a great job, it’s just these pain meds are only doing so much.”

He pulls you into a hug “you didn’t fail at this, you could never fail at comforting me.” Something about the way he assured you created a solution to help him feel better.

You let go of the hug “I promise I won’t fuck this up” you say “fuck what up?” He asks as you lift his shirt up halfway pressing kisses down his stomach. Your fingers slide into his pants and start to palm him over his underwear “fuck darling” he groans as you feel him getting hard underneath your touch.

Your hand slip underneath his underwear as you begin to jerk him off slowly “feels good” he assures you “I love it when you touch me like this.”

You stop jerking him off to get rid of his pants and underwear letting his dick free. Your spit on his dick letting your saliva run down the base down to his balls “Oh darling, you are going to be the death of me.”

Your lips wrap around the head and you start sucking and swirling your tongue around the head tasting his precum and letting out a moan. Slowly you begin moving further down until your nose hits his mound. Oliver’s moans become louder and needier which makes you incredibly wet but you focus solely on Oliver.

Your hands massage his balls, he goes wild every time you pay attention to his balls. “Fuck darling, that’s it.” You start to move faster on his dick your eyes start to water and drool goes down your chin, you can hear the sounds coming from the back of your throat that Oliver is obsessed with.

“So good for me darling, I’m so close” this prompts you to do everything you can to keep going. “Fuck, I’m really close, you got to pull out if you don’t want me cumming down your throat” he warns but that’s what you want.

“Ah so good darling” he says as he cums in your mouth. You swallow and gently remove your mouth from his dick. “Thank you” he kisses your forehead “so much better than pain meds, do you need me to repay you?” He asks as you help him out his boxers on “No, it’s about you my love, I’ll manage as long as you are okay.”

You lay down carefully beside him facing him with your lips almost touching, he wraps his arms around you. “I don’t deserve you” he mumbles against your lips “yes you do” you close your eyes and lazily kiss him.

[just-a-girl-who-wrytes]

Omg I just accidently found your blog and I'm so freaking happy, cause there are not enough writer who writes for Deacon 😭 unfortunately I'm super obsessed with him, with an unhealthy amount of fic ideas in my brain xD so I give it a try and send you one of those, hopefully jot annoying you with this (or with my shitty English, it's not my first language, so I'm sorry).

Well buckle up for my request:

Reader is a new Swat member and instantly everybody loves her, with her bubbly friendly self. She's bonding great with her teammates and especially her and Deacon grow super close (they develop feelings for each other but don't want to tell the each other afraid to ruin their friendship, so their feelings stay hidden). When one day a case goes sideways and it leaves her injured (maybe a concussion or something like that) Deacon blames himself for her injury and the next days he distances himself from her, cause he thinks that it is unhealthy for him to have such deep feelings for her and him constantly worrying for her wellbeing. She notices his change of behavior and she's super sad. He starts to being unfriendly to her and being a little bit of an ass?! Even alerting the other members with his behavior. The whole situation is taking a toll on her and she is starting to effecting not only her poor heart but also her health. (so maybe she falls sick, but keep it from her teammates especially Deacon, cause she thinks that after her injury during a case he thinks of her as not capable or something like that). That is until one day she doesn't show up to work which very uncommon for her, cause she's always on time and the first one at the station. They're all worrried and Hondo tells Deacon that he has to drive to her apartment. Well he tries to refuse and send Stress but Hondo insists, so Deacon drives to her apartment. He finds her suffering from a very high fever..... So maybe with a happy ending like Deacon regrets his shitty behavior, she instantly cries when she recognizes him in her feverish state, asking him why he hates her suddenly, which is now breaking his heart. He cares for her and nurses her back to health, or at first tries to bring her fever down. Later he confesses why he was an asshole.

Soooorry it's so long. There's so pressure for you to write this. Maybe you just want to use some ideas? Well I would be so happy.

Please take care lovely

Here you go, hope you enjoy!

“Nice!” Luca exclaimed as the team watched you send rounds down range from your firearm.

With the increase in officer related shootings, LAPD had decided to provide each team a SWAT medic and you were the newest member of 20 squad. 

“Who knew girls can shoot?” You heard Deacon asked. You turned to playfully scowl at him and noticed him wink at you. 

“Better watch it, Kay, or I’ll show you just how good I really am.” 

You had been a part of the team for just over two months and they were the best guys you had ever worked with in your career. You truly became a part of their family – you had their backs and they had yours. There was one that was different though. 

David Kay. 

You had noticed him watching you on more than one occasion, stealing winks from you, sharing small, flirtatious smiles. You weren’t sure if your attraction to him was mutual or not, but if you had to guess, you would say yes. However, you didn’t want to complicate anything by dating one of your teammates and you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had developed with Deacon. You assumed Deacon adopted the same mindset because he never brought it up either. 

However, that didn’t mean your flirting with each other fell on blind eyes. 

The entire team noticed it and often gave you both shit over it. 

You both were in the middle of denying another teasing round of friends with benefits accusations from your teammates when you were dispatched to a school shooting. 

The mood immediately sobered up as all of you put on your gear and grabbed your bags and firearms. The ride to the school in Black Betty was quiet minus updates from Hondo. 

“Stay liquid, guys,” He told the team as you pulled up on scene. 

There were multiple reports of injured children inside of the school. 

This call was all yours. 

It was going to be your job to go inside and assess each injured child to see how critically injured they were. It was your team’s job to protect you while you did that. You were going in without any knowledge of where the shooter was, but you knew if you had children, you would want someone to go in and save your baby. You swallowed your fear and prepared to do your job. 

You got out of the armored truck and took your spot in the middle of your team. You slowed your breathing down to get your heart rate under control and keep your emotions in check. 

Deacon made sure that he stayed close to you as you entered the school. He knew his teammates would have your back too, but he felt… differently about you. He cared about you a lot. He had quickly fallen for your smile and your personality. You didn’t let the team’s banter intimidate you one bit from the start. You were quick and witty with your playfulness with them. You were smart as hell when it came to medicine and you had proven to be a solid member of the SWAT team in training exercises and on calls you had run together. He wanted so badly to ask you out to dinner, but he wasn’t willing to change the dynamic of the team by adding a relationship to the mix. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be protective over you – whether you noticed it or not. 

That was why Deacon had taken it so personally when you were knelt down, applying a tourniquet to a fourth-grade student’s leg and got shot by the hidden gunman. His team covered him while he immediately turned to you to make sure you were okay. The round had struck your vest, but you knew it had broken ribs. The pain you felt in your side was unmistakable. Regardless, you threw your body over the child’s to protect her from the gunfire that ensued. Deacon and Luca dragged you both behind a desk behind a wall in a classroom. 

“Are you okay?” Deacon asked without taking his aim from the door way. 

“We’ve got to get her out of here.” You ignored his question as you continued to try and stop the little girl’s bleeding. 

Your voice was forced and you were breathy. 

“I asked if you were okay,” Deacon said angrily. 

“I’m fine.” You retorted. 

You soon heard Tan’s voice over the radio that the shooter had been neutralized. You didn’t know if there was more than one shooter, but didn’t see any signs of one so far. When you got the clear from Hondo, you radioed for another team to come in and get the girl out and get her to a hospital. Once she was safely removed, you resumed your formation in the middle of the team to continue to clear the school building. Deacon could tell you were injured because you didn’t shoulder your firearm correctly, but he didn’t see any blood so he let it go. He was pissed off at you for not stopping and going to get help yourself, but he was even more pissed off at himself for not seeing the gunman before he shot at you. 

It took two hours to clear the rest of the school and stabilize the remaining children. By the time you were done, you were visibly diaphoretic and short of breath. You could hardly manage three words without stopping to catch your breath. 

“20-David to command,” Deacon radioed, “We need an EMS unit to our location, we have a team member who needs to be checked out.” 

You were in pain, you couldn’t breathe, and you were pissed off that Deacon asked for EMS without consulting you first. 

“Why did you do that?!” You managed to asked through clenched teeth. “These children need those paramedics.” You took a few shallow breaths, “Not me! Cancel. Them.” 

If looks could kill, your sergeant would be the one who needed a medic unit, not you.

“Officer,” Deacon said sternly, “You look like hell and you cannot breathe.”

You started to open your mouth to cut him off, but he started speaking loudly again.

“Now, I suggest you shut up and listen to your sergeant. I am not the one who takes orders from you.” 

His harsh words hit you harder than the bullet hit your ballistic vest and left you just as speechless. David had never been so disrespectful to you. If the paramedics hadn’t arrived to assess you, you would have turned in your badge right there. You knew the rest of the team had noticed as well because they were all silent which pissed you off even more. Where was your support?

The paramedics tried helping you onto the stretcher, but you refused it. Despite not being able to speak for being short of breath. You held onto the stretcher for support and walked to the ambulance. By the time you finally made it outside to the ambulance, you were physically unable to get into the ambulance because you were hurting so bad and so short of breath. The EMS providers finally convinced you to get onto the stretcher and they were able to load you into the truck. 

When you arrived to the ER, you were taken to a trauma room due to the fact that you had technically been shot. Your chest x-ray revealed a collapsed lung due to the broken ribs. 

The rest of the team finished debriefing before being cleared to leave for the day. Hondo met Deacon in the quiet locker rooms since most of everyone else had already left. 

“Deac…” Hondo paused, knowing he needed to tread carefully, “What was up back at the school? I have never heard you speak to anyone like that – especially one of our teammates.” 

Deacon slammed his locker shut. 

“Hondo, now ain’t the time, brother.”

The lieutenant raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I won’t press, but I do ask that you consider an apology. It was unwarranted today. We all performed immaculately given the circumstances.”

“No, Hondo. No. We did not all perform immaculately.” His tone was biting. 

Deacon walked passed Hondo and left the locker rooms. He left the station and threw his duffel bag in the backseat of his truck. He climbed in, started it, and drove to a nearby lake that off the road and would likely be deserted after dark on a week night. He parked in the dark and slammed his fists against the steering wheel in frustration. 

Tears filled his eyes as he mentally kicked himself in the ass for missing the shooter that injured you today. He didn’t fight the tears as they spilled down his cheeks. What had gotten into him? Why were you different? Why was he so upset? Why did you getting injured bother him so badly? You were okay and you were expected to make a full recovery according to Hicks. Where along the line had he developed feelings and why was he so afraid of talking to you about them?

You spent 6 days in the hospital, 4 of those with a chest tube before being discharged home. During your entire hospital stay, Deacon had not been by to see you once despite daily visits from the rest of your teammates. It made you mad, but most of all, it hurt your feelings. You really liked you sergeant – or you thought that you did. His actions since you had been injured spoke louder than any words that could have been said. 

Luca and Chris were there to take you home and help you get settled. They carried your bags in and Chris helped you unpack your things while Luca cooked supper for the three of you. Chris helped you remove your bra so you could put on a loose, comfy t-shirt. Being the only females on the squad left you two comfortable around each other. 

“That is one hell of a bruise, babe.” She said as she looked at your black and purple side. 

You had to agree – the entire left side of your torso was bruised. It looked awful. Thankfully, the doctors had been able to help manage your pain with narcotics. 

“I’m glad it finally looks worse than it feels… Which is saying a lot because it still hurts like hell.” 

You slipped on a pair of sleep shorts and made your way back into your kitchen with Chris. 

You took a pain pill and joined your teammates in your living room to eat the spaghetti that Luca made. 

“Thank you so much for taking care of me guys,” You said several hours later as you walked Luca and Chris to your door. 

“That’s what we’re here for, love,” Luca said, pulling you into a gentle hug. 

You kissed his cheek, “Supper was delicious, Dom. Thank you times a million.” 

He returned the kiss to your cheek and Chris pulled you in for a hug. 

“Call us if you need anything?” 

You smiled at her after the hug, “You know I will.” 

You settled onto your couch with a glass of wine. You knew the alcohol and narcotic wasn’t the smartest elixir, however, you needed to mask more than your physical pain. 

You couldn’t get Deacon off your mind and your heart had yet to stop hurting. Your emotional pain screamed much louder than your physical pain. 

“Dammit!” You heard through clouded consciousness. “What the fuck?” 

You felt yourself being picked up and carried to your bed. You recognized a familiar cologne but quickly disregarded the scent and winced at the pain in your ribs before drifting back off to sleep. 

You woke up the next morning nearly in tears again as you entered a coughing spell. You managed to get out of bed and make your way to the kitchen where your pain pills were, but you were scared shitless by a man sitting at your kitchen table. As soon as your heart began racing with fear, the fear subsided, realizing that it was Deacon sitting inside of your home. 

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck, David?” You held your chest with one hand and braced your broken ribs with the other. 

