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smilebouquet · 3 years

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somewhere to go, someone to love

my secret santa gift (@ducktalessecretsanta2020) for @kvanderquack!! i’m sorry for tagging again after i already sent my gift via dm-

also on ao3!!

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For as long as Lena lived (all fifteen years), she’d always been alone. She was born alone on the heights of Mount Vesuvius, from the remnants of her Aunt Magica’s shadow. She travelled to Duckburg alone, with no one to keep her company other than the voices in her head and the harsh whispering of her shadow. She bore the brunt of Magica’s lashings and whining alone, hurt and angry and bitter.

A happy family felt like such a foreign concept to her. Magica was always her one and only kin, the only person who had a connection to her. And she hated every second of it. If having just one aunt was so exhausting, imagine having two aunts. Imagine three. Criticizing your every move. Yelling at you for screwing up. Demanding nothing but obedience and respect and returning none of it.

Lena didn’t think she would be able to take it. Family just didn’t sound like something she’d like.

That’s what she thought, anyway, until the Sabrewings took her in.

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Lena can’t sleep.

Or to be exact, she can’t sleep peacefully. Ever since she came back to the land of the living, she’s been having dreams. Dreams where she found herself running from her. Into the woods, where the screeching of bats rang in the air, and the ground was muddy and made each consecutive step heavy. Or within a mansion suspiciously similar to Scrooge’s, her voice bouncing off the walls and getting closer and closer until they were literally screaming into her ears. She could do nothing but run.

She never dared to look back, but Lena always managed to glimpse her in the corner of her eye. The swish of a velvety black cape. A gloved hand, reaching out to snatch her. A flash of purple magic.

Lena always manages to wake up before Magica could grab her and do god-knows-what. She would always be grateful for the fact that she awoke easily. But every dream ended in To Be Continued — never The End — and Lena didn’t want to know what The End would look like, because she has the sinking feeling that it won’t be a Happily Ever After.

Tonight is no different. She’s staring up at the ceiling of Violet’s room, letting the muffled snores of her roommate fill the still air. It’s getting increasingly hard to stay awake, and she isn’t sure how much longer she can take it.

Sighing, she rolls out of bed and leaves the room, making sure the door creaked as quietly as possible and that it clicked shut. She heads down the stairs and into the living room. A bookshelf stands in the corner, filled with all sorts of books from encyclopedias to photography books.

Lena instinctively grabs a cookbook (and accidentally knocks off a few more, but she’ll deal with them later) from the second topmost shelf. Yellow sticky notes jut out of the pages, all written on with dark purple ink. Walking into the kitchen adjacent, she flicks on the light, then flips the book open. Vanilla Cake, reads the title in big bold letters, followed by the exact quantity of ingredients needed and the instructions on how to bake one.

This should keep her up until tomorrow.

"...Lena? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

She freezes. Ty is standing at the door, a wooden baseball bat loosely held in his grip. He chucks it aside and steps into the kitchen.

"Hey." She waves half-heartedly with a sheepish smile. "I, uh, couldn't sleep."

"And you're in the kitchen with a cookbook, why?"

Because Aunt Magica haunts my dreams every night and I don’t wanna deal with it anymore?

“...I wanted to do something nice for my friends for once, so I thought baking a cake for our sleepover would be neat?”

Ty’s gaze flickers between Lena and the clock currently showing 12:59. He pinches the area between his eyes. “Lena, it’s late. I think you should go to bed—”

“No!” He flinches. Lena’s eyes widen. “I mean— no, I can’t go to bed until I finish this cake!” she backtracks, her voice cracking. Her heart is pounding. She can't go to sleep, she can't...! “If you help me, I’ll go to bed sooner! Maybe!”

Ty scratches the back of his head. “Well, Indy’s the dad who bakes, not me... but I suppose I can try.”

Relief washes over her. She flashes him a tired smile, handing him a bowl and some measuring cups. “Thanks.”

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“We’re back!”

Indy looks up from the couch. “Welcome back. How was your sleepover?”

“Pleasant,” Violet replies, already halfway up the stairs. “Ate some cake. Played a video game. Saved Lena from getting dragged into a mirror and possibly losing her within a lucid dream to the witch responsible for the shadow war several months ago. The usual.”

“Sounds nice,” Indy remarks. Then did a double take. “Wait, what?”

Ty laughs, following after Violet. “It’s a long story. Took the whole car ride for them to finish telling it.” Indy glares after him, but shrugs and returns to his book.

Lena drops her own bag on the floor and flops onto the couch with a heavy sigh. She could shower or whatever later. Right now she just wanted to rest.

“Long day?” Indy asks, barely moving from his position on the right side of the couch.

