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deltas-writing-corner · 3 years

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Tsukumo Yuki relationship headcanons

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Tsukumo Yuki x reader

Author note: Tsukomo Yuki is the reason I love woman and she can crush me between her thighs send tweet

Warnings: Potential manga spoilers (?) | Mentions of s*x, but nothing too blatantly explicit. I would still prefer it if minors did not interact with this post in any way.

Yuki always asks the people she meets what type of woman they like. If someone were to ask that same question back to her, she’ll most certainly utter back your name as if it were an obvious response.

What’s not to love about you? You’re cute. You make her laugh. You cook for her because heaven knows she can't if her life depended on it. Most importantly, you keep her company due to the lack of curses she’s ever sent to exorcise. Traveling the world is fun and all, but it’s even more fun with you by her side!

You’re not a sorcerer. You can’t even see curses. Yuki is a childhood friend of yours and has kept you in the loop regarding the world of jujutsu sorcery since she started integrating into it. She thinks it’s important for you to know that someone like you, a non-curse user who has no control over the curse energy you create, should know what exactly your negative emotions can lead to. It’s not to make you feel bad or pin blame on you in any way. It’s her way of protecting you beyond physical means as well as a way of showing you that she places a great deal of trust in you regarding the nature of her line of work and her true goals.

Because she rejects the methods of the higher-ups and her ideology is more along the lines of putting an end to the creation of curses permanently instead of letting them manifest and dealing with them when they start causing profound trouble, you’re often the one that has to listen to all her new, sometimes overreaching, hypotheses now and then. You may even take part in her research, but she would never put you in any sort of harm! At least, not unless you give her the okay to. Be warned, if you give your blessing to be her little lab rat she’s prone to get carried away with her methods. Speak up if she’s doing something outrageous or if she’s making you uncomfortable. Otherwise, you might end up in some precarious situations.

As mentioned previously, Yuki isn’t sent out on missions that often, if ever. She instead chooses to travel in and out of the country, for the sake of her research as well as for the pleasure of it. Since she’s one of three, later four, special grade sorcerers her salary is rather tremendous. Unfortunately, her travels outside Japan are “unauthorized” and sometimes her funds get frozen by the higher-ups. Her quick solution to the matter is to fly back, take on a mission or two to get her funds unfrozen (and into your account because you’re her partner-in-crime) or even take on a mission to earn some more funds, and then you and her are right back to traveling the world again.

During one of these money replenishing heists, she met a kid that she took a particular interest in and wanted to mentor, Aoi Todo. It’s hard for most people to spark her interest to the extent Todo did, so you happily supported her endeavors and even met with her young pupil a few times throughout the years. Her methods of training are a bit....extreme, to put it lightly. You understand that holding back her punches will only hinder Todo’s progress instead of allowing him the ability to improve and push past his limits, but you can’t help but flinch over the large scar that marks his face whenever you briefly meet up with him.

Todo is eccentric, but so is Yuki. Perhaps not idol obsessed like Todo, but seeing the way he takes great care of his appearance and flaunts his body (during a battle even), he’s a near-identical clone of Yuki. She knows that she’s good-looking, and she will always flaunt this fact to anyone with working eyes, even you! Does it work every single time? Yes. Yes, it does.

Honestly, how can it not? She’s tall. She has a great butt. She drives a motorcycle. Her tight biker pants are your Achilles heels and she knows it. Sometimes she’ll wear them around the house just to flaunt her curves and other bodily goods, even if it’s the middle of the summer, the AC is broken and the pants are made of stuffy leather material. If it gets your face all heated up, she'll wear it.

The compliments she gets from strangers are nice and all, but it’s your reactions she truly cares about. You’ve been by her side through it all. You're still sticking with her even despite the fact that she’s constantly moving around and living a somewhat free-spirited lifestyle. You genuinely support and help her when almost everyone else has rejected her methods and ideals and brush her off as some lazy, outrageous-thinking woman. Really, you stole this woman’s heart just by letting her be herself, a lazy, outrageous-thinking woman.

Yuki is indeed lazy, to the point it sometimes affects you and your shared apartment is left in a week-long accumulated mess. I’m talking clothes strewed about and spilling out the already full laundry basket, sink filled with dirty dishes, houseplant half dead due to insufficient watering, and little dusty bunnies in the corner of the room. Whenever you try to get around to getting your living space in order, she always drags you back to the bed with her either to nap some more or for a quick round of sex that leads to more napping. Eventually, you have to beat her with a pillow and threaten her with no sex for a certain period of time to get her to back off, which always works without fail.

If you really hold the “no sex until...” ultimatum over her head long enough, she’ll even pitch in and help you clean. But to be honest she kinda sucks at it so it’s sometimes better to just have her sit on the sidelines while you do all the work. She’ll jokingly suggest you clean with just an apron on (because she’s a freak like that), but you haven’t taken her up on the suggestion just yet. It’s mostly because you’ll use the “naked apron” method to further insinuate her punishment if your usual threat begins to lose its potency (because you are also a freak like that).

She’s a bad sleeping partner. Not only does she hog all the blankets and pillows, but she even stretches out her limbs over the entire bed. This usually leaves you curled up in a corner shivering your ass off until you either fall asleep via exhaustion or move to the couch. If you go to the couch, she’s 99.9% likely to wake up and join you shortly after, where she’s less of a hassle to deal with because of the limited space.

She’s a great big spoon, which is actually one of the ways you later use to solve her troublesome habits as once she latches onto you, she will not let go the rest of the evening. Unfortunately, she also snores terribly loud, but it’s nothing earbuds can’t fix.

Some might think she sleeps in something flattering, maybe even a bit scanty. That couldn’t be any further from the truth. Her pj’s are decades-old shirts and gym shorts that she never got around to getting rid of. If not that, she’ll sleep completely naked and she doesn’t care if someone walks in on her with the covers off. She’ll only ever wear lingerie or other promiscuous pieces of clothing if she has intentions of getting between your legs and rocking your world for the rest of the night.

I think it goes without saying that she looks great in lace, but as hot as she may look, she really likes seeing you dressed up in something risque as well.

If you’re female, she sometimes likes to wear matching lingerie sets with you, but her favorite material to see you in is leather, especially those harness-styled sets that squeeze your flesh all around.

If you’re male, she’s a complete sucker for a man in a clean-cut, custom-tailored suit and will take it off as soon as you put it on. Hope you don’t mind losing a button or two, because she will pop them off for sure when she rips your dress shirt off of you.

To all my gender-neutral folks, It’s never too late to whip out that naked apron I mentioned earlier! Or a leather jacket. Everyone looks great in a leather jacket!

Yuki’s diet is fucking terrible. You’re a decent cook, but despite this, all she ever seems to want is greasy take-out food that makes you wonder how the hell she’s still so fit after witnessing her down three chicken burritos in one sitting. Even when the two of you are abroad and are able to try out different types of cuisines not so readily available in Japan, she’ll still want to go out to a fast food joint that you can easily find everywhere. You’ve tried to get her to branch out of her comfort zone and eat somewhat healthier alternatives of her favorite foods, but so far you’ve gotten mixed results.

In summary: Yuki is a pretty outgoing person and sometimes can be a bit of a hassle to deal with, but she’s clearly ambitious and moves to the tune of her own beat. Her goal of finding and effectively eliminating the source of all curses is a testament to the fact that she wants to save future generations from having to carry the burden sorcerers have been carrying for thousands of years. Her goals are not only for the sake of the people who will come after her, but also for the sake of her future with you. You’re someone she genuinely cares for and wishes to spend the rest of her life with, evident by the numerous times she’s come clean to you about her fears of you dying when she isn't around to protect you or of her dying and leaving you behind to mourn during late-night pillow talks in hotels or in your shared home. A future where you and her can travel the world and truly take in and enjoy the sights and wonders instead of searching for an answer to one of the world’s greatest phenomenon is a future worth fighting for, even if she’s met with some pushback or the end goal seems like nothing more than a pipedream at times. So long as you’re there with her to see her research bear fruit, she’ll keep testing and coming up with new methods to eliminate curses permanently, no matter the extremes her research takes her to.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk x reader #yuki tsukumo #tsukumo yuki #jjk #writing #reader insert #gender neutral reader #female reader #male reader #jjk headcanons #minors dni

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peeterparkr · 4 years

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perfidy;tom holland|8

chapter 8: the focus

enemies to lovers au/enemies with benefits

chapter summary: y/n’s fears and tom’s thoughts.

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: swearing, alcohol mention, drama

word count: 6.7k

here’s a playlist

social media before you read (IMPORTANT FOR THE CHAPTER) : Tweets & Instagram

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Stay safe and here’s a doc where you can find out how to support BLM

How wonderful is it that life makes us coincide with people. How wonderful is it that two people with all of the odds of never seeing each other find each other. How amazing is it that two people can feel absolutely everything. How incredible is it that two people can fall in love?

How stupid was it that she had to make that person be Tom.

Y/N was currently debating to herself: did she really want to go there?

She stared at the blank document in front of her. She typed in some letters but there was something bothering her. She’d written a few pages already but this really wasn’t where she wanted to go with. She held her coffee in between her hands as she tried not to squint at the bright screen. She’d put on some big white t-shirt that was hanging around as some

shorts. She’d already taken a pill to help with the headache but there really wasn’t any pill that could soothe her morals. Or her heart for that matter.

And there was no pill that could calm down her thoughts. Because she had felt that spark in her eyes, that stupid smile and that gentle butterflying in her stomach. Sure, she could blame the alcohol but she really knew she couldn’t.

And it came back to that night, the yellow flowers.

She remembered how it felt. The heartbreak, the last one she’d experienced. How hard she’d fallen into that very dark place. How vocal she had been about it when being alone.

Having to pretend everything was okay because she was not supposed to be in love with him and how she was not supposed to care about him. How she had to swallow up her feelings but come home to tear herself apart.

How much her stomach hurt and how barely she could sleep. How she couldn’t talk. How she’d break down in random moments, in the shower, in the bus. and at school and pretend it was something else. Blame it on everything.

How disappointed she was. How nothing made sense. How she’d cry until she fell asleep, but she didn’t sleep at all. Waking up in the middle of the night to think about everything, to call herself a fool for even coming up with it. Losing her breath. How she would need to scream to her pillow. How somehow she’d lost a bit of herself with him.

How the days had turned grey, so grey and so long, nights seemed too short and if they ever came the moon would only get ever so brightly to wash her body to keep her awake. How she had cried so much she’d run out of tears.

How she’d changed her style. How she’d try to be more feminine. Or how she tried to comb her hair in a different way. Or her makeup. Change herself. How she had tried to change her personality. . How she couldn’t know why he couldn’t love her. What was wrong? her perfume? The lipstick? Was it her music taste?

What was wrong with her? Why did he hate her that much?

The thought would remain on her head for hours and hours. Days and nights. Weeks. Months. Years.

How she had isolated and found comfort in movies, and scenes and brightened up her day. But they didn’t make any sense, at all. Nothing did. Not even her favorite song or her favorite movie.

How nothing would make her smile. And how she’d listen to sad songs to make herself sadder and how she had to deal seeing him parade around and keep mocking her. How she had to keep on an act. Keep ok with a life when she had been so broken-hearted. How she had given so much and it hadn’t been enough.

How hard it had been because everything simply would bring it back. Like a random song on the radio, a movie scene or a book. And how hard it was seeing him everywhere, and how she had had to block his name from coming up. How she had to distance herself from his family, his friends. Her friends and her family.

How no one knew. And no one could know. What did she win by saying a man had screwed her over? What would she win by saying that man had been Tom?

She’d cried for a complete month, even more. Her tears had dried out. Not knowing if she was crying out of pain because he’d hurt her or she was crying out of self pity, because what a fool had she been.

Because she knew, she had warned herself. That he was a rock. That Tom would never love her, that he hated her. She was well aware that he had a stone cold soul, that his heart was not reachable. Not for her, at least.

She knew he was poison, she knew he was the devil in disguise, that he was no angel. That he’d break her.

And yet, she’d fallen in love with him. But that’s what she got for ignoring her own advice. She remembered the day she’d promised herself she would stop trying.

All because of yellow flowers.

She stared at the script she started and she thought about it: she couldn’t go through another heartbreak caused by Tom. She couldn’t go again through it, she couldn’t cry mid workouts, and she couldn’t shut her thoughts. How dumb she had felt, and how much it simply hurt. She needed to have her heart locked up, she couldn’t let herself feel anything.

And she didn’t. She really didn’t. She didn’t want to be hurt again. Because the last time he broke her heart, he broke her completely.

Maybe he didn’t know about it. No one did, really. Each heartbreak had been different. With Tom, there was a constant. She had to be quiet about her pain. Even when she wanted to scream and yell, she couldn’t let him know he’d won. No one could know that she was crying over him. No one could know about her frustration.

It made her nauseous thinking about it. She couldn’t go back to that place. But she needed him to go through it.

But even after the darkest storm, the sun comes out. She’d met Timmy. And he had saved her from drowning. Even after the drought. Even if it had been a crime.

Because Timmy showed her that she could be loved for being herself. Because Timmy loved every aspect that made her. From the way she liked to let the tears dry on their own or how she always had post-it’s hanging around for her notes. Because Timmy loved that y/n liked to watch the vinyl roll as it played, and because Timmy loved the way she’d run out of breath whenever she laughed.

With Timmy, she’d stare at windows and enjoy walks in the rain. It was calm. And she was breathing again. even underwater She didn’t have to worry about her makeup, or anything. Timmy had shown her how to love herself. Maybe that’s why he was still hanging on the Polaroids. Because he had learned to love her when she was down and he managed to pull her up.

Not that Tom had ever told her anything about herself but y/n with her complicated mind, only could wonder why he hated her. Why did the person she’d loved the most hated her so ardently? Why couldn’t he love her? Why wasn’t she enough?

Timmy had taught her something, loving is simple. Timmy had taught her she was enough.

She was more frustrated this time, not only would she get hurt if he didn’t fall in love with her but she’d have no script. Still, she was writing,

Eventually, he finally walked into the kitchen bare chested, he’d wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her shoulder, her neck and finally ended on her cheek. She’d been quick to close the document and then stared at him, and expected him to throw in something that would break her again. Hadn’t she met Timmy she’d probably already be crying. But maybe she’d built up a shield so high that she wouldn’t be bothered by him anymore. Even if she felt the pain on her chest.

“Morning,” he sheepishly said as he continued to pepper her neck with kisses.

“I made you coffee,” she whispered as she closed her MacBook.

“Sh, you’re being too loud,” he nuzzled into her neck. “I’m never drinking wine again.”

She chuckled. “Here ,” she pushed a box of aspirins towards him. “I wasn’t going to give you anything, thought it’d be a good way to attack my enemy. But I guess, having some pity is a benefit we should have.”

He grabbed the pill and then chuckled as he searched for his water, he downed two glasses before he took the pill.

“Your fans have made their way to my Instagram, by the way, haven't checked any of the notifications and I really don’t want to,” she admitted.

“Sorry.”

She didn’t say anything. She waited for him to speak, to destroy her and somehow make her insecure again. Even if the glance he was giving her could make anyone believe he liked her, she was just waiting to be stabbed.

“You have a lot of Polaroids,” he commented.

“Not all of them are actually Polaroids but I edited some and printed them out, they’re important,” she mentioned.

He raised his brows. “What is the importance of them?” As he sipped from the bitter coffee.

“Moments, memories, things that made me who I am,” she shrugged.

“And Timmy made you who you are today?” He chuckled.

She watched him. “In many ways, yes.”

He scrunched his nose. “So you’re not taking them off?”

“Why would I?” She questioned as she reached over to the cookies she’d baked the day before, pulling the plate towards her.

“You broke up,” Tom pushed. “You should hate him.”

“I don’t hate him, besides even if I did. Wouldn’t take him off. I hate you and you’re up there.”

“You have the worst pictures of me,” he pointed out.

“I know,” she smirked. “But you’re up there... even if I don’t like to admit it, Tom, you’re a very important part of my life.”

“Am I?”

She looked at him. “I grew up with you. Yes.”

“What would make you take a picture off?”

“I’ve taken some off for some time,”she admitted. “But it meant that I really, really didn’t want to see their face.”

“What’s your favorite picture there?”he grinned.

She smiled to herself. “I’ll show you,” she said as she headed back to her room. He followed her with curiosity. She looked up for the picture, one of Tim’s, the one with the raincoat as he’s looking up in the rain.

He rolled his eyes. “Why?”

“What?” She frowned.

“Why this one with Tim. I see all these pictures and some of them, I know you were the happiest.”

“It’s the moment I knew I was truly, madly deeply in love with him,” she explained as she sat down on her bed again. The moment she was finally breathing again.

“The moment you knew? Look, I… I think love is something gradual, there’s not a moment that you wake up one day and realize you’re in love.”

“No, but there is a moment you realize it,” she pointed out.

He frowned, sitting beside her. “When you realize it?”

“Yes, it’s like that climax point in a movie, it was that one with Tim,” she stared at the picture. The way he was smiling, the way the rain covered him down.

Tom leaned over to see it. “Really?”

“You know those scenes in movies when everything just… makes sense as they’re perfect?” She smiled. “How even though there is probably a lot going on, the lights are hitting the main character perfectly, the focus is only on them, and how the music is subtly playing just building up the emotion, and how their own feelings fade in, maybe a close up, and you know it as everything falls into place.”

He frowned comprehensively. “Right.”

“Well, that day…. I felt it, I saw it, and he was that focus and I knew it. I was so in love with him.”

“When was this?”

“It was autumn.”

He chuckled.

“Don’t laugh,” you wanted.

“No, I won’t, sorry. It’s cause I hardly believe you could feel something as inspiring… with Timothée,” he pronounced his name with such venom.

She ignored him. “We had been walking around, it was a date and I remember holding his arm, it was cold and it was raining just slightly, but we would go to this tea house…”

“Did you get pneumonia?”

She rolled her eyes. “and we were heading to this library first but it started to rain harder but...everything fell into place, we tried to run for a place to cover ourselves but then… something magical happened as if it was straight out of a movie,” she grinned. “a guy opened his balcony window and started to play the cello… You know that Bach song everyone knows?” She grinned.

Tom blinked.

“And I found cover under a perfume shop’s shade and I called for him but he was… too entranced by it, I remember he looked up to the guy in his balcony and he just smiled…and he called me out to go in the rain with him, and I had to take a picture because the look in his eyes and… the way he was the main character…I just knew it then. I was so in love with him.”

And even if she wasn’t raining, she had finally found a way out to breath.

Tom cleared his throat. “You’re too poetic sometimes.”

“Well haven’t you ever felt it? I know you’ve been in love,” she pointed out.

“Yes but it’s never worked out,” he clenched his jaw. “And it didn’t work out for you either.”

“A break up doesn’t necessarily mean it didn’t work out,” she debated.

“Well mine didn’t.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t… I… look, that conversation is definitely not included in our benefits,” he scowled as he stood up searching for his phone.

“Sorry I thought since I told you—“

“You thought wrong,” he grunted.

She closed her eyes. “Of course.”

The doorbell rang just in time to make this less awkward, she left her room as he plopped down back on the bed to stare at his phone.

There needed to be a way to know what had him falling in love, of course that would take a while. Maybe a little more wine, get him all turned on again and he’d be spilling it all.

But she walked to the door, it ran again, triggering her headache.

“Coming!”

She slightly opened the door to see who was there, and little did she expect… him. She almost fainted as she saw his pretty face, with his curls falling down his green perfect eyes, as his hands held pastel colored flowers.

“Oh my god,” were the only words that had come out. “Tom—I mean… TIMMY!”

“Y/N!” He started but y/n closed the door. “Y/N?” He called out again.

And she remembered, they had agreed on having brunch together. She cursed under her her breath every possible bad word she knew.

She opened the door again to see a confused Timothée.

He frowned, “y/n.”

Then she cleared her throat. “Give me a sec—“

“Y/N—“

But she’d closed the door again and rushed to pick up any trace of last night, then she ran to her room to see a half naked Tom with his cup of coffee, scrolling through his phone. She threw his clothes at him.

“Hey!” He complained.

“Shut up!”

“Who was it—“

“Sh!” She jumped slightly in frustration. “It’s Timmy.”

“Timmy.”

“Oh my god, he can’t know,” she chirped. “I—“

“What is he doing here?”

“I’m having brunch with him and then we’d go together to Harry’s…”

“He’s coming?” Tom frowned.

“Emma invited him,” she was so nervous.”but oh my god he can’t know about this so you’re going to stay quiet and hide.”

“C’mon y/n—“he laughed, “why can’t he know?”

“You want me to tell your brothers and friends too?”

“No—“

“Then?”

“Fine, I’ll stay here. I’ll be quiet.” He frowned. “But why are you going out with him?”

“It’s—my business, and I don’t think asking those kind of questions are included in our… benefits,” she searched in for some clothes, picking out a pretty dress. “now I’m gonna go let him in and I’m going to take a shower and I need you to—“

“Is that an invitation?” He asked with a smirk.

“No, you’re ugly,” she answered. “And I need you to stay here quietly.”

“C’mon babe,” he laughed.

She shot him a death glare and threw a pillow at him, “shut up!”

“What was that For?”

“Keep quiet.”

“Babe,” he grabbed her arm.

“Fellow associate,” she frowned as she watched him.

He only pulled her over to kiss her. She didn’t kiss him back.

He blinked as he pulled away. “Hey.”

“Keep quiet.”

He rolled his eyes, watching her leave the room, closing the door.

He then heard her: “Timmy! Hi, sorry I’m… you can come in, sorry, I uh… I’ll be quick alright?”

“Yeah, of course—Uh, These are for you.”

“They’re beautiful, Tim, thank you… now uh, I… you can hang around here in the kitchen if you want to—I’ll just take a shower“

“Yeah,’course—“

Tom rolled his eyes, as he mimicked Timmy. He was fumed. Disgusted.

Tom could hear the water running now from the shower. Y/n’s apartment was very small, that made it cute but it was very small that there was no wonder why she had asked him to stay quiet.

“So, y/n.” Tom heard Timmy say. “Busy night?”

Tom smirked to himself.

“Hm?” Y/N answered. “Not really! Very calm actually!”

Tom frowned.

”really?” Timmy pushed. “I saw Tom was here.”

Tom frowned. How did he know?

“How did you—Yeah he came for dinner, nothing special we went over his schedule.”

“With wine?” Timmy asked.

“You really think I would stand him without it?” Y/N yelled back with a laugh. “But he was long gone.”

“And then you got drunk by yourself—“

“I—what?” Y/N asked.

Tim laughed, “you posted a… very nice picture.”

“I—what?”

Tom frowned as he went straight to Instagram. And he saw it, the picture he had very well snapped of y/n. She posted it. Of course Tom was nowhere in sight but if people connected the dots… of course people would think stuff. Thankfully, Tom knew, Harry probably was at Emma’s, and he hadn’t noticed that Tom hadn’t slept home. But Harrison.