He didn’t answer you. 

You ignored his silence and took your morning pain medication. 

“Ya know… I said the same thing last night when I came over and found you unconscious on your couch. So, I can also say, what the fuck? What were you thinking?” Deacon’s voice grew steadily louder as he stood up and turned to you. “Pain pills and alcohol?”

You were angry. “Something to make this shit stop hurting,” You spat as you snatched up the side of your shirt to reveal your black and blue torso. 

You could tell the extent of your injuries caught Deacon off guard. His facial expression softened and he didn’t respond. 

You let go of your shirt, letting it fall back down to your waist and continued fixing yourself a glass of water to take your pain pill with. You took your medicine and continued to ignore your sergeant as you turned your back to him to get the milk out of your refrigerator to fix yourself a bowl of cereal. His hand stopped yours mid-air reaching for your cabinet. He gently held your wrist with one hand and you felt the edge of your shirt being lifted again. He let go of your hand, staring at the bruising that covered you. You could sense his demeanor soften. 

There was a long silence as he took in your injuries. 

“I’m so sorry…” He whispered. 

The tone in his voice felt like a hug to your soul. 

“Deacon-” You turned around to face him. 

“No, listen to me,” he interrupted you. “This…” He grazed his fingertip down your side, “is all my fault.”

The confusion was written all over your face. 

“I should have seen that bastard before he ever had a chance at you.” 

You began shaking your head but you weren’t quite sure what to say. 

“You’ve been an asshole to me ever since it happened, David, what the hell has changed now?” You were beginning to grow angry again. 

“Look, I am so, so sorry.” His voice was gentle. “I should have stopped that guy before he shot you. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did. I should have visited you in the hospital. You are a teammate and I failed you, but I really should have told you from the get-go that I have developed feelings for you.” He didn’t take a breath the entire time he spoke so you struggled to follow him, but his last sentence hit you like a ton of bricks. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Ever since you have been on the team with us, you have become more than just a teammate to me. Truthfully, I have liked you from the day that I met you and my attraction to you has only grown every single day. I like you so much more than just as a teammate. I would dare say that I am falling in love with you.” He slowly reached up to cradle your face with his hand, hesitant, wondering if you would allow him to touch you. 

You did. 

“I am so, so sorry that I have treated you so poorly this week – so wrong. It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with the fact that I hate myself for not being able to protect you like I should have. I’ve been so afraid to let you know how I feel about you. I’m sorry I was more afraid of affecting the team than I was giving you the honesty that you deserve. Please, please forgive me.” 

He looked into your eyes as he nervously chewed on his bottom lip. 

“Deacon…” You said quietly, leaning into his hand caressing your jaw. 

He took a deep breath and continued, “If you don’t feel the same way, I understand, but I came over here last night to apologize and tell you all of this. When I found you passed out on the couch, barely responsive, it frustrated me. So, I stayed here last night to make sure you were okay. Please don’t be mad.” 

Silence fell between you while you considered how to respond. Given the emotions that you had worked through over the past week, going from feelings for your partner, to physical and emotional hurt, to anger towards David for not visiting, texting or calling, resentment towards yourself for having feelings towards David despite how cruel he had been to you with his absence while you had been hospitalized, you struggled to find any words.

Deacon watched you suffer through a week’s worth of feelings as he watched your eyes. You took a deep breath. 

He decided that you were taken too long to respond and if he didn’t act now, he never would. 

He leaned down and softly pressed his lips on yours. 

You instinctively closed your eyes and allowed David to kiss you. When you didn’t pull away, he parted his lips just enough to run his tongue tenderly along your bottom lip. You opened your lips, allowing him to kiss you deeper. You began to return the kiss when David went to place his hands on your waist, forgetting about your injuries. You stopped kissing him and winced. 

“God, I’m so sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay.” You whispered, your voice shaky. 

Deacon noticed the tears that trickled down your cheeks. 

He wiped them away with his thumbs and began apologizing to you again. 

You interrupted him with another kiss. You reached up and intertwined your fingers behind his head, softly rubbing his neck with your fingertips. He moaned quietly into the kiss. He grabbed your arm and squeezed it, needing to touch you, but being mindful of your injuries. You enjoyed the feeling of his tall, muscular body, towering over yours. You felt protected. 

“Deacon?” 

He pressed his forehead to yours, brushing a stand of hair behind your ear, “Mmhmm?”

“I love you.” 

"I love you too."

[twistedwonderlandsimps]

Technomaniac!Yuu

I'm just here to mix-and-match different kinds of Yuus with different kinds of personalities to see what monstrosity I can make. That being said,,, Technomaniac!Yuu brainrot! 

So basically this Yuu belongs in the High Fantasy Yuuniverse on the human side and they’re absolutely obsessed with technology and becomes unhinged when creating stuff. 

Mayhaps their family ran a robot-related business or a machine-creating business and that’s where their obsession started. Maybe Yuu’s obsession further increased due to the fact that they were a human being in a world full of otherworldly creatures.

In a world of high fantasy, there’s bound to be differing opinions and speciesism can’t be avoided. 

Some creatures thought humans were inferior due to their short lifespans. That they were greedy and ignorant. Some humans were even prejudiced to their own kind. Others thought humans in a more positive light, the fact that they were versatile and determined when it comes to things.

So Yuu with no magic and no super powers strived to be the best in the only thing they knew they could fully control and wanted to prove to everyone that humans weren’t inferior, thus beginning their obsession.

This Yuu has this cute little drone hovering over them all the time because I said so. The drone’s very expressive and acts as a kind of assistant for Yuu. 

So anyway, the day of the entrance ceremony?

Forget Grim opening the coffin, Yuu just ordered the drone to laser through the lid and then kicked it open. 

Seeing this, Grim became startled but then soon after demanded their robe.

“Beep! Threat detected! Determining threat level, please wait… Threat level determined. Warning: Threat level 5, initiating self-defense protocol.” The drone hovering over Yuu’s shoulder turned to an alarming shade of red but before it could do anything, Yuu waved them off gently. “Stand down, A1.”

Yeah, the little drone’s called A1 meaning Assistant 1.

Thankfully, a battle between the force of fire and laser never happened since Yuu saw no reason to wear the ceremonial robe because they felt their clothes were much better and gave it to Grim but only on the condition that Grim become their second assistant.

Grim, too focused on acquiring the robe at all cost, didn’t notice Yuu’s condition.

Anyway, guess what Grim’s nickname is. Yeah, that’s right. It’s A2 for Assistant 2.

Let it be known Technomaniac!Yuu has no penchant for naming. All that’s in their brain is making technological stuff.

I just suddenly thought of Yuu having Doofenshmirtz penchant for naming, just slapping ‘-inator’ at the end of their creation’s names.

Can you imagine an overblot and Yuu just pulls out this strange device and introduces it like:

Yuu: “Behold! Marvel at my ‘Insta-Knockout SlumberBlaster 3000-inator!’ Riddle’s going to definitely go down with this in just one hit!” A1: “With only an approximate 63% chance of dealing concussion! A massive improvement from the previous trials!”  Ace: “Excuse me, only 63%? Wait— Previous trials? Yuu, who did you test it on for you to get that statistic? Yuu? Yuu, come back here! Who did you test it on?! Yuu!”

Another overblot scenario would be…

A1: “Beep! Threat detected! Determining threat level, please wait…” Someone: “W… Why do you need to determine his threat level??? He’s literally about to kill us???” Yuu: “No, no, let my child cook.” A1: “Threat level determined. Warning: Threat level 10. Suggesting course of action: Run.” Yuu: “Okay, now we run.”

Let’s not forget holograms!

Imagine Deuce seeing Yuu facing away from him in the distance so he runs over to them and tries to gain their attention. He tries to tap Yuu’s shoulder but their hand just goes over Yuu’s form, leaving a slight glitch-like effect where Deuce’s hand passes through.

Hologram Yuu looks over to Deuce and says:

“Alas, as I am not here, I disappear.”

Then throws out a peace sign before slowly fading away while still maintaining eye contact.

Now that I think about it, on the first day of their janitorial duties, Yuu was able to make a weird-looking cleaning device out of metal scraps and pieces they found in Ramshackle and it somehow worked.

Well, for the most part anyway. 

Having no windows technically meant nothing to clean so in a way Yuu was doing their job, yes?

Yeah, Yuu broke a few windows and may have contributed to the chandelier also breaking that day so Deuce ain’t the only one at fault for this.

Speaking of, Ace’s first meeting with Yuu.

When he was introducing the Statues of the Great Seven to Grim and Yuu, Yuu turned to him and asked in the most serious voice possible if Ace wanted the statues to be animated by turning it into animatronics.

Ace barely managed to stop Yuu from dismembering the statues.

Technomaniac Yuu at literally everything they can see: “I can make it better!”

Giving broken things to Technomaniac!Yuu to be fixed is a gamble.��

Oh, a toaster? Well, you either get a completely fixed toaster that’s a bit better with warming your bread than before or it turns into a charcoal-maker. There is no inbetween.

Your phone? Oops, might’ve accidentally turned the flashlight function into a flashbang, teehee.

Technomaniac!Yuu is basically the tech support of NRC.\

Or more like tech terror. Tech-rorr, get it? I’m so funny.

Speaking of NRC, Yuu got banned from going to Ignihyde dorm.

That’s because they got too excited seeing all the new devices and technology they haven’t seen before in the dorm and kind of dismantled almost everything to see how it worked.

Ooooo, now that I’m thinking of it, cybernetic body modifications!

Like, what if they got severely injured against one of the overblot boys? Lost a limb or two? Or maybe they already had cybernetic body modifications even before they arrived in Twisted Wonderland.

Imagine them having an arm kinda similar to the robot arm Princess Bubblegum gifted Finn with the various power tools/weapons functions. There’s probably a rocket launcher function around there somewhere.

 Rook tries to stalk Technomaniac!Yuu but it always ends up being a hologram. Why do you think Rook calls them Trickster?

Wait, can you imagine the dynamic between Technomaniac!Yuu and Malleus?

One’s so bad at technology while the other’s the complete opposite.

Yuu asks Malleus if he wants his phone to be upgraded and suddenly Malleus’ phone has a built-in taser, ultra hd 4k graphics camera and video resolution, live tamagotchi game synchronization and surveillance, 24/7 AI assistance, unlimited wifi, faster internet speed, ultra deluxe storage expansion, the strongest antivirus known to to mankind, and Malleus still doesn’t know how to use his phone.

Yuu learns Briar Valley has technomancy and they’re immediately putting that place as a vacation spot because hello? Combining magic and technology? Can you imagine all the things they could create with those two forces combined? They’d be unstoppable!

Also, the Magicam Monsters stand no chance against Technomaniac!Yuu.

The moment those suckers break into Ramshackle, Yuu would immediately interfere with their gadgets and kick them out if they’re feeling merciful.

If not, well, say hello to the most vengeful virus they’ve ever met in their lives. 

No matter what gadget they change into, the virus will always follow them everywhere in the cyberspace network and break their devices or cause them the most annoying inconveniences. 

Slow internet? You betcha! Wifi symbol on but internet not coming through? Why, it happens almost every other day! Apps failing to open at the most crucial time? Lmao, rofl.

Speaking of gadget, Cater probably asks Yuu to upgrade his phone so he can take better selfies.

Thankfully the upgrade was a success and nothing exploded.

Yuu: “Well, here’s your phone, Cater! New and improved with better camera quality, efficiency, and effectiveness! Also, I hope you don’t mind but I also added an app that I occasionally use called Therapy Bot. Free of charge!” Cater: “Thanks, Yuu! Wait—” Yuu, looking around and leaning in to whisper: “Between you and me, I think everyone in this school could really benefit from Therapy Bot.”

Technomaniac!Yuu the most unhinged yet one of the most sane Yuu variants out there.

[gorgeousgreymatter-x]

An excerpt from my unfortunately likely very belated birthday fic for @wynnyfryd my beloved:

It’s not like there’s a definitive set of tracks that Eddie’s on the wrong side of, but there’s something about being in Loch Nora, driving through the suburbs of these rich-y rich neighborhoods that made his skin crawl. Like he’s wearing a huge neon red sign that says I’m not supposed to be here. But there are a few things he’ll venture out to Doucheville for.

The main one being money.

Okay — the only one being money. But who was he to turn down practically double his normal rates simply because Heather Holloway was too prissy to meet in the woods? Whatever, for that much extra cash he’d throw in home delivery just this once.