“Kinda. I’ve been through worse, though.”

There's a beat of silence.

The unspoken Like what? hangs over her head uncomfortably. Is this the part where she spills her entire life story? Should she play it off as a joke? Would it be wise to pretend she hadn’t said anything? She can feel Indy’s stare on her shoulder, burning like a pair of red-hot lasers—

He either noticed her discomfort, or is really good at reading minds, because he hums quietly and says, “You don’t have to elaborate.”

“...Ah. Right. Okay.” She sits upright, then lets out a short laugh. Her eyes wander over to Indy, who’s still reading his book with a content look on his face. “What is that?”

Indy shows her the book. There’s a bunch of pictures of Violet, Ty and Indy together. “It’s one of the family photo albums,” he explains. “Photography is one of my hobbies.”

Lena grunts in response, then peers at the photos more closely. “Is that Violet in the library?”

“Oh, that’s from the first time we visited the public library together. We had just moved into Duckburg, and wanted to do a little sightseeing. Violet insisted that we check out the library. That girl always did love reading. She gets it from Ty…”

They spend the rest of the hour looking through the photo album together. There’s a surprising amount of photos in this one tiny album, each preserving a special memory that Indy knows by heart and tells Lena about with nothing but fondness. She now knows that Violet used to take ballet classes (and hated it), has won at least two national spelling bees by the age of six, and is part of the Junior Woodchucks.

Photos from before Violet was born are also in it, located near the end of the album. Indy tells Lena that he first met Ty at a college entrance exam. They had entered the building at the same time, and Ty thought it would be neat to strike a conversation with him. They hit it off pretty much immediately, but forgot to ask for each other’s phone numbers before they went their separate ways.

“But you’re married now?!” Lena blurts out, jumping from the cough to point a shaky finger at him. “How?!”

He chuckles. “We met again at a supermarket several months later, I believe, reaching for the same can of beans. Ty’s first words to me ever since were ‘Holy shit, you like beans, too?!’ This time we remembered to exchange contact information, and here we are ten years later.”

“I— Wow.” Lena sits back down. “Some luck you have.”

“I wouldn’t call it luck,” he admits. His fingers gently caressing the old photo of them. “I like to think of it as fate. If we’re meant to be together, life will find a way to get us together.”

(Lena thinks about Webby.

She thinks about their “chance” meeting at the amphitheater.

She thinks about how she almost lost Webby by sacrificing herself to protect her.

She thinks about how lucky she had been that Violet was there in the library that day, reading a nerdy old book.

She inwardly decides that Indy is probably right.)

Once they reach the end of the album, Indy moves to close it. The corners of several photographs stick out from the side. Lena blinks.

“And those are?”

He looks down. “Oh.” Tucking them back in, he replies, “Those are some of the newer photographs. Haven’t gotten a new album for them yet, so I keep them here for the time being.” His fingers drum on the hard cover. “Come to think of it, I don't have any pictures with you yet. We’ll need to remedy that.”

“Hm, why?”

“You’re family, after all. I think you deserve a spot in the photo album.”

Family. She’s family. The thought of it makes her heart flutter.

It takes her a minute to realize Indy stopped talking, and is looking at her with the slightest hint of hesitation in his expression.

She beams at him. “That would be nice. You should get a new album first, though.” As if on cue, a photograph falls out. She picks up. “Hey, what about this one?” Indy lights up, and starts going into a tangent about the one time they lost Violet at Duckburg’s largest department store. As he does, she zones out for a bit, testing the name.

‘Lena Sabrewing’, huh… She can feel her smile widening. Sounds way cooler than Lena de Spell.

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This is terrible, Lena concludes.

They’re on the way to the Junior Woodchuck Campgrounds for Violet’s upcoming graduation. She’s a little hazy on the details, but she does know that each year only one senior junior woodchuck can become a senior woodchuck (“That’s dumb! Why can’t you all just become senior woodchucks?!” “Don’t question it, Lena.”), they decide who graduates with some sort of obstacle course, and Violet’s opponent this year is likely going to be Huey.

Lena also knows that the campgrounds are located waaaay out on some island in the middle of nowhere, and if she sees another “NOW LEAVING DUCKBURG” sign she’s going to lose it. She lets out a groan as she slides farther down her seat, watching the pine trees blur into a strip of green on the landscape. “Hey, Vi, how much longer ‘til we’re there?”

No answer.

“Vi?”

Again, no answer. Lena knows that Violet has a tendency to be quiet during car rides, preferring to admire the scenery as they drive, but Violet should’ve at least spared her a grunt at this point.

She decides to turn and look at her. Violet is staring at her lap, perfectly still. Her fists are clenched so tightly she can see the white knuckles beneath her purple feathers, and they’re trembling.