He’d have to deal with Harrison.

“Aaaah,” y/n said. “What did I post? I actually did get very drunk by myself…”

Tim didn’t answer.

Tom cursed under his breath. He had to leave now, because he didn’t really need to give an explanation to Harrison. Haz probably already was up. Did Harrison know he was not home yet?

Tom even stopped listening to the awkward banter between y/n and Tim. He didn't care anymore. He had his own reasons to freak out. And y/n and Timmy started a very dumb conversation. Even if it wasn’t, Tom was annoyed by Timothee.

Even if the guy had done nothing wrong. But Tom did have his reasons to hate him. Being bloody perfect for y/n was the biggest reason, of course. And that y/n was so smitten with him. If y/n ever looked at him the way she stared at Timothee, and if she listened the way she listened to Tim, Tom would never ever be able to say he hated her.

Tom didn’t even realize when y/n had walked into the room, also freaking out about the picture.

“We need some damage control,” that’s all she said before handing him the keys to her apartment so he’d close it up.

Before Tom knew it he was quietly walking into his place, with his t-shirt stained with wine, and probably stained with the infamous walk of shame. Tom was praying to himself that he wouldn’t see Harrison. And he thanked everything in existence that Harry had stayed at Emma’s and that the party would be at her place so there was no reason as to why Harry would know.

Tom quietly tiptoed his way in but little did he know he was expected.

“Good morning!” Harrison greeted him.

“I—went to my—car.”

“Are you gonna tell me you went to your car which clearly wasn’t here all night? And probably was at y/n’s just like you were.”

“No-uh.”

“Amazing walk of shame you’ve got going on there,” Harrison sassed. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on? Or are you gonna invent something like y/n did last time and claimed she watched porn? Did you watch porn at her place now?” Haz smirked as he took a sip of the tea he had in his hand.

Tom was screwed. He couldn’t lie to his best friend.

“I—“

“Nice t-shirt, is it designer?” Haz chuckled. “Is it by the same designer of y/n’s glass of wine in her last picture?”

“It’s nothing—“

“Is it really nothing?” Haz laughed. “Just like the fact that when I was on set I might have seen you sneak a kiss on her cheek?,” Haz smirked. “I didn’t mention it but I might as well do it right now before you come up with any stupid excuses.”

“I—“

“We ain’t got all day, Tom,”Haz insisted.

Tom squinted. “It’s nothing—“

“Nothing?”

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

Harrison frowned. “Sit down, Thomas. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

Tom had to sit down and deal with the pounding headache he was facing not only because of the alcohol he had had last night but now because he really had no excuse to give to Harrison.

“So?” Haz crossed his arms.

“I… well.”

“You slept with her, we both know that,” Haz sassed.

“I…. did.” Tom cleared his throat.

Haz expected him to elaborate.

“Twice,” Tom continued. “Yeah, once when… a few weeks ago, and… well last night.”

“How did it—“

“The first time?” Tom gulped. “I may have… hinted at it, I think it just… led to it. We made out in the car and we’d been flirting all night. And… we have… we have been having this whole game I dunno, when we were teasing each other, and I don’t know… we made out a few more times but… last night, we were talking about everything, we had had dinner, we had laughed, and then I just kissed her and it escalated and—I dunno it just happened.”

“Just happened.”

“And… well, I don’t know, we agreed on being enemies with benefits.”

“What even is that?”

“Means that we can continue hating each other but we get to fuck I guess,” Tom looked away. “Sounds stupid don’t even know why I accepted it.”

Haz raised his brows. “Well… why did you?”

“I just did.” Tom gulped.

Harrison frowned. “Your brother was bloody in love with her and you hate her,” he said condescendingly. “Tom this is—“

“What if I don’t?”

“You don’t—what?”

Tom stood up. “I’m very bloody aware he was in love with her but he’s with Emma now. And I’m spending time with y/n… and we are both single and so far the sex has been great.”

“I guess it’s not a crime Tom, but this is insane…You hate her.”

“I don’t alright?” Tom admitted, he was sweating. “I’ve been bloody in love with her my whole fucking life and now I… Harry moved on.”

Harrison watched him. “Well that’s… such a turn of events.”

“Yes I loved her okay? Is it that big of a crime?” Tom scoffed. “And I—I also do hate her because I wasn’t supposed to love her alright?” Tom rubbed his face. “I never wanted to hurt Harry and okay, had she been in love with Harry instead of me…”

“She loved you at some point, didn’t she?”

“When we were younger, just a crush,” Tom continued, well aware that y/n had told him only last night that he had been her first love. “But I hated her because I…”

“You hate her and you’re in love with her.”

“I hate her because I shouldn’t be in love with her, not when my brother loves her too and he deserves her, and she deserves someone like him. Someone who treated her right, who didn’t bother her to get her attention.”

Harrison watched him, curiously. He was slightly shocked but not really. “I’m… this isn’t.”

“And look, maybe it’s stupid but Harry moved on and now she’s not dating that stupid Timothee—and I thought hey this might be my chance, but the only problem is still Timothée, that dumb man.”

“You don’t have to come for Tim-“

“But look, she’s not over him, she literally woke up, and left to have breakfast with him—“

Haz watched him. “You’ve literally treated her so badly her entire life—“

“I know, I've been an asshole my whole life, I guess I tried to make her fall in love with Harry instead,” Tom sighed. “Look, I know she’ll never be able to—I noticed it, she doesn’t look at me the way she—God, just this morning when she saw a picture of Timothée, her eyes lit up, he’s her bloody everything.”

Harrison watched him. “But you’re in love with her.”

“Yes and I know I can’t—I know I can’t have her because I have fucked up so many times and if I did do anything, Harry would be devastated even if he’s over her…” I can at least have this, this whole enemies with benefits bullshit.”

Harrison watched him. “And would you try anything else?”

Tom sighed, “maybe,” he coughed. “But it’s—when I’ve kissed her, she—I know she doesn't feel anything.”

“Do you? Have you shown her?”

“I don’t know how, and this—this has only been full of lust and I know… this doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to feel like alright? It feels like we are in a place where we only want to hurt each other.”

“Hurt each other? Don’t you love her?”

“It’s a matter of habit, I guess…” Tom gulped. “Old habits that didn’t wear out. It’s in my nature I guess.”

His friend stayed quiet, trying to process the information he was just given.

“Well change,” Haz said. “If you love her—“

“I won’t. I’m okay with this,” Tom lied. He cleared his throat. “But look Harry can’t know because even if he doesn’t know I love her he’ll think I’m just using her and if he knew I loved her he’d encourage me to try something and in any way that’ll break his heart…”

Harrison rolled his eyes. “I won’t tell anyone,” Haz sighed. “But Tom you’re just playing with something that—I don’t know man, maybe try something?”

“Why?”

“Harry wouldn’t mind if he knew you dated her, he’d mind if he knew you were doing this,” Haz pushed.

“But she won’t—give in,” Tom sighed. “I know.” Tom paused. “I know but… maybe I’ll just… I’m just scared that all my life I’ve told her that she’s always found a way to make every wrong decision and I know I’m just another one, alright? I’m another mistake she’s making.”

Harrison raised a brow.

“Gee, I’ve been talking too much with her. I'll be getting all poetic like her but—I know that Timmy or Harry would be right for her but I really don’t want her to see that. I want her to choose the wrong option. I am the wrong option here.”

Harrison watched her. “I don’t know man, just be careful because you might end up hurting several people in here… now go get dressed and presentable, we need to head to Harry’s party.”

Somehow telling Harrison had not soothed any of his thoughts. Because Tom knew this was a wrong turn and that anything that would lean on from this. He was incredibly confused.

Tom knew that he’d hurt y/n in very many ways, sometimes he’d meant it, some others, mostly he hadn’t. But we can understand that love is so complicated. He had never seen her cry in front of him, not really. Sure he knew that she was hurt but she always looked back like saying; you'll get my revenge. Maybe she had been incredibly good at hiding it or maybe she’d never been hurt at all.

Just as they continued to grow up y/n would show less and less importance to Tom. Even this morning when she’d refused to kiss him back, as if saying you’re not going to win this one.

And Tom wanted to prove her wrong. He wanted to show her how a real kiss should taste like, and he wanted her to choose a different path. Because he saw y/n had always been struggling while climbing up the same tree. The same songs. Stuck in a place where she wouldn’t get out of.

But that made her. All the small details. when you’ve been in love with someone you notice the little details that make a person.

Maybe Tom wanted to show her a different part. And maybe he had just by last night having genuine fun with her. Not meaning about sex of course, but everything else.

The way he had heard her run out of breath from laughter or the way she had offered him a spoonful of the cookie dough. So simple. So real.

Love is strange. Because what Tom hadn’t told Harrison was that Tom was also waiting to be stabbed. He was also waiting y/n to betray him. And y/n could hurt him more, because she had also been so good at hurting him.

Because y/n had hurt him too. Not in the ways one would expect it. But also in the same way that he couldn’t really look at yellow flowers anymore. Because he’d regretted it and she had shut him out. And… he couldn’t be thinking about that.

Not when she was standing right in front of him, with her hair flowing as she laughed so melodically. The light was hitting her just in the spot. Everyone in the party was moving but she was the only focus. Her floral dress matched her pink lipsticks. Pink lips. Everything around her had stopped. She was the only spotlight needed, even if Timothee, Emma and Harry were laughing with her. They went silent to Tom

They were laughing at the cookies y/n had made, with the flower petals she’d put on. The aesthetic had been more important.

And Tom had to look away because he was staring too long. And he’d been transported back to a few months ago, when Tim and Y/N were still a thing. And just seeing them made Tom realize that they probably still were. Not dating but this…

It hurt. It hurt knowing he wasn’t the right choice. Yet… y/n looked up just once and gave him that stare. The kind where she basically undressed him with a glance.

He wondered how she was feeling because she had been, even if she was laughing, she had been extremely weird.

Though Tom had only had one same thought the whole day. He needed to buy a Polaroid. But that was the least he should care about. Because his brother had ignored him, all day long.

And y/n had arrived with Timothée, and she had been laughing all this time. And Tim had given him a weird look, but Timothee had been so cocky this evening as if he knew a secret that Tom didn’t.

But y/n and Tom were normal, mocking each other, rolling their eyes at each other and acting like usual. Nothing to suspect there. But y/n had kept on a little game, if she ever walked behind Tom she’d brush a hand on his lower back, or the way she’d sometimes stop and look at him, biting her lip slightly.

She was driving him crazy.

Sam had asked Tom about y/n’s night, and Haz had stepped in.

“Yeah, y/n must have been so tired of Tom that she probably had to black out to forget them, Tom came home pretty early.”

And everyone was around Harry and Emma couldn’t take her eyes off of him. They would miss him.

But Harry had been quiet. Harry hadn’t looked at Tom. He had talked to anyone else but Tom. Was he angry?

Tom walked over to Harry, Emma, and Tuwaine.

Tim, Haz and Y/N were talking to some other friends of them.

“I thought they had broken up,” Tom commented with poison as he eyed them.

“They’re still friends,” Emma commented, “and if we are honest they’re gonna get back together any time soon.”

“Wouldn't say that,” Tom insisted.

“You wouldn’t?” Harry wondered. “Did she say that at your dinner last night?”

Tuwaine laughed. “I’m impressed you guys haven’t killed each other by now.”

Emma laughed, “I don’t know how y/n is dealing with it, my girl, she is so strong, having her ex and her worst enemy in the same room…”

Tuwaine scrunched his nose. “Poor y/n.”

Harry chuckled. “Yes.”

“But they…” Tuwaine watched them. “They seem like they’re alright.”

“I don’t really understand why they broke up. They’re so perfect together,” Harry agreed, watching them.

Emma shrugged. “Dunno, and besides this whole best friends dating each other best friends was amazing.”

Tom coughed. “Right.”

“But no, I’m sad to tell you,”Harry chuckled. “I know y/n, and she’s…”Harry gulped. “Let’s say they’re not at the same place you and I are,” Harry grinned as he kissed Emma. “God, I love you.”

Tuwaine and Tom gave each other a glance and decided to walk away. They truly didn’t want to be in their way.

Tom wondered if Harry was so in love with Emma why had it bothered him that he had had dinner with y/n? What bothered him? Emma was so in love with him. And Harry was so in love with her. Emma was like… anything Harry had wished for.

But the party continued.

And Tom and Tuwaine ended up talking about the movie, about Tuwaines life and about everything that was going on.

But Tom kept looking at how Timothee hadn’t left y/n’s side.

“It’s not me, right? Tim is extremely annoying,” Tom pointed out.

Tuwaine laughed. “What? The guy’s a sweetheart.”

“He’s not, he’s boring, and—“Tom rolled his eyes as he saw everyone laughing exactly at something Timothee had said. “And he's really not handsome.”

Tuwaine frowned. “I dunno about that, I just know he’s too… what was the word y/n used? Dreamy.”

“He wouldn’t appear in dreams, he’s a nightmare,” Tom scoffed. “What did he see in him?”

“I don’t know,” Tuwaine chuckled. “I—why are you asking me this?”

Harrison approached them. “What are we talking about?”

“Why Tim is so dreamy,” Tuwaine laughed. “Look at his eyes,” Tuwaine chanted laughing.

Haz glanced behind him and then raised his brows at Tom. “Really?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Probably because he treated her like he was the only girl in the room and he looks at her so nicely and he hasn’t broken her heart multiple times and he’s not an asshole, and doesn’t constantly mock her,” Haz sassed.

“What?” Tuwaine laughed. “That sounds so specific.”

Haz laughed. “I know.”

Tom rolled his eyes as he turned to y/n again and she locked her sight with him and then slightly motioned away. She excused herself from her friends and headed to the restroom, Tom waited for a decent amount of time before heading after her.

He knocked on the door, “it’s me.”

Y/n opened it and before checking it was cleared she dragged him inside, locking the door.

“How’s that damage control going?” She asked him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him. “Hi.”

“Thomas, not the time,” she rolled her eyes, but her hands landed on his chest anyway. “What did you do with Haz?”

He scrunched his nose. “He didn’t notice,” he lied.

“Good, Tommy—I mean,” she blinked, “Timmy did ask but I told him a lie.”

“Don’t you ever dare confuse me with him again,” Tom threatened.

She smirked. “Or what?”

Tom pushed her up against the wall, “or else…” his lips connected with her neck. She instantly closed her eyes.

But someone knocked on the door and y/n instantly pushed him away.

“Uh… coming!” Tom said.

“What?” Y/n mouthed.

“Oh okay, sorry!” It was Harry. Tom and y/n panicked. “Hey Tom, did you see y/n?”

“No I didn't, why would I? I’m in the bathroom man, and I’m definitely not up for a conversation,” Tom snapped.

“Right, sorry, I’ll… should I call her?” Harry asked.

“No, no man…”

And y/n quickly pulled out her phone and silenced it before anything else could go wrong.

“I—Tom, actually can you come out already? I need to talk to you.”

“Man. I’m kind of… busy,” Tom said again. Tom licked his lips, as he then pointed to the shower.

“What?” Y/N mouthed again.

“Hide there,” Tom whispered.

Y/N frowned but got into the shower and hid behind the curtains.

Tom washed his hands and walked out to face his brother, closing the door.

“What?” Tom wondered.

“What happened last night?” Harry asked.

Tom cleared his throat. “I went to y/n’s place, had dinner, we discussed the schedule and that’s it.”

“Tom, don’t play with her,” Harry begged him.

“What?” Tom frowned.

Harry took a deep breath. “Look… I… we both know you guys have your relationship but I really don’t want you hurting her anymore, okay?”

“I’m not—doing anything.”

“Tom but you know how she used to feel about you,” Harry pushed. “I don’t want you messing her up anymore because okay, if you make her cry once again I’m not gonna be there and—“

“Harry, Harry, Harry, I genuinely am not going to do anything to hurt her, things have changed okay, we are… kind of friends.”

Harry sighed. “Fine—I am just worried okay?”

“Yes okay.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Well I’m—“he pointed to the bathroom.

“Aaa—-ahhh, hey good luck there Harry! Going into the bathroom! Good for you! What are you—what are you doing there?”

“Peeing, thanks for asking.” Harry scowled.

“GOOD LUCK IN THE RESTROOM WHILE YOU PEE!” Tom yelled again.

Harry frowned and punched Tom in the shoulder, but got there anyway.

Tom chuckled to himself, before taking out to text y/n, warning her.

But before he knew it y/n had come back to the living room and glared at him.

They gathered up to say their goodbyes, and good luck to Harry. It really wasn’t sentimental, maybe only coming from Sam and Tom, wishing their brother their best good and congratulating him. It was just people happily giving their advice and nice words.

“Thanks to everyone I—this is very nice coming from all of you,” Harry chuckled as he was looking at Emma. “Uh—well, tomorrow it’s completing a dream one and—I… but my dream wouldn’t be complete without Emma here, my love.”

Emma grinned as she stood up, taking Harry’s hand.

“Well we have another announcement,” Harry said nervously. “Well uh—“

“We’re engaged!” Emma announced showing her hand up as a big ring was adorning her hand.

“What?” Was the only word that was spreading around the room.

And suddenly the focus was only on that ring.

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carnationcreation · 4 years

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The Real Winner (Rocky DeSantos x reader)

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TITLE: The Real Winner (Rocky DeSantos x reader)

Prompt/summary: (Zeo episode 30, Oily to bed, oily to rise) Reader volunteers with Rocky as a lifeguard for the Angel Grove surfing competition

Word Count: 1,104

Warnings: none

“Welcome! To the Angel Grove catch a wave competition. The first competitor comes from Stone Canyon High. Give it up for champion surfer Joe Orchard!” The announcer said. The crowd began to cheer as Joe made a move on the wave. (Y/n) had never been one for surfing but when they got the option to volunteer as a lifeguard for this competition they immediately took it. There were two reasons as to why they did, first it would look good on a college resume, second they knew Rocky DeSantos would also be volunteering.

(Y/n) walked down the ramp to the lifeguard tower on the shore of Angel Grove beach, Rocky trailing behind her, “Rocky I’m heading to the lifeguard stand, you’ll be in charge of first aid for the day,” (Y/n) said.

“No problem (Y/n),” He smiled. (Y/n) felt their heart skip a beat. The two saw Tommy and Kat standing below the tower and Rocky began to walk towards them. (Y/n) turned and began to make her way to the lifeguard stand to give the friends some alone time. She didn’t know Tommy and Kat that well anyways and didn’t want to make it awkward.

“Hey guys!” he yelled.

“Hey Rocky, what’s up?” Tommy said as the blue ranger approached him.

“You think the gold ranger knows how to surf?”

Tommy and Kat stood up, “I never really thought about it Rock.”

“Think about it though,” Kat chimed in, “He could be standing right near us and we wouldn’t even know about it.”

The boys both hummed in agreement. Rocky stared at the lifeguard tower (Y/n) was sitting at and sighed. He had the chance to ask her out this morning while they were setting up, but he blew it of course. He thought they looked amazing in their swimsuit. Tommy saw where his friend was looking at and nugged Kat’s arm.

“You know you should ask them out later today, maybe ask them to dinner,” Kat suggested.

Rocky turned with his eyes wide at his friends, “Who?”

Tommy laughed at his embarrassment, “(Y/N), come on bro everyone knows you have a thing for them.”

“Yeah but they don’t like me like that, look at them.”

The group turned to watch the lifeguard. (Y/n) grabbed their water bottle and uncapped it, trying to stay cool in any way possible.

Rocky sighed, “I almost asked them out this morning. I freaking blew it man. It’s like I was looking at them and I completely lost everything I was gonna say.”

“I feel ya man,” Tommy said, looking at Kat while he was saying it. The pink ranger didn’t notice however since she was putting her surfboard wax away.

“Anyways,” Kat said, “I better get ready, my heats up next.”

“Good luck Kat,” Rocky said as her and Tommy walked away.

Rocky went back to his post at the top of the lifeguard tower. The sun on his back caused spots of sweat to appear on his shirt. He eventually got tired of it and ended up taking it off and grabbing a bottle of sunscreen to apply.

(Y/n) bit their lip. They turned just in time to see the boy taking his volunteer shirt off and the young lifeguard almost lost their balance on the stand. Eventually Rocky looked up to see them staring and smiled causing them to come to their senses. (Y/n) smiled back at him before turning back to the competition.

___________

Later…

The competition was in full swing and getting ready to wrap up. They cheered for Katt as she prepped for another wave to take the lead. Suddenly there was a commotion on the shore, (Y/n) looked up to see some sort of green sludge making its way towards the surfers. They tried to find Rocky in the crowd of people but lost hope after a few seconds. They grabbed their whistle and sent out a few tweets telling everyone to get out of the water. Rocky finally came into (Y/n)’s view, running along the edge of the water while yelling at the competitors to get out.

(Y/n) saw Tommy and David swimming out to Katt. They saw Katt go under water and let out a yell. As the three of them paddled to shore on Katt’s surfboard (Y/n) climbed down from the tower. Rocky and (y/n) began to usher people back from the water. Rocky ran over to the three friends and (Y/n) followed behind. She gave water bottles to the Katt, Tommy, and David after they collapsed on the shore. Rocky’s communicator beeped.

“(Y/n),” Rocky said, “We’re going to go get help. Can you keep everyone out of the water?”

“Of course,” (Y/n) said.

Rocky smiled at them, and without thinking he kissed them on the cheek. They both smiled at each other before (Y/n) turned and ran back to the stand.

Rocky finally realized what had just happened, “Oh Zordon why did I just do that?”

“Good job bro,” Tommy said.

Rocky shook his head before calling back to the command center.

____________________

After the fight…

After the coast was cleared the competition started back up again. (Y/n) waited and waited for Rocky and was searching the crowd when they weren’t watching the surfers. FInally Rocky and his friends appeared near the edge of the water and (Y/n) climbed down the tower to greet them.

Tommy nudged his friend when he saw (Y/n) running over to them, causing Rocky to blush.

“There you are!” (Y/n) said, pulling the boy into a hug before turning to the group, “I was so worried. You won’t believe it! The Power Rangers showed up while you were gone. Where were you anyways?”

“We went to get help, it’s good the Rangers saved the day,” Tommy said.

“I heard the Pink one is the best,” Katt smiled.

(Y/n) scoffed, “No it’s definitely the blue one.”

Rocky blushed even more. Luckily (Y/n) didn’t see it.

The announcer came over the microphone, “Okay surfing fans! The moment you’ve all been waiting for. The judges have made their final decisions. And the winner of the Angel Grove Catch a Wave competition is… Johnny Spitzer!”

The crowd cheered as the winner accepted his trophy. (Y/n) clapped and smiled at the surfer and turned to Rocky, “I wish Katt would have won.”

“Yeah me too,” Rocky paused and took a deep breath, “Would you like to go to dinner tonight?”

(Y/n) smiled at the nervous boy, “I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

The two smiled at each other as they intertwined hands.

Rocky couldn’t be any happier, “I guess I’m the real winner today.”