Of course, because nothing in Eddie’s life is fair or easy, it backfires. Not in the lack of payday kind of way, he thinks, patting the thick roll of cash newly stuffed into his back pocket. That part had gone just fine. Heather had played her part of the stuck up cheerleader and Eddie the scummy drug dealer and yada yada everybody went home happy.

It backfires more in the almost crashed his van into a tree and died simply because he’s a horny idiot kind of way.

Because the universe apparently decided that Eddie, who’d literally promised himself that he was no longer going to be an obsessed freakazoid over Steve goddamn Harrington, must be tested, must truly suffer. Why else would right now be the exact moment in time he drives past the guy while he's clearly on a run and sporting a pair of nearly indecent length running shorts coupled with a — jesus h. christ — a Hawkins High Marching Band t-shirt cut into a crop top revealing a gloriously thick treasure trail. And muscles. So many muscles.

The universe clearly wanted Eddie to die.

And now Eddie has to sit here, rubbing awkwardly at the bruise he definitely feels blooming on his forehead from the unfortunate whack it’s taken against his steering wheel. Because, as mentioned — idiot. He has to sit here while Steve fucking Harrington peers into his open window with this unfathomably sweet look of concern on his stupid angelic face that makes Eddie, for a moment, kinda wish he was dead. Especially because his brain decides, “There was a squirrel!” is the best thing to blurt out when Steve asks if he’s okay. The hasty, “I mean, I’m fine,” Eddie adds after definitely helps sell it a lot. He can tell by the way Steve’s brow is all furrowed in a stupidly cute stupid way.

“I dunno, man,” Steve says (and Eddie definitely does not stare as he watches a single bead of sweat drip down the slope of Steve’s throat, over those pair of freckles Eddie absolutely hasn't thought about sinking his teeth into), "I kind of have a lot of experience with head injuries and that looked like it hurt. Are you sure –"

"Why do you care?"

Steve's worried expression crumples into something steely that just makes Eddie feel like even more of a dick than he knows he's already being. "I just know how shitty concussions can be, sorry for worrying about you, I guess --"

Fuck. Eddie sighs. It would be so much easier if Steve was the jerk Eddie'd always thought he was instead of what he's really turning out to be, which is such a fucking sweetheart that Eddie can't help but want to do a lot of really, really not sweet things to him. "Shit, no -- I'm being an asshole. Maybe chalk it up to that possible head trauma you're worried about?"

Steve is quiet for a moment, but then that look of cool detachment disappears, and he smiles, all gleaming white teeth, and it feels like watching the fucking sun splitting through storm clouds or some shit. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Eddie blinks and sees that Harrington's got his middle finger up, flipping him the bird with such a smug little smirk on that pretty face that Eddie can't help it. He laughs. "Cute."

"You really think so?" Maybe it's the heat. That's gotta be it, Eddie thinks, watching how Steve's cheeks flush, watches as it spreads down past his throat, past those tufts of chest hair poking up teasingly past the stretched out collar of his borrowed t shirt.

The t-shirt Steve had so clearly borrowed from Robin. Robin, who was supposedly Harrington's girlfriend. The image of Robin from earlier in the cafeteria that day wearing Steve’s letterman jacket flashes across his mind and he has to bite him own tongue to stop himself from wincing.

Eddie's gonna throw up. Maybe he does have a concussion after all.

[fnafluffy]

I am. Going insane about the comic you just dropped. What happened to Ryu?? Why is he calling susato his sister? Did susato find him and keep him from kazuma?? Has Kazuma been going around like he's a grieving widow out or revenge??? How does this change the story??? Fascinating, very well done!

HAHA i guess i'll give some context after all! ok so first of all, the au has kazuma, susato, and ryunosuke all much closer than they are canonically and they've known each other for years. ryunosuke has always treated susato more as a little sister than kazuma does. basically ryunosuke "dies" from blunt force trauma to the head but didnt really die but they dont find that out until later. kazuma goes crazy from this and thinks susato did it. even though susato was proven innocent, he still clings onto that (from guilt and grief) and begins to obsess over it. They have to keep kazuma physically away from susato on the ship because he tried to kill her when she said she didnt do it. this resulted in sholmes jumping in to protect her by shooting and grazing kazumas head, making him lose sight in his left eye. susato takes on kazumas past ambitions of becoming a lawyer and sholmes houses susato once they get to britain. kazuma becomes an apprentice to zieks to be a prosecutor so that he can put susato away. susato has to cut her hair and dress like a british man for court. Once they find out about Ryu being alive, the 221b family houses him until he can make a full recovery. (he is VERY concussed--therefore cannot open his eyes rn) and thats where the comic picks up!! Ryu calling susato his little sister was added in as an extra punch to kazumas gut because after all their trauma due to kazuma being a freak, ryu starts actually calling susato his little sister and being an older brother to her that kazuma never got to be. hes basically disowned by her and replaced.

[howyouloveyourdragon]

one of alicents Brothers don't love otto much and know he can only cause problems. both him and rhaenyra feeling dissatisfied with their fathers, they get married and ruin ottos plans one by one. in this situation I can not see the reader hightower son being the one otto wants near the throne cause he would not be able to easily manipulate them. Headcanons and thanks for writing

hey anon! thank you so much for this ask i was really looking forward to writing it <3 i am really loving alicent's y/n brother rn

pronouns: he/him warnings: none other than parental issues that i can think of but please correct me if i'm wrong! A/N: i could barely stop myself writing im so obsessed lmao, the amount of errors i got from this

you were never one to indulge in your father's ambition as he paraded you after another won tourney and beckoned your sister as though she were not a Queen now and much higher in position than he would ever be

you rolled your eyes and huffed, folding your broad arms across your chest

you roam your stubborn eyes across the room as Otto attempts to entertain his fellow Lords and more importantly, ask about their daughters

your eyes widened when they caught sight of your father approaching with Lord Borros Baratheon, you ducked and began crawling under a series of tables hurriedly and regardless of how ungentlemanly it may seem, you turn your head quickly straight after peeking over your shoulder only for it to meet something hard and a yelp to sound from in front of you

your lips part in surprise as a silver head of hair comes into view, a porcelain hand flying to her forehead. The woman groans and you recognise that familiar voice. "What is wrong with you?" Rhaenyra Targaryen uttered with a huff and met your dark eyes with hers of violet. Your mouth gaped before you felt a hard hit to your shoulder, your brows pinched together. "What was that for?" You asked with a guttural groan. Her steel gaze remained. "You hit me first!" She threw back in a childish hiss. You scoffed. "Mine was an accident." You retorted only for her to drive her lips into a thin line and slump on the floor. "If I find that I am concussed, I will have yor head." Rhaenyra grumbled and you begrudgingly settled. Her eyes shot to yours.

"Move. I was here first." "No." She lets out a gruff chuckle in shock. "Excuse me?" "No." Her eyes narrow into slits at your defiance. "I am your future Queen." "Sorry." Your murmured and flushed pink. You looked down bashfully and picked at your rough fingernails. You turned oblivious as her eyes rolled across you inquisitively. She hesitated but her lips open quicker than she can think–not that that is unusual. "You are Y/n, aren't you? Not Gwayne, his jaw is wider." You snickered and nod. Her lips twitched upward without her consent. She leans on her left hand and smiles charming as she can manage. "I suppose I can allow you a sliver of my company since you are clearly so desperate for it." She grins playfully at your protesting lips and the way your body stiffens at the familiar shoes beneath the table. Her brows raise and she almost gives up her own hiding just to see the look on your face if she pushed you into his sight. Soon the feet retreated however and a breath of relief propelled out of your throat. Rhaenyra watches you carefully. You intrigue her infuriatingly enough. She nudged you with her knee enough to catch your eyes. "Why are you hiding?" You asked curiously "I could ask you the same thing." Your princess teased. "Ah then who am I to deny my future Queen?" She hates how her stomach twists in knots at the title passing your lips. Her breath hitches. "My father is..." You struggle to find the word, using your hands to gesture uselessly. "domineering?" It sounds more like a question and she briefly wonders whether she knows your father better than yourself.

that's the first time she has ever had a full conversation–or possibly one at all–with you but Rhaenyra doesn't regret it as she notes the stiffness of your brow and your unexpectedly soft voice

she finds herself listening to you intently until the night is over

she even forgets you're both supposed to be hiding and laughs boldly which results in a share of wide eyes as two pairs of rough hands haul you both out from under the table

your fathers have never looked more disappointed as you glance sheepishly at one another

you both are sent to your respective chambers but before you leave, her soft hand shoves a piece of parchment in your hand and smirks as you stare after her

your father blocks your gaze when he wrenches a grip on your neck and drives you back to your quarters

you open your palm to find the crumpled paper has her scribbled handwriting 'Meet me in my chambers', you grow a grin and obey like the obedient subject your dear father wishes you to be

you decide to take unorthodox methods to do so however and climb up the walls to her window, clutching to vines and stones alike

she almost thinks you're never going to come before your tumbling inside

she snickers and beams as she brings you through and like clockwork the cycle repeats in secret and neither of you are particularly good at hiding the budding relationship between you

until the dreaded year that her mother passes

she had seemed so excited and humoured as you beat her uncle's arse into the ground, wielding a sword to his neck unless he chose to yield and the princess' forever favour strapped to you securely

you couldn't bite back the smirk until your eyes settled on the missing figures

her brows furrowed and her gaze followed yours

you still remember how her body tensed and panic became summoned to her face

how she had bolted away

and the moment you found out how slowly the hand had told the King? Without haste or worry regarding the Queen? That was when you pledged the deepest loyalty to Rhaenyra, bending the knee before she was even pronounced heir

and she pledged herself back to you in a much different manner

and when she is announced heir, it is not your father you stand beside but rather the Velaryons

and so with every visit to her chambers you share new promises and old vows

it is difficult to juggle the romantic affection for your princess and the friendship with your siblings but you manage

one night you approach your father's chambers to request permission to begin courting but instead you hear something much darker

the lump in your throat largens and when your sister bursts through the doors with trembling fingers, you don't take any time to embrace her

with every planned visit to the King, you take her to Rhaenyra's chambers instead and personally escort her on her travels

it's a dutiful side to you that Rhaenyra has never seen to you before, you had always been as rambunctious and rebellious as she and yet so kind and soft when it came to Alicent

the both of you smirk at Otto when Viserys announces his engagement, you personally delight in the clench of Otto's fists

you can't call him your father anymore

not after that

it's late at night with Alicent asleep and strewn across you both when you interlace your fingers with her own and grin at her

"If I didn't know any better, I would think we were the most intelligent in the realm." you snicker and she raises her brows playfully. "Oh?" she asks and you hum mischievously. You nod and look down at Alicent's gentle face. "I think we should put our team to it's limits." She glances at you sceptically and agrees

and so the first of many occurrences begins

the first he attempts without any remorse; separating you and The Realm's Delight

first by steering potential matches at you and when that fails, he suggests an alliance with House Velaryon after Viserys' rejection of Laena who you have grown fast friends with

he insists upon allowing Laenor to at least court the princess and the King agrees quickly and desperate to repair old wounds

so again you devise a plan to diverge her suitor's attention and lucky for you your old friend Laenor Velaryon is also not pleased with the possible arrangement

however she needs a chance to catch his eye and you have the perfect plan

Your gaze roams her face as you cup her cheek, both of you laying in bed. Her soft skin, her soft eyes, sloped nose and plush lips. "If you grace me by your mere presence alone I will lay every flower at your feet," You start and her breath hitches. "but if you agreed to wed me then I will fight against the swords of a thousand just to secure your heart and if you wish it, your crown."

it is early in the morn when Rhaenyra is rushed into the throne room and sees you knelt before her father with your head bowed

and that's when she hears it, eyes snapping to her father's face

"This man wishes for your hand in marriage." Viserys announces, standing and watching her carefully. Your gaze flickers up at her and softens. It's not long before she swallows her pride and takes slow steps forward. Her hands engulf yours without a second thought.