“Vi, what’s wrong...?” Lena begins to ask, and then immediately Indy’s voice from before echoes in her head.

“Third time’s the charm, right Vi?”

The gears click into place. Oh.

She inches closer to Violet’s side — as much as she can with her seatbelt on, anyway — and reaches out to place a comforting hand over Violet’s. The hummingbird looks up.

“Hey,” Lena says, “you’ll be okay. You’re the best nerd I’ve ever know. What’s Huey got, his stupid guidebook? You’ve got this.”

“Actually, the Junior Woodchuck Wilderness Challenge prohibits use of the guidebook,” Violet corrects, then sighs. “Sorry. I know you’re trying to comfort me, but I…” She trails off. “I know failing is natural, but it still terrifies me every single time.”

Silence.

Indy, from the passenger seat, pipes up, “Violet, you know that just being willing to go back and try again is… really brave, right? Yeah, failure is inevitable, and very terrifying, but not a lot of people are able to bounce back from it like you do.”

“What Indy said.” Ty peers at them from the rearview mirror and gives them a thumbs up. “We love you no matter what, and I bet you’re gonna crush the competition this year.”

“Yeah! What they said! You’re Violet Sabrewing. You brought me back from the Shadow Realm. If you can do that, you can do anything!”

Violet stares at her for a moment, then Indy, then Ty. Her eyes are glassy. She opens her fist to hold Lena’s hand and squeezes it weakly.

“Thanks,” she whispers, with a smile that doesn’t exactly reach her eyes.

...At least she’s smiling a little. Lena frowns, but gets an idea. She leans forward to ask Ty, “By the way, how long until we get there?”

“Five hours, I think,” Indy answers.

“FIVE HOURS?!” She can feel a vein pop in her head. Five hours. Five. Hours. It feels like she’s been in this stinkin’ car for decades already. Well, no matter.

She turns to Violet. “Alright, since we’re basically stuck here, why don’t I teach you how to smacktalk?”

Violet raises an eyebrow, clearly unamused. “Is that really necessary? Also, I doubt Hubert would appreciate—”

“Of course it is! And of course he won’t. You can’t have a healthy rivalry without a little back and forth! Where’s the fun in that?! Now, the key to good smacktalk is...”

She spends the rest of the ride lecturing Violet on the essentials of smacktalk (read: making most of it up as she went). As they drove, Violet’s shoulders began to relax and she allowed herself to laugh more, and Lena felt more at ease than she had in a while.

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Lena wakes up with a gasp. Frantically, she feels around. Her arms are intact. Her legs are still here. Nothing hurts. Phantom Blot isn’t here. Okay. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.

“Lena?”

“Vi?” Lena calls, but it sounds more like a choked sob. She’s suddenly acutely aware of the tears messing up her feathers and her pounding heart.

Violet sits up. “Another nightmare?” she asks, her voice quiet. Lena nods. She gets up from bed and leaves the room. Lena sits in the darkness, her hands gripping her knees tightly. Breathe in, breathe out.

Violet returns with a tall glass of water and hands it to her. Lena takes it and brings the glass to her beak. The water is cool and soothing.

“They’ve become increasingly frequent. Shouldn’t we talk to our fathers about this?”

“No,” Lena says immediately, finishing her glass and setting it on the night table with shaky hands. “I don’t want them to get worried.”

Violet gives her a glare that pierces even in the dark, then sighs.

“Very well.”

✿ — ✿ — ✿

On Christmas Day, Lena wakes up to Violet dumping a bucket of cold water over her.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Ack—! Violet, what the hell?!”

“Apologies,” Violet says, her tone betraying her words. She’s already dressed in a plain cream turtleneck. “You wouldn’t wake up no matter what I did.” She tugs at her sleeve. “Now, come. Fathers are already in the living room. You were literally the last to awaken.” Without waiting for a response, she drags her out of the room and down the stairs.

The living room feels… warmer than usual. There are string lights, giving out a gentle multicoloured glow, both around the Christmas Tree and hung up along the walls. Someone took the time to hang a wreath on every door in the house, each covered in mini ornaments and topped with a red bow. The bright orange fire in the fireplace is crackling.

Ty and Indy are already waiting, wearing matching Christmas sweaters. “Merry Christmas!” they greet, pulling the two girls into a hug.

“Merry Christmas,” Lena says back before pulling away. The cheeriness of the season was beginning to catch up to her. “So! What do we do first?”

“Well, the presents are under the tree but maybe eat breakfast first—”

Lena was gone the moment Ty said ‘presents’. She rushes to the tree and begins checking the tags for her name. Not that there are that many presents to check. Violet follows soon after with a much calmer demeanor.