#power rangers #power rangers imagine #power ranger zeo #rocky desantos #rocky desantos imagine #power rangers zeo imagine #carnation creation

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elcorhamletlive · 5 years

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Fandom: MCU (post-Avengers) Ship: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Tags: Fluff, Pining Tony Stark, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century summary: As Steve discovers the internet, he also discovers old memes.

As Tony and Bruce climb out of the lab, the sound that echoes in the room is so foreign that it takes Tony a moment to realize it’s a laugh, and one more moment to realize it’s Steve’s.

At the top of the staircase, Tony sees him on the couch, and yeah, he’s laughing. Not politely chuckling or awkwardly forcing a laugh, mind you, but actually, genuinely having a belly laugh, complete with a pink flush all over his face, his eyes turning into tiny blue streaks as he wipes them with back of his hand, catching his breath.

It’s—well. It’s a vision, to be blunt.

“Sounds like you’re having fun,” Bruce says, and that’s the understatement of the year, because Steve looks downright delighted. He struggles to catch his breath, still grinning helplessly as he looks away from his phone.

“Oh,” he says, as if he’s just realized their presence. His flush deepens, Tony notices. Steve’s has kind of an ugly flush, that shows up in red spots coming up from his neck as well, instead of sticking prettily to his cheeks. Tony sticks his hands in his pockets to control his itch to touch it. “Hi.”

“Hey, Cap.” Clint throws himself on the couch next to him and leans, trying to take a pick at his phone. It’s rude, but Tony can’t really blame him, because he’s one step away from offering actual money to find out what made Steve laugh like that. “What are you looking at?”

Steve controls his grin into a more schooled smile, but he still perks up , and in a moment Tony is right behind the couch, leaning forward to place his hands over the cushion. From behind Steve’s broad, sculpted-by-the-Gods back, he catches a glimpse of a Twitter feed.

“I was trying to learn how to use, hmm—Twitter, right?” He pronounces it correctly, which really shouldn’t make Tony want to kiss him in congratulations, but it absolutely does. “And I found this, this page…” His face twists in an effort not to laugh. “You’re not gonna believe it. Here, I’ll show you. You guys need to see this.” He holds up the phone a little higher for Tony and Bruce to see.

As he types – a little slower than most people would – a name into the search bar, Tony’s heart kind of breaks.

“It’s genius,” Steve says, as the account opens. “I was just looking at this one—”

“Wait,” Clint interrupts. “Are you serious?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, with a little frown between his eyebrows that Tony’s hand itches to smooth it out. “I know it seems silly, but it’s really funny.” He turns, and, at Clint’s gaze, grows more indignant. “The pictures are very good and the captions are really creative.”

“I know,” Clint says bluntly. “It’s Dog Rates, Cap. They have over eight million followers. It’s a huge account. Everyone knows it.”

Steve’s frown vanishes, but it’s replaced by something a lot worse: surprise, and then a clear, raw disappointment that he does his best to mask. His posture deflates, his hand going to the back of his neck, rubbing it.

“Oh,” he says, and he’s back to his usual man-out-of-time voice, probably feeling old and stupid, the excitement from before already a distant memory.

It’s legitimately like someone turned off the sun. So, really, nobody can blame Tony for saying, “I didn’t know it.”

Steve looks at him. “Really?”

“Really?” Clint asks, a thousand times more skeptical, and Tony gestures flippantly at him.

“Not all of us have free time to troll on Twitter, Barton,” he says. Then he turns to Steve, who’s watching him with wide blue eyes that almost make him forget how to form words. “So? What’s all the fuss about?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says, a hesitant smile already blooming on his face. He turns further to show his phone exclusively to Tony, signaling for him to lean further so their heads are closer, which isn’t a configuration Tony minds, at all. “See, it’s very simple – they post a picture, and give it a rate. At first, I thought it seemed a little harsh, because, really, which dog should ever get a low rate, right? But, see—all their rates start out at ten.”

He proceeds to show some of his favorite posts. Tony’s seen them all, either from following the account or from random dog memes Rhodey sends him sometimes, but he plays along, ooooh- ing and awwwww -ing at the right moments, and in no time Steve is grinning again, glad to be explaining something to someone else for a change, feeling in the loop.

Some people could say what Tony’s doing is lying, but he disagrees, because he isn’t faking it at all when he grins back.

After Steve finds out Dog Rates, it doesn’t take him long to find Thoughts of Dog, which he finds even more delightful. He shows it to Tony during breakfast, sitting next to him on the counter as they go through the tweets together.

“This is amazing,” Steve says. He’s at that stage where it seems like his cheeks hurt from smiling. Tony thinks he should look like this more often. Maybe all the time. “When they explained it at SHIELD, I thought the internet was more of a tool, like a huge encyclopedia. And obviously, it is, but it didn’t occur to me it could be…”

“Fun?” Tony asks.

Steve looks at him and smiles. Tony is quite fond of that sequence of events.

“Yeah,” he says. When he smiles like that, a dimple shows up in his cheek.

Tony isn’t even a dog person, but it couldn’t matter less.

Steve eventually expands his knowledge of animal memes and pages to include cats, which means Tony starts receiving lots of videos that were, at one point, considered the pinnacle of internet humor, with cats playing piano and sliding over wood floors.

Steve finds out about Grumpy Cat a few hours before he learns she’s dead. In between, he texts Tony a bunch of pictures of her with a message reading “this is how you look at morning team meetings”.

Tony honest-to-God giggles, because, really, he’s a lost cause.

A few moments afterwards, he receives a lengthy message of Steve saying he just found the cat in the picture had died, but she had apparently lived a long and happy life and so he hoped Tony wouldn’t be sad by finding this out.

Since Tony doesn’t immediately answer (because there’s a marching band leading what is apparently an eternal fourth of July parade in his chest), Steve then apologizes for sending the memes in the first place, and, look—if nobody sees Tony sighing, nobody can prove anything, regardless of what the dopey smile on his face might suggest.

On a remarkable occasion, Steve sends in a “important Avenger news – waiting for your thoughts, Iron Man” e-mail, and, when Tony opens it, he’s rick-rolled in front of his entire office.

“This is the cringiest shit I’ve ever seen,” Clint, who’s there to get suit upgrades, says.

“Shut up,” Tony says.

“SHIELD has informed him we think it’s best if he doesn’t have a Twitter account,” Natasha, who’s there to have lunch with Pepper, says, and even through her supreme spy training Tony can tell she has to try hard to keep an even expression. “For his… reputation.”

“Oh, shut up,” Tony repeats. “It would only make him more popular, and you know it.”

Natasha shrugs with a knowing smile. “To some people, maybe.”

Tony looks away, his face heating.

Eventually, Steve confronts him about it.

They’re on the couch, right after what wasn’t exactly a date, but also wasn’t definitely not a date either—Steve had said he was hungry, and Tony had asked if he wanted to get dinner, but then Steve said “sure, there’s pasta in the fridge”, and they had ended up eating in the living room, plates full of large portions of heated up pasta from lunch (which, against all odds, tasted really good).

Now they’re on the same couch, bodies lax and full of carbs, and sitting pretty close to each other already, although Tony does take advantage of any opportunity to slip a little closer. They’re watching as Steve scrolls through a series of images on his phone, all historical pictures or paintings with a photoshopped, photobombing squirrel.

Tony chuckles, because he barely remembers this one, and because Steve seems happy and relaxed and this makes it easier for him to laugh.

“How come you don’t know any of these things?” Steve asks with a raised eyebrow. “You work with tech.”

“Machines don’t make memes,” Tony says. Then, after a second, he adds: “At least not good ones.”

“Your profile is one of the most followed of all time on Twitter and Instagram,” Steve counters.

“Wow, okay—cyber-stalking much?” Tony replies, which makes Steve’s cheeks grow a little pink, but he doesn’t seem too embarrassed, just a little shy as he opens a small smile. Tony takes the opportunity to nest a little closer.

“I was just looking,” Steve says, his eyes landing on the point of contact between his and Tony’s shoulders. They’re so close now they’re basically leaning against each other, and Tony is about to retreat and mumble an excuse to leave and save himself the embarrassment, when Steve adds: “It’s nice. That—that you don’t mind me sharing things.” Then, to Tony’s bafflement, he comes closer and leans his head on Tony’s shoulder. “There’s so much to catch up on. Sometimes it’s nice to—to feel like I’m in the loop for a change.”

There’s a knot in Tony’s throat, and yet his body is reeling, completely taken by the warmth of Steve’s frame cuddled up against him.

There must be something in Steve’s eyes, too – something more than what his words say, something brighter and warmer that’s almost blinding as he stares at Tony, something that makes Tony confident enough to lean forward and press a kiss on the top of Steve’s head.

“No problem,” he muffles against Steve’s hair.

Steve hums pleasantly and then asks Tony if he’s seen the world’s fastest skateboarding bulldog yet.

Of course, Tony hasn’t.

#stony #stevetony #superhusbands #stony fic #happy steve bingo #reblogs are love

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trashinaglass-archive · 5 years

Text

Worst Travel Day Ever

Y/n and Tom get in a fight while traveling for press tour.

A/n: Idk man, I love it.

Tom had planned for you to join him on his press tour for Far From Home. You were excited to be able to go after being apart for so long. You had packed your bags and were waiting at the airport along with Harrison. The plan was for the two of you to get on a flight to meet Tom for a connecting flight to finally go to Japan. Your first flight was about five hours. You and Harrison found your seats, Harrison letting you have the window seat. Once you had put your carry-on in the overhead compartment, you sat down and immediately started playing with the screen in front of you, looking at the different movies you could choose from to watch.

“Oh come on,” Harrison muttered. You looked at him then followed his eyes to his screen.

“What’s wrong with you?” You asked him.

“The bloody thing isn’t working. Every film I try to play says ‘not available.’” You watched as he went down the list of films touching every single one to see a warning pop up each time.

“Sucks to suck,” you laughed at him. He turned toward you sharply.

“You’re gonna have to share your screen with me then,” he said looking at you completely serious.

“Boy, who do you think you are?” You asked him. The screens were super small and only took one headset for sound.

“I think I’m the guy who gave you the seat with the working tv,” Harrison said back. You looked at him unamused. It was true. Harrison’s ticket was for the seat you were in, and he let you take it because you wanted to be by the window. You should’ve been the one with the messed up tv. You also know Harrison would share his screen with you.

“You’re the worst sometimes, you know that?” You said looking at him. He laughed and agreed with you. “What do you want to watch?” You asked him while scrolling through the list. You two decided on watching Pirates of the Caribbean movies. You had scooted over with your back to the wall of the plane while Harrison scooted a little closer so he could see the screen easier; you each had one earbud in your ear.

Harrison eventually fell asleep, his head leaned back against the seat. You looked at him and took the earbuds out of his ear and stuck your tongue out at him. You put it in your ear and finished watching your movie.

You finally landed and made your way to find your next gate. You were so excited to see Tom. You were almost skipping through the airport, you couldn’t wait to hug him and talk to him and to look at his face. You began to approach your gate and saw him standing up, looking at his phone with his back toward you. You ran and hugged him from behind making him jump with shock.

“Hey, babe,” he said to you. You immediately knew something was wrong as soon as you heard his voice. He looked at you as you walked around him to face him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him. He sighed and shook his head.

“Nothing, I’m just exhausted, stressed,” he explained to you. You could see it in his face, he wasn’t his normal happy self. It made you feel bad; he was able to do what he loved, but it wasn’t always easy.

“Well, you have the next six hours to get a good shut eye,” you told him. He nodded his head, silently hoping you were right. He felt bad that he was so down; he wanted to be happy to see you like you were to see him, but he couldn’t bring his energy up no matter what he tried.

You boarded the second plane with your seat next to his, Harrison across from you. Tom immediately put his headphones on and closed his eyes. You watched him, silently wishing he could just pretend to be happy to see you. You understood what his job entails, but you couldn’t help but feel selfish from time to time. You grabbed your own headphones and plugged them into the screen in front of you. You saw two of the recommended movies were Infinity War and Homecoming. You thought to yourself, if he doesn’t feel up to talking right now, maybe watching one of his films will make up for it.

You were about halfway into Homecoming when you started to feel extremely uncomfortable. After being on a plane for five hours and being on another one for six hours, you were struggling. You kept adjusting, trying to find a spot that you were comfortable in.

“Stop moving,” Tom muttered. You immediately stopped and looked toward him. His eyes were still closed, and he hadn’t moved an inch. You slowly tried to sit back, dealing with the soreness you knew was coming. You pulled the lever on the side of the seat, leaning it back more. You sat there and watched the rest of the movie before the flight attendant came around asking if you wanted anything to drink. You asked for a water for you and Tom, in case he needed some. She handed you the waters and two bags of pretzels, and you placed all of it on the tray in front of you.

About an hour later, Homecoming was over, and you really had to pee. You looked at Tom. He was still asleep, and you didn’t know whether you should wake him or try to climb over him. He wasn’t the deepest sleeper, and you could almost guarantee he’d wake up either way. You tapped his arm lightly.

“What?” He asked you, again without opening his eyes.

“I have to pee,” you told him softly. He sighed before finally opening his eyes and moving so you could get out. You made your way to the back and used the restroom before heading back to your seat. You saw Tom looking through the films on his screen waiting for you to get back.

“Sorry,” You said to him, scooting back to your seat. He didn’t bother to look at you or say anything- he started a movie and slouched back into his seat. You put your headphones back in and started to watch Infinity War.

After what seemed like a three day flight, you finally landed in Japan. Tokyo, to be exact. You were starting to feel excited. You had never been to Japan before, and you had a list of things you were hoping to see and do. Tom stood up from his seat and grabbed both of your carryons. You headed off the plane and toward the baggage claim. No one had really said anything, you assuming because the boys were both so tired. You began to talk about how excited you were. Not only were you joining Tom, but you were also in a new country.

“I was reading about the different stuff they have here, and it’s all so cool. Like the Robot Restaurant and the different animal cafes?” You started to tell the boys as you walked. You were sick of the quiet- you almost couldn’t stop the words from falling out of your mouth. “Oh, and my friend came here one time and was telling me about this park she visited. It sounded so cute and the pictures were gorgeous,” you weren’t able to get anymore out before Tom turned to look at you.

“Could you fucking stop already?” He yelled at you. You stopped in your tracks and looked at him. You were taken aback by his reaction. “I didn’t get to sleep at all that entire plane ride cause you couldn’t leave me alone and now you won’t stop talking. Can you just shut up and leave me alone for five fucking minutes,” he finished, walking away from you.

You stood there in pure shock. You looked at Harrison wondering what you did to receive such a reaction. That’s when you noticed- everyone in the airport was staring at you. Your heart sank to your stomach, and you felt tears well in your eyes.

“Come on, don’t worry about it,” Harrison told you as he ushered you to follow Tom. You had made it to the baggage claim and saw Tom standing there. The conveyor belt just began to spin as you walked up. You stood on the opposite side of Harrison away from Tom. You watched as Tom reached out and grabbed his luggage followed by yours. He waited for Harrison to grab his, and the three of you walked out of the airport. You hailed a cab to the hotel and checked in. You and Tom would be sharing a room while Harrison had a seperate one connected onto yours.

While you were waiting for the two boys to check in you scrolled through your Twitter to pass the time. You stopped on a tweet that stuck out to you.

“Damn, y/n must have really fucked up😂”

You looked at the tweet in confusion. What the hell is that suppose to mean? You went to the search tab and looked up your name. Your jaw clenched as you saw what they were talking about. Someone had filmed Tom yelling at you in the airport and posted it online. You started to read the comments as you realized the boys were done and headed for the elevator. You read the tweets as you walked.

“Girl, what did you do?!”

“I wish there was audio, this is hilarious”

“I love seeing Tom yell at Y/n. She probably deserved it”

“I knew she was a fake bitch the first time I saw her”

You felt tears start again as the elevator reached your floor. You shook your head and followed the boys, silently. Tom stopped in front of the room and opened the door, holding it open for you. Harrison noticed your hesitation to follow him.

“I had to ask y/n about something, give us a second?” He asked Tom. He rolled his eyes and said ‘whatever’, closing the door.

Harrison opened the door to his room, and you immediately sat down on the chair at the desk.

“Is it about the airport?” He asked you noticing the tears you were holding back. You shook your head and showed him the video on Twitter.

“Oh, my gosh,” Harrison said shocked. It was your turn to be angry at Tom. It wasn’t his fault that he snapped, he’s exhausted and couldn’t help it, you understand that. It wasn’t even his fault that it was filmed. But it was his fault that he couldn’t wait until you were in private to yell at you. He knows how popular he is, he knows people watch his every move, he knows people are bound to film him. He should have known to hold his anger until you two were in your hotel room with no one watching.

“Y/n, you should talk to him about this.”

“I don’t want anything to do with him right now,” you told Harrison, your voice cracking with the tears in your throat.

“I understand exactly where you’re coming from, but you can’t just let this simmer,” Harrison told you. You shook your head, you didn’t want to talk to him. With the state he’s in now, he’d probably chew your head off for crying in front of him. “Do you even want to stay with him tonight?”

“No,” you said without hesitation. “I don’t want to be around him.”

“Right,” Harrison said. He hated that two of his best mates were fighting. He didn’t want to be part of it, but he also didn’t want to leave it alone. “I’ll stay with him.” He grabbed his bags and knocked on the door that joined the two rooms. Tom unlocked his side and the door opened. “Hey, mate,” Harrison said with a smile as he walked in and closed the door.

“What are you doing?” Tom asked him confused, seeing his bags in hand.

“I’m staying with you tonight,” Harrison told him.

“She’s really that pissed that I yelled at her?” Tom said with a slight sneer. You’ve been in arguments before, but no matter how bad they got, you always made up before you went to bed.

Harrison shrugged, “her feelings were hurt when you yelled at her. She’s pissed off because someone filmed you yelling at her and posted it online for everyone to see and mock her for. She’s the laughing stock of the night, no thanks to you.” Harrison pulled his phone out and pulled up Twitter.

“What?” Tom asked. He couldn’t believe what Harrison was saying. Harrison handed him the phone, and he watched the video. It showed him while he yelled at you, you shrinking back from him- the camera following him as he walked away. It swung back to show you looking at Harrison and wiping a tear as you walked away, head down. There wasn’t any audio, the person must’ve been covering the mic with her finger, but actions speaks louder than words. There was no mistaking the anger in Tom’s face and body language nor the sadness in yours.

“I didn’t realize someone was filming,” Tom tried to explain himself feeling defeated.

“I’m not the one that needs an apology, mate,” Harrison said gesturing toward the door. Tom looked toward it then back at Harrison.

“Do you think she’ll talk to me?”

“I think if you’re nice to her, she’ll at least listen to you.”

Tom was dreading walking into that room with you. He didn’t deserve your time or forgiveness. He took a deep breathe and walked toward the door. You hadn’t locked it so it opened with no struggle. He poked his head in and saw you laying on the bed. You were on your stomach with your head laying against your arm, the other hand holding your phone.

“Hey, darling,” he said softly. You turned to look at him for a second before looking back at your phone. He took your lack of ‘get out’ as permission to come in. He walked into the room closing the door behind him. He walked over to the desk and rolled the chair over towards you and sat down. “Harrison showed me the video,” he told you. You had put your phone down and gave him your attention. You didn’t look at him, but he was okay with that.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you like I did. It was unnecessary, and I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. Especially towards you. You weren’t doing anything wrong. You were just excited, and I took that away from you. I’m sorry,” Tom apologized.

You lifted your head, wiping the remaining tears. “I don’t care that you yelled at me, I’m upset that you couldn’t wait until we were out of the airport to do it,” you finally looked at him. You saw that he was upset with himself and was genuinely sorry. “Tom, you know that people watch you. You know what people say about me for no reason, and you literally handed them a reason. You just added fuel to a fire that was already massive.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I wish I could take it back. I wish I could rewind time and redo it, but I can’t. I will do everything I can to make this right to you.” He looked at the closest clock to check the time. It was 8:32. “Will you let me take you to dinner at least?” He asked you hopefully. You laughed lightly.

“I don’t think anyone wants to look at me right now,” you said thinking about the video and how red your face must be from crying.

“I do,” Tom told you. “And I like to think my opinion is more important that others.” You looked at him while a small smile.

“What about Harrison?”

“Fuck Harrison, he can eat crackers from downstairs for all I care,” he replied making you laugh for real this time. He smiled hearing your laugh, and you heard Harrison yell ‘hey’ thought the door. “So, will you join me for dinner?” He asked with his hand out to you. You smiled at the cute gesture. You grabbed his hand as you sat up.

“I will. But I want to change first,” you said looking at your sweats you’d been wearing all day. You quickly grabbed your suitcase and changed into a pair of jeans and threw your hair into a ponytail. You grabbed your phone and followed Tom into the other room as he grabbed his phone and wallet, double checking that he had his room key.

“We’re going to grab some dinner, do you want to go with us?” Tom invited Harrison, silently hoping he’d say no. He loved his mate, but he wanted to have this time to be with you by himself, especially since you were so upset with him before.

“Nah, I’ll stay in and grab some room service. You guys have fun though,” he replied much to Tom’s delight.

“We will, see you bro,” he told Harrison as you exited the room. You turned your head and waved at him. He shot you a thumbs up in return.

You walked into the elevator, and Tom looked at you. “So you were saying your friend visited here before? What did she recommend?”

I loved this so much. Not even going to hide it.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader

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shockpop · 4 years

Text

being a textbook overthinker is a strong suit denki is not particularly known for . a head regularly presumed empty has worked to incessantly churn the argument on playback over the course of three days , violet staining crescents beneath his eyes at some point between the late - night mumbling and a time wherein he doesn’t even remember falling asleep . his oh - so - gracious host is left at a loss when she is forcibly tasked with shoving him awake each morning .

as much an empath as mina prides herself in being , it ain’t exactly a cakewalk to get into a neurotic’s mindset when he’s the one insisting that he’s fine , that everything is fine ; practiced charisma a much - appreciated plus in attempts to persuade his longtime best friend that he just needed a little breathing space from the situation . because that’s what they have to call it , now . ‘ the situation ’ .

this was all before denki proceeded to peel himself from eyesore - chartreuse cushions an hour late each day , and the reason why mina now harbors heavy concern beneath the initial irritation as she beats him awake with a pillow for the third day in a row .

astonishingly enough , through all the budding bruises and little cricks of his bones , denki’s still not used to it ---- confused as to why in place of a fluffy orange butt sat directly on his face is a firm pink hand , squishing freckled cheeks that’d never quite lost their baby fat .

the phone promptly shoved in his face ( raw - eyed , drool - sticky , red where strong fingers have imprinted themselves into his skin ) reads 7:12 am , a good hour and some past his normal wakeup time . he shouldn’t be so pikachu - meme shocked when this scenario is the direct result of a profuse refusal to take the device off silent mode these past few days ---- afraid to wake up to any late - night texts or calls .

and yet here he is , eyes squeezing shut as he mutters his third , grumbly shit this short week .