Otto notices of course as you pull away from him

he decides to direct your sister's place instead, he begins his second beginning conquest; taming Daemon Targaryen and producing a Targaryen heir

reluctantly and uncharacteristically he acts in favour to the request of Daemon annulling his marriage to Lady Rhea. He may hate the man but he needs protection and a male Targaryen heir

Rhaenyra is still a woman and he knows that there will always be an uprising, if he can manage to coax Alicent once more into a Targaryen's embrace he will be able to succeed the throne with Hightower blood

lucky for you, you have an ally who is very keen to assist you

it seems that Laena Velaryon has held affections for the prince from afar and is happy to snatch his attention herself

it's at the engagement banquet that she makes her move Otto can do nothing but grit his teeth as he watches and whispers into Alicent's ear but she's slowly beginning to resent him and slip out of his grasp

it's not long before the wedding is being planned and Otto is growing more and more desperate

then Viserys' wife is announced to be pregnant and much to his luck it's a boy

perhaps his own children will not listen to him but what of this child? he may not be Hightower blood but that doesn't mean he cannot commend his intelligent advisor and future hand

he just needs to sneak into the child's head and gain his favour

a mentor if you will

he attempts to sabotage the wedding by encouraging his spies to seek out you both but any rumours they begin to spread are instantly shut down and discredited

Rhaenyra begins to take a stronger interest in her siblings and Alicent surprises everyone by joining the faith of The Seven

she has newly devoted herself to the faith as a Septa, away from the cursed childbed and dreaded expectation of her father

Otto takes advantage of this yet again however and insists with the King that your wedding to Rhaenyra be in a ceremony in the Sept but you have other plans, sneaking through passageways with your closest comrades and performing an intimate Valyrian ceremony in the dead of night

you brandish your wounded palm proudly before the court and revel in their shocked faces and whisperings

Otto turns red in the face and even more once he sees little Aegon and Helaena peek out from behind Rhaenyra's traditional garments

and when the many years pass and Viserys the peaceful is sent to a new realm, Rhaenyra glides down the large throne room with you, deja vu coursing through the air as you stand beside the Velaryons beaming at her

[findafight]

I’m a sucker for Steve learning about the party’s interests, do you have any thoughts about the kinds of things he’d do for each party member? (E.g. he has the ability to recognize tony hawk, despite his inconspicuousness, because of max’s skateboarding)

Actually now I'm obsessed with the idea that Steve is one of the few people who are not personal friends with him who is able to identify Tony Hawk without a skateboard. Like. Steve is an athlete and respects athleticism, and gives credit where it is due. (He does NOT allow making fun of Olympic athletes, even the weird sports, just because some people don't appreciate how hard you work for it.) So he's like "wow that Tony guy sure is talented. He is so high in the air. Good for him." And never forgets his face. At some point someone shares one of those "didn't recognize actual skate legend Tony Hawk " stories except it ends with "and then the guy in pastels standing beside Eddie Munson slapped his (Eddie's) chest and went "hey!! That's Tony Hawk!! Let's see if we can get an autograph for Max!" And I realized I had been making awkward small talk about cocktail weenies with sports legend Tony Hawk while working up the courage to ask Eddie Munson for an autograph."

He also tries to learn how to Ollie but he's actually really nervous and wears all the protective gear possible and is only able to go forward. (This is from my personal experience being post concussive and not a good skater. It's scary! My brain meat is delicate!) But Max tells him it's okay and talks about the skatepark in California and some of her old friends from there, and he tries to teach her how to make fried rice.(one of the only actual meals that isn't breakfast food he can cook really well completely from scratch) She gets him to do her hair with El because Steve is the only other person who understands that for El hair is a means of control, and that taking care of it is something important to that feeling.

He and El do jigsaw puzzles together and listen to folk music I think. El would appreciate having the option to talk or not, and likes listening to Steve talk too. Also I like jock El so he gets her overly invested in the Cubs like tells her all the lore and she's obsessed with the goat and she joins a softball team. When she first yells at an umpire for a bad call Steve almost cries of pride. Like. Finally. He's not the only one who Gets It.

Lucas and him bond over basketball yes. But Lucas doesn't yell at refs, and Steve gets why but thinks it's very fun when people yell at officials. Also I think they watch clouds together after practicing. Just nice peaceful, laying on warm blacktop and staring at the sky. Maybe El joins them and Lucas and El can bond this way too. Steve and his little jock siblings. (Why does no one consider max a jock for skateboarding? I guess it wasn't really seen as a sport for a long time...hm..)

Steve also bought a flat of new coke before they stopped selling it and keeps it for Lucas on movie nights or whatever and everybody always yells and groans because where is getting that!! It was discontinued!! Also they watch anime together. Erica and Robin join.

I can see him getting into some video games with Dustin and Mike and Lucas. Only the two or more player ones though he doesn't like playing alone. Like. Okay this whole post has anachronisms but please imagine him playing Lego Star Wars (complete saga) with Dustin. The chaos. The yelling.

He's absolutely a pinball guy. They go to the arcade and everyone does their thing but then end up cheering Steve on as he goes for idk star trek pinball glory. Without even tilting it! Idk what to tell you but Steve def loves pinball.

Also before his dad cut him off or after he gets some kind of inheritance he does a very financially secure impulse buy: he purchases an arcade game. Full size. I am partial to Asteroids because that's what my dad impulse bought in the 80's and had it in our basement growing up but let's keep this going he has a themed pinball machine. Icon.

He 100% reaches Dustin to drive. Mrs. Henderson asked him because Steve just looked sad when she mentioned teaching him and she was like well...we could BOTH teach him :) (because she has mentally adopted him. She told him to call her Ma and he does and Robin is like Steve. That's your mum now. And Steve's like no... Everybody calls her that. And she saysnSteve. Only Dustin. Her actual literal son. Calls her that. Guess what that makes YOU.)

Steve and whole party Lego Building Buddies? Mayhaps?

I wish tamagotchis were out in the 80's because Steve would be so diligent a Tama babysitter Erica would sell his services to her friends if they needed it lmao. He'd get all squinty and concentrated you know he'd highscore jump rope but not get the shapes game (me too buddy). Alas. Not to be.

Instead he listens to her talk about her elementary and middle school drama while looking for four leaf clovers. He also has watched MLP with her and may have teared up a little. Also, of course, she is his one true Game Master. Sorry Eddie

Mike is harder...maybe they bond over making snarky comments about people in movies, and then talk about how actually is car racing a sport? And it'd be sort of awkward because Mike has Nancy as an older sibling (even if they don't get along) and he's holding on to animosity that's pointless now. Plus Dustin and Lucas both seem to see Steve as a big brother and friend figure, but like. It's a bit weird for Mike. But still, Mike knows if he bikes to Steve's at two am he'll be hauled in and forced to sit down and asked if he wants a hug and hot chocolate.

Same with will, except Will has Jonathan (El does to but it's different) so at first they're sorta🧍🧍 staring at each other. Steve has to be like sooooo wanna. Tell me about Wizards? Or something? Cool...rocks? And Will would realize that this guy's just, y'know. A guy. Probably similar to Mike except he's not begrudging about it.

I guess a lot of Steve and the party is him listening to them and letting them actually be silly and kids, making snarky comments about the highschool dramas happening, and encouraging them to try different things (he did!) And figure out what they like outside of what they think the rest of the party likes.

[indigo-scarf]

🎀Pansy, My Beloved Mean Girl🎀

Although her goth-grunge haircut in the PoA film turned fanon!Pansy into an edgy badass, book!Pansy is a caricature of the girly mean girl.

Pansy bursts “[into] tears” over Draco's hippogriff injury, and later “simpers” at him; she wears “very frilly robes of pale pink” to the Yule Ball; she “shrieks” and “giggles” at cruel jokes; she spreads gossip about the Golden Trio's love life.

However, what sets Pansy Parkinson apart from the more celebrated mean girls is that Pansy is completely one-dimensional. While others — Kate Sanders, Sharpay Evans, Regina George, Blair Waldorf — are allowed to be charismatic, attractive, powerful, vulnerable, Pansy is only presented as annoying, “pug-faced” (i.e. an ugly bitch), and “thicker than a concussed troll”.

While other works examine the motives and the secret pains of the mean girl — distant families, insecurities, lack of true friends, pent-up rage — Pansy is simply mean, because she is. You’re not meant to see her as a human being at all; Pansy is an effigy to be burnt.

In the words of JKR herself:

I loathe Pansy Parkinson. [...] She's every girl who ever teased me at school. She's the Anti-Hermione. I loathe her.

So, if Pansy Parkinson is so unlikeable, why do I like her?

🎀 First, because she is girly.

The construction and treatment of Pansy’s character fits what’s termed “demonisation of hyperfemininity”: a trend in media to associate girly girls with villainy, spite, and everything not nice, often in opposition to a virtuous Not Like Other Girls girl (such as Hermione).

If this concept has been used (rightfully, imo) to discuss the mean girls I described above as multi-faceted, then Pansy’s lack of nuance hyperdemonises hyperfemininity. Even her name itself is an insult used to deprecate femininity.

Once you’re aware of this trope, though, it’s not difficult to separate the hyperfeminine wheat from the demonic chaff. There is no doubt that Pansy has condemnable traits, but must every trait of hers be condemned? Is it shameful to pursue your crush, giggle, and like pink frills? Of course not.

For years I thought it was, but now, in the era of bimbocore and barbiecore, I am finally overcoming that internalised prejudice and reviving the girly part of me I had repressed. Now, I really enjoy exploring the positive side of Pansy’s girliness: she’s affectionate, bubbly, interested in cute aesthetics (and in my mind she knows all about beauty products). 💋 Second, because she is mean.

At the same time, observing that a part of Pansy is unjustly maligned doesn’t warrant downplaying her flaws. Just as Sharpay is self-obsessed and manipulative, Pansy is a bigot and a bully. But I love that in a fictional character.

I admit her canon taunts are pretty insipid; you can’t make a “Pansy Parkinson being iconic” quote compilation. Nonetheless, I can only see her wanton meanness towards other girls as a sign of insecurity, which I find sympathetic and relatable — even if JKR refuses to give Pansy any humanity, I simply do not believe that she is the way she is for no reason.

I think Pansy has the need to put others down so much because she doesn’t know how else to feel good about herself — the insipidness of her bullying actually makes her seem even more like someone who lashes out out of desperation for assurance, even if she herself may be in denial about that.

Pansy was probably taught, both by our patriarchal society and by her own individual upbringing, that she had impossible standards to conform to and that other girls were her competitors. 

Indeed, many of Pansy’s insults focus on the appearance of her female peers — beauty standards being the most obvious tool of the system to make women hate themselves and each other.

On top of that, I imagine Pansy’s mother must be overly critical of her and of everyone else too, instilling in Pansy a lack of self-confidence and modelling viciousness as acceptable behaviour — things Mrs. Parkinson herself must have learnt from her own trajectory under patriarchy.

It’s the tragic old cycle of hurt women hurting women, which so many of us end up being part of in one way or another.

Plus, in general, I relate strongly to any character who is an insecure little bastard. I admit it: I have a fragile self-esteem and I’ve always struggled with envy and urges to seek validation in toxic ways. Although I've got a lot better at dealing with these feelings, I love to see a character who makes me feel less alone in my issues.

Lastly, Pansy’s meanness is just fun to write. I find it a fun exercise to come up with the most egregious things for someone to say or do in (fan)fiction. 🌸 Third, because JKR hates her too much.

There are many criticisms Pansy undeniably deserves, but JKR goes beyond those, which makes me feel compassion for the girl.

Exhibit A:

On her old website, JKR once made a post called “For Girls Only, Probably,” which discusses incidents that made her reflect on “being thin”, or “the issue of size and women”.

Besides the hypocrisy of her writing that without addressing the rampant fatphobia in the Harry Potter books, the post itself is full of misogynistic clichés and, once again, demonisation of hyperfemininity.

In the first paragraphs, after assuming (yikes) that a girl on a magazine has an eating disorder and body-shaming her (“her concave stomach, protruding ribs and stick-like arms”), JKR concludes:

This girl needs help, but, the world being what it is, they're sticking her on magazine covers instead.

If you squint, there could be a salvageable point there about toxic beauty standards being pushed by the media, but by the end of the article that is lost in victim-blaming and derision:

[Pink’s] latest single, ‘Stupid Girls’, is the antidote-anthem for everything I had been thinking about women and thinness. ‘Stupid Girls’ satirises the talking toothpicks held up to girls as role models: those celebrities whose greatest achievement is un-chipped nail polish, whose only aspiration seems to be getting photographed in a different outfit nine times a day, whose only function in the world appears to be supporting the trade in overpriced handbags and rat-sized dogs.

[...] I don't want [my daughters] to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I'd rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before 'thin'. And frankly, I'd rather they didn't give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons. Let them never be Stupid Girls.

Excessive preoccupation with weight is a ubiquitous feature of a fair few 2000s mean girls — Regina and Blair, of course — but the character JKR’s rhetoric most reminds me of is Shelby Cummings from A Cinderella Story. You know, the one who asks, “What can I get here that has no sugar, no carbs, and is fat free?”

That film puts a lot of emphasis on food as a marker of a woman's morality: while Hilary Duff's Sam is a good-natured, booksmart tomboy who loves greasy cheeseburgers, Shelby is portrayed as a vapid, spiteful girly girl obsessed with dieting.