She ends up with a limited edition of The FeatherWeights’ newest album from Ty and Indy (“How did you know they’re my favourite band?!” “Your shirt is all we needed to clue us in.”) and an exact replica of the Caw-nverse shoes she loves wearing. Violet receives two books — an encyclopedia the thickness of one and a half dictionaries about magic and a thinner book called Tales of the Peculiar.

She’s ready to head off to the dining table to eat when Violet stops her.

“Wait.” She pulls out a neatly wrapped present from her pocket and holds it out to Lena. “Here.”

“Wh— But I didn’t get you anything!”

“It’s okay.” Violet shoves the present into her hands. “Just take it.” Lena peers at her suspiciously before tearing the wrapping paper clean off and opening the box.

A dreamcatcher. The hoop used is a nice beige, and a flower-like design had been woven within it with colourful threads. White feathers suspended from twine, with beads adorning the strands at intervals, are attached to the hoop. Lena dangles the dreamcatcher above the box and looks at Violet questioningly.

“It may not be as beneficial as actual therapy since I couldn’t infuse it with any magic, but it should help keep the bad dreams at bay,” Violet explains. “Probably. I made it myself so it might not work.”

Lena stares at the dreamcatcher again. Upon closer inspection, the feathers and beads appear to be glued to the twine, and the twine was wound imperfectly around the base of the hoop. The flower design is also uneven, having slightly larger ‘petals’ on one side. She feels herself tear up. “Violet. This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me.”

“I can’t believe saving you from roaming in the shadow realm for all of eternity isn’t the sweetest thing I've ever done for you,” Violet replies, completely deadpan. But the corners of her beak are twitching upwards.

“You wanted to summon evil spirits! I was a byproduct. It doesn’t count,” Lena jokes, putting the dreamcatcher away. She envelopes her in a crushing hug. “Thank you.” Her voice is wobbling. “This is just— It must’ve taken ages. Now I feel even worse for not getting you anything.”

Violet hugs her back just as tightly. “You’re welcome. Just make sure you get me my own personal library next year.”

As if your room isn’t filled with enough books as is, Lena thinks, but she can’t help but laugh.

Ty clears his throat. “This is great, but it’s already nine and you girls haven’t even had breakfast yet, so chop chop! We’ve got a whole day ahead of us.”

(They end up at the ice rink, where Lena learns that she’s actually terrible at ice skating. Violet offers to teach her like the Samaritan she is, but doesn’t hesitate to throw jabs at her incompetence. Fortunately, she’s not the only one who’s suffering, if Indy’s screaming and Ty’s guffawing are any indications.)

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In the first fifteen years of her life, Lena had been alone with no one to turn to. Being part of a happy family felt like something out of a movie or fairy tale. Happiness seemed like an unreachable dream.

But within two years, she found a best friend in Webby, a sister in Violet, and two dads in Ty and Indy. She found a family to call her own, one that loved her and made her feel good about herself. She was finally content.

The dreamcatcher and family photo hanging above her bed would need to be pried from her cold, dead hands.

#ducktales #ducktales secret santa 2020 #lena sabrewing #violet sabrewing #ty sabrewing #indy sabrewing #nayo makes her own food

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imbellarosa · 4 years

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Hii!! I thought you'd be the best person to ask this since you are always so level-headed & mature when dealing with people's opinions & ideas. In irl, I'd like to think I'm the same. I've always been someone who has easily surrounded myself with people from different religions and cultures and opinions and I have a genuine interest in hearing about their thoughts even when they may be vastly different from my own. However, in this fandom, it's a whole different story. I'm finding that I often

2: get needlessly emotionally reactive when people have a different opinion which is silly bc everyone is entitled to their own opinion and it doesn't mean they're right or I'm wrong, bc opinions do not exist within a dichotomy right? It's funny tho when a blogger responded with 'they didn't ask for your opinion' like honey don't you understand that that just goes hand in hand with being famous? And like the opinion I gave was on their sides (as usual) but like stop babying them yk? They're

3: grown men who were part of the biggest boyband of this era like people say far far worse shit than a comment about their questionable choice of peers lol. As if they even care what anyone thinks? No celeb does lol. And yeah, if my friend was hanging around people who evidently weren't the right crowd, you bet I would speak up. If they deserve better, then I'm not just going to sit around while someone hurts my friend wth?? ANYWAYS. How can I just take different opinions in my stride like you?

did u hear that @belgianreader2?? my anons think i’m level headed and reasonable ajdlfkjadsklfj hahaha. oh anon if only u knew my levels of ABSOLUTE CHAOTIC ENERGY. okay, well first of all, I want to say that if your anxiety is getting to be too much, I made this post of resources and questions you can ask urself to just...do a sort of mental check up!