❛ seriously , dude ? ❜ mina chides as she flips through the unsung alarms , each set five minutes apart from one another beginning at 5:30 in the morning .

getting himself out of bed always had been something of a chore , emphasized by recent reasoning that he’d not been catching more than half a wink prior to that exact time each day . ❛ you teach people for a living and yet remain willfully oblivious to the very accessible , very convenient do not disturb function . ❜

she lets the phone fall unceremoniously onto denki’s lap , cushions creaking beneath their weight . ❛ get off my couch , spud . ❜

he’d love to , actually . every node in his spine pops in agreement .

the minutes between then and hurriedly collecting stray pieces of clothing off the floor pass in a rheumy - eyed blur , other possessions that’re repeatedly tripped over a courtesy of the emergency overnight bag he’d emptied out over the week . kept in the back of his car for situations that call for it , this doesn’t really qualify as one of those times .

❛ hey . what’s the status of you reevaluating your life choices so that you’re not crawling out my door late to work in the same inside - out v - neck you’ve been wearing all week ? ❜ mina prompts in midst of tossing on a jacket as gaudy in design as the rest of her , somehow completely comprehending what vague semblance of shut up , shut up , shut up denki conveys through hand gestures in between hurriedly scrubbing his teeth .

without time to style his hair this morning , he’s left to ruffle through the unkempt locks in his reflection through the elevator doors , displeased in how they refuse to obey any law of gravity but deciding that he might as well just go ahead and look as shitty as he feels . hurts less to acknowledge it himself before mina eagerly relays just how divorced he looks mere moments later .

❛ you’re gonna have to talk to him eventually , ❜ she reminds him just before they part , chaste kiss pressed to either cheek and equally reciprocated . ❛ before it’s too late . i know you’re both pretty keen on letting things fester , but how ‘bout you just nut up before your idiot boy pride makes things completely irreversible ? ❜

at her humble suggestion , denki mulls on the air of an amused hum , shouldering open one of the glass doors for her to walk through first . ❛ my idiot boy pride , huh . s'a little misandristic , don’tcha think ? ❜

she replies with a wag of her middle finger in the air behind her , a stark gesture that bakugou would appreciate and that denki hates thinking that bakugou would appreciate . he silently curses mina once for the reminder , then again for her uncanny talent of always being right .

on that note , he mentally checks ‘ idiot boy pride ’ as a contender for the working title of an eventual autobiography .

lunch passes by a lot more slowly in the days he’d been forcibly weened off of bakugou’s cooking . left to survive off what loose change could nab from the vending machines outside and random snacks found throughout the cabinets of the teachers’ lounge , denki finds that whey milk and loose granola by the fistful are not all that amazing a combo .

mina is wise beyond her years . this is a meal of a divor - fuckin’ - cee .

actually , the sudden absence of a balanced diet may even be reaching the point of a pressing health issue . when he brushes granola grains off his shirt ---- now worn correctly , after having uncomfortably fumbled with it in his car earlier ---- he notices how tight his chest has begun to feel over the course of the morning . an ache like a scream that won’t come out . he’s bound , yes , and dry granola has probably not made the trip down his esophagus very easy ; but had the pain always been so prominent ?

❛ didja check twitter yet ? refresh your timeline ---- look , see , it’s trending ! ❜

denki’s attention piques , turning towards the flood of students rushing by the lounge door . on their way back to their classrooms to ride out the last few periods of the day , he’s not surprised to see so many of their eyes glued to their phones as they walk , given that lunch and homeroom make up the only two slots of time wherein students are allowed access to such devices .

their conversations spill in a slew of muddled topics : is the villain big ? how’d you do on that art history exam ? shouldn’t he have backup? my sister’s taking me to that new poke bowl restaurant tonight . is he breathing ? cats can doggy paddle , can’t they ? blasty’s a top - five ! indestructible ! i hope i have a team one day . but so was jeanist , and look what happened to him .

❛ bla ---- ❜ denki starts , sparing a few minutes heading back himself to fish his phone from his cardigan . he’s usually never without it , idly recalling a time in their youth where bakugou would have to manually pluck it from his grasp so that he’d settle into bed for the night . over the past few days , though , he's been more than content to break character and distance himself from the buzz of social media under some years - too - late guise of self - care and breaking addiction .

waking his phone now , the top notification banner reads a single message from his current roommate .

are you ok?

below it , an informal update from twitter , alerting him of exactly what his curiosity demands to be sated with right now .

trending in heroics : #BLASTYEXPLODO .

he doesn’t need a little shoulder mina angel to tell him that reading about his ex is technically just the time - sensitive equivalent of purposefully sifting through bakugou’s online presence ; mostly because the app is barely flicked open when the tightness across his chest constricts to a sudden , sharp PANG .

it doesn’t take some deep search to unearth the context of his students’ obsessive chattering nearby , considering that his entire timeline is being consistently updated with live footage from the scene . a bird’s - eye view of the site below captures where several heroes can be spotted as moving dots along the destruction of the outskirts ; all save for one , reported to have been caught in the fray after a building collapsed .

fingers press deep into the pain of his chest . his shoulder hits the wall to support his weight , face paling as he forces himself to read the oncoming slew of tweets one by one . a lot are unhelpful ---- mere wishes for blasty to hang in there , some questioning where he is , false memoriam by people denki knows bakugou’s never met , lots of clickbait for merch and inappropriate thirst posts layered in between .

nothing gives him a solid answer . because nobody has a solid answer .

lacking the word association necessary to properly reply to mina’s text without stirring either concern or cause for a possible lecture , he shoots something quick to kirishima instead .

hey man , thanks for everything lately . i’ll feed the cats tonight . can you do me a solid and leave a key ?

the car ride home is as long as ever in traffic surrounding the incident . every instance of a top hero barely escaping the brink of death is all but a grim reminder that life is short , speaking volumes to average citizens rushing home to spoil their families before everything settles back into a regular , non - life - threatening routine for them tomorrow .

shortly after lunch ( and trying to shake off what he was certain were signs of a small heart attack ) , denki decided that there was no use cutting his day short to make an appearance at the scene . rapid updates from twitter and associates alike informed him that blasty had eventually made it out on two legs , triumphant as ever , before being escorted to an unspecified hospital in order to avoid the public eye in his recovery .

denki takes his chances in calling his mom between catching every red light , hope breaking in a small , audible whimper when she doesn’t answer his one - or - nine calls . bakugou wasn’t the only victim in today’s events ; he rationalizes that nariko is probably up to her neck in new admissions regardless , but the thought doesn’t exactly bring him any peace of mind .

breathe . an impossible demand to meet , but one necessary to keep his electricity from snapping at the wheel .

he doesn’t exactly know why he’d even bothered showing up , sluggish steps treading the long lengths of tiled hallway leading to bakugou’s residence . not really any use hanging around an empty apartment all night ; even despite the pressing matter of the question mark tacked behind his current living situation . he’s not really looking to task himself with packing just yet .

❛ it’s just something , ❜ denki tiredly tells himself aloud at the foot of their doorstep , head tipped to the ceiling in a brief moment of reprieve . the sentiment resonates as somewhat redundant . it’s always something . he’s got a million somethings in his life that he’s never cared to name , piling one over the other in the corner of his mind without thought to the mental repercussions dealt to everyone involved .

maybe there’s only one something afterall . maybe the common denominator was just him .

tip of his shoe peels back the corner of the mat he’d insisted on laying there some short while ago , the key tucked beneath it shining in the hallway lighting once its cover is disturbed . bless his heart , but kirishima’s not very creative in his hiding places .

this copy is as shiny and unbroken - in as the one bakugou had given denki when he first moved here , spare a few spots of dirt he brushes off before lodging it into the keyhole .

without a set of miscellaneous dangling objects attached to it , the action of turning a bare key into the lock takes him back a full year ago ---- wherein he’d rigidly haunted this exact spot on a matless tile , uneager to begin a new phase in his life eventually titled reversed strength .

unlike back then , however , the key is met this time around without resistance in its lock , nothing to combat it as it turns . the door before him is open . presently .

his stomach drops .

hesitant to ease himself inside when so actively adorned in hair - raising suspicion , denki is met with the usual stagnancy of an empty apartment ---- no wafts of food cooking on the stove , no sound of the television on for background noise , no cats tripping over each other to greet him with a howling demand for kibble and petty - pets ( which smarts a little , considering his absence ) .

there is dim warmth from sunlight pouring through the windows and little else . not even a speck of dust found to sift through it . he wonders if kirishima had simply forgotten to lock the door behind him .

and yet , even with this thought in mind ---- this silent prayer ---- denki still holds a name on his tongue as he steps fully into the apartment , pocketing the key where its triplet sits unperturbed a few feet away . it’s a momentary struggle to find his voice , and he doesn’t recognize the sound that comes out .

❛ k ------- ... katsuki ? ❜

@blstys .

#blstys #ii . reversed strength .#v : pro hero .#mom holy FUCK

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eponymous-rose · 5 years

Text

Talks Machina Episode #100 Highlights!

That’s right: 100 EPISODES. That’s a lot of great questions, greater answers, questionable pronunciations of usernames, even more questionable uses of overlays, and a++++ excellent dogs.

The entire cast is answering questions this week!

Max runs an (adorable) intro in the above puppet theater, and each cast member gets a title. Laura is The Heart, Sam is The “Funny Guy”, Travis is The Brawn, Liam is The Actor, Matt is The Brains, Marisha is The Face, Taliesin is The Pyramid, Brian is The Convict, and Ashley is The Favorite.

The cast’s entrance is majestic. There are balloons, sashes, tiaras, and champagne. Henry has a tiara too!

The Search for Grog will air this Friday, February 22 at 7 PM Pacific on twitch.tv/criticalrole. If you miss the stream, it’ll be available Saturday morning on CR’s YouTube channel!

Talks Machina and CR will air on CR’s official channels starting today! Starting next episode, TM will be available on CR’s YouTube channel on Thursday at 7 Pacific, and also in podcast form!

Stats: in 100 episodes of TM, there’s been 81 episodes of Brian’s glorious beard. There have been 9 Skype/FaceTime call-ins! There were 244 guest misnomers before that well ran dry. 93 episodes of pre-show hijinks (thanks to Max James!). 95 episodes of Arsequeef. 826 days of being on the internet!

Brian: "The concept of creating a talk show about a D&D campaign has always been absurd to me, so we wanted to embrace that terribleness.”

There’s now a Steve Cam (quietly reading, meal prepping, and ignoring the show), and a Zach Cam (staring at a monitor that’s all just Liam’s chest hair and the Fjord bust), and a Max Cam (dancing in a stripper cop outfit), Lockey Cam (practicing with a sword in front of a mirror and then charging at Daniel for filming it - Brian: “Hopefully Daniel’s non-union.”), Ed Cam (drinking scotch and counting down the days until football returns, and also lint rolling his new goatee), Chris Cam (rapping in the VO booth), Brittany Cam (dancing with a unicorn blanket, huffing compressed air - Brian: “You can’t show that on Twitch!”).

Matt is asked how his DMing style has evolved with campaign 2. “Well... I’ve been forced to embrace a little more of the tragedy in the characters’ backstories.” The internal and external conflict has been really interesting for him to watch and react to. “I’ve learned to be very proud of my players for mucking up my perception of where things are going to go.”

Coming to Xhorhas, Nott’s thrilled to no longer have to worry about the mask. Sam’s excited about the City of Beasts “to see what kind of fucked-up individuals we’re going to find and seeing how Nott will react to that.”

Yasha definitely sympathizes with Nott trying to save her spouse, but “there’s a lot going on with her going back to Xhorhas. It’s definitely triggering for her, but she understands the need to want to go back. I wish I could go to Xhorhas. We’ll see what happens.” Travis: “I’m pretty sure once we go to a place we can never go back.”

Favorite item on the Talks shelves? Taliesin mentions a magnetic Percy mini, Sam likes the tiny Sams (”It looks like my bedroom!”), Ashley and Brian are partial to the Sully painting, Laura loves the Pike painting, Marisha loves all the stuff the cast bought on a hungover voyage to the flea market when they were first building the set, Matt loves a very cool dice tower. Brian likes the Vecna with Marisha’s face. Matt: “I don’t know if I like that one.”

Laura doesn’t like the party using the derogatory term for the Krynn, because she wants people to be happy even if she doesn’t know them. Sam: “I haven’t been the best for that, but if Jester wants me to... I guess I’ll change.”

There are new wipe transitions featuring the Matt pillow and the Fjord bust. It’s glorious.

Gif of the week: Sam calling Travis “studly” for catching the candy. Laura: “...I like that I’ve been cut out of it completely.”

Arsequeef gets the Lifetime Achievement Award for Gif of the Week. He wins Max’s 2006 Honda Accord.

On Caleb taking off his bandages because there’s nothing to hide anymore: “Was that terrifying for him, or a relief?” Liam: “Yes!” He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it feels good. He’s got f...r...iends?” Marisha: “I love that sitcom. (weakly) F...r...iends?”

Caduceus being a source of comfort, insight, and advice was built into the character. Taliesin looked at low INT high WIS, and Matt immediately started laughing and told Taliesin he’d do well with that. Taliesin: “There’s plenty of things that will eventually flap that, but we haven’t hit them yet.”

As a player, Travis doesn’t like to weigh things carefully all the time, so a lot of Fjord’s leardership has been a bit about pressing fast-forward. Marisha: “So what you’re saying is that your Grog’s poking through.” Matt points out that if both characters have a trait, it’s probably just Travis.

Liam: “I’ve got a little Travis poking me from behind.” Marisha, musing: “So many conflicting beards...”

Beau’s prayer to Ioun mostly came from a “couldn’t hurt” perspective. “I’ll try it out. Give it a spin.” When Travis asks, Marisha clarifies that it was Ioun specifically because of the Cobalt Soul. Travis: “Oh yeah, I totally knew the relationship there. I just wanted to make sure the audience did.”

Bugbear friend or bugbear foe? Sam: “He speaks goblin, he seems cool, his name’s Gluzo. He has a hard-to-pin-down accent, but it’s amazing.” Taliesin: “You have a hard-to-pin-down accent, too. It’s something you have in common.” Taliesin gets asked if his insight check revealed that the bugbear is secretly pretending to be someone else. “Yes, he’s just pretending to be a bugbear. He’s actually Matt Mercer.” Laura: “I like him. ‘Cause he’s cute and he let me give him a tattoo.”

Sam: “Nott trusts her friends to be as strong as they can be, and at this point, I don’t know if she’s as concerned with one of them dying as just getting to her husband in time before he dies. If we lose one along the way, Nott will probably cry a little, but will move on.” What if it were Fjord? “Fjord’s expjendable.”

Matt: “I’ve reached a point where Travis controls Yasha in combat, but I don’t consider any of his roleplay canon.” Ashley: “I trust Travis. Barbarian respect.” Laura: “Don’t give him that.” Ashley: “Travis himself is like a Deck of Many things. This is risky, but it’s kind of fun!”

Sam: “That dunamancy shit is lit.” Liam: “And it’s tied up in everything that Caleb wants, so if he can get on the entropy shit and the gravity shit, you know he’s going to go back in time, motherfucker.” Sam is so excited to have these mystery spells because they’re so new, and they’re inherently something they don’t know how to counter or prepare for. Travis: “It’s almost like every time we play D&D.”

Fanart of the Week: a spectacular group shot.

Everyone freaks out over how good Travis looks with glasses. He takes them off and puts them back on sexily for a while. I was too slow grabbing a screencap, but don’t worry, the gifs will be everywhere.

Laura: “Jester hasn’t experienced a lot of emotions. She hasn’t experienced a lot of anything, really. She’s definitely dealt with sadness in her life, but I don’t think it’s been so in-your-face constantly, just the trauma of it all.” Liam: “Yeah, she’s with some very terrible people.” Laura: “While it is traumatic, it’s also been a great adventure, and she’s enjoying being out and doing things. Even if it might hurt her, it’s so much better than reading about it, drawing it, just imagining how it would be.”

Caleb’s still feeling out the shift in his relationship with Nott, but there’s no question that everything they’ve gone through can’t be forgotten or overlooked. “He sees her as an absolute ally no matter what, and will do anything for her. In a weird way, he feels like they’re even more alike than he thought they were, and he loves her and wants her to succeed in what she’s doing, and hopes that the things that he wants don’t fuck it up entirely.” Sam: “Are you talking about Liam and Sam right now?”

Caduceus’ thoughts on Xhorhas? “A new environment, certainly, and a new aspect of nature that he’s unfamiliar with. This is just more terrain to him at this point. He’s also very unaware of the political realities. He’s vaguely aware there is war. He’s still not sure why we can’t just go up and ask for directions from everyone.”

Brian: “That tiara is the most blessed image.”

Travis on the Captain Tusktooth tattoo: “Brand recognition is huge in Xhorhas.” Taliesin: “Viral marketing.” Laura confirms that it’s not likely to change apart from some small differences from tattoo to tattoo. “Each person gets a special google.”

Laura on fans actually getting this tattoo: “I am ALL ABOUT IT.”

Marisha: “Guys! How about instead of M9 tattoos...” Sam: “We let Laura tattoo us? I would legitimately be down with that!” Ashley: “I’m kind of into it.” Liam: “This is what splits us apart.” Laura: “Everybody gets a dick.” Travis: “How would we explain that to our kid? ‘What’s that?’ ‘Your mom did that.’”

Beau is holding back a bit since her impulsiveness started having negative repercussions. “I think it’s about accountability. She’s started to learn--- especially when she first joined M9, she didn’t have friends, really. I think you had to learn, oh, my actions do affect others around me. I think that’s something you can learn and you can grow in, but yeah, she is trying to not be a total fuckwad anymore. Trying. But old habits...”

Favorite TM moments? Travis: “Do you remember that episode where Brian wasn’t the host?” Brian remembers Travis throwing the card that almost took him out. Ashley fondly remembers PullOutKing. Laura remembers Taliesin saying the phrase “I love teenage assholes” (referring to Percy acting immature), and Taliesin is super glad someone brought that up again just when the tweets were finally starting to die down.

Ashley talks about how proud she is about how far Brian’s come, and how great he’s doing at this. Everyone has an uncharacteristically sincere moment of applause for Brian. Liam: “Everyone take 30 seconds to drop the bit that we think you’re a total fucking weirdo. You’re so good at this, and you’re such a good friend, and we’re so glad you’re part of this family.”

Marisha pitches the idea of trying to sell TM syndicated on LifeTime now that they have 100 episodes.

Brian remembers having food poisoning that led to him running off-screen, throwing up in the middle of the show, and then having to come back. Marisha remembers Travis texting everyone that night with “lol, did Brian just yarf on TV?”

Matt talks about how proud he is of Brian for going from zero tabletop experience to co-running his own game.

Talks Machina After Dog ft. Sleepy Boi Henry

“This is the best dog-petting show ever.”

Liam was skeptical about TM initially, because he was worried it would take away from what would be shared in-game. Marisha: “I was stoked for it, not gonna lie. I was very misunderstood and people hated my character, so I was kind of stoked to just get to explain it.” Travis was sold once they picked the name.

Marisha: “It also set the precedent for really dumb, punny names.” Brian points out that, as a channel, they now can’t stick with serious names as their final choice.

Laura’s sister has been watching the show, and she texted Laura after the show to ask what the whisper was, so Laura’s going to tell her and no one else. Liam: “You’re gonna tell your real sibling?”

There’s a horrified discussion about giraffe fighting. Some segues happened in there.

What’s something their characters have done that’s made them proud? Liam: Caleb using the Wall of Fire. Marisha: the Plank King execution episode as a whole (everyone agrees). Travis: “I was proud of hooking up with an NPC when my wife wasn’t here to threaten me with death.” (he immediately turns to Taliesin: “Help.” Taliesin: “No god can help you now.”) Taliesin: “I sunk a boat.” Laura: Proud of not getting caught with Nott in the Platinum Dragon sanctuary. Sam: Taking the blow for Jester so she could escape. Liam: “Molly showing his dick covered in eggs.”

Matt: “I’m proud of you guys not entirely descending into evil madness. I’m proud of the character arcs of being broken, terrible people, and finding out that it’s okay to be broken; you’re not necessarily terrible.” Liam: “The entire cast went, ‘He’s talking about everyone but me’.” Matt thought it was going to be very hard to keep the group together, but the party turned it into character growth moments. “I’m proud of you.” Laura: “Thanks, Dad.”

Yasha loved the arm wrestling. “Oh man, it’s so fun to be the tank.”

Laura: “I’m really proud of us for saving Kiri!”

Everyone has Liam’s chest hair:

Wishes for the next 100 episodes? More Ashley.

Brian: “I hate this coffee table more than anything in the whole, entire world.”

What’s something that should never change about the show? How ridiculous it is, the barrel, Dani. Also always have a dog. They fundamentally do the show for themselves, still, and that’s made it a really good environment for them to open up about the show and their characters.

Liam: “There’s a lot of beauty to what we do, but it’s also inherently silly. And to deny that is silly.”

Matt likes that it’s unpolished and imperfect. “Things are going to go wrong regardless, and you can either get angry and frustrated about the lack of control, or you can embrace it.” Sam: “None of this is real anyway.”

Brian points out that this is not an excuse to stop paying him.

And that’s a wrap! This is the last After Dark for a while, but there are some big ideas in the works for the coming weeks!

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

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aprilwritesabook · 4 years

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I appolgize in advance for this long ass post haha.

Alright, so here's the deal. This post is gonna be part rant, part confessional, and part inspirational speech. So if your following this blog purely for the updates on my books you can skip it haha.

I know a currently published author. I used to kinda be friends with them in highschool, but it was more like a friend of a friend type deal. But I digress. Point is. They recently released there second book on Amazon. And I really wanna be happy and proud of them, and to see it as an inspirational thing, buuuuut I'm almost 100 sure they are actually a fraud?

And that's not me being bitter. I really really really wish this wasn't the case. But I have the evidence to back this theory up.

1- they claimed that there first book sold out multiple times. And to be fair this one might be at least partially true. Its rated pretty high on amazon, But then again they only have 4 people rate it and three of those people are the editor formattor and artist for the book. Soooo. Yeah I sure hope they rated it well.

2- they are constantly posting stories to there social media that are far fetched at best. They work in a bookstore. And almost every other week its a slightly diffrent story about a customer who "didn't even know" he was the author who would "burst into tears" the second he told them what the book was about because they were just Soooo touched by the message that they wept to a total stranger??? If that had happened even once it would have been an odd occurance. And this is something that apparently happens alllll the time to them. (I hate to drudge up old memes like this, but)

3- this person has recently made a tick tock and a youtube channel. And like, the content isssss questionable? And that's not necessarily a crime or anything. But they give updates about it on social media as if they are speaking to a mass of adoring fans and like...you can see how many subs and views a person has. We know he dosn't have a big fan base. And I know that sounds harsh. But like, some more gullible people have asked him for advise on how to be "successful" and "gain a following", and he answers them with authority. Like he has the answers even though he clearly dosn't? And that feels really... disingenuous at best?