Hyperfemininity, shallowness, cruelty, and weight concern are all framed as parts of the same contemptible character flaw. Liking beauty and fashion equals being dumb and bitchy; body image issues are an individual moral defect, not a response to hurtful social pressures.

That is exactly the same unfair treatment JKR’s post gives both Pansy and real life “Stupid Girls”, which drives me to side with Pansy. In fact, because of this blog post, I've started headcanoning Pansy as not only being insecure about her appearance, but also struggling specifically with her weight and with disordered eating/an eating disorder — one more element that increases her relatability.

Exhibit B:

The quote cited earlier is from an interview where JKR was asked who Draco had married, and if it had been Pansy. Her full answer:

No! God, it wasn't Pansy Parkinson. I loathe Pansy Parkinson. I don't love Draco but I really dislike her. She's every girl who ever teased me at school. She's the Anti-Hermione. I loathe her. Yeah, sorry! Sidetracked there by my latent bitterness. He married Astoria Greengrass.

Essentially, marrying Pansy is a punishment too harsh even for Draco, because while he is bad, she is worse — but how is Pansy worse than Draco?

As school bullies, they often act together, but Draco’s insults are arguably harsher: Pansy targets appearance and we never see her say “Mudblood”. Draco often mocks Harry’s orphan status and grief, plus uses the word “Mudblood” 15 times (I counted lol). They both abuse their power as prefects, both join the Inquisitorial Squad and try to take down the D.A.

In the war, Pansy clamours for Harry to be handed to Voldemort. Draco enthusiastically becomes a Death Eater, attempts murder twice (necklace, mead), lets Death Eaters and a feral werewolf into Hogwarts, and actually tries to capture Harry to hand him to Voldemort (right before the Fiendfyre).

Not to mention, Pansy is the one always treating Draco like a king and being used or led on — which she puts up with for years. He accepts her affection when it suits him and never reciprocates, yet she remains loyal to him.

If anything, Pansy is too good for Draco. If anything, instead of being sentenced to “not getting the guy”, Pansy should dump Draco.

(Though to me they are both problematic faves & I ship them fixing their relationship <3)

But no, the bad girly girl must remain irredeemable and be punished for it, while the more charismatic bad guy is allowed depth, self-improvement, and happiness.

JKR’s personal trauma with Pansy-like classmates might be a factor in her bias, but the way this bias affects her writing still results in choices that come across as illogical and sexist. 💗 Fourth, because she is a scorned woman.

That said, Pansy’s chasing an emotionally unavailable boy is relatable, and makes for a kind of story I’m interested in (and also contributes to why I believe she has self-esteem issues). However, I have mixed feelings about its canonical ending: on one hand, it’s infuriating; on the other, it’s an effectively moving tragedy.

I don’t like love triangles between a shining Refined Woman and an utterly contemptible Obnoxious Woman, and I tend to root for the latter. I don’t see myself in the glass slippers of the victor; I get horrified at the nightmare of being labelled a despicable failure and being replaced by some perfect, virtuous, better woman.

In Pansy’s specific case, it’s doubly frustrating, because there is some unrecognised good (or at least neutral) in her, and she is flawed in precisely the ways I connect with. Meanwhile, Astoria is much harder for me to like, since her main trait and sole reason to exist is “being better than Pansy” — as per the interview above, JKR was the first to define Drastoria by Pansy bashing.

Astoria is barely a character; she’s a mere tool in Pansy’s punishment and Draco’s redemption, which is doing Astoria dirty, too. Astoria and Pansy are both scenery in Draco's journey — and it’s a bit rich that Pansy is the Corruption-upon-Styx from which he must distance himself, given that his offences are greater than hers.

Another facet of Pansy’s punishment is that she couldn’t marry Draco because she shouldn’t be a mother.

Exaltation of motherhood is a huge theme in Harry Potter: the motherly love of Lily, Molly, and even Narcissa is a great force against evil. Plus, nearly all Light Side women either are (or become) mothers, or have a caretaking role as school teachers.

Being childfree, on the flipside, is stigmatised by its association with the worst female antagonists: Rita Skeeter and Umbridge, who are also hyperfeminine, and Bellatrix — the latter directly defeated by Molly's love for her daughter. The only exception is Petunia, yet another hyperfeminine antagonist, who represents a perversion of motherhood.

So, in this reactionary framework, of course Pansy was forbidden to have children. Childlessness is her burden for being an irredeemably bad woman, which in turn reinforces how bad a woman she is. Inversely, Astoria gets to be a mother because she is a good woman, and motherhood makes her even better (than Pansy).

Paradoxically, though, as much as I hate JKR’s approach to this whole thing, I’m glad my OTP Dransy isn’t canon endgame, because Pansy’s thoroughly whumped figure is even more compelling for it.

I can’t blame anyone if, even considering all this, Pansy is still not their cup of tea — after all, she was created to be as unpalatable as possible. But despite JKR’s efforts to convince me to hate the character, everything about Pansy Parkinson ends up making her very much my cup of pink strawberry hot chocolate.

[wgc-productions]

As a certain protagonist from an award winning Tony Kushner play once said: The Great Work Continues!

You can read my reactions to the 3rd episode of the Magnus Archives under the cut.

00:00 Okay, Silly question. Is Magnus a person? If so, do we meet that person? This is a ~silly question~ cause I think it might literally be the name of the freaky little place Johnathan spends all his time and, if so, this was probably discussed in Episode 1 but I don't want to go back and listen to answer my question.

01:09 And I am gonna speed skip through these ads. You guys should listen though.

02:00- I wonder if people skip through the ads on Small Victories? No hard feelings if you do.

03:01- Dang. Sucks for Casey Shane.

04:26- You know what's across the street from my house? Another single-family house! Which, to some urban planners, probably is a horror unto itself.

05:05- My prayers have been answered. It's the Magnus Institute. (That doesn't solve the problem of if they are a real person who is significant, because why is this freaky little institute dedicated to investigating strange phenoms named after you if your'e a perfectly normal fellow?)

07:53- Okay, so yes the people these logs are about are very strange, but also, even before the people got ~supernaturally~ strange the log holders are still very judgmental of what is just a little odd behavior. I mean, when I was younger I would practice making and mimicking animal noises, be drawn to small dark warm spaces, would repeat the words people said as they said them, and would talk to myself all the time. If one of these people were around me then they'd think I was a little alien horror!

10:30 As someone who has never had a concussion, what's it like?

11:41- Buddy boy, take a Tylenol.

12:53- Honestly the square hole is the most alarming thing about this. Think about it. When's the last time you've seen a perfectly square hole on a piece of antique furniture. Just one hole with no other decoration. As a lover of old furniture, it gives me the williams.

15:06- THIS MAN IS A TERROR!

15:26- HERE YE! HERE YE! Local man obsessively watches mentally disturbed man from his window. More at 11.

16:02- If you're so concerned you need to get the man some help, brother.

17:59- April 7th? Ah, yes, Good Friday. He dropped the ham on the floor and ate it anyway. Harrowing.

18:36- I feel like video games would be great for this guy. Get to sit at home, be invested in a world outside of you, and you don't have to creep on your neighbor for all the days of your life.

20:09- Alright. I am, admittedly, alarmed.

21:02- See and this is why you should have sat there and ate your food. You wouldn't know Lovecraftian Horrors live next door if you minded your own business.

22:23- I know it's the accent, but when he says "Graham" it sounds like 'Gray ham" which amuses me greatly.

23:28- Oh, he's happy to see you.

23:37- Honestly, I do think it's way more interesting (or at least has the potential to be deeply interesting) to explore the idea that monsters and horrors exist but they don't want to hurt you. They are just living parallel to you. Yeah there may be a strange horror living across the street but he'll smile at you like anyone else would and he won't do anything to hurt you or hurt anyone else, but the internal discomfort you feel upon seeing something you were told was scary is what drives your fear. The fear and horror is internal.

25:28- See! Grayham didn't even hurt anyone. He was just chilling and trying to smile down the weirdo who was watching him for months. Honestly, Grayham was being very kind all things considered.

26:16- How do you know Graham didn't have the monster inside him all along?

26:40- Look. He was playing a fun little game with his stalker friend.

27:04- They want me to be scared, but I really do think the idea that the Graham like thing was a little strange and was toying with the watcher a lot more fun.

I think this is my favorite episode so far! I liked the story telling and the descriptions did leave me with strong mental images that I just don't think they'd be able to replicate on screen.

I will say I am scrolling through the episode list and I do not see a clear break in seasons, so could someone let me know where Season 1 ends?

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

⭐star⭐

For your whumptober fills in general- how did you go about planning what to write for the month? Did you have certain goals for word count?

Then more specifically- anything you can share about ‘i say I don’t care, I say that im fine’?

Thank you friend!

So whenever the prompts dropped the end of August, I filed them all into a google doc and just wrote notes of ideas for each. Some ideas I already had, like Jamie hiding in injury when Zava was there so he didn't lose more ground and then saw the "suppressed suffering" and thought, perfect! I just went through each day, jotting down quick ideas that came from the prompts.

Some came easier than others, like swooning, okay concussion, and thermometer would be a sick fic. I made a google sheet with each day once I decided on the general idea. I tried to vary the actual injuries/whump. Some prompts I thought I would use and didn't, like broken, I thought, oh easy, broken bone, but I don't think I even used it even though it probably would have worked for a lot. Someone asked for some Roy whump, so I tried to include him in it.

My original idea was to do a single story for 31 days. I had no goal for word count. My problem is I am unable to tell a short story a lot. I can't keep my thoughts clear and concise when an event like an injury happens. I tend to want to go on longer with recovery, etc. So I ran out of steam trying to write 31 entries. I wrote wherever the plot bunnies took me originally, and as I got closer, I realized I needed to buckle down because I wanted to post these in order. So, I had to adjust some into multi-chapter stories and move around certain things.

Thank you for asking about, i say i don't care, i say that I'm fine, because it is one of my favorites.

it wasn't one I really had the thought of until the day of, actually. The prompts for the day were "recording", "made to watch", and "it should've been me". None of those I really vibed with, so I was planning to use one of the alternate ones in it's place. But then I was inspired by The Good Place storyline with Eleanor's Mom, how she struggles with thinking if her Mom could change this whole time, why was she not the one she changed for? And suddenly, it should've been me, made sense.

I struggled with a reason why James suddenly was sober over a year after last seeing his son. So this seemed as good a reason as any, and wanted to explore more with Jamie of his relationship with his father because I am of the strong belief that sober does not equal a good person. So I wanted to have Jamie not only find out someone else is the reason he's sober, but James still not truly changed. And then, of course, Jamie feels guilty about being jealous of someone he's never meant but also genuinely fearful for the child.

I am also obsessed with the notion of Jamie taking people's advice, but it's like a game of telephone where it's just slightly distorted. As fucked as Ted's advice to Jamie was in Mom City, I do think he meant Jamie should forgive his father for his own benefit (Ted having never forgiven his own father, etc.). Jamie wants to be accountable like Keeley told him to, but he never expects anyone to be accountable to him. And he takes accountability for things that really aren't his fault (being hacked). And I also think Higgins' advice is swirling around in that pretty head of his as well to forgive his father for who he isn't. So he's gotten all this advice meant to make him a better man, and he's trying, he's really trying, and all the advice is in a blender together and Jamie's drinking it down, combined in ways it wasn't intended. And also, Jamie forgets how he deserves to be treated, or thinks he doesn't deserve to be treated well.

I was also listening to a lot of Olivia Rodrigo's album, specifically The Grudge, where I got the title from, and it's just perfect for Jamie and his Dad. Some lyrics:

"It takes strength to forgive, but I don't feel strong."

"I fantasize about a time you were a little fucking sorry."

"I know in my heart, hurt people hurt people, and we both drew blood but man those cuts were never equal."

"How could anybody do the things you did so easily?"

"You know I can't let it go; I've tried, I've tried, I've tried."

"You built me up to watch me fall"

"I try to be tough, I try to be mean, But even after all this, you're still everything to me"

"And I doubt you ever think about the damage that you did."

"I hear your voice every time I think I'm not enough."

[monthofsick]

Hard to Stomach

Nov(emeto)ber 2022, Day 16: Bad food

OCs: Jamal, Nikita

Unsurprisingly, I am way behind schedule and had to miss out on a few days, but here we go again! It's kind of a personal spin on the prompt about how good food can be bad for you if consumed at the wrong time. As someone with chronic gastritis, I had to learn it the hard way. Several times. It also sounded like a perfect chance to explore the relationship between my boys Jamal and Nikita a little more.