And now for my actual answer: I take different opinions in stride because I’m not in this for the boys. Does that sound weird? Maybe so. I certainly love them and their music, and I think that (mostly) they mean well and are kind and all of that matters and their art is gorgeous and it brought me here, but none of that is what keeps me here:

What keeps me here is @dependsonwhospitching‘s kindness and empathy and our 1 dm chats (no, we can’t be normal about it, sry!). It’s @queenlokibeth‘s memes and the way i send absolutely incoherent Spanglish texts and she can read them all, and the way that she sends me the WORST instagram takes and we make them funny. It’s how @statementlou is secretly a harrie and @thewestishharpooners and i are in a squad with H and Jeff (no, they aren't aware and no they don't have to be thx very much) and her ART. What keeps me here is @louciernagas‘s analysis (and her bio it ALWAYS makes me smile) and her kindness and @goldenistheantidote‘s love, which she was willing to give to an absolute stranger. It’s @homosociallyyours‘s amazing internet skills and @lascitateognesperanza‘s willingness to tumble down this rabbit hole with me and just love ALL of the music (even the songs I don’t love, I love for her!) It’s @treatlouwithkindness‘s spn dms where we freak out over what happened in the episodes (and sighhhh this week was :////) and @quelsentiment‘s love for zouis (hahahahaha ily girl) and all my anon asks wanting to talk about art and music and the way that when i had ONE SINGLE anon that MIGHT have looked at me the wrong way, I also had FOUR people IMMEDIATELY go ‘hey WTF anon??’. I am here for the community I have built here, and I love those people WAY MORE than I love any of these guys (no offense, Louis, if ur reading this for whatever reason lmao).

So when I disagree with them about some fandom thing? It doesn’t matter. Like, for example, I thought the best song at Niall’s show was Moral Of The Story. I LOVE that collab w Ashe and I don’t adore HBW - it’s just not what I vibe with. And some of my friends absolutely disagree with that! And we have those convos, and different ones! We disagree on other things, too, sometimes. As long as the disagreement is not a fundamental one on morals and principles it doesn’t matter to me. The way someone approaches a disagreement DOES matter, because that speaks to their *character*. Someone who is willing to be like “hi, most of the time, we agree, but I didn’t like your take on x thing for y reason” is WAY more likely to get a convo from me than someone who’s like “you said x and you’re a fucked up person for it”. So like...I think that’s how I do it. I try to be careful with my words, and I remember that the people I’m here for are my friends first and foremost and that we don’t have the full story, so no opinion is really a fully informed one. It’s just our read of the situation.

#anon asks #i answer #hi idk if ive said this enough this week but i love my friends #and they're really keeping me afloat right now #and that means so so so so so much #they're the best people #Anonymous

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ofstarsandvibranium · 5 years

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Good Business: Part 8

Fandom: Marvel (Mob AU)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a ruthless mobster. He’s also referred to as Big Buck due to his towering strong frame as well as his round stomach. You’re the owner of a small diner, a place that Big Buck decides to visit. Based off this drabble.

A/N: used google translate for italian translations. if they’re wrong, feel free to dm me the correct translations!!

You weren’t going to let Bucky back into your heart so easily. You couldn’t. After the shit he pulled, you have to be careful. Because nothing is more painful than a broken heart.

So when he picked you up Saturday night, you weren’t particularly cold with him, but you weren’t warm with him either. You were...civil.

You slid into the passenger’s seat after he opened the door for you and he made his way to the driver’s side. During the drive, you made light conversation: how work was, did anything interesting happen, hear any reviews on the movie you two were going to see, etc.

When you arrived to the movie theater, you were a bit surprised to see that it was hustling and bustling with other movie goers. Noticing your surprised expression, Bucky shrugged, “I figured you wouldn’t appreciate watching a movie with just you and me. So I didn’t rent out the place this time.” And he’s right, you wouldn’t appreciate it at all. An empty theater with just you and him? Sounds more than a friend date to you.

Bucky paid for the tickets and you both walked to concessions. He ordered a large popcorn for the both of you as well as your favorite candy to eat at the movies. He pays, after you attempt to do so yourself, and then hands you your candy.

You give him a confused expression, "How did you know these are my favorites?"

Bucky shrugs with a small smirk on his face, "I have my ways."

Flashback

"Scott, I need your help." Scott hears when he goes out the back to take out the trash.

His eyes widen and he drops the trash, seeing Big Bucky waiting for him there, "I-I know I used to be an ex-con, but no money in the world is gonna make me go back to life. I've got a good life going on. I have an awesome job with a great boss. I don't need to be supervised to see my daughter anymore. So whatever place you want me to break into, I won't do it."