4- along the same vein as 3. They recently made a post on twitter about how they are "overwhelmed by the amount of love and support they have found on the site" and how they get "some many heartfelt messages." Annnd again. I clicked the account. They literally have 5 followers. And not a SINGLE person has EVER liked, retweeted, or commented on a SINGLE tweet of theirs. Not one. Soooo like not only are you pretending to have a huge fan base that dosn't exist your also making up there engagement with you? Which this alone I feel brings validate to my doubts about the other things. Clearly they arn't above blatant lying and extreme over exaggeration. And also they either don't realize we can all seeeee these facts. Or they don't think anyone will actually check and call them on it ?????

Now there's a lot of other examples I could give. But my point isn't to put this ONE person on blast. I'm not trying to start beef or cause damage to their reputation or anything. Which is why I won't say their name or what there books are. The only way you'd know who I'm talking is if you also knew them in real life. In which case you either already know all this, or you should, so you don't fall victim to their lies.

The reason I'm saying any of this at all is because I think I know why they are doing it. And why so many indie authors or would be media mogels feel the need to do this.

The issue with trying to "build an audience" and "self market" yourself, is that you really only have 2 ways of guaranteed sucess.

You either need to have a pre established audience based on success you've already had in the past. (IE youtubers and movie stars writing successful books cause there fans will buy anything of there's reguardless.)

Or you need to buy your way in. Be it by quitting your day job to make social media your full time job, buying ads, hiring a social media person,or hiring a team of people with their own audiences (audio book narrators, cover artists, managers, ect)

And if you don't ALREADY have an audience, and you don't have the funds to BUY your way in, then your just gonna have to get real lucky.

You can be lucky for knowing somebody with an "in". They work in publishing, or advertising, or they're your rich uncle. Just someone who you can go to to get that boost one way or another to get one of the first two methods going for you.

You can get lucky by commenting the right thing on the right post and gaining followers that way. Or by being in the right place at the right time to meet somebody important.

You can be lucky by having lots of supportive friends and family who will promote you and your work FOR you.

Or lastly (and this is in the realm of being a one in a million case here. So it basically never happens without one of the other things I mentioned also being true.)

You can be lucky by working REALLY hard, and being REALLY talented, and having the world actually NOTICE YOU somehow? Just one person with influence who can find you in your dark hole of insignificance and shine a light on you so now the world can actually seee you.

And that sucks.

You could write the greatest book in the whole world. Truly a masterpiece. But if nobody buys it or reads it because they don't know who you are??? Then it dosen't matter does it?

It sucks Soooo hard.

Because untill you get those people with influence to shine a light on you, theres nothing you can do. And the market is soooooo drenched in new indie authors that the odds of the right people finding and liking your book are slim to none.

Its super unfair.

The people who have the influence arn't gonna buy a book with 0 reviews and no social media following.

Why? Because THEIR brand depends on only recommending the good shit. And they need to find that good shit NOW. If they read every book written by nobody's online, they'd have to wade through ALOT of garbage. wasting all their valuable time and money till they found something worthy. And honestly, from a business stand point, you cant really fault them for that

This is where the lies come from.

So basically no matter how you look at it, or what your strategy is, In order to get fans, you need to ALREADY HAVE THEM.

When your just starting out. And I mean truly at square one. It really feels like the only way to "make it" is to "fake it"

If you PRETEND to have a big following. And you PRETEND your books are selling really well already. And you PRETEND that people care deeply about you and your work... Then there is a chance that nobody will do the homework to find out its all a lie.

And if they think your successful already, then it sends a message to the consumers brains of "well they must be good. Everybody loves it/them".

It sucks that so many people who have found real success did so with lies, cash, and being already well connected.

And then they buy it, and they follow you, and the confirmation bias sets in, and eventually you'll dupe enough people into liking you that you don't HAVE to lie anymore.

Those of us with no cash and too high a conscious to lie our way to the top are left with virtually no chance of succeeding no matter how hard we work or how good our content is.

And I'm not claiming to be "better than" or "more worthy" than anyone else. I wanna make it clear that of your in the portion of having it fake it so you can follow your dreams then more power to you. Its a valid strategy. I hate that it works and I hate that its the only option sometimes. But I don't hate the people as creators for "doing what it takes." I get it. Really I do.

And it suckks major ass that so many people feel like this is the only way.

My whole point here. Is that we have slowly built a system where this is our reality. And honestly? End of the day? There's not a damn thing we can do to change it at this point.

In a perfect world made of unicorns and puppies. I could say "hey lets all go ready books by completely unknown authors. Be the change you wanna see in the world." But at the end of the day, especially in the unfiltered world of self publishing, It would be a complete shot in the dark to spend your resources on something completely unknown. We rely on word of mouth, and "best sellers" and high following to do the work of filtering out the bad stuff for us and it would be unrealistic if not impossible to go back on it now. Even if we wanted to there algorithms and shit built into the code. You'll never find the books that Amazon dosnt want you to find unless you search for it directly.

Now comes the confession/inspirational bit

I know all of the above to be true...But I'm choosing not to care

I'm not gonna lie my way to the top. I'm not gonna hide my struggles out of fear of seeming inferior. So here goes

I struggle a lot with depression and anxiety. I've been working on it, and I've gotten so much better in recent years. But there are always gonna be times when I slip up and my mental illnesses take over

When I was writing my first book I felt really empowered and good about myself for finally getting past all my own barriers and following my dreams.

And then once I was done writting and editing and I was ready to show the world and get feedback. I flopped.

I couldn't find anyone willing to beta read. Those who said they would do it (even people who claimed they "couldn't wait") ghosted me after I actually sent it to them

I was hoping to get 20 people. I really wanted it to be the best it could be. Only 11 actully signed up. Of that 11, 5 people actually read it: My spouse, my brother, my best friend, and 2 others. Those two others read the first bit I sent them, took a few weeks to get back to me, said they loved it, but then Neeeeeeeeever got back to me when I sent them the next chunk.

Now you can look at all that and come to the conclusion that it sucks. I know I sure did.

The struggles at each step made me doubt myself more and more to the point that I almost gave up writing all together.

And I didn't want to take about it or how it was making me feel, even though it was having a serious impact on me. I wanted to bottle it all up and let it consume me. Allllll because I didn't want people online to write me off as a failure before even giving me the chance.

I wasn't lying about being successful. I was just trying to hide the fact that I wasn't.

And that's almost as bad. Because then all the new authors just feel worse about themselves and their journey because they think they are the only ones.

Your not alone.

Everyone is struggling.

We just aren't talking about it.

I haven't written a word in over a week because I've been so afraid my second book will be dead on arrival like my first.

And I KNOW somewhere out there is someone just like me whose thinking of giving up.

Don't.

Just keep going.

Do your best. And then come find another struggling writer and share with each other. The world outside might not understand your struggle. But another author might.

We can't change the market. We can't change the way social media works, or how people decide if they will buy things

But what we CAN change, is whether those of us within the community want to be honest about our struggles and frustrations. Or if we want to hide them away and lie about them for the sake of making more sales

I think by being honest with one another we can create a better network.

That way the next time you feel like garbage for not being an "instant celebrity" like everyone else. you can look at the community and realize that you were never the problem

If we just keep making new writing friends our collective reach will eventually take hold in the outside world. Don't wait for a random influencer to notice you. Just make one friend at a time. Be known amongst your peers and maybe the rest will follow

And if your a writer desperate for feedback, or just a friend to share your troubles with. Hit me up. My inbox is always open.

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maidenariana · 5 years

Text

Post-Op with No Regrets

by Ariana Danielle Wojcik 11/15/2018

You have probably seen certain headlines or heard certain talking points being discussed over the airwaves such as these:

“Sex Reassignment Doesn’t Work!”

“De-transitioners and Transgender Regret”

“Sex Change Horror Story”

et al.

Exactly one incredible year ago today, and three years after beginning hormone replacement therapy, I underwent gender confirmation surgery or GCS. My results and my story are the polar opposite of these frightening headlines that are part of a narrative being pushed by certain groups.

Folks, lean in close and listen.. it works!

My life is good, great, and wonderful with respect to my surgery and its results. If this surgery is in your future and you are nervous about it and have read the horror stories, know that most of us come out of it with the results we were hoping for. It is major surgery, so you have to expect a long carefully monitored recovery. For me, it was so very worth it. In addition, the common feared road blocks of transition from legal name changes, identity document updates, workplace transition, the disapproval of certain family members, dealing with the loss of loved ones, laser treatments, online attacks, disapproving stares, being purposely misgendered and dead-named, countless blood tests, injections galore, electrolysis (even in the nether regions before surgery), the nightmare of dealing with insurance companies and billing departments, were all things I had to face. I would still say despite all of that, it was all worth it!

There are many risks, just as there are with any major surgery. There are possible side effects that could cause life long issues. This is all known and will be explained to prospective surgical candidates in minute detail by any surgeon performing this operation. This surgery is never undertaken lightly and represents the end result of years of refinement and accepted medical practice.

This does not sit well with those who want to vilify not only transgender people, but their doctors, therapists, surgeons, and parents. Transgender people are under attack at every level and this includes a targeted effort on whether or not transitions should even be allowed. As an example, I suggest you search for information about the plan of attack of the anti-LGBT hate group ironically named the “Family Research Council”. The problem with all of the efforts from groups like the FRC is that their hatred and dismissal of the existence of transgender people is based on their own “beliefs” and not on reality. The medical professionals who actually study and understand this topic fully support the practices of hormone replacement therapy, and gender confirmation surgery for those that require either treatment. They do this because it is the right, and extremely successful treatment path for many transgender people. Transgender people exist and have been a part of the human condition throughout history. Attempting to erase us from history will not succeed. These groups like the FRC are wasting their time, breath, and money from donors who often do not even realize they are funding hate.

Many transgender women contact me every week asking questions about my transition and surgery, often expressing worry that surgery is a long shot to be successful. When external efforts to cast doubt and fear on transgender health practices cause confusion among those who deeply need help, it is time to speak up. I am writing all of this to try and address those concerns and to discount some of the stigma regarding this surgery and transition.

Can you find examples out there of people who regretted transitioning?

Yes, you can find a small number of cases of people who experience regret. In fact you can find those rather easily because those cases are purposely and inaccurately touted by motivated anti-LGBT groups as the “consistent and unfortunate experience” for those who have this surgery. This is not accurate. Thousands and thousands of transition related surgeries are performed every year by surgeons across the globe. There is a growing number of surgeons in the United States and the numbers of surgeries performed is only growing, not shrinking. My surgery was performed in Chicago, IL by one of the more recent additions to the experts in this field.

Do I worry that no surgery could ever make me a real (insert societal definition of a certain gender type here)?

Nope, not a concern. I underwent gender confirmation surgery because it was right for me. My doctors, (yes plural), my surgical team, my therapist and psychiatrist (a therapist and psychiatrist are both required by the WPATH standards of care) all agreed that this surgery was right for me as a medically accepted treatment for my personal health and well being. Who is anyone else to think they have a right to get in between that circle of people? My doctors, surgical team, therapist, psychiatrist, and I are the only ones that should have input into whether or not gender confirmation surgery is right for me. Every other person on the planet should rightfully decline from attempting to insert themselves into that discussion. To do so is to tamper with things they do not understand. This goes for people in government, religious institutions, water-cooler discussions at the office, people online, family members at Thanksgiving dinner, really anyone. Do not presume you know better than the true experts involved in a person’s care. The surgeons who perform this medically necessary surgery should never have their professionalism questioned in the slightest bit.

Detractors will try to argue semantics about whether or not this surgery actually changes a person’s sex/gender often interchanging the two as if they are synonyms (they are not). By now most people have probably heard the commonly used quips, such as the often tweeted “you can’t change chromosomes” (which of course is now widely accepted to be an inadequate single determining factor of one’s gender). We could spend time refuting every “argument” but I simply see no need for me to do so. Do you know why? I AM HAPPY. Now at age 44 as a “late transitioner,” my life is just one of many that are the ultimate refute to all of those who attempt to misinform and to spread hate regarding transition and surgery.

Four years ago, I was suddenly happier than I had ever been just weeks after beginning hormone replacement therapy or HRT. Having your body and brain in sync with the correct hormones alleviates so many of the issues that transgender people face. It is something that has to be experienced to fully understand it. I was more in sync after starting HRT than I had ever been as a human being. It only got better from there as the hormone replacement therapy advanced and slowly over time did its work to reshape my body. It is funny how many of the detractors out there do not even understand what hormone replacement therapy actually entails. Our hormone levels are closely monitored by our doctors and this means that at any given time we know our levels are the same as those of any non-transgender woman. With that comes the expected changes to our bodies. Yes, we do actually grow breasts and our body shape can dramatically change only with HRT. I have had people admit to me they assumed all transgender women get breast augmentation, not knowing that we “grow our own”. It’s a second puberty after all and a “body reset”. We experience not only the obvious breast growth and softer, thicker hair, but softer skin, changes in things like our overall temperament, sense of smell, sense of touch, range of emotion (such highs and lows now!), energy levels, and most importantly, we find a sense of peace within ourselves. It’s miraculous what finally having the right hormones for our transgender bodies does for us. The happiness I experienced was so palpable that it just flowed out of me constantly. Despite the difficult circumstances brought about in social transition, the physical transition is life giving and life affirming. Gender confirmation surgery, for some like me, takes all of that happiness to another level of magnitude. No regrets.

What were my reasons for having surgery?

Was I “so gay” that I just had to have surgery so I could have sex with men?

Nope, it’s all about just being me. “Just be you,” became my mantra. Even if I never had sex with anyone else again, surgery was still my path. In fact, sex and future sexual prospects were of very little concern to me as I sought help. The gender (binary or non!) of any current or future sexual partners of mine is my business, but the point here is that a certain type of sex act was never a driving factor in the least bit in my decision to transition or to have surgery.

Was I some loser who could not cut it “as a man.”

Nope, I already had the “American Dream.” By American societal standards, I had it all. You would have known me then as a college grad with a successful career supporting a family on one income with a lovely house, two cars, a nice yard, and a garage. The problem was, there was the painful fact that I experienced all of that while not ever being free to be me. I stopped myself from being me because of fear and denial and eventually I had to address it because my health was starting to fail as I rotted from the inside out.

Was I a “pervert” that wanted to dress in women’s clothes because it excited me sexually, so much so that I would undergo surgery for the privilege?

No. Are you serious? Not even close. The stigma and hatred towards transgender women specifically gets a lot of fuel from the lie that we are perverts or sexually driven (As a side note, it is interesting how transgender men are not targeted the same way). Far right religious groups are nothing but consistent when it comes to attacking sexually driven behavior of all kinds. Please understand that I am not judging fetish driven cross-dressers here. I am merely pointing out that there is a difference between us. Heterosexual cross-dressers are men who choose to wear women’s clothing because it excites them. They can spend time enjoying that practice, but then they happily go back to their often very manly and very “normal” life. When people open up their minds and accept that people can be born transgender, then they can also understand that what is different about us is that we are simply wearing the clothing that is appropriate for our gender. I was actually being forced to crossdress in men’s clothing most of my life because I was not being honest with myself about the fact that I was a transgender woman. Nowadays, I regularly get excited about finding a super cute dress on sale and will tweet about it and post pics on Instagram for my girlfriends to see. “Look at the bargain I found!” They get excited and I get excited. I just don’t get that excited. Am I being clear enough there? It doesn’t turn me on. Get it now? The same goes for heels and tights. Nope, no heels or tights fetish here. I like practical boots and sandals. I work in an office you all, so wearing tights is called for with certain outfits, it does not mean I am a walking, quivering, mass of constant sexual excitement because I own and wear tights. I should be so lucky if it were that easy! Do some transgender women have a particular thing for heels or tights? Sure they do, but then any given human being regardless of gender can also have a “thing” for tights or heels or other things. All people have kinks, it’s a part of life. I am so glad we do, otherwise we would be a boring species. I am merely further pointing out that the stereotype that transgender women are by default fetishists regarding clothing and sex fantasies is complete garbage. We may have other kinks just like anyone else, but don’t falsely assign to me things that just aren’t there!

Was I ever suicidal?

No, I was not healthy though. Until I made the decision to finally admit to myself and the world at large that I was transgender, my health was at a steady drastic decline. By the time I finally began to accept myself, I was overweight (over 65 lbs lost by this point), with high-cholesterol and on cholesterol medication, considered pre-diabetic, and I was experiencing heart palpitations regularly. I reduced and eliminated all of those negative health conditions by transitioning and beginning to actually care about myself and my body again.

Eventually, staying in shape and being mindful of what I put into my body became easy once I began to accept and love myself for who I was.

You can see much more regarding my transition on my advocacy website and specifically you may want to check out my Gender Reveal Pictorial and my Full Timeline.

Other Questions to Address

Did you worry about dying alone and unloved if you underwent surgery?

No. Despite what people like Ray Blanchard think. The often quoted transphobe once tweeted “One social problem of MTF trans can’t be solved by legislation: Finding attractive men or women who want to sleep with them”. I did not worry about dying alone and I am very happy to report that dating has been an amazing experience since I began transitioning (both pre and post op). Dating is all about conquering your own fears about the act of dating itself, whether you are a transgender person or not. Also, people who are confident and comfortable with who they are tend to have the most success when dating. Aside from dating, I have built a large group of friends since beginning transition. Being happy with myself allowed me to connect with people more easily and through a purposeful effort of making social connections by attending events and joining groups I was interested in. I now have a much larger collection of friends than I ever have had in my life.

What should you do when you see a quote from someone with a PhD who detracts from the practice of HRT and GCS?

Know that they likely have a paper trail of transphobia or are part of an organization that is backed by known LGBT hate groups. Do actual research and see what is behind their statements, and you will likely find an agenda. My agenda in writing about this is not to promote “turning people transgender” as if that was even possible. My agenda is to speak out against the lies, stigma, and misinformation that for a long time prevented me from being myself and being happy living the life I was meant to lead, which I am now privileged to be doing. I made it through. I am a success story like many others who came before me. I have zero regret and zero shame about the fact that I was born a transgender woman. I also have zero regrets regarding undergoing surgery. Rather than falling silent and again hiding, I wish to clearly tell my sisters out there that they need to know transition and even the big scary surgery that is possibly in your future was all worth it for me.

At long last, I have achieved the basic equilibrium of self that everyone else in the world who is not transgender has a much better hope of finding. Most of you reading this had the privilege of being complete after your first puberty. It took me two, followed by an amazing surgical procedure to find that equilibrium of self. Other than those differences, we are all just people. Transgender people deserve the same level of respect that you would provide any other person. You may “not understand” us, but have you actually tried to? Are you instead believing the negative things being said about us? We do not seek special rights or privileges that take away from your rights. Our fight is about our safety and our basic rights (the same rights you hold to be self-evident) being protected.

How do you remain positive despite the climate in this country and in the world at large for transgender people?

It is amazing what freeing yourself from the concern of what other people think of you can do for your well being. Most human beings have a tendency to want to conform to what those around us expect of us even if it is completely contradictory to who we are as a person. Overcoming that fear of letting people know who we really are is a key part of every human being’s growth and speaks to their level of maturity as an individual. By overcoming that fear and beginning to transition, it is easy for me to project positivity because that just flows from me now. Being right with yourself is a major key to happiness. It makes you a better person. It makes you a better partner, parent, friend, boss, employee, and a better citizen of the world.

Do you still experience lack of acceptance from friends or family?

Unfortunately, in certain cases, yes I do. However, that sadness will never eclipse the happiness and overwhelming level of acceptance I have received from so many others, but most importantly, from myself! By the way, one of the best days in my life mid-transition was when after giving them many months to adjust by wearing only androgynous clothing, both of my children told me, “You can come pick us up ‘as yourself’ today!” One of the first things they said upon seeing me ‘as myself’ was, “Oh it’s not really that different. You are still just you.” Yes. They nailed it. Also, I have reconnected even with many friends from my past whom I had made the mistake of pulling away from before I transitioned.

Do you think there is an age that is too young to transition?

I would not for one second attempt to insert myself into that circle I mentioned before of doctors, surgical teams, therapists, psychiatrists, and their patients, and in some cases the parents of young patients. It is for them to decide on the best care and approach and timing. As a young child, growing up in such a different time period, I was unable to express what was going on inside. The explanations were all hidden from me back then and I did not know how to vocalize any of this. I learned to fear it all at a very young age. I could never have imagined the wonderful possibilities my life would hold at that young age or even well into my thirties when I was still fighting against fear, stigma, and self hatred instead of acceptance. You have no idea the damage that causes over time and the wonderful release of it all once it is gone.

How do we get past the stereotypes that stop us all from communicating?

I was able to transition in place while still working with my long standing employer. It is a company based in Alabama and I was at first worried about the attitudes and reaction I would receive from the people in my company who live down South. I have to apologize, because this was an example of me believing in stereotypes. I was so wrong to do that. Thank you to all of my co-workers for proving I was in the wrong to worry about that. We all to some extent can let stereotypes influence us, which is why I bother to try to educate the general public about people like me. Some day, I hope you all have the privilege of knowing someone who has transitioned. Chances are that you already do and may not know it. Please consider looking past stereotypes, misconceptions, and those using hate as a weapon and become a more vocal supporter of transgender people. You might just learn you are already a friend to one of us.

Well, at least now you know one. My name is Ariana, and I am Post-op with No Regrets!

LGBT Hate Group List provided by the SPLC: https://www.splcenter.org/fighting-hate/extremist-files/ideology/anti-lgbt

Post-Op with No Regrets was originally published on arianadanielle.com - Visit this page for full size images and the most recent version of this story.

#Ariana's Transition Pics #decade of Ari #gender confirmation surgery #gender transition #girls like us #girlslikeus #post-op and no regrets #postop #trans is beautiful #transgender #transgender woman #transisbeautiful

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nebulous-frog · 5 years

Text

Not-So-Straight Best Friends

Summary: Based off this post from @pseudophan. Basically, what if Dan and Phil really were queerbaiting us this whole time but suddenly they realized they were in love?

Word Count: 1832

Genre: Getting Together, AU, crack!fic (ish? idek man)

Warnings: Vague descriptions of queerbaiting, swearing, dumbassery, first kiss... honestly idek

Author’s Note: I literally just wrote this in like. An hour or something? Hour and a half? on my phone and then found my laptop to post it. Not entirely sure what this is, pretty sure I was possessed when I started writing, but now we’re here I guess lmao

Link to AO3 Fics Masterlist

When Dan and Phil first started talking, it was because Dan genuinely wanted editing tips from Phil.

They pretended they became friends after that from a shared interest in Muse, but it really wasn’t anything like that. Instead, their friendship formed from a shared love of sports. The first time they met each other in person, they went out for beers at a pub in Manchester and then kicked a football around at Phil’s place. They didn’t hug, they didn’t have an emotional moment. They did a manly handshake and carried on. That night, Dan slept on the floor, a respectful, definitely-straight, no-homo-possible distance from Phil.