TW: Vomit, health issues

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Jamal didn't like changes at all, but lately, everything kept on changing. He was still obsessed with football and gave his all on the gridiron, it just wasn't the same since Nikita had left the team. Which was kind of absurd, considering Jamal couldn't stand the guy not so long ago. Nikita hadn't even been an active player after his concussion. According to the doctors, there was a higher risk of getting a similar or more severe head injury after the first one, so… it probably was for the best. It just sucked that Jamal himself had sparked the whole crisis.

Nikita's absence wasn't the only change for the worse in their college team. Since Jamal's breakdown from heat exhaustion, there was an unspoken obligation for everyone to pick sides. Needless to say, that had never been Jamal's intention. Of all people, he who tended to avoid conflicts like the plague was now right in the center of one. There were some teammates who blamed Brody for recording Jamal throwing up on the field. Others thought that Nikita had totally overreacted by hitting Brody for such an harmless act. They believed the trainer had been right to go off on Nikita for the physical attack, the opposition deemed it unfair – the coach should have intervened earlier and directed his rage towards Brody.

Despite a successful season, the team morale had hit an all time low. The trainer was cranky and Jamal, who had neither asked for getting sick from training in the scorching heat nor for Nikita to go into protection mode overdrive, had somehow become the eye of the storm. So far, Nikita was adamant about never talking to the coach again. He wasn't an easy person to read, so Jamal had no idea if his friend missed football or if he was actually indifferent about not being part of the team anymore.

It was high time for Jamal to get away from all the drama and clear his head. There was no better way to make the most of the mild fall than a day trip to the coast, so Jamal packed Nikita, some snacks and cool water and headed towards the shore. Recently, Nikita had locked himself away in his room even more than he usually did. A bit of sunshine and the fresh, salty sea breeze would definitely do him well.

After a pretty relaxing ride of not even two hours, they arrived at their destination and took some time to stroll along the pier. It was a pleasantly warm day that never ventured into hot and sweaty territory. Glittery patterns danced across the seemingly endless blue canvas. There was something deeply soothing about the vastness of the ocean that eventually blended into the horizon.

Noon approached fast and when it was time to fill their stomachs, Jamal and Nikita decided upon a small Thai eatery. It was off the beaten path along the seafront, huddled away in a winding alley. The food was way more affordable than what the well known tourist magnets served and the smell lingering in front of the entrance door was enough to make their mouths water. After sitting down at one of the rustic wooden tables, Jamal ordered a spicy noodle soup named Khanom Jeen Nam Ngiaw while Nikita opted for a green papaya salad.

"That is the life, huh?", Jamal sighed with satisfaction.

"Never been here before, no idea why." Nikita shrugged and leaned back. "It actually is kind of nice."

"You know what I love about you?", Jamal grinned. "Your boundless enthusiasm."

"Everyone says that's my best feature." The usual one-sided smirk curled up a corner of Nikita's mouth, but a thoughtful expression remained on his face.

"What's going on in that thick skull of yours?", Jamal asked, knocking against Nikita's forehead.

"A desire to be left alone by your knuckles." Nikita avoided Jamal's gaze just as much as he avoided the question. As he had avoided Jamal himself in the last few days, for that matter.

"Hey. Look at me, Nik." Jamal leaned over the table, put his hand on Nikita's chin and turned his face towards his own. "You don't want to see the trainer right now, I get it. Or the rest of the team. But why do I feel like you've been hiding from me as well?"

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Jamal could almost see the wheels turning inside of Nikita's head as he struggled with himself. After a particularly deep breath, Nikita finally looked up at Jamal again. "Are you mad at me?"

"Am I… wait. What?" This was not the answer – or rather, question – Jamal had expected. "Why would I?"

"Because I fucked up the entire team." Nikita exhaled audibly. "And don't say I didn't. Everyone's at each other's throat and coach asshole thinks it's gonna blow over if he ignores it long enough."

"I mean, you only went after Brody because he filmed me, so… isn't he the one who fucked up the team?"

"Truth is, no one cared before I punched him in the face." There was a crack in Nikita's matter-of-fact callousness. His anger hadn't fully turned into cynical resignation. "Coach would have probably scolded him a little if he had even noticed."

"The thing is, you can't just hit someone, especially not on your own team." Jamal scratched his head. "But then again, it's hard to be angry at you when you did it for me."

"If anyone else had protected you, there would have been no need to hit him. I wasn't even on the field in the first place. The trainer was. Pretty much any other player was."

"I don't think I need someone to protect me", Jamal said, unable to hold back a laugh. "I mean, have you looked at me?"

"I did, and that's exactly why I think… why I know that you need protection." Nikita stubbornly crossed his arms. "It's you and the rest of the world that doesn't look close enough."

"You are so weird."

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm right. You're just not used to being…" Nikita interrupted himself as a waiter brought two artfully arranged plates of food. Jamal noticed that even the reserved blonde couldn't help licking his lips in anticipation.

"Now dig in", Jamal smiled. "And stop worrying, alright? I'm not mad. Not at all. You don't mind control the entire team. If they keep on fucking up, it's their own fault."

"Plus they're too irrelevant to have a seat at this table." Looking a little more relaxed, Nikita munched away on the finely shredded green papaya, vegetables and roasted peanuts.

Jamal turned his attention to the steaming bowl of goodness in front of him – rice noodles in a dark red broth with tender pieces of pork ribs. There were cherry tomatoes, cilantro and pickled mustard greens, fried garlic and chili flakes. Other ingredients were harder to identify, something resembling smooth blood sausage and dried flowers tasting a bit like mushrooms. It all merged beautifully into a smoky, tangy and flavorful dish. Quite spicy and a little oily as well, which Jamal usually didn't mind. Today, he did feel a burning sensation in his stomach. Nothing too bad, though, and the soup was way too delicious to leave anything behind.

Nikita seemed to feel the heat as well – he was wiping his mouth (and nose) several times with his napkin. His pale cheeks were sporting a subtle flush, which was so not like him.

"Has a nice kick to it, hm?" Jamal couldn't supress a little grin.

"Nothing I can't handle", Nikita huffed. Just like Jamal, he finished his plate, then leaned back and put both hands on his abdomen.

"You know what? Let's get some ice cream to cool down our mouths", Jamal suggested while putting out his wallet as a sign that they were ready to pay.

"Sounds like a plan." Nikita seemed content, which was anything but a given. The relaxed seaside atmosphere seemed to rub off on him.

They treated themselves to homemade gelato at the waterfront, feet dangling from the harbor wall. And even though the hours flew by, the day felt like an entire miniature vacation. When the sun was near setting, it was time for them to make their way home. Driving along the coastline, Jamal felt a tranquil joy he had been missing for quite a while.

He had no idea that this was about to change in a pretty drastic manner.

-

It started innocent enough with a slight discomfort, then quickly spiraled out of control. A gnawing ache took hold of Jamal's upper abdomen. The safety belt had a constrictive tightness to it that put way too much pressure on the stomach. Jamal's lunch from hours ago was suddenly stirred up again with every bump in the road. A cold, nagging queasiness lingered in the back of his palate.

Trying to clear his throat, Jamal sent his body into a hiccup instead. His diaphragm spasmed harshly, forcing out the signature hic with every hitch of the chest.

"Need a sip of water?", Nikita asked and pulled a chilled bottle out of the air-conditioned glove box. He opened it and held it in front of Jamal's mouth so he could have a few sips without letting go off the wheel.

"Thanks", Jamal rasped. Drinking helped to get rid of the hiccup, but now there was even more liquid sloshing around in his belly. A throbbing nausea crept up Jamal's throat, tickling his uvula. He swallowed hard as a sour fluid burned through his esophagus and flooded his mouth. The situation was going from unpleasant to concerning way too fast. Jamal knew he had to pull over as soon as possible, but that was precisely the problem – they were on a busy highway during rush hour with no exit, lay-by or service station in sight.

Tiny droplets of sweat formed on Jamal's forehead and the steering wheel felt damp and slippery under his palms. With the current traffic situation, Jamal needed to focus on the road. That didn't dissuade his body from the firm decision that, for whatever reason, an emergency purge could not be postponed. The tell-tale contractions of Jamal's abdominal muscles vigorously squeezed his stomach until it propelled up a surge of dense liquid.

Jamal was at a loss at what to do. He clenched his teeth and gulped down the nasty sludge, but it instantly came back up again. His cheeks bulged out while his belly kept on jerking, relentlessly pushing up more and more vomit. Opening the window and leaning out to throw up would have been insanely dangerous. Even bending to the side to avoid drenching himself in the mess might have caused the car to swerve. And with his throat being currently used as a barf pipeline, Jamal couldn't warn Nikita that he needed a sick bag held in front of him immediately.

There was only so much Jamal's lips could do. His mouth was already filled completely, but the stomach contents kept on coming up until they finally burst out of him. With a sharp jolt, Jamal expelled a flood of puke all over his lap and shoes. The lips he had pursed in an effort to hold everything in now acted as a nozzle to project the vomit even further, splattering on the steering wheel and dashboard.

"…the fuck?" Nikita was clearly hit by surprise. After feeding Jamal the water, he had turned towards the window again and missed out on the warning signs. Once Nikita got over the inital shock, he started looking around for any kind of container. "Where the hell is that coming from?"

"Du-dunno", Jamal coughed before he was overtaken by the next heave. Determined to keep his head straight and his eyes on the road, he just let the vomit pour out of his mouth. The reddish broth stung like ant venom. It did always burn twice, just not in the place Jamal had expected. The noodles only made things worse during their forced return. Jamal had to gargle and gag them up until the long, slimy strands slipped out of his mouth and splatted on his jeans.

"Ah, whatever." Nikita gave up his futile search – it was too late to protect the car and Jamal himself from the onslaught of undigested food. He put his hand on Jamal's shoulder instead, rubbing his upper arm and the parts of his back he could reach. "I owe you a car cleaning anyways from my last puke attack, so don't even worry about it. Just let the stuff out."

"Why – why does it always – urrrrrrck – have to happen… in my car?", Jamal groaned. He had experienced first hand how persistent the sour stench had been after driving a very pukish Nikita to the hospital when the blonde had his concussion. Big difference was, the poor guy couldn't possibly have helped it at the time. Nikita had been in and out of consciousness from his head injury, but what was his own excuse? It was highly unlikely that Jamal was hit by his very first bout of carsickness while being the driver himself and he had never reacted to spicy food in such an explosive manner. If it was a stomach flu, he would have probably felt weak and feverish, which he didn't. Just sick to his stomach and raw on the inside.

"It's kind of our thing, isn't it?" Nikita put on a crooked smile. "Now stop thinking about it already. I'll treat your car to a professional cleaning session if it makes you feel better."

It was hard to feel better while sitting in a rapidly cooling puddle of his own vomit, but Jamal was still grateful. He was also relieved that Nikita didn't laugh or snap at him. The nausea combined with the fiery heat of chili was bad enough already. Now that Jamal's irritated stomach was constantly subjected to harsh contractions, it hurt even more. His body wasn't ready to show him any mercy. With another painful spasm, Jamal burped up the next gush of chunky soup. It ran down his chin and soaked his chest with spicy broth and soggy bits of meat.

"Yeah, that's it, throw it all up." Nikita's cool fingers caressed Jamal's neck. "If your lunch bothers you, there's no faster way to get rid of the stuff than vomiting it out."

If only it hadn't been the most unpleasant way as well. It was not like Jamal was given a choice anyways, he had to let his body do its job and sit it out until the bitter end. His entire meal came up in splashes of liquid with more or less lumps, flowing from his mouth with gag after gag. It was a draining process, in every sense of the word. And the end was indeed quite bitter when Jamal puked mucoid bile that tasted repulsive enough to trigger several dry heaves.

"So-sorry", he panted when his stomach was finally done emptying itself. "We… should probably clean up at the next rest area so you don't have to endure the stench for the entire drive."

"It smells pretty foul, but I can handle it." Nikita opened the window on his side, letting in a stream of fresh air. "Should have done that earlier, I guess. The rest's up to you to decide. You're the one covered in barf, if you want to get rid of it, I'm here to help. If you prefer getting home as quickly as possible, I'm fine with it as well. Stink isn't lethal."

"You sure?" Jamal actually couldn't wait to get home. Marinating in his own congealed sick for another hour wasn't exactly an enticing prospect, but still better than the humiliation of trying to get rid of the mess in public.

"Do I look like someone who lies just to make you feel better?" Nikita had found a slightly crumpled paper napkin and reached over to wipe Jamal's mouth and chin. Then he pointed at Jamal's upper belly, just below the breastbone. "Does it also hurt somewhere around here?"