Bucky cocks a brow and scoffs, "You done?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"Good, and fortunately for you, I'm not asking you to do anything like that. I just need some information on Y/N."

Scott starts to feel uncomfortable again, "What-What kind of information?"

“Do I wanna know?” you ask apprehensively.

Bucky just shoves his hands in his pockets and answers, “I asked Scott, sweet cheeks.”

“Ask or threaten?” you narrow your eyes at him.

Bucky can’t help but chuckle, “Ask. I swear on my ma I didn’t hurt or threaten him. I just-I just wanted to know some things about you so that I don’t fuck up-sorry,” he says when a woman in front of him looks at him with scolding eyes, “-mess up tonight. Don’t wanna offend ya in any way, shape, or form.”

Your gaze seems to soften when he tells you this, “Thanks, Bucky. That’s very...considerate of you.” he gives you another shrug and proceeds to lead you to the theater where your showing was.

The seats you two picked were right in the middle, the same seats from the previous movie night. You just hoped that this would go a lot better.

_______________

Throughout the movie, Bucky found himself paying more attention to you rather than the film. He kept glancing your way, whether you noticed or not, you didn’t show it. This is what he missed from the first movie night. He wasn’t able to enjoy your smile and laughter at any of the jokes said in the film. He missed your intrigued stare while you stuffed of your face with popcorn and candy. He missed your whispered commentary, and shared giggles, with the occasional shushes from the people around you.

This is what could have happened the first night that Bucky brought you to the movies, but he’s thankful he gets this with you now.

There’s a point during the movie where you get a bit chilly, your hands moving up and down your legs to warm you up a bit. Bucky proceeded to shrug off his jacket and place it on top of your lap. He receives a grateful grin and a whispered, “Thank you” from you. A big victory seen in his own personal book.

Then there’s the occasional times where you two grab for popcorn at the same time. Bucky’s always the first to pull away because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable and he hopes that the light from the movie screen isn’t bright enough to showcase his round blushing cheeks. He feels like a teenager on his first date. But no, it’s not a date. Not really. It’s a “friend date” as he’s specified, but dammit does he want this to be more. In due time, Barnes. In due time.

You walk out of the theater, discarding the empty bag of popcorn and candy container. Bucky’s jacket remains hanging off your shoulders as you’re spouting off your opinions of the movie. He can’t help but stare at you in awe, that is, until you call him out on his gaze.

“What’s with the look?” you ask curiously, a hint of a smile dancing on your lips.

“Nothin’. I’m just really glad you enjoyed the movie.”

You nodded, “Did you? Enjoy the movie, I mean?”

“Gonna be honest, I wasn’t paying much attention. Something more interesting caught my eye,” he says fondly.

You nervously clear your throat and look down at your feet, not wanting to let Bucky know that his words have affected you so much, “So, uh, I’m kinda sick of the popcorn and candy. Wanna get some pizza or something?”

“Sure,” Bucky mumbles and gestures for you to lead the way back to his car.

The drive to the pizzeria is silent, but not the comforting kind. Oh no, this was awkward silence. You both know you should say something, anything, but you don’t know what. Bucky’s mentally cursing himself because he probably made you uncomfortable with his comment while you’re scolding yourself for disregarding his comment.

Bucky takes you to a small, hole in the wall, pizza joint. It’s fairly empty on a Saturday night, which you’re a bit surprised about.

“This place is a hidden gem and have the best pizza I’ve ever had.”

You can’t help but snort, “All words, Big Buck. I’ll believe it when I taste it.”

A wide grin appears on his face when he swings the door open for you, “Prepare to eat your words, sweetcheeks!”

When he follows you in, you jump when you hear a loud yelp and a “Big Bucky!”

Bucky moves around you to wrap his arms around a small Italian woman, “Tina! Come sta la mia mamma preferita?”

Tina, reaches up and pinches Bucky’s round cheeks, “You’ve been learning Italian! Good!” she exclaims in her own Italian lilt. When she looks at you, awkwardly standing there in Bucky’s jacket, she immediately pushes Bucky to the side, “Chi è questa bella donna?”

He then moves to stand next to you, “Mama Tina, this is Y/N L/N, my g-my friend,” he inwardly winces at his minor slip up, “Y/N, this is Martina Russo, aka Mama Tina. Her family has owned this place for decades.”

You extend your hand out and Mama Tina, takes a hold of it, but then proceeds to pull you into a hug, “It’s nice to meet you, bella!”

“Oh yeah. She’s also a hugger,” Bucky adds with a giggle as Mama Tina lets go of you and then drags you to a table. He proceeds to sit down across from you, a proud grin on his face.