Years down the line, they wouldn’t remember whose idea it was. Dan would suggest it was Phil’s, since Phil was the one who knew about publicity already, but Phil would suggest it was Dan’s, since he was so keen on being friends in the first place. Whoever started it, they had long ago decided to pretend to be in a relationship that they were intentionally hiding from their audiences.

They created imaginary stories and scenarios and sent them out to the public, watching as their fans ate up every last bit of the fake relationship.

It was all an elaborate ruse to keep fans invested and draw in a wider audience. They even made their personas intentionally nerdy to really grasp the attention of a specific demographic.

To really sell it, they went on a few holidays together and tweeted about each other all the time. Eventually, they moved in together, partly maintain the shady lie.

But it wasn’t all a lie. They really were best friends and did everything together, just as any other guy best friends would do. They knew each other’s favorite athletes, attended sporting events together, played wingman for each other (whenever possible, that is; they had to be careful so no fan would see them dating or flirting with someone else).

And so it went for years. Dan and Phil hid their true sports-loving lad personalities from the internet successfully, even going so far as to act differently around friends so they wouldn’t accidentally let it slip. They were content with this, too. It made them money and people looked up to them, respected them, loved them. It was everything they’d ever wanted.

Except it wasn’t.

Dan was totally straight, of course. Of course. But he couldn’t help but admire Phil’s physique. He’d stopped exercising quite so much a long time ago to help with the nerdy image, but his arms were toned in just the right way for a camera not to notice. Plus, it wasn’t like Phil ever took his shirt off on camera. His abs were killer. The only reason they made Dan feel weak was because he literally wasn’t as strong as Phil. Right? Right.

And then Phil started asking Dan to play wingman more often.

“Come on,” he’d whine. “I haven’t gotten laid in ages and you’re such a good wingman.”

And Dan would feel his jaw clench, his hands twitch. “No,” he’d say. “I don’t want to.”

“I’ll buy your drinks, though,” Phil would promise.

Dan would scoff and shake his head.

“Why are you being such a dick?” Phil would accuse with a glare.

And so it went, over and over until Dan finally agreed to just do it already so Phil would quit bothering him.

They went out to a higher-end bar to avoid fans. The lighting was dim and the music was loud to encourage closeness, but Dan just found it annoying. He wanted to go home.

Not long after they arrived and got their beers, Phil bumped Dan’s arm with his own.

“Look at her, over by the loo. Wavy brown hair.”

Rolling his eyes, Dan turned his head to find the girl in question. He could see why Phil had noticed her. Her crop top showed off a flat stomach and her short shorts showed off long legs stuffed into knee-high stiletto boots. Her pale skin shone through the darkness of the bar. Dan turned back to his drink.

“You gonna go talk to her or do I have to?” Dan asked, voice betraying no emotion as he raised his beer to his lips.

“Well, obviously you have to. You’re my wingman, remember? Go talk me up.”

Dan sighed through his nose, too quiet for Phil to hear, and downed the rest of his drink in one.

“Here goes,” he said with a nod at Phil. He crossed the room to stand in front of the girl Phil fancied, thoughts racing with every step. The closer he got, the more repulsed he was by this whole plan. All he had to do was talk to her but that was supposed to get Phil laid and Dan suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t like the idea of Phil sleeping with some strange girl. Come to think of it, he didn’t like the idea of Phil sleeping with anybody. Well. Anyone but one specific person…

Dan stopped a few feet from the girl, eyes wide. He didn’t want to do this. He wouldn’t do this, he couldn’t possibly. It would break his heart, right as he’d finally discovered how it beat. He sized the girl up once more, then turned to look at Phil, who was nonchalantly leaning up against the bar and pretending not to pay attention. Phil would be so pissed, but Dan couldn’t help it. He had to do what had to be done.

He crossed the last few steps towards the girl.

“Hey, that guy over there? Black hair, quiff?”

The girl looked disinterestedly over his shoulder at Phil. “Yeah, what about him?” she asked, clearly suspicious.

“He’s got…” Dan grasped for an excuse- “he’s got chlamydia.”

The girl wrinkled her nose. “Sucks to be him, then.” Then she stalked away, boots clicking on the tiled floor as she walked out the door.

Moments later, Phil appeared at Dan’s elbow.

“The hell was that? You’re usually so good!” he asked, perplexed.

Dan fought the blush threatening to creep onto his cheeks at the compliment and scrambled for an explanation. “She- uh- she said she’s a lesbian.”

Phil frowned. “Oh. Guess it wasn’t meant to be, then.”

“Guess not,” Dan agreed with a pitying nod. “Alright, let’s go home, then. We’ll try another night.”

Phil’s brow scrunched up and Dan had to fight the desperate urge to rub away the wrinkles on his forehead.

“Give up after only one failure? No way, Howell, we’re not going home tonight until one of us gets fucked.”

Dan sighed again. He wasn’t really in the mood for getting fucked, at least, not by anyone who wasn’t Phil.

The realization hit him like a train again, but he had no time to recover as Phil grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the bar so they could scout their options once more.

Phil sent Dan out to try three more girls, and each time Dan purposefully botched the interactions.

Finally, a defeated Phil agreed to give up for the night.

Life continued on as normal for the two of them for a while as Dan desperately tied to figure out what to do with himself. His jealousy had awakened feelings inside himself that he’d never expected to feel and suddenly he wasn’t quite as straight as he thought he was and being around Phil was simultaneously too much and not enough.

He was in love with his best friend. His straight best friend, who he half-pretended to be in love with.

God, it was complicated.

Every little thing Phil did would send butterflies racing through Dan’s digestive system or blood rushing to places it ought not be rushing to and Dan was having a very hard time coping with his body doing all of that all at once and could Phil be a little less sexy for two minutes?

He was a goddamn mess, basically.

And then there came a day when he just couldn’t take it anymore.

They were playing FIFA together and nothing in particular caused it but Phil laughed at something Dan said and he looked so pretty and suddenly there it was.

“I love you.”

Dan’s eyes widened. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud to Phil, not ever, and here he had. Shit, what could he do? What should he do? Play it off as a joke? The thought of turning something so serious, so heartfelt, so real into a joke was almost too much to bear-

Phil snorted. “Yeah, of course, I love you, too.”

In a split second, Dan realized he couldn’t keep living like this. He had to come clean.

“No, really.” He paused the game, ignoring Phil’s protests but refusing to meet his eyes. “I love you but, like, not work-related.”

He was met with a deafening silence. The tension was killing him, so he forced himself to look up at Phil.

Shock, confusion, and something unnameable played in his expression, his jaw dropped open and eyes searching Dan’s face. Dan had expected anger, disgust, betrayal maybe, but this was very different. He thought he’d known every possible expression Phil could make after being friends and living together for so long, but this was something new and unexpected and frightening but the tiniest bit exciting, as well.

The seconds crawled by until finally Phil shut his mouth with a soft clop and his eyes stopped their searching, landing on Dan’s mouth. Time stopped then, and then suddenly Phil’s lips were on Dan’s and hands were grabbing and feeling and wandering and Dan felt dizzy with it all when Phil pulled back a few seconds later, eyes wide again and his hands still buried in Dan’s curls.

“I’ve never done that before,” he blurted. “Kissed a guy, I mean. I’ve never felt like this before, either, though, so I guess it makes sense that it would make me do things I’d never done. What the hell is wrong with me? This is insane-“

Dan’s heart sank. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, I understand you don’t feel the same-“

Phil’s lips were on his again and Dan let out a squeak and then a moan as Phil took his bottom lip between his teeth and pulled.

“Sorry, you were getting the wrong idea,” Phil hurried to say when he properly pulled back, hands still in Dan’s curls and holding him in place so he couldn’t chase after Phil’s lips like he so desperately wanted to. “I love you, too, not work-related. Well, I mean, sort of work-related because that’s how I fell in love with you and why I thought this would never happen and wanted a distraction and-“

Now it was Dan’s turn to interrupt Phil.

“We’ve wasted enough time already, don’t you think?” Dan gasped when he broke the kiss.

“I guess you’re right,” Phil replied. “Carry on, then.”

And “carry on” they did.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #crackfic #fluff #getting together #food mention #first kiss #friends to lovers #my brain just yeeted this into existence i apologize lmao

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buckybabybaby · 5 years

Text

Mr Hollywood (Chapter 1)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it. But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

A/n: I started writing this in September 2017 so it's long over due being posted. I've only written one series so far, and that was nearly two years ago so I may be out of practice, but this is a story that’s been floating around in my head for years so... I really hope people like it! I think I'll aim to post every weekend, and by putting this out today I'm hoping I force myself to write more.

Proof read by way of a text-speech device.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 1959

Warnings: None for now!

Mr Hollywood Masterlist

Main Masterlist.

*****

Mr Barnes, of Wild Fields Primary School, looks exactly like one of those teachers that pop up in viral tweets because they are just too attractive not to be shared with the world, but as a Year One teaching assistant, the children he helps are far too young to be affected by his appearance. But then there are their parents.

You have spent many a school play, summer fête, and open evening watching them watching him, and wondering how it is that he appears so calm in the face of such obvious flirting. The effort some of the single mums and dads, as well as a few of the very married ones, make with their appearances when they think he might be at an event is laughable.

Or at least it would be funny if it wasn't so embarrassing.

Bucky first arrived four years ago, and as an American in a sleepy English village, he had caused quite the stir. During the first few weeks his every move was watched by the residents like a new exhibit at the zoo, and that was partly how you had become friends, after feeling the need to defend him against one particularly rude busybody who made a comment about his suitability to teach at the school.

The grateful smile he sent your way melted your heart and the two of you have be inseparable ever since.

Now, with three weeks to go until the summer holidays there's a buzz around the school, but this Monday afternoon your class have been remarkably calm, flipping through their books during 'reading time' in near silence as you sit at your desk trying not to bite your nails. The second hand on the clock at the front of the schoolroom appears to be slowing down the longer you stare at it, but you can't concentrate on your lesson planning when you don't know what is wrong with Bucky.

He's been weird all day and you need to find out why. Playground duty at mid-morning break meant you hadn't had a chance to speak to him then, and he wasn't anywhere obvious at lunch, so you've had to just watch through the small window separating your classroom with the one he was working in today as he pulled at his hair harder than usual. Even without confronting him you can tell something is up, and you hope to catch him before he leaves at the end of the day.

The last bell finally rings, and you usher your pupils out as quick as you can without looking desperate, excusing them from putting their chairs tidy under their desks because you can see Bucky doing the same. You don't like the idea of him going home in the state he seems to be in without talking to someone.

When the last stragglers eventually wish you farewell you hurry out too and walk briskly along the corridor to the other Year One classroom, dimly aware there may be other children still inside who you don't want to break the 'no running' rule in front of. As the lights are switched off you assume the room is deserted, so you're about to rush off to the staff room in the hope of intercepting him when a shadow near the window catches your eye.

Opening the door, you slip in quietly. “Bucky?” He doesn't move, only making a noise in response, a low hum that does nothing to reassure you. “Are you okay?”

That question seems to shake him out of his haze. He tilts his head to look back at you, then nods towards the table he's sitting on, a silent invitation to join him. You do, searching his face for an answer when he turns towards you.

“I feel sick.”

Okay, so he's ill. That makes sense, as you know how hard it is to try and work when you're not feeling one hundred per cent, and he does look pale.

“Do you want me to take you home? I can make you some soup if-”

“Not that sort of sick,” He interrupts. “Nervous sick.”

“Oh.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“It's a secret.”

“Okay?”

“I, er,” He takes a deep breath. “You know that teaching, or assisting at teaching, wasn't ever something I really wanted to do. I just fell in to it, sort of. But it's not that I don't enjoy it! I love it, most days, and sometimes I think I could do this for the rest of my life and be okay with it. It's just that it is always going to feel like a substitute for what I really want to do, and... I'm not explaining my self very well am I?”

You shake your head with a small laugh. “You are rambling a bit, are you sure you're not ill?”

“Nah, I'm just a bit dazed. I got a call back. A big one.”

Your eyebrows raise as he says that. A call back? You were aware that with his degree in theatre he always wanted to pursue work in TV or film, but when his twin brother was transferred over to a specialist rehabilitation hospital in the UK, he had to abandon that dream and move here to care for him.

As soon as Dayton had recovered he encouraged him to get back to what he loved, and from going to open auditions Bucky had landed a few roles in adverts, mainly for the radio, but he's been very quiet on that front recently.

You haven't said anything, still trying to understand how he managed to keep this from you. “Here, this might help explain.” He hands you his phone, open on an email which you scan quickly. And again. Then once more, taking time to read every word carefully and process the potentially life changing information it contained.

You look back at him, mirroring his wide-eyed expression. “Stark? Stark Pictures?” He nods. “And they need to see you again? When did you go before, what is this?”

“Last weekend when I went to London.” He swallows. “It's not a commercial this time.”

“I can see that. Gosh Bucky, does this say what I think it does?” You don't give him a chance to reply before you bombard him with more questions, “What TV show is it? Who would you play? It says here it's a screen test for chemistry, so it's more than just a simple call back isn't it? Bucky, why didn't you tell me any of this?”

“I didn't think anything would come of it,” He says, staring out of the window and choosing not to answer your other queries. “And it doesn't matter anyway 'cos I'm not going.”

“What?” You whip around to face him, astonished. “What do you mean you're not going?”

“Look at where it is Y/N,” He whispers. “I can't afford flights back to America, especially at the moment.”

Silence follows as you think about the frankly pathetic wage an assistant teacher gets. With his rent, bills and the train fare to visit his brothers new home he was basically living pay check to pay check.

“Can't they pay for you?” You say eventually.

“I don't want to ask.”

You sigh, knowing how proud Bucky can be, how he'd rather struggle than ask for help. He's been like that his entire life, according to Dayton, and you can almost hear his exasperated voice scolding him. For Dayton's sanity, and for the sake of Bucky's future, you do the only thing you can.

Hopping off the table and pulling out your own phone you hold it up against his. “Okay, so you need to be there for the afternoon of the seventh. Which means,” You pause to scroll down the website, “With time differences...”

Bucky approaches you slowly, eyeing your phone. “Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Booking your flights. Hope you don't mind economy?” Ignoring his squeak of protest, you dodge out of his reach as you continue to type. “You won't need any hold luggage will you?”

“Y/N, please, stop,” He tries again, succeeding in grabbing your phone this time but you snatch it back just as quick, walking backwards away from him as he whines. “I can't ask you too do this.”

“You didn't ask, I'm offering. Now what's your passport number?”

“Y/N, I'm not going to let you do this.”

Stopping in front of him you meet his eye, silently daring him to refuse. “No best friend of mine is going to miss a screen test at Stark Pictures, when the role is yours in everything but name. Not over a few hundred measly pounds. Okay? Passport number.”

Realising you've adopted your 'teacher voice' to reason with him, you clear your throat, not wanting him to feel belittled. You know it must be hard for him to accept help. He's still standing there looking pained, so you try one last time. “Please Bucky, this is your dream, don't let your pride get in the way. Plus, you'll be able to pay me back ten times in a month.”

That last part seems to work. His frown disappears and he pulls you into his arms while you're still typing, crushed against his chest as he laughs through tears.

“Twenty times,” He promises into your hair, and you completely believe he would.

****

Bucky's flight home landed half an hour ago but there's still no sign of him. The couple of days before he left on Friday flew by, then the weekend seemed to drag as you awaited his return, and now you can't sit still as you stare down Heathrow's arrivals gate, wondering if you should have made him a 'welcome back!' sign like the family next to you.

He doesn't actually know you're here to meet him, and you're hoping he hasn't managed to slip past you in the crowds as the announcement warning against leaving baggage unattended plays for the umpteenth time.

A group of university students sporting Dodgers caps pass by and you stand in anticipation. On spotting Bucky walking through the doors you begin to move in his direction, shouting at him across the hall louder than you intended, but the attention of others doesn't bother you as his tired smile morphs in to a full grin in realisation. You speed up your pace to close the distance between the two of you until he's dropping his holdall, reaching out for you and lifting you off your feet to spin you around.

“You didn't say you were coming!” His excitement is for more than your surprise presence, you can tell, and that's almost enough evidence of how this trip went. Before he'd gone out, one of the producers had emailed him to say they were okay with him working his notice and staying until the summer holidays started, and from that you had interpreted that they were pretty certain he was going to be the one they cast, but you still need to hear him say it.

“Never mind that,” You pull away to watch his face. “Well? Did you get it?”

“No, sweetheart, I'm this happy because I didn't.”

You roll your eyes as he smirks at you, but you know what he is actually saying and he holds you tighter as you offer your congratulations, so pleased for him you could burst.

He sets you down and you smooth out his jumper, beaming up at him. “Come on then Mr Hollywood, two more weeks of term, better make them count.”

Bucky laughs at that and lets you lead him towards the train station to go home, or at least home for the next few weeks, until he starts his new life in Los Angeles and everything changes.

*****

Chapter 2

#bucky barnes x reader #buckybabybaby #Mr Hollywood #bucky imagine

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you-and-i-for-forever · 5 years

Text

10 Things I Hate About You AU Chapter 9

Fandom: Be More Chill, Dear Evan Hansen

Word count: 4.2k

Feel free the read this on my ao3 instead!

Michael stood outside the hospital room ringing a teddy bear in his hands.

Should he really be here? He didn’t even know Rich that well, besides the fact that he bullied Jeremy. This guy was a huge jerk.

But Michael couldn’t help it. The past few days at school everyone had been gossiping, texting, and tweeting about Rich and the fire. Every single person had a different version of what had happened, but no one was talking about how Rich was doing or when he was coming back to school.

He couldn’t stand the idea of Rich being alone in the hospital, no friends going to visit him.

After school ended, Michael had made a quick stop at home then he drove right to the hospital. The nurse asked for his name, then told him which room Rich’s was and that’s where Michael was now.

Michael inhaled deeply and knocked on the door.

No answer.

Maybe Rich was asleep. Should Michael still go in? Should he wait for Rich to wake up?

Michael opened the door anyway and stepped in anyway. He winced at what he found.

Rich was lying almost completely naked on the bed besides a small sheet covering his crotch for modesty. Horrible, deep red burn marks were scattered across his skin. Blisters had formed on the back of his hands and his entire body looked wet and shiny.

Michael moved his eyes up to Rich’s face, a smattering of small burns ran from his neck up to his cheeks, and locked eyes with him.

“Hey,” Rich said out of the none burned corner of his mouth.

“Hey,” Michael said, trying desperately not to look at the damaged skin.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“You’re not a nurse,” Rich said.

“I’m Michael. We go to school together.”

“Yeah, I know. We’ve had classes together since middle school.” Rich said, not sounding very interested.

“I brought you this,” Michael said, showing off the teddy bear.

“Thanks, I love girly crap,” Rich replied, watching Michael set it down on his nightstand then pulled up a chair to his bedside.

They sat in a short awkward silence.

“What are you doing here?” Rich finally asked

“I-” Michael started, but stopped.

He wondered if he should tell him about the rumors or not.

“Wanted to see how you were,” Michael finished.

Rich blew a large breath out of his nose and tried to readjust himself on the bed.

“Be honest: what are they saying about me at school?”

“Well…it’s a…it’s not great,” Michael said.

“God damn it,” Rich said and closed his eyes, “I screwed everything up.”

“Whaaaaaaat? No!” Michael said

“I burned down a house, I permanently messed up my body, my best friend definitely hates me, and that little bitch is still with him.”

Michael had been sympathetically nodding along with what Rich had been saying until the last part.

“Wait, what was that last thing?”

“This overrated little twink is dating Jake,” Rich said, furrowing his brow as much as he could.

“Jeremy?” Michael asked “Jeremy is one of your problems? Seriously? Right now?!”

“He’s dating Jake!”

Michael stopped, realized something, and started to laugh.

“What?” Rich asked “What?”

Michael laughed until his stomach hurt and Rich looked like he was going to get up and strangle him. When he had finally calmed down from his fit, Michael rested his chin on his hand.

“Dude, you and I got the same problem! Jeremy’s dating Jake!” Michael said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“How the hell do we have the same problem?” Rich asked with a bite to his tone.

“Because I like Jeremy! And you like Jake! So, we have the same problem!” Michael said with a large smile.

Michael watched the anger slip from Rich’s face, replaced with fear.

“I don’t like Jake,” Rich said quietly.

“What? Then why the hell do you care if he’s dating someone?”

“I’m not a fucking fag and I only care ‘cause I don’t want Jake to be seen with that fucking virgin,” Rich said through clenched teeth.

“Oh,” Michael said.

Michael never wanted to assume anyone’s sexuality, but he had a feeling Rich might not be telling him the whole truth.

“Well…I’m fucking gay and I like Jeremy, so that’s my problem,” Michael said with a shrug.

“Good for you,” Rich mumbled.

Yet another silence fell between them.

Michael bit the inside of his lip. He had come to try and make Rich feel less lonely, not like shit. Was there a way to actually end on a positive note now?

“Do you want to go to the school dance?” Michael blurted out before he could stop himself.

Why the hell had he just done that? How was that going to help anything?

“Dude, did you not just hear me? I’m. Not. Gay.” Rich said, his lips pulled back to show his teeth.

“As friends!” Michael said, “Just as friends. It seems like it’s gonna be fun and since Jake is probably gonna be going with Jeremy, so maybe you and I should go and hang.”

Rich stared at him for a moment, looking extremely deep in thought.

Michael was absolutely stunned when Rich nodded his head as best as he could.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, the whole school already thinks I’m a freak and Jake hates me so might as well,” Rich said with a sad smile.

Connor had to stop the small smile the kept trying to creep onto his face all day.

After he and Evan had made out for what felt like hours, they both agreed they should stop, not wanting things to go too far before either of them were ready. They spent the rest of the day talking, playing video games, watching tv, and holding hands.

When it was time for Connor to go home, Evan walked him down to the door.

“Yes,” Evan had said after Connor gave him a short goodbye kiss.

“What?” Connor asked.

“I wanna go to the dance with you.”

Connor had pulled Evan back into another kiss before leaving.

Connor almost sighed thinking about the way Evan had looked after that last kiss. Pink cheeks and wide blue eyes.

“Hey, Murphy!”

Connor’s good mood instantly vanished. Jake was sitting in a wheelchair in front of him, pushing a couple 50-dollar bills into his hands.

Jake had broken both his legs from the fall out of the window during the fire and was probably going to be in the wheelchair for weeks.

“Here. This should take care of the flowers, the limo, the tux, everything. Just make sure he gets to the dance.” Jake said.

Connor looked down at the money before shoving it back towards the guy.

“I’m sick of playing your game.”

Jake rolled his eyes and pulled more bills out of his front pocket, counting them quickly, “You sick of 300?”

Connor clenched and unclenched his jaw staring down at the money. It was torture…but he would need it eventually.