"It does, how do you know?" Even though vomiting had helped to ease the nausea, the nagging pain had only gotten worse.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you got a gastritis from all that stress lately." Once again, Nikita's voice was tinged with a hint of guilt. "You can't stand the thought of someone being mad at you. And the spicy food probably pushed your stomach over the edge."

"You kind of make me sound like a doormat."

"Just because you care about others?" Nikita shook his head. "Heck, you even care about me. I stayed away from people once I found out that most of them are assholes, including myself. You still take the risk. That doesn't sound like a coward thing to me."

"You're not half as bad as you like to pretend. At least you're honest." Jamal grinned and gave Nikita a slap on the back of his head. "So if it's gastritis, what am I supposed to do?"

"Prepare for a week of light meals and relaxation. No more fiery food for you until your stomach has calmed down." The hint of a smile played around the corners of Nikita's mouth. "And don't forget about tea and honey. Bet you didn't know I'm a tea expert."

"I guess there's a lot I don't know about you yet", Jamal mumbled. Weird enough, he felt only half as bad now that he knew Nikita would take care of both his car and himself. It took him back to more carefree days when a disease ment snuggling up in bed and being lovingly nursed back to health. "But honestly, I can't wait to find out."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Archive of our own: Up all night to get Bucky

tumblr: birdnamedenza

[commiemartyrshighschool]

When I was on the fence right before I took this job a seasoned older writer with a great voice said to me "you don't need a mentor, you need an editor."

The reason I was on the fence is because when I had just a couple technical questions before accepting the job offer the guy I had interviewed with and built a little rapport with responded by saying he had put in his two weeks notice, and that I should get in touch with the person taking over the role. His last day was also my first day.

That should've been ample warning.

Because not only did I not get a mentor (which as an early career journalist I'm now realizing I do in fact need!), I didn't get an editor either. After that meeting I've been in the same room as him five, maybe six times, almost always involving him either telling me a story about looking up his third grade teacher's skirt or telling me a young girl "deserved" a concussion for being at a Boy Scout camp.

And as much as I started dreading those conversations and found the handful of perfunctory zoom calls useless, I've been reduced to single line emails as a sole mode of communication. I know for a fact he will not read the second line of emails in most cases, because when he asks me for the information contained there-in and I copy and past the exact same line in reply it is the first time he has ever seen it.

If I insist on getting acknowledgement or approval of a story (he's furious when I pursue a topic without letting him know or if it changes focus away from his own bias, so I am reluctant to even lay groundwork for stories that might get canned) he'll get annoyed that I've sent so many emails.

Given how poorly we are communicating I looked into his twitter to find out a bit more about the guy, and apart from his obsession with prop comics who didn't even think their own work was that funny it's mainly his work moonlighting elsewhere that skirts conflict of interest and features shittily written op-eds espousing worse opinions, spreading anti-vax conspiracy theories, claiming that Patriot Front is a "Soros funded false flag," all leavened with a weird mixture of Anglophillia and thirsty replies to well muscled conservative men and male fetish models, on what was until recently a bluechecked account explicitly linking him to our publication

I could probably tolerate a handful of these things, particularly him telling dudes to take their shirts off, but it's crossed the line into repeated and dangerous disinformation spreading that I think reflects negatively on the publication.

He's done almost nothing to show me the ropes or teach me about the beat, in fact actively discourages me from developing a beat by rejecting any topic that's too "similar" to one recently covered at the start of the week and then assigning me coverage of something exactly the same by the end of it. When I do get introduced to anybody through him it's a persistent PR flack he's just tired of dealing with.

And you know what it's all made me paranoid. I totally AM reading too much into every email and overthinking them. But while my insane reads have turned out right on occasion the bigger issue is I'm worried I'm slowly losing my ability to interpret other people's messages.

I could kvetch about the rest of the company too, but I don't see the point. The department that makes money is the event planning portion of the business that massages local egos with awards ceremonies. I'm not sure why but people keep buying ads that go into a PDF only print newspaper as well too. A lot of that is just small biz/media bullshit, but it doesn't help that there's this nexus of dysfunction and fascism that's the majority of my dealings with my coworkers.

[d-lissa]

2ha book 2 (7S) - Ending

I swear this story is gonna ake me violent. I never was one to punch walls and other over dramatic gestures in dismay, but I sure am close to that point. For now, I am just pulling at my hair real hard and trying to keep myself from crying.

The FUCK you mean he forgot once again ?? I am so done with that fucking story. There was SO MUCH progress, why are you doing this to me you heartless story I just want Mo Ran and Chu Wanning to get along for once in their fucking life, who the fuck is that asshole other reincarnator and WHY IS EVERYONE PUSHING FOR MO RAN TO BE IN LOVE WITH SHI MEI ????

(By the way, I feel sooooo validated right now, I knew Shi Mei was shady as fuck, but whatever, this is just too frustrating.)

He doesn't actually CARE about Shi Mei, take him out of Mo Ran's sight for more than a few days and Mo Ran will forget about him ! I just ... Urgh.

Anyway, Shi Mei probably drugged his wontons with that infatuation pills thing (there WAS a mention of a love spell being in use so like ... You know. Thanks Wanning for your stellar no bullshit attitude, I am 120% sure that the victim of said spell is Mo Ran) and in his last life, Mo Ran was probably also drugged with the Love Pill that gives the victim an obsession 10 years long, which, no big deal I guess. Urgh. I am sick and tired and I am going to bite someone.

As there isn't anyone around, I will have to just do with biting myself. Anyway, the pain of book 1 is almost done right ? Not the official translation, the actual books. I am on chapter 89 and book 1 ends before the hundredth chapter, I think ? Please tell me he will have gotten over Shi Mei by then, I am begging you, I am so close to ending up bald. Or with a concussion from how much I am knocking my head into the table due to sheer exasperation.

[xglitterwolfx]

it’s annoying that this project makes me think about you. I am obsessed w coding this dumb web page I have not slept in days. It finally makes sense why people do drugs to code for weeks straight but i have no drugs, only the persistent thought of this stupid ass boy who is too cowardly to complete our cosmic destiny. Because unfortunately he is the only person I know who is good at IT. I wish i could ask him :( but also not really because he thinks i am stupid and that his college level physics classes make him better than me lmao </3 I am not stupid. I taught myself to code the rest of this page from knowing nothing about it in 3 days w no help. Its going swimmingly, minus this one fucking! Image. Anyways I think it is the one thing i haven’t forgiven him for. calling me stupid that is. and in general believing that I am less intelligent than he is. A lot of people think that about me and I don’t know why. I am good at literally everything I try. I have tutored people in subjects i never learned and taught myself 5 minutes before teaching them. I am an information sponge there is nothing I could not learn given 10 minutes and an internet connection. But i have school trauma issues lmfao so I still feel like I have to prove myself for baby me who was told all of my life that I am stupid or unmotivated or just not cut out for Real school. I have not forgiven myself for not doing enough even though they were all wrong in the first place. That’s probably why I cant forgive him for saying it to me. I know i’m not stupid and that I dont need to prove it to anyone else for that to be true, but subconsciously i’m still 17 being told by my boyfriend and best friends and guidance counselor and principal and family that I would never amount to anything because I am not cut out for academics <3 Even though I out tested all of those people, while severely concussed w memory loss. I forgot everyones name and passed out during every standardized test and I still scored higher I just did not go around telling everyone like they did & I guess they just assumed I was less than they are based on? I dont know. My sweet disposition? What everyone else considers naivety. Idk. I guess I’m still not over 2017 and I don’t know how to be. I still remember how it felt to be drowning and have everyone I cared for tell me it was because I was born wrong/stupid/different. I spent a lot of years since then trying to prove them wrong, to prove myself wrong out of believing them, and I only proved everyone more right because it made me sicker than ever. Anyways. I don’t trust people who have decided they are smarter than me based on how they have decided to perceive me. I dont trust myself still to apply my head to where I want to go even though I am literally. Good at everything I do. I still feel like it is not enough like I am a kindergartner in a room full of adults. Like I need to get better or smarter before I can be allowed to be happy or successful. I cannot forgive you until I can forgive me. The unfortunate way of the mirror.

[cjsinkythoughts]

Rocks, Shoulders, and Ears

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3501

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Major Angst in this one, guys, Loads of Feels (sorry not sorry), John Walker being a douche (I really don’t like the guy)

A/N: I’m SO SORRY! I promise I was planning on it being shorter, but I went a little overkill with the angst! There’s just so many feelings and not enough space in my heart and soul, so I had to pour them out here! You get to see more of Reader and Sam’s relationship in this one and there’s major Bucky Feels towards the end (in my defense, this is based on the Couples Therapy half of the episode).

I’m really hoping we get to see Bucky go to Louisiana next episode! I’m holding out for it! I have a few ideas that include Sarah, but I need the episode! Ugh! Now we have to wait a whole ‘nother week! I really shouldn’t write three chapters on one episode in one day. I just couldn’t help myself!

Anyways! Please enjoy this part and thank you so much for all your support! Seriously, it’s meant so much to me, especially after the week I’ve had! If you haven’t checked out the previous parts, my FATWS Series Masterlist is HERE, so please go read those first. Like always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Enjoy, babes!

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The last thing you remembered was falling asleep in Bucky’s arms after walking a few miles. And a hospital in DC wasn’t exactly what you preferred waking up to, but it’s what happened. Turned out, not only was your shoulder dislocated and your thigh was strained, but you had a mild concussion. Your arm was in a sling and your palm, which you had completely forgotten about after you wrapped it while on Bucky’s back, was wrapped properly. Luckily, your thigh wasn’t too bad, but they wanted to put you on crutches, which you refused immediately.

You had to get out of that building. You had no idea where the guys went, which was weird because you were sure they’d never leave you alone. Especially in a hospital.

You quickly snuck your way through the halls after grabbing your bag which - thank God - was left on the seat besides your bed and changing into an extra pair of clothes. 

You tried calling Bucky’s phone, the one he had specifically for you, which he always always answered. He even made an excuse to go to the bathroom once when you accidentally called in the middle of a therapy session. Nothing. You called the number four times before trying Sam’s phone.

It clicked on the first try.

“Hey. Listen, sorry for leaving-”

“Where the hell are you?”

You heard him sigh. “I was just about to explain, so hang on a second there. You weren’t waking up, probably because that concussion you forgot to mention to us-”

“In my defense, I didn’t know.”

“Sure you didn’t.” You rolled your eyes, throwing your free hand up, exasperated. “Anyways, Bucky wanted me to meet someone, we’ll talk about that when you inevitably get here, put we had a bit of trouble and Bucky was arrested-”

“What?!”

“Chill your pants, Y/L/N. Just listen. We’re in Baltimore. I’ll text you the address. Get here soon and I’ll explain the whole thing. We’ve been here for a couple hours, but there’s people on their way and we’re getting everything situated right now.”

“Okay. Fine. But you’re in trouble.”

“Don’t I know it, babe. Now hurry your cute little ass here. We’ve got stuff to talk about.”

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

The ride from DC to Baltimore is usually an hour or so, but you’ve got resources, especially in the nation’s capital, and riding the bike you got, being able to go way over the speed limit? You got there in half the time. Being an Avenger really does have its perks.

The moment you got there, you hopped off the bike, not even bothering to turn it off, and stormed into the precinct. You headed straight over to the desk, but a pair of hands caught you by your uninjured arm before you could make a scene.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sam spoke softly, squeezing your bicep gently. “He’s okay, alright?”

“Why is he-”

“He missed his court-mandated therapy session.” Sam informed you, pulling you over to where he had been sitting previously. “There was a warrant out for his arrest. They had to bring him in, but it’s fine. His therapist’s been contacted. She should be here any minute to get him out.”

Your head fell back at his words. His therapy. How could you forget? You let Bucky complain to you about it and played along sometimes, but you really did think it was good for him and you tried supporting him. Yet you made him miss it and now he’s in trouble.

“Hey. Y/N. Look at me.” You found Sam’s worried eyes, his hand coming up to hold the side of your neck. “He’s okay. He’ll be out in just a bit. It’s fine.”

“It’s my fault, Sam.”

“No. It’s not. He’s a grown ass man who made the decision to skip.”

You shook your head, holding his wrist for something to anchor you down. “No, Sammy. I brought him along. I should’ve been more responsible-”

“I know we’ve joked around about you being in charge and stuff, but…you know it’s not all on your shoulders, right?” Sam tilted his head slightly, eyebrow pinched in confusion making his eyes narrow. 

You turned your head, not wanting to look at him. You didn’t need another set of deep eyes to fall into. “Sammy…I promised him I’d look after you.”