“The usual?” Mama Tina asks.

Bucky nods and takes her hand, kissing the back of it, “Grazie.”

She then pats Bucky’s cheek lovingly and then moves to the kitchen, her boisterous Italian accent yelling an order to her employees. Both of you chuckle.

“Well, she’s very charming.”

“I help her and her family out whenever they’re short on money. Stevie and I used to come here a lot when we were younger. Mama Tina always made sure to take care of us. She’s like a second mom to me.” Bucky’s voice is so soft and caring as he speaks, “There was this one time,” he stops to chuckle, “I came here with a date and it was terrible. She kept complaining about the place, about the food, about Mama. Before we left, Mama pulled me aside and told me to never bring a girl here again unless I know she’d like her.”

“And did you?”

“Not until now,” he says softly, blue eyes peering into yours with such meaning and compassion. It was like you were put under a spell. You couldn’t seem to look away from his gorgeous enchanting, ethereal blue-

“To set the mood!” Mama Tina announces as she places a candle on the table, lighting it with a lighter.

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head, “Mama, it’s okay. You don’t-”

“Hush. You take what I give you,” another pat to Bucky’s cheek and she’s gone again.

The moment is gone, but a light chatter fills the void. You ask Bucky more questions about his childhood. You realize that despite knowing him for some months, you still don’t truly know him. He talks about his family, being raised a tried and true Brooklyn boy, as well as many stories of the trouble that he was pulled into because of Steve.

“But Steve’s so nice and pure!” you exclaim, which earns a snort from Bucky.

“Sweet cheeks, Steve has been and always will be a punk.”

You opened your mouth to comment, but then Mama Tina placed down a ten sliced pizza with various types of meats and veggies, “The Big Bucky special!”

“You have a pizza named after you?” you asked incredulously.

“Yes, I do and it’s the best pizza here! Not that I’m biased or anything,” he says when he grabs a slice and placing it on his place. He then winks at Mama Tina, “Grazie, Mama!”

“Buon Appetito!” she heads behind the cashier counter, trying not to seem obvious that she’s watching you and Bucky.

Bucky watches as you lift up a piece and take a generous bite. You stare back at him as you chew, mulling over the taste, “Well?” he asks.

When you swallow, you shrug, “It’s alright,” you say nonchalantly, a hint of a smirk at the corner of your lips.

“How dare you!” Bucky yells playfully and throws a napkin at you.

You laugh, throwing it back at him, “Alright! Alright! I’m kidding! It’s delicious!”

Bucky looks over your shoulder and yells to Mama Tina, “She loves it, Mama!”

You giggle at Mama Tina’s little happy dance as you take another bite of the Big Bucky Special.

Good Business Taglist (OPEN): @cametobuyplums @sergeantrosabellaswan@asadmarveltrashbag @youcanhaveyourspacecowboy @reniescarlett @j-the-smol-otter @buckysknifecollection @lowkeysebby @rinthehufflepuff @134340-cm @snoot-snoot-toot @seabassali1328 @bluebellhairpin @emzy106@viarogers @feelmyroarrrr @vxidnik @jasura @jade-cheshire3303 @yknott81@baliebay19 @jessieray98 @fandommemporiumm @iluvsumbucky@bucksandroses @lecoindenox @ylva-stark

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #chubby!bucky #marvel #au #mob au #mob boss au #mobster au

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pappydaddy · 4 years

Text

Part Two: Mr. Brightside

A/N: Here’s Part Two! I don’t know when Part Three will be out, but I’m sure it’ll be out soon, I’m almost done the part and the songs for it! Check out the playlist!! If anyone wants to make an Apple Music version, just DM me!

PLEASE TAKE A SECOND TO LOOK AT MY PINNED POST, SIGN THE PETITION AND REBLOG IT IF YOU CAN!!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Henderson!OC

Fandom: Stranger Things

Warnings: Guns, violence, life-threatening situation, aggressive talk about Russians (evil Russians, not all Russians), belittlement, feelings of inferiority, feelings of weakness, deprecation images of oneself, SPOILERS!!!

I Wanna Be Yours Playlist (Spotify)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three - Coming Soon

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

- not my gif -

Steve hid behind the plastic plant in the middle of the food court, the binoculars pressed around his eyes, surely leaving a noticeable red ring around his eyes. He was supposed to be looking for the evil Russians that the boy crouched beside him keeps rattling off about, but he couldn’t stop watching them. He really did try to pull his focus away from the two teens standing way too close, but his eyes just pulled towards them like a magnet. “See anything?” Dustin asked, poking his head up over the plant. The two stood out like sore thumbs, proving that they were shit at stake-outs.