He reached out and snatched the money from Jake before giving him a nod and walking away.

Jake continued down the hallway after dealing with Connor.

What a weirdo. Why did that guy always have to be so weird about everything?

Jake mentally shrugged and looked at a group of freshman girls all looking at his and shyly waving. He winked and they all giggled and blushed.

He rolled down a small ramp and was about to at a water fountain when he spotted Jeremy.

“Babe! Hey!” Jake called out and caught his boyfriend’s attention.

Jeremy saw Jake and smiled, making his way over to him.

Once Jeremy was close enough, Jake grabbed Jeremy by the cheeks and brought him down for a kiss.

“I can’t believe I didn’t mention it before, but do you want to go to the dance? It seems like it’s gonna be super fun and I haven’t missed one yet.”

Jeremy’s smile quickly faded.

“The rule…I can’t-”

Jake cut him off with another kiss.

“Don’t worry, I already got it covered.” Jake said wiggling his eyebrows before changing the subject, “I’m gonna get a purple tux, it’s definitely my color.”

Jeremy leaned back and had a small, pleased looking smile on his face. Jake grinned back at him. Jeremy really was cute. Jake especially liked his eyes. They were always full of wonder and a little bit of amusement. They reminded him of Rich’s eyes.

Jake completely mentally stopped and sulked. He missed his best friend. After the whole fire thing had all happened, he didn’t care that his house and stuff was gone, he was just worried about Rich.

Jake had been in the hospital for a while, recovering from his injuries but after he got out, he was too scared to go see Rich. Jake had asked a nurse about Rich and she told him about his full body burns. Jake was absolutely horrified. How was he supposed to go face his best friend when it was his party that he had almost killed him? Jake had tried to look for Rich in the fire when it broke out but quickly had to abandon his search when he had been cornered in a room and had to escape through the window.

Jake felt himself start to seethe, just thinking about finding the person who had started the fire and punching the shit out of them for what they did to Rich.

“You ok?” Jeremy asked.

Jake looked up at Jeremy, quickly stopping himself from boiling over.

“Yeah, totally! Can I roll with you to class?” Jake asked, trying to ignore the horrible guilt and rage reawaking in his chest.

Evan had waited for Connor after school by his car. Connor had offered to drive him home (or anywhere) whenever he wanted. He waited 20 minutes before he went looking for Connor. After checking his usual haunts, the courtyard and a few bathrooms, Evan passed by a few girls who were crowding around their lockers.

“He just punched that guy right in the face, can you believe that?” One girl said.

“God, he’s such a freak! His sister really needs to put him on a leash.” Another said.

Evan’s shoes squeaked on the ground and one of the girls glanced at him. She immediately turned to the other girls and they all started giggling and speaking in hushed tones. Evan blushed and made his way up a stairwell, knowing where to find Connor now.

On the third floor was the room where detention was held. Evan glanced into the half-empty classroom and saw his environmental studies teacher, Mr. Chapin, talking to a student towards the back. Evan spotted Connor on the other side of the room, with his head on the desk. Evan smiled a little.

Mr. Chapin made his way back to the front of the classroom and Evan walked in.

“Um, sir?” Evan asked in a shy voice “I have some questions about the lesson today.”

“Okay, great. Let me pull up my notes.” Mr. Chapin said with a smile and bent down behind his desk to start pulling out materials from his bag.

Evan glanced over at Connor and found him staring back at him with a surprised expression.

Evan tilted his eyes over to the large, open window and mouthed, “The window.”

Connor raised an eyebrow.

“Window,” He mouthed again.

Mr. Chapin turned around to face him and Evan laughed awkwardly out of fear of being caught.

“I didn’t really understand the part on invasive species,” Evan said.

Evan watched Connor out of the corner of his eye. Mr. Chapin had swiveled his chair to face Evan so Connor silently grabbed his backpack and stood up.

“Oh well, let me grab the list of species, I just need to get the book-” Mr. Chapin started to turn back around. He was going to see Connor.

Evan gasped, loud and sharp, and Mr. Chapin’s head whipped back around to look at him. Evan paused before muttering “Sorry…I thought-felt like a-I-I thought I was going to sneeze.”

Mr. Chapin raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“Also!” Evan interjected before his teacher tried to turn back around, “I was wrong, I, um, actually need help with, uh, pollution control and acid rain.”

“Oh, alright,” Mr. Chapin said with a nod, giving Evan an odd look.

Evan chanced a look up and saw Connor was close to the window, slowing getting up on the cabinets that were just below it.

“I just didn’t really understand what it was all about and, um, wanted to know if you could explain it any further because I really can’t afford to fall behind in your class but I just don’t really understand what it’s all about exactly.” Evan sputtered out in what felt like a second.

“It’s no trouble. You’re really doing really well in my class right now though, Evan. But I’m happy to help if you feel like you need it.”

“Okay, thanks,” Evan said with a nervous smile

“Let’s start by going over the basics first.” Mr. Chapin said and pulled out a red pen to make notes.

Evan glanced up at Connor again. Connor was halfway out the window and onto the fire escape. Evan breathed a small sigh of relief…until Connor’s foot lightly squeaked against the cabinet.

Mr. Chapin frowned and started to adjust to look behind him.

“Mr. Chapin!” Evan slammed his hand down on the desk. He felt his face grow red hot, but he was desperate for Connor not to get caught.

“I just remembered that I have to go!” Evan exclaimed and stood up abruptly. Connor had disappeared down the fire escape.

Evan grabbed his backpack and rushed out the door, face burning. That had been so dumb. Why had he done that? What was even the point of that? He had never done something so stupid before! That’s a lie, but still! What was he thinking? Connor hadn’t even asked him to do that. What if Connor hadn’t wanted to skip detention? Was it really worth maybe getting himself and Connor into trouble just to break him out of detention?

Evan mind went blank when he turned a corner and saw Connor standing there with a small smile on his face. Evan scurried over to him Connor slung an arm over his shoulder.

“I can’t thank you enough for helping me sneak out of detention. Very cool.” Connor murmured and led Evan out the door.

“No problem,” Evan said.

“I thought for sure I was busted when I was climbing out that window. So how did you keep him distracted?” Connor asked.

“I dazzled him.” Evan scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“How did you know where to find me?” Connor asked.

“Heard some people gossiping in the hallways. Why-why did you punch someone?” Evan asked

Connor was silent. His arm fell from around Evan’s shoulders and he looked away from him.

“Connor?” Evan asked

“Someone…someone said something about us…being gay,” Connor said then huffed. “I didn’t even realize that I had hit him until he was on the ground.”

Evan hummed then fell silent. They walked to the parking lot and got into Connor’s car.

“Do you want to come over to my house?” Connor asked.

“Sure.” Evan smiled.

The house was quiet when they entered. Connor had told him that his parents weren’t going to be back to later and Zoe was still at school for band practice. It still felt large and silent. Connor pulled him up to his room then closed the door so they had an even bigger sense of privacy.

Evan’s eyes scanned the room. It was only a little bit bigger than Evan’s bedroom, which was surprising considering the size of the rest of the house. The ceiling was low and slanted so it gave the whole room a sort of attic feel. It was cozy and nice and smelled like Connor. The walls were white and had some posters of bands and movies stuck up here and there. A glass tank with a small green frog sat on top wooden shelves.

“That’s Heath Ledger,” Connor said, pointing at the frog.

Evan smiled and waved at Heath Ledger who croaked at him and hopped around.

A large bookcase filled with figurines and books loomed in the corner. Evan walked straight over to that the started scanning books.

The Book Thief, The Little Prince, The Outsiders, 1948, The Bell Jar, Percy Jackson, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Slaughterhouse-Five, Lord of the Flies, the Harry Potter series.

Evan looked through all the spines and found a children’s book at the end of one shelf.

“Where the Wild Things Are?” Evan asked.

“It was my favorite book as a kid,” Connor said with a shrug.

Evan walked over and sat down next to Connor on the bed.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” Evan said.

“Thanks for getting me out of detention,” Connor fired back.

Evan nodded and tried to think of something else to say. This was his first time over at someone’s house in a long time. It was the first time he was at a boy’s house in that kind of way.

Connor scooted closer and put a hand under Evan’s chin to tilt it up. They gazed into each other’s eyes. Connor leaned in and they kissed slowly.

Evan’s eyes flickered closed and he sighed gently. Their mouths moved together and Evan felt dizzy. Connor’s lips were chapped and warm and he breathed through his nose lightly while kissing.

Soon, Evan was laying on his back on the bed. He had his hands resting on Connor’s shoulders and Connor was hovering over him, one hand cupping his cheek, kissing him softly. Evan didn’t know anyone who had ever wanted to kiss him like this before. Evan made a small noise at the thought and pulled Connor down so he was practically laying on top of him. Connor was deceptively heavy for how thin he looked, but his weight was comforting and warm.

Connor smiled into the kiss but then left Evan’s lips to trail kisses down his jaw to his throat.

Oh, Evan liked that. He liked that a lot. He felt himself turn into putty as Connor kissed and lightly sucked at his neck. Evan couldn’t help it and he breathed Connor’s name.

Teeth gently latched onto Evan’s neck for a second before going back to placing small kisses near his collarbone. Evan blushed and started to breathe harder. The way Connor was pressed against him, rubbing his hand up and down Evan’s side, was making his pants feel a little uncomfortable.

Connor ran his lips back up Evan’s neck and started to nibble at his ear. Evan shuttered and let out a breathy moan. He felt Connor’s hand travel down and to where his shirt had ridden up, and start stroking the skin on his hip.

Evan turned his head once Connor stopped pressing little kisses to the shell of his ear. Connor gave him a genuine, dazzling smile and Evan thought his heart might explode. Evan felt the butterflies flutter in his stomach, and he leaned over to kiss Connor more.

Evan thought he felt Connor’s tongue brush against his lips – The bedroom door flew open.

“Connor, did you drink all the -” It was Zoe, holding a milk jug.

She gasped when she saw them.

“Zoe!” Connor sat up and barked her name. Evan’s face felt like it was burning. He thought he might throw up.

“What the hell? What is he doing here?” Zoe said.

“None of your business! Why aren’t you at jazz band or whatever?” Connor stood up and visibly bristled.

Zoe’s face scrunched up in confusion, anger, and a little bit of fear.

“Evan, right?” Zoe looked over at him.

How did she know his name?

“You really shouldn’t be hanging out with him.” She said glaring at Connor.

Evan scrambled up to stand next to Connor. He really, really didn’t want to get in between a sibling feud with the Murphy’s, but he could feel how angry Connor was becoming.

“No it’s okay,” Evan managed to choke out, “we’re friends, we’re just hanging out.”

“Friends?” Zoe asked. Evan couldn’t tell if the skepticism in her voice came from knowing that friends don’t kiss like that or that either Connor or Evan could have friends.

Evan blushed and gulped loudly, “Well you know not friends exactly but we’re, we’re toge- we’re, uh, together, um, right now and we’re okay, uh, thanks.”

Zoe’s eyes flicked between Evan and Connor’s faces before taking a few cautious steps forward. Suddenly, Zoe had her hand wrapped around Evan’s wrist and was quickly tugging him towards the door.

“Come on, you really need to get out of here!” Zoe said.

Evan tried pulling his hand away from her in a panic.

“No really, please it’s okay-” Evan said.

Evan felt Connor grasp his forearm and waist and stood firm.

“Zoe, let go!” Connor growled.

Zoe and Connor were shouting over each other, each pulling at Evan. Evan was begging for Zoe to let him go, his anxiety spiking and his wrist aching. Evan felt like a toy being fought over.

“Evan, you really don’t know what he’s capable of!”

“Don’t touch him!”

“Please, I’m okay really!”

“He’s a monster!”

“He doesn’t like people touching him!”

“Please stop, we’re friends.”

“Have you tried to pull a knife on him yet, Connor?!”

“I swear to god Zoey if you don’t leave right now!”

“Let go please just let go of me please just let- JUST LET GO!” Evan screamed. Zoe finally released her hold and stumbled back a few steps, looking shocked. Connor let go as well, giving Evan some space.

“Connor wouldn’t do that!” Evan said, tears swelling up in his eyes and his body starting to shake, “He’s not like that.”

“Evan-” Zoe started but Evan shook his head.

“He’s not like that.” Evan’s voice broke.

Evan turned away from her and hid his face in hands. Connor enveloped Evan in a hug and squeezed him tight.

“Go away, Zoe.” Connor hissed, sounding absolutely livid.

There was tense silence for several moments, no one moved or said anything, and then Evan heard Zoe shuffled back to the door.

“You’re wrong Evan…He is like that.” Zoe spat, voice sharp.

There was a soft click of the door closing then soft footsteps leading away. Evan relaxed into Connor’s arms and let out a breath he had been holding.

Evan pulled away and went to go sit on the edge of Connor’s bed. He expected Connor to follow him but when Evan looked up, he was still standing in the same spot, staring at the door.

“Connor?” Evan asked

“She’s right, you know.”

Connor turned to him, running his hand through his hair. His face was blotchy and red but he wasn’t crying.

“She’s right,” Connor shrugged, eyes looking anywhere but at Evan.

“What?” Evan asked

“She’s right, I am a mon-” Connor cut off his sentence, looking like he couldn’t bear to finish it.

“Connor, that’s not true,” Evan said.

“It is, it is. You didn’t know me before. I was…I was a monster. I was crazy. I did bad things to Zoe. I screamed and threatened and hit her. Not even like kid stuff, it wasn’t even that long ago.”

Connor started pacing the floor.

“I threw her against walls, beat the shit out of her, threw a glass at her, and she tried to lock herself in the bathroom once and I kicked the door so hard for so long it almost broke off its hinges.”

Connor stopped moving and sat down on the bed, as far away from Evan as possible. He put his head in his hands and rocked back and forth slightly.

“Connor,” Evan said in the gentlest voice he could.

He scooted over and slowly brought his hand up to rub a calming hand over Connor’s back. Connor looked up at him and gave a sorrowful smile. Evan gave him a smile to match.

“I’m a bad person,” Connor whispered.

Evan shook his head and pulled at Connor’s sleeve. Slowly, almost unsure, like this was the first time they had touched each other, they laid back on Connor’s bed. Evan guided Connor down and set his head down on Evan’s chest and Evan brought his hand up to run through Connor’s hair.

“You’re not like that anymore,” Evan whispered, brushing the hair from Connor’s face.

“I still did all those things though. Bad things.” Connor muttered.

“I didn’t know you before. I just know that you signed my cast and send me emails and talk to me and asked me to my first dance and gave me your only tie to wear and were my first kiss and took me to my first party then saved me from a fire. Connor. Bad people don’t do that. They don’t act like you do. You’re so good.” Evan, thankfully, for once, said without stuttering much.

Evan felt like crying but he tried to hold it together. Connor’s breathing became deeper and ragged. He reached up and grasped Evan’s hand.

Connor didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to.

Evan kissed the top of his head and laced their fingers together.

#be more chill #dear evan hansen #boyf riends #treebros #richjake #pinkberry #zolana #galaxy gals #dah #bmc #AU fanfiction #fanfic

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ace-pidge · 6 years

Text

What happens if you change one single thing in a story? Say Keith was born looking more Galra, with purple skin. Everything else stays the same. What happens?

(inspired by this tweet by @mishydraws)

Purple Keith means he can't stay on Earth and live openly. His parents know this, the minute he's born. He'd have to be hidden his whole life, he'd run the risk of being taken and locked up and studied/experimented on if found out. And as he grew he'd have questions. Why does no one else look like me? Why can I never go out? Why can't I meet other people?

Knowing Krolia would still choose to leave to protect her family what would she do in this case? Would she still leave them both behind? Or would she decide to take her purple son with her to grow up with the BoM, people more like him? And if yes would she take her partner with her too? So let's think this through...

Option 1: Krolia leaves Keith and his dad behind.

She rejoins the blade and her storyline becomes the same as canon. However Keith is left to grow up as a complete secret, his father taking every precaution to hide and protect his purple son while raising him.

Now since we're sticking as close to canon as possible we know Keith's dad died at some point when he was young. In this version where Keith is purple would he have stuck to his dad's teachings and stayed out of sight when the government officials came round to the house? They wouldn't have known Tex had a son so they wouldn't have been looking for him but they might've found him. So we're at another crossroads in this story:

Option 1a: the government/garrison officials found Keith at the house when his dad died.

Given how they treated Shiro in ep1 I think it's safe to say they would have taken this strange purple child and locked him away for study. So Keith would probably grow up in galaxy garrison hidden away not knowing anything of the outside world. Perhaps this is how he meets Shiro in this version of the story. Perhaps young mischievous cadet Shiro was dared by his friends to enter the restricted section of the base where rumor has it the garrison keeps a space monster ("it's totally real Ryan you can hear it howling in the night sometimes"). Or maybe new officer Shiro has a burning curiosity about the GG's best kept secret and uses his newfound clearance to sneak a peek. And what he finds is not a monster at all. He looks different sure, probably an alien, but still definitely a boy. So Shiro keeps returning, slowly earning the strange purple boy's trust, teaching him about life outside the GG, even sneaking him into the simulators or up to the roof at night to look at the stars. Then the rest of the story unfolds more or less like canon: Keith goes wild when he hears of the Kerberos mission failure, escapes the GG, returns to the desert. Though this time the garrison trio don't recognize him when he goes to rescue Shiro. OR...

Option 1b: the government/garrison officials never found Keith at the house when his dad died.

Keith melted into the desert the moment he saw strangers approaching, following his dad's teachings. He lives like that, on his own, a half feral purple child in the desert. Sometimes he slips into town to steal things he needs like supplies or food if pickings in the desert have been lean. Urban legends spring up from glimpses people have caught, about a purple ghost in the desert. Perhaps this is how he meets Shiro in this version of the story. Perhaps Shiro was flying alone in the desert and Keith couldn't help his curiosity and longing. Seeing this stranger fly in his desert, so fast, graceful, and most importantly free. In his distraction Keith gets careless and Shiro spots him, calls out to him. Keith immediately disappears but the damage is done, Shiro definitely saw him. Thus starts their uneasy acquaintance: Shiro keeps coming back to the desert hoping to see the boy again, sometimes leaving gifts of food or other supplies until Keith is comfortable enough to come to him. Shiro keeps his secret and teaches him everything he can about flying, about space. When Shiro tells him he's got a mission Keith is happy for him. They agree to meet in the desert after Shiro returns and Keith goes back to his old life, though maybe he's lonely now. It's a foreign feeling, but Shiro's absence leaves a hole in his chest. And then Shiro misses their meeting... The rest goes pretty much like canon except Keith was already in the desert to start his search.

But what of the alternative?

Option 2: Krolia took Keith with her back to the BoM

I don’t think there’s any version of this alternative where Krolia left alone with her son and Tex stayed on Earth. We saw how loved Keith was by both his parents, we know his father didn’t leave him by choice. So when Krolia says she needs to go back to the Blades to protect the blue lion and she proposes to take her purple son with her where he’ll be welcomed and accepted and able to live openly, I don’t think Keith’s papa hesitated even for a second to declare he’s coming too. So Krolia returns to the BoM, baby and partner in tow. It takes some getting used to for the blades, some of them don’t like having a human on base, but Tex is resourceful and helpful, immediately offering his services to help with whatever he can (mostly maintenance at first, since they don’t trust him around sensitive intel, but he eventually works his way up until he’s helping plan and organize missions). Plus even the coldest hearts melt when faced with baby Keith. Krolia goes back out on missions and Tex essentially becomes a stay-at-home dad, and Keith is raised surrounded by love. He grows up knowing who he is and starts training as a Blade as soon as he’s old enough. Perhaps as Keith grows and becomes independent and needs his dad less Tex makes contact with the rebels, facilitating an alliance between them and the BoM before Voltron even enters the picture. As for how Keith’s story ties into the larger one of Voltron, it could go a few different ways imo...

Option 2a: The BoM stole the red lion back from the Galra before team Voltron got to it

The blade of Marmora already knew the Galra had the red lion, so what if they learned where it was being kept and mounted an infiltration and extraction attack on Sendak’s ship to get it back? When they bring the red lion back to the base it’s dormant inside its particle barrier, but Keith feels a strange pull toward it, something he’s never experienced before. He spends hours in the lion’s bay, studying it, or just hanging out. Sometimes he talks to it. This time it’s a slow gradual connection that builds between them, rather than a snap decision on Keith’s part jump-starting the relationship. One day the lion lights up and drops its shield for him, much to Keith’s surprise. In this version the team was never attacked by Sendak since the BoM already incapacitated his ship, which means the Castle was never damaged and they didn’t free the Balmera (at least not yet). It also means they never freed the aliens that told Pidge about Matt.

When the rest of the team finally track down the red lion’s signature they’re gobsmacked to find it already has a pilot. Allura has to deal with her mistrust of the Galra a lot sooner than she did in canon, and Team Voltron is allied with the BoM basically from the start instead of only meeting them later. A version of the story where Keith and Shiro never met beforehand also means that Shiro probably had some issues with him being Galra. In canon, the reason Shiro didn’t care about the reveal was cause he knew Keith and Keith was still just Keith to him. Take that away, and I imagine there would be some tension between the black and red paladins in the beginning. Keith would probably understand where Allura and Shiro are coming from, that they’ve both been hurt by the Galra and just need some time, but all Keith wants to do is do right by the universe. Eventually they come around, but I think in the meantime while he gave Shiro and Allura the space they needed Keith would’ve bonded a bit more closely with the garrison trio, who have fewer hangups about him being Galra. Once Keith is on the team the rest of the story unfolds more or less like canon. They also connect with the rebels through Keith’s dad, and that’s how they come to find Matt. OR...

Option 2b: Keith only joins team Voltron much later.

In this version Allura is a paladin from the beginning, since Keith wasn’t around. Blue still bonds with Lance on Earth, but the red lion accepts Allura. Things happen more or less like in canon, up until Ulaz gives them the coordinates for the BoM base. That’s where they meet Keith for the first time. There’s no need for the Trials since they weren’t seeking knowledge about a blade, only looking to negotiate an alliance. Keith is super excited to meet other humans; the only one he’s ever known was his dad. Things between the team and the BoM are a little rocky at first, but having Keith and his dad to liaise through eases things somewhat. When they start devising their plan to take on Zarkon’s central command they keep hitting this snag where the ideal version of the plan hinges on them creating a giant wormhole, but to do that Allura needs to be in the castle, but then there would be no Voltron for the battle... They go back and forth trying to come up with a workaround, different versions of the plan, and at some point during the deliberations Keith feels a tug in his soul. The red lion is calling to him. He presents himself before her and she opens for him, which frees Allura to be in the castle and act as the cornerstone of their plan against Zarkon.