“I know. And that’s fine. But looking after us - looking after him - doesn’t mean you have to be there to hold his hand and take the fall for him. He’s not a child. Hell, he’s a hundred years old. Tell me you understand that.”

Licking your lips, you closed your eyes and shook your head again. “I-I can’t-”

“Is that why you’re obsessed with finding Wanda?”

You frowned at his question, eyes snapping to his. “I’m worried about her, Sam.”

“I am too, but she can handle herself. And if she doesn’t want to be found, you have to let her be. I know the Avengers were your only family. I know how much Steve meant to you-”

“No.” You pulled away rather harshly, digging your nails into your palms, trying not to cry, ignoring the wound you were irritating. “No, you don’t. How could you understand my feelings for Steve when I don’t understand them myself?”

Sam always had this ability to make anyone feel important, just by looking them in the eye. It was something you always admired about him; the way his smile could light up a room, those warm eyes making everyone’s fears go away. They reminded you of hot chocolate. Something that could soothe your worries, comfort you, warm your very soul from the ice tragedy and heartache tend to big on.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry in front of people, but with the way he was looking at you, it was hard to keep the tears from slipping.

“You loved him, Y/N. Why is it so hard for you to see that?”

“I didn’t - I wasn’t in love with him, Sam.” You argued, wiping your cheeks aggressively and turning, crossing your arms defensively.

“What do you call it then?”

It was a rhetorical question, Sam copying your movements and sitting straight to watch for Bucky coming out. A rhetorical question that you didn’t know the answer to. Because you weren’t in love with Steve. No. Maybe you had been, but somewhere along the way he passed your heart to Bucky. So why did it hurt so bad?

You refused to dwell on it anymore, clearing your throat and dabbing at your eyes one more time before changing the topic. “Why are we in Baltimore?”

“Bucky wanted me to meet someone. Isaiah. You know him?” Sam turned back to you, his warm eyes shifting into something else. Suspicion? A bit of anger? Annoyance? You couldn’t tell.

“Isaiah? I don’t think I know any Isaiahs. And definitely not here. Why? Who is he?”

Sam shook his head, eyes darting around the lobby. “We’ll talk about it later.”

You nodded, although now your curiosity had peaked and you wondered who this guy was that made Sam so agitated. While you waited, you felt your eyes drooping and you let your head fall onto Sam’s shoulder, who chuckled.

“You’re still tired? You know you slept for, like, twelve hours, right?”

“I haven’t been sleeping much.”

Sam turned his head to kiss yours. “Y/N, I know you want to care for everyone, but you’ve gotta take care of yourself too.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” And with that, the subject dropped, Sam pulling out his phone while you rested your eyes.

It was another ten minutes or so before Sam’s name was called and the both of you stood up to greet the speaker. A woman, Dr. Raynor. Bucky’s infamous therapist.

And speaking of infamous. The moment you heard his voice, you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it was just your brain malfunctioning. And then he was walking towards you, calling Bucky ‘Bucky’ like they were old pals and he was saving him from something terrible.

Your face scrunched up as Walker talked about stopping Bucky’s regular therapy sessions. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have him tied up-”

“Don’t call him an asset.” You snapped. “He’s a human being with needs, and therapy-”

“He’s a super soldier with skills that we need.” Walker cut in, making you scowl as he turned back to Raynor.

You scoffed in disbelief at his words, turning on your heel and walking away before he did, heading straight for Bucky, who lifted his right arm, wrapping it around your shoulders once you were close enough.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, closing your eyes and trying to relax in his hold, breathing him in.

“Are you? Should you be walking? What did-”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“Really?”

“Promise.” You sighed out with a nod, squeezing him once more before pulling back as Raynor stepped forwards, ordering Bucky and Sam to do a session with her. You almost laughed when Sam tried refusing, a little chuckle actually leaving your lips when Bucky slumped, dragging his feet like a kid going to the principal’s office.

You followed, Bucky holding the door open for you. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Of course, doll.” He gave a small smile, before walking in after you, Sam letting out a, “hey!” when Bucky shut the door on him, making you roll your eyes. You let the corners of your mouth tick up slightly in amusement. Yes, they annoyed the hell out of you, but you had to admit it was pretty funny sometimes.

“I believe I asked for James and Sam, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“It’s Agent, actually, and I think I’m gonna sit in.”

Raynor narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think-”

“That wasn’t a request.” You threw her words to Sam back at her, making Sam smirk. You shot him a wink as she relented with a sigh. 

“Fine. Just as a spectator. Don't interrupt.”

You raise your hands in surrender, slipping around the table to stand in the corner as your fellas sank down into the seats across the table from her.

A small puff of laughter came from you at the lack of response when she asked one of them to start. She shot you a warning look over her shoulder, but you shrugged. You couldn’t help it; it was like all those times back in grade school when a teacher asked for a volunteer to read in a classroom full of rowdy kids and crickets followed.

Once she mentioned the next exercise was used for couples, you had to laugh, making both men shoot you begging pouts.

“Y/N.” Raynor glared at you, so you controlled yourself, gesturing for her to continue.

Her miracle question did work so well, neither of them cooperating well.

She didn’t even bother with you when you started cackling after she mentioned the “soul-gazing exercise” and Bucky thanked her, Sam commenting that he would like this one. You gave a teasing wolf-whistle when they got close, one of Bucky’s thighs between Sam’s and vice versa.

“Doll.” Bucky whined at you.

“Listen here, smartass-”

Raynor cleared her throat, cutting Sam off from finishing his statement towards you. You leaned back against the wall, crossing your arms with a smirk. After all the bickering and side taking they’ve put her through, letting you enjoy this was the least they could do, and they knew it.

Of course, this exercise didn’t work out either. A staring contest. Children. She was best friends with literal children.

But then something happened. Something you never thought would happen. Raynor asked Bucky why Sam aggravated him, and Bucky looked over to you, his eye growing sad in a way they only did when Steve was involved.

“Steve believed in you.” Bucky told him earnestly. “He trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason. That shield? That is…that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing.  So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, he was wrong about me.”

You heard his voice crack a little at the end as he slumped down in his seat, you jaw dropping slightly. You listened to the rest of the conversation, catching the way Sam grew irritated again, something that you didn’t previously think was possible, but was happening more and more now.

Why wasn’t Sam talking to you? Why was he holding all this in suddenly? And why…Bucky…he didn’t tell you that. Why didn’t he say anything? How could he ever feel…

But you knew how he could feel like that. Yes, Steve believed in him so much that he tore the Avengers apart for him…but he was the only one willing to do that for him. Yeah, you and Sam and Wanda and Clint, you all joined their side but, being honest, it wasn’t because you believed in Bucky. It was because you believed in Steve. Of course, it was different now. You believed in Bucky with your entire being, and you believed in Sam with your heart and soul, but…did either of them know that? Did they believe you when you told them? Or did you not tell them enough? This whole time you thought you were doing right by Steve - trying you damn hardest to watch out for them. But it obviously wasn’t enough. And that was on you, no matter what Sam said.

You read people. That’s what you’ve always done, that’s what you’d always do. It was the reason you earned your spot on the team. You read people and situations and could figure your way into their heads in a second. Years and years of undercover work taught you how to do that and how to protect yourself while doing so.

So why? How? How did you miss something this big? How did you miss the way Sam was holding onto something? Why did you ignore the vexation in his tone for the last couple weeks? How did you miss that Bucky was hurting that deeply? Why didn’t you do anything more for him?

You left the room before either of the boys, but you heard Sam standing up as you walked out the door.

You should’ve known you weren’t the only one holding things in. Of course they were. The difference is, you were supposed to be their rock, the thing they could hold onto to ground themselves, the shoulder for them to cry on, and the ear lent to them whenever they needed someone to listen. That was your job. It wasn’t their job. Not for you. Your rock - your shoulder, your ear - he left you. And you thought, after all he did for you, if you just returned the favor for his best friends, you’d…you dunno. You’d be closer to him, maybe.

But you couldn’t. Because you weren’t Steve Rogers. And you knew that from the start, but you had to try. You tried. And it wasn’t working. He made it seem so easy when he did it for you. Clearly you didn’t give him enough credit for dealing with all your shit on top of his own.

“Doll.” You didn’t stop walking, needing to get outside for some fresh air. “Doll, hold on. Wait a minute.”

He grabbed your arm as you made it outside, spinning you to face him. “You didn’t tell me.” You spoke quietly, your voice fragile as you stared at him, confusion and hurt in your eyes. Were you really that bad at doing your job? Did you really already fail him? He asked you to do one thing…

“I didn’t…I didn’t want you to deal with my problems.” You opened your mouth, but he shook his head, holding your face between his hands. “I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know something’s going on with you. You’re good at hiding your nightmares at night, but I’m better. You’re jumpier than usual. Quieter. Every time Wanda’s brought up, you turn away. And the other day? On the truck? You froze. I was watching, doll. It was just a second, but you froze. You never freeze.”

“It’s not your job to worry about me, Buck-”

He frowned, tilting his head. “Not my job? Aren’t we friends? Isn’t that what friends do? Or am I just a job to you? I know you promised him to look after me. Is that all I am to you? A responsibility?”

You shook your head vigorously, holding onto his wrists. “No. No, Bucky, I just-”

“Do you think he was wrong about me?”

Salty diamonds ran down your cheeks as you clenched your eyes shut and shook your head. “No.”

“Did you ever believe in me? Did you ever care or was it all just because Steve? Is Steve the only reason you tolerate me?”

“Don’t say that. God, please don’t say that.” You begged quietly, meeting his gaze again. Every beautiful detail was laced with devastation, eyes imploring her to make him feel better. “Of course I believe in you. I have since Wakanda, you know that. Yes, okay, maybe Steve is why I helped you at first, but-but…I care about you, James. So much so that it hurts sometimes. He wasn’t wrong about you. Or Sammy. You both mean so much to me. Okay?”

You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly, nodding slightly. You both simultaneously moved to get closer, him pulling you while you stepped into his chest, arms around his waist. His arms were tight around your shoulder, holding you just as firm as the kiss he planted on your forehead.

Sam came out, planting himself besides you as you pulled away, Bucky wiping your eyes. “I feel better.” He huffed out sarcastically, making you smack him in the arm. “Ow! Yeesh. Women these days.”

The sudden siren of one of the parked police cars made the three of you look over, spotting Walker and Hoskins. You groaned. “Did he see that?”

“Hey,” Bucky caught your jaw between his fingers, shaking his head. “Who cares? It’s between us and us only. Right?” You nodded, making him kiss your forehead again, a whisper of “attagirl” against your skin. You hadn’t heard that from him in a while.

“Gentlemen!” Walker waved them over, nodding at you. “And lady.” The three of you reluctantly walked over, Bucky going to lean on the police car Walker and Hoskins were near and you hopped up to sit on the hood of the police car across from them, Sam besides you.

You got information from Walker, who was once again trying to get you to work with him, but Sam summed it up nicely, explaining that the three of you didn’t have to follow the rules he did. You started to leave, Bucky tucking you under his arms once you slid off the car, when Walker stopped you once more.

“A word of advice, then. Stay the hell out of my way.”

You grumbled under your breath as the faker and his lapdog walked off. “I’m gonna kill him.” You vowed as the three of you started in the other direction. “I swear to God, I’m gonna rip that shield off his back and use it to beat him in that stupid face of his-”

“Down, girl.” Sam jested, flicking your ear. “We need a game plan. What’re we thinking?”

Your eyes narrowed as Bucky piped up, talking about the Isaiah character - who you still didn’t know - before HYDRA entered the equation.

“Absolutely not.” You shook your head, tugging his arm to make him stop once he mentioned Siberia. “Do you remember Siberia? Because if you’re actually suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, we remember Siberia very differently.”

“He’s our best bet-”

“So you’re just going to go sit in a room with this guy?”

Bucky scrunched up his nose. “Ye-yes…”

A beat of silence passed before Sam gave his stamp of approval, but you still disagreed. “There’s no way this’ll end well and I refuse to let you-”

You found your face between Bucky’s hands again. You really wished he’d stop doing that and just ask for your attention. You didn’t mean that, of course. You’d be held by him every second of every day if you could. “Don’t you trust me, doll?”

You licked your lips, looking around the darkened street. This was not a good idea. A bad plan - a terrible plan, really - but, unfortunately, it was the only one you had. “Dammit. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.” You finally sighed, running a hand through your hair after Bucky let go of you, his eyebrow quirking.

“Is that a yes?”

Sam nodded. “We’re gonna go see Zemo.”

You tugged Bucky’s hand when he nodded back and went to walk after Sam, who started walking around the corner, making him stop. “And yes. I do trust you. With everything I have, Buckaroo.”