Keith stays with the team after Shiro disappears; in their time working together he’s really bonded with them and this is the best way he can help. In this version Keith is much more self-assured and secure in who he is thanks to growing up with his family and the BoM, so he’d have fewer hangups about leading the team. When they need a new black pilot the lion chooses him and Allura returns to the red lion. In this version, with a Keith who’s more secure in himself I don’t think he’d try to foist the lion back on Shiro when they find him again, nor would he run to the BoM. When the black lion refuses Kuron I think Keith would stay on as leader, which might frustrate Haggar’s plans to infiltrate the team and cause her to make a mistake which reveals the clone sooner, possibly even before Naxzela. When they find the real Shiro again Keith could either step down and return to the BoM, or stay on the team and they’d rotate lion pilots as needed for different missions.

#keith #voltron #krolia #team voltron #mine #headcanon #musings #what if #galra keith #vld #vlds6 #thought experiment

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heliosphoenix · 5 years

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State of the planet: 2018 edition

Well here we are, it's time once again for my now annual review of the year we just finished up. When we take some time out of our New Year's celebrations to recognize that while it seems like we just went through 365 days of pain and frustration, there was a smattering of good things that happened as well.

Here's some of them:

Scientists in China cloned two monkeys via Somatic Cell Nuclear Transfer, a major development toward's the potential for this technique to be used for regenerative cloning in the future

A new drug designed to combat Ovarian Cancer has begun clinical trials. Early results show that half the patients taking the drug are now Cancer free with no sign of the Cancer returning

Chinese scientists have developed rice that will grow in drought conditions. They plan to cover about 10% of the desert in the UAE with this rice for farming use.

An effort is underway to save the Northern White Rhino from extinction, using frozen sperm implanted in eggs from Southern White Rhinos, the hope is that this process will be able to revive the species in the future

A Ukrainian company is placing Solar Panels around Chernobyl to generate Solar Power. They plan to use the existing infrastructure to eventually generate up to 100 Megawatts of energy

101 cities around the world are now getting 70% of their power from renewable energy sources. In a related story, 56 cities in the United States have committed to going 100% renewable by 2050

The World Health Organization reported that Paraguay has now completely eradicated Malaria, other Latin America nations are close to doing so as well

The Ocean Cleanup Project has begun an initiative to clean up the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. They're aiming to remove at least 50 tons of garbage from the ocean every year

The Ozone is beginning to repair itself. At current rates, the Northern Hemisphere should be fully repaired by 2030, with the Ozone Hole in Antarctica sealed by 2060

The Hong Kong-Zhuhai-Macau Bridge was opened, it's the world's longest sea crossing bridge

Chinese scientist He Jiankui announced that he's modified the DNA of twin infant girls in an attempt to make them resistant to HIV

According to a report by the International Telecommunications Union, 51.2% of the world's population is using the Internet

Qantas launched the first commercial non stop service between Australia and the United Kingdom, the route is flown by their 787 fleet

Cinemas opened in Saudi Arabia for the first time since 1983, the first movie shown is Black Panther

Diplomatic talks took place between North and South Korea, with both nations committing to the removal of land mines from the Demilitarized Zone between the nations

The Basque separatist group ETA announced its dissolution

The Supreme Court of India decriminalized homosexuality

Ireland citizens voted to repeal the nations ban on abortion in a national referendum

Voting turnout for the US Midterm elections was at a 50 year high

Michigan was the latest state to legalize recreational use of Marijuana, Canada also voted to allow sale of Marijuana.

The overall crime rate for the year is expected to have dropped by 2.9%

11% of the US Population is expected to get a boost to their credit scores

Homeownership rates for Americans under 35 are now at just over 36%, the highest since 2013

Americans gave over $400 Billion to charity this year, a record high

The 2018 Winter Olympics were held in South Korea

The 2018 World Cup was held in Russia with France claiming their second title. It was also announced that the United States, Mexico and Canada will host the 2026 World Cup

The Philadelphia Eagles won their first Super Bowl over the heavily favored New England Patriots

Tiger Woods won his first PGA tournament since 2013

The Michigan Basketball team did so much better than anyone could've expected, winning their second consecutive Big Ten tournament, and making their second Final Four appearance in 5 years

The Michigan Football team had a decent year as well, posting their third 10-3 record under Jim Harbaugh as well as winning a share of the Big Ten East division title (but because two of those losses were to Notre Dame and Ohio State, Michigan fans will be forced to spend the offseason being miserable twats again)

Justify won the Triple Crown of Thoroughbred Racing, the second horse to win the title in 3 years (rather remarkable considering the previous title drought was nearly 4 decades)

SpaceX launched 21 Falcon rockets this year, including the first Falcon Heavy rocket which sent Elon Musk's Tesla Roadster into interplanetary space

NASA had a busy year as well, launching the TESS spacecraft to search for ExoPlanets, the Parker Solar Probe to explore the Sun's atmosphere, and the InSight lander which successfully touched down on Mars in November

ESA launched the BepiColombo spacecraft to explore the planet Mercury, the first mission to the planet in over a decade

The OSIRIS-REx sample returned spacecraft arrived at the Asteroid Bennu.

Finally, the New Horizons spaceprobe will conduct a flyby of the Kuiper Belt Object Ultima Thule just after midnight tonight!

Remember all that? Good. Because that's where I'm at right now: December 31, 2018, with just over 11 hours left in this year.

You, dear reader, are in the future. And by the time you read this, it's very likely that for you 2018 will be over. Relegated to the books. And you've probably read a bunch of articles and blogs and tweets about how we just went through a year of infinite pain. Which is why I'm hoping that this missive finds you after you've already read all those other things.

Because our minds tend to place the most emphasis on the last thing we experienced, and I want your lasting memory of 2018 to be that all those things I listed above happened this year, and nothing can ever erase them.

Now this is the part where I say something nice and worldly to tie up the events of this last trip around the ol' Sun. I try my best to come up with some theme or other that brings it all together into a coherent picture.

I think the word I would use to describe this year is "Revelation." Because I think we can all say that this year, it's not so much that we learned things, but things were revealed to us.

We've all been in this situation before. We think that we've got everything figured out, we have all the answers. And then all of a sudden we uncover something that completely shatters our perceptions and kicks our foundation out from under us. And based on all that's happened this past year, I think it's safe to say this happened to all of us at least once in the preceding 12 months.

Perhaps someone did something you never thought they would do? Or something that seemed to be amazing turned out not to be as good as you thought? Or maybe your way of viewing the world now looks totally alien to you?

Revelation can be a very traumatic thing to deal with, and I can tell you from experience that when your entire perception of reality is challenged, you become unsure about everything else. Doubts creep into your mind, and you start wondering what else it might be that you're wrong about? It's the kind of feeling that can make you feel completely alone even in the middle of thousands of people.

But Revelation can also be a good thing.

Sometimes something turns out to be even better than you were expecting. Or you discover that you actually are much more respected and valued than you thought you were. Or maybe you look around and realize that things aren't actually as bad as they seem.

Even if you have to deal with the Revelation of a harsh truth, you can still find the positive out of that. Sure you can choose to become cynical and jaded and let it consume you, or you can choose to be proactive about it.

Sure, things weren't what you thought they were, but that's okay. The world didn't come to an end, you still have much to be thankful for, and you can now use the knowledge that you've learned to become wiser about how to live your life.

So this is the part where I usually say that there's one more awesome thing that happened this year, but you're going to tell me what it is. Tell me something good that happened to you during 2018.

This time however, I'd like to try something different.

In addition to telling me something good that happened to you this year, I'd like you to give me the biggest Revelation you've had this year. What was the most surprising thing that was revealed to you?

Now I understand that it probably won't be as pleasant of a memory as whatever awesome thing that happened to you this year was, it may even cause you distress just thinking about it.

If that's the case, embrace it, because you are distressed. But not over whatever it was that you were forced to confront, but rather the loss of what you thought the world was.

But don't let it consume you. Take the truth that was revealed to you and apply it. Learn from it and resolve to use that truth to strengthen your resolve for this next trip around the Sun.

Things aren't always what they seem, and they often don't work out how you planned, but that's not always a bad thing. Because the amazing thing about this world is that things have a way of working out anyway.

So remember the good times, but learn from the Revelations. When you do that, you'll be that much closer to being the person you want to be.

Have a good day, a great month, and an AMAZING 2019.

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theculturedmarxist · 6 years

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The same old stupid game

I’ve recently had the misfortune to come across a few articles, one by Inez Feltscher Stepman of The Federalist and David Satter, “senior fellow” at the so-called Hudson Institute. Naturally, as reactionary commentators for reactionary propaganda outlets, their tripe is full of lies, half-truths, and glaring omissions meant to serve their biases. It’s the normal bourgeois playbook for libeling Communism.

I’m not a tremendous fan of the Soviet Union, or the manner of “actually existing Socialism” that developed there, but I feel compelled to refute this nonsense not only because it’s dishonest, or that it’s a perversion of the actual history, but at least because the Soviet Union is the dead horse reactionaries love to beat when Socialism as a subject is discussed.

I came across Stepman’s tripe after seeing someone post the following cap from her twitter:

galaxymind.jpg

I try not to go by screen caps alone. A favorite of /pol/’s tactics is taking things out of context to craft their own narrative around events, which often have little or any basis in reality. Given the... content of this tweet, the meaning seems pretty obvious, but I try to err on the side of caution, so I ran her name through my sophisticated crime computer and was immediately directed to her posts at The Federalist. The results weren’t particularly impressive, but something did jump out to me: “The Biggest Legacy Of International Women’s Day Is Communism.”

I had a feeling it was going to be painful given the title, and I wasn’t wrong.

As a Communist, I have a soft spot for International Working Women’s day, as the event was originally known. Women have played a special role in the history of labor organization and revolutionary activity, and today Capitalism derives much of its profit from the relentless, merciless exploitation of the female gender in its various forms.

How progressive.

Even in the so-called First World, I’ve seen my female friends and co-workers mistreated and immiserated by the Capitalist system in ways unique to their kind. I celebrate IWWD because in its ideal form, it is an opportunity not only for women to build solidarity between one another (which is often sorely lacking) but for men to show their support, and build solidarity with the other gender (and vice versa on International Working Men’s Day). It’s an opportunity to remember the work of women past, the progress we’ve been able to achieve together, and lay the ground work for a better future for us all. The purpose of the day is to pay special attention to the circumstances of our working sisters, but at its heart it’s a day to reaffirm our dedication to the cause of true egalitarianism, and not the false mirage offered by bourgeois “feminists” that demand more female CEOs while ignoring the Mexican nannies they underpay to raise their children for them, or pushing expensive shirts for “charity,” assembled in stifling and dangerous sweat shops by the thousands of women they actually should be fighting for.

Naturally, Stepman starts off strong.

Leon Trotsky, of icepick fame, wrote afterwards: “We did not imagine that this ‘Women’s Day’ would inaugurate the revolution. Revolutionary actions were foreseen but without date. But in morning, despite the orders to the contrary, textile workers left their work in several factories and sent delegates to ask for support of the strike … which led to mass strike … all went out into the streets.”

What a splendid introduction. I wonder if she characterizes so “Abraham Lincoln, of getting-shot-in-the-back-of-the-head fame.” She links to a Fortune article, which in turn links to an apparently defunct World March for Women site. Usually, not linking directly to the source material (when possible) is a strong indicator of chicanery, to say the least. After a bit of searching, I was able to track it down to Trotsky’s History of the Russian Revolution, where the actual quote goes like so:

THE 23rd of February was International Woman’s Day. The social-democratic circles had intended to mark this day in a general manner: by meetings, speeches, leaflets. It had not occurred to anyone that it might become the first day of the revolution. Not a single organisation called for strikes on that day. What is more, even a Bolshevik organisation, and a most militant one – the Vyborg borough committee, all workers – was opposing strikes. The temper of the masses, according to Kayurov, one of the leaders in the workers’ district, was very tense; any strike would threaten to turn into an open fight. But since the committee thought the time unripe for militant action – the party not strong enough and the workers having too few contacts with the soldiers – they decided not to call for strikes but to prepare for revolutionary action at some indefinite time in the future. Such was the course followed by the committee on the eve of the 23rd of February, and everyone seemed to accept it. On the following morning, however, in spite of all directives, the women textile workers in several factories went on strike, and sent delegates to the metalworkers with an appeal for support. “With reluctance,” writes Kayurov, “the Bolsheviks agreed to this, and they were followed by the workers–Mensheviks and Social Revolutionaries. But once there is a mass strike, one must call everybody into the streets and take the lead.” Such was Kayurov’s decision, and the Vyborg committee had to agree to it. “The idea of going into the streets had long been ripening among the workers; only at that moment nobody imagined where it would lead.” Let us keep in mind this testimony of a participant, important for understanding the mechanics of the events.

Certainly lends a different perspective to the “quote,” I think, but we can’t show that the Bolsheviks weren’t power-mad, bloodthirsty tyrants now, can we? Of course, progressing through the article we find the same ridiculous libels that we usually find.

That revolution, which caused Russia to exit WWI and brought Vladimir Lenin to power, started the chain of events that eventually lead to the slaughter of as many as 100 million people under the banner of Communism.

To say that the revolution “caused Russia to exit WWI” is a half-truth at best. Russia was suffering severely from the deprivations caused by the titanic struggle with Germany, for which Russia was horribly unprepared. All the nonsense that reactionaries like this try to pin on the Soviets--not enough rifles or ammunition for their troops, mass human wave tactics, shooting ‘cowards’ retreating without orders, etc--was committed by Tsarist Russia. By the end of the war, due to incompetence among the aristocracy and general staff, unpreparedness either militarily or economically, intervention by the Tsar himself in military affairs on the Eastern Front, and the terrific conditions the Russian soldiers and peasantry were exposed to, Russia would see more than four-million of its people dead. Russia was incapable of continued involvement in the war. The Bolsheviks end up signing away a vast expanse of Russia to buy peace, which is exactly what the people wanted, and what the parliamentary government refused to give them.

The “100 Million Dead” is the usual smear, but I’ll return to that shortly.

Obviously, few people celebrating International Women’s Day in 2018 intend to glorify Communism’s dark history. But the day still retains the essence of its Marxist roots by encouraging women to think of themselves as a homogenous [sic] class with discrete common interests, in opposition to men’s.

Here the brainlet further exposes herself for the pseudo-intellectual that she is. There’s a lot to be said about Marxism and its history with “Feminism.” This sort of characterization reveals how little of either Stepman understands of either.

In Marxist terms, men and women don’t constitute separate classes within society. In short, one’s social class is determined by one’s relationship to the means of production, i.e., do you have to work for a living, or do you live from others working necessary resources to which you control by monopoly? There are numerous divisions possible based on how you want to slice it, but generally you can say that there are the bourgeois, those that own the things people need to live, and the proletariat, those that earn a wage working for the bourgeois. From the Marxist perspective, men and women inhabit the same class based on their material relations, but nowhere are their assumed to be “homogenous,” or that they have universal or even necessarily opposed interests. As workers, they have a united interest in overthrowing the capitalist system of bourgeois ownership that keeps them in bondage, but to treat people as a homogeneous mass with all the same needs and goals runs directly counter to the materialist analysis on which Marx bases his thought.

It’s well understood by the actual Left that until we’re all free, men and women, etc, then none of us are free, and even a cursory glance at the history of people’s revolutions reveals that without the united effort of women and men, they’ll both languish in bondage. One half of the proletariat trying to get a leg up on the other isn’t just nonsensical, it’s counter revolutionary, detrimental to the well being of both.

The rest of her rubbish-bin of an article is just more smears and ignorance (to be charitable, rather than to assume she’s knowingly lying).

David Satter’s brain rot was ladled out during November of last year, the centennial of the Russian revolution, and he plays the same old tired tunes, inflating the supposed atrocities of “Communism.” That’s always the way, isn’t it? Anyone that dies in a “Communist” country is a victim of Communism, but the swollen mountain of stinking corpses that are still being piled up in the name of Capitalism, well, sorry! that just don’t count.

From the megamind himself:

Although the Bolsheviks called for the abolition of private property, their real goal was spiritual: to translate Marxist-Leninist ideology into reality. For the first time, a state was created that was based explicitly on atheism and claimed infallibility. This was totally incompatible with Western civilization, which presumes the existence of a higher power over and above society and the state.

Another brainlet misrepresentation. Marxism is a materialist philosophy. It’s concerned with the objective and the real. There was nothing “spiritual” about the Bolshevik’s desire to abolish Tsarism, educate the peasants, feed them, house them, clothe them, and modernize the country. I fully doubt that Lenin et al made claims of “infallibility,” and as usual this dipshit completely ignores the reactionary, pro-Tsarist character of the Orthodox church and its role in supporting the aristocracy at the expense of the common people. To say that an “atheist state” is incompatible with Western civilization is utterly idiotic. What is he a “senior fellow” of, exactly? Poopy?

The Bolshevik coup had two consequences. In countries where communism came to hold sway, it hollowed out society’s moral core, degrading the individual and turning him into a cog in the machinery of the state. Communists committed murder on such a scale as to all but eliminate the value of life and to destroy the individual conscience in survivors.

This is a bald faced lie. David Satter is either embarrassingly incompetent as a historian, or he’s an out-and-out liar. He blithely ignores that, previous to the Bolsheviks, the Tsar had no compunction about executing political dissidents, siccing his Cossacks on unarmed civilians, sending ordinary Russians to die by the thousands in wars his country could ill afford, much less equipped to fight, and a devoted proponent of autocracy.

There is no one or two ways about it: the Great War was a Capitalist war, fought for access to markets and resources. There was no noble aim, just destruction and mayhem to secure the fortunes of the wealthy. By the war’s end, Russia alone would lose more than four-million of its people. In total, nearly 25 million people would end up victims of a conflict that resulted ultimately only in ruin and misery for all involved. Pricks like Haig and Ludendorff would “lead” their armies from comfortable, opulent settings, ordering men to march into machine gun fire by the tens-and-hundreds-of-thousands. Even more would die in World War II, approximately 85 million people--110 million people in all, dead in ten years of warfare, and that isn’t even counting all the other conflicts and deaths resulting from the normal operation of Capitalism. Even if the “100 million killed by Communism” was true, it would be absolutely dwarfed by the casualties incurred by Capitalism.

But that’s a stupid game that I don’t like to play, reducing human deaths to some sort of barometer of “rightness.” It ignores the historical context of these events and smacks of bourgeois moralism masquerading as concern for humanity. More than that, it’s an insipid tu quoque parroted by idiots to convince other idiots.

But the Bolsheviks’ influence was not limited to these countries. In the West, communism inverted society’s understanding of the source of its values, creating political confusion that persists to this day.

I don’t know what this brainlet is trying to say by this. Communism is completely in line with Western values of fairness and democracy. The United States was one of the most militant countries in the world at the time, and for good reason. It was the Communists that won workers the 8-hour work day, sick leave, overtime pay, and so on and so on. The implication here is that this “political confusion” is the result of the plebeians standing up to their social betters. It’s clear that by David Satter’s idea of “Western Values,” he means social domination by an aristocracy of blood or wealth. Ah, yes, but it was the Bolsheviks and their mad desire for social equality that undermined human value.

He cherry picks some more quotes, plucking them from any explanatory context because they sound apparently vicious (violence is the prerogative of the wealthy, apparently). To be fair, I’m not entirely familiar with those sources. They very well could be as sinister as they sound, and if this piece wasn’t already stretching beyond the point of readability I’d investigate further, but for now that might have to wait for another day.

If we add to this list the deaths caused by communist regimes that the Soviet Union created and supported—including those in Eastern Europe, China, Cuba, North Korea, Vietnam and Cambodia—the total number of victims is closer to 100 million. That makes communism the greatest catastrophe in human history.

This is a swell little piece of sleight-of-hand. The Bolsheviks now aren’t only responsible for every dead person in Russia, they now have to take responsibility for every dead person ever in every ostensibly Socialist country. Of course, this little weasel doesn’t provide any sources, no links or citations, but I’m sure we can just take him at his word.

You really think someone would do that? Just go on the internet and tell lies?

The effect of murder on this scale was to create a “new man” supposedly influenced by nothing but the good of the Soviet cause. The meaning of this was demonstrated during the battle of Stalingrad, when Red Army blocking units shot thousands of their fellow soldiers who tried to flee. Soviet forces also shot civilians who sought shelter on the German side, children who filled German water bottles in the Volga, and civilians forced at gunpoint to recover the bodies of German soldiers. Gen. Vasily Chuikov, the army commander in Stalingrad, justified these tactics in his memoirs by saying “a Soviet citizen cannot conceive of his life apart from his Soviet country.”

Every subsequent paragraph proves that David Sater is naught but a dishonest shill. Does he shed the same crocodile tears for all the innocent men, women, and children killed in Dresden? Tokyo? Nagasaki? No, I don’t expect so, not from this towering intellect working for the “Hudson Institute.” Just who was Hudson, anyway?

In 1961, Kahn, Max Singer and Oscar Ruebhausen founded the Hudson Institute.

Oh, well that doesn’t sound so ba

Unlike most strategists, he was entirely willing to posit the form a post-nuclear world might assume. Fallout, for example, would simply be another one of life's many unpleasantnesses and inconveniences, while the "much-ballyhooed" rise in birth defects would not doom mankind to extinction because a majority of survivors would remain unaffected by them. Contaminated food could be designated for consumption by the elderly, who would presumably die before the delayed onset of cancers caused by radioactivity.

Ah, well, so much for moral principles, I suppose. I’ve stopped being surprised by the complete hypocrisy of the reactionary right. They’ll twist and turn every event, word, and statistic, go to any lengths to secure the moral high ground, and with the blase recalcitrance of a sociopath. Many of the deaths to which Satter is attributing to “Communism” are the result of specific circumstance prevalent at the time. He tries to paint the famine in the Ukraine as entirely the fault of the “draconian grain requisition undertaken to finance Soviet industrialization.” Nevermind the intentional destruction of wheat stores on the part of the “kulaks,” or the fact that the country was still devastated by World War I and the subsequent Civil War. No, it’s stupid, brute, evil Communism to blame. Why? Because.

The famine in China, too, occurred in unique circumstances, after more-or-less a full century of internecine warfare, civil war, invasion and destruction at the hands of the Japanese (to say nothing the predations of the Europeans, such as Britain flooding the country with opium). Governmental incompetence and mismanagement factored significantly, but to pretend that it was the exclusive result of some quality special to and inherent in Communism is nothing short of deceitful. These mitigating factors don’t absolve them of responsibility for what happened, but they certainly account for the severity of some of the aforementioned crises.

This is only a partial rebuttal to all the wrong in these tools’ empty-headed scribblings. All of this sort of bullshit is repeated tiresomely often by brainlets and the shills sent to influence them. I’m not certain if Inez and David are stupid, dishonest, or both. They’re certainly hack historians at the least. They ignore critical context, surreptitiously edit text to fit their narrative, and display nothing but the most stolid ignorance. It’s really no surprise considering the outlets of their “work,” but they’re still contributing to perpetuating the sort of stupid myths used exclusively to malign Communism.

Unfortunately, as the contradictions of Capitalism continue to compound, increasing the misery of the working class, I fear that this sort of inane garbage is only going to become more prevalent.

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