“Uh, I guess I don’t totally know what I’m looking for.” Steve admitted, pulling his eyes away from the couple to scan over the other people occupying the mall. His mouth hung open, his eyes drifting back up to the second floor where Ophelia and Brett stood, leaning against the railing.

“Evil Russians.” Dustin told him as if it were simple.

“Yeah, exactly,” Steve exclaimed, not even trying to pull his eyes from Ophelia as she laughed. “I don’t know what an evil Russian looks like.” Steve muttered, his binoculars following Ophelia and Brett as they walked along the second floor.

“Tall? Blond? Not smiling,” Dustin listed off suggestively. Steve only hummed, squinting into the binoculars, watching as Ophelia bent down to grab a drink of water from the water fountain, paying attention to how Brett snuck a look at her butt, her dress riding up dangerously. His blood started to boil at the sight of him shamelessly eyeing her like a piece of meat. “Also, look for earpieces, camo, duffle bags, that sort of thing.” Dustin looked over at him as he hummed along, not paying attention.

“Right, okay, duffle bags,” Steve repeated, following the pair as they walked again. If looks could kill, Brett’s arm (which was wound around Ophelia’s waist) would have been killed brutally. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Steve muttered in disbelief when Brett leaned down to whisper something in Ophelia’s ear making her pull away, a blush darkening her cheeks as she giggled and hit his chest playfully. The smirk Brett wore made Steve want to knock his lights out. It was a smirk that told Steve his true intentions. He just wanted to get in her pants and he thinks he’s almost there.

“What?” Dustin asked, trying to follow the line of the binoculars to see what Steve saw, thinking he saw a Russian.

“Your sister,” Steve told him as if it was obvious. “I have no idea why she would even think about going out with a guy like Brett Morris. She can do so much better than that weasel, god-” He ranted, his top lip curling into a snarl at the sight of him pressing a kiss to her cheek, the blush coating her delicate cheeks deepening. “He’s a sleaze.” Steve grunted, looking at the tall hockey player in disgust. Dustin’s eyes snapped towards his sister, watching Brett interact with her.

“I don’t know, I don’t see anything wrong with it, they’re on a first date and he’s being nice?” Dustin shrugged, not seeing what Steve was all worked up about. Steve pulled his eyes from the binoculars, keeping them in place so he didn’t lose the couple.

“Nice? You see nothing wrong with it,” Steve asked, bewildered. “Dude! That’s your sister and he’s smirking like he’s about to bang her!” Steve nearly cried out. Dustin’s lips turned down in a disgusted frown as he fought back a gag before turning his attention back to his sister and her date who made their way down the escalators, still in each other’s arms.

Dustin watched Brett smile down at Ophelia as she gazed at all the sights, seeing what was going on. He shrugged, looking back at Steve who watched the same scene with a snarl. “Dude, he’s smiling like he likes her,” He shook his head at the older boy. “Why do you care anyway? Do you like her?” Steve pulled away from the binoculars again, furrowing his brow at the younger Henderson. Dustin twitched an eyebrow at Steve, waiting for an answer.

“I don’t like her,” He denied, his voice filtering almost like it knew something he didn’t. Of course he didn’t like Ophelia. Those were old feelings. She’s his best friend’s sister. The girl who fought demogorgons, demodogs and Billy Hargrove alongside him. The girl who always comes in and brightens his day with her smile and laugh. The girl with bright eyes that seemed to swirl with stars. She was the girl who he felt a strong need to protect, to shield away from the world that was hell-bent to destroy such a beautiful creature. The girl who kissed him in grade nine during a game of spin the bottle. Steve certainly did not like Ophelia Henderson and her certainly didn’t find himself thinking back to that quick little peck of the lips at Hannah Hanson’s party. He scoffed, looking back through the binoculars and letting panic settle into him. “Shit! Where’d they go-” He was cut off by someone snatching the binoculars away.

Both Dustin and Steve jumped, looking up at a fuming Ophelia; the binoculars grasped in her hand. Her body nearly shook with the anger coursing through her. “What are you two mouthbreathers doing? Spying on my date?” She asked, her fingers wrapped around the binoculars turning white from her grasp. Steve’s lips parted, his brown eyes looking up at her. It wasn’t like he set off to spy on her date, it just kinda happened. Dustin grabbed the binoculars back from his sister, making the angry girl shift her eyes to him.

“No-” Dustin snapped, holding the binoculars to his chest. “We were looking for evil Russians, Steve is just a horrible spy.” He told her, bringing the binoculars up to his eyes. Steve whined at the younger boy’s comment, but otherwise remained silent.

“Evil Russians? Why would you be looking for evil Russians in the food court?” Ophelia turned her nose up, looking at her brother as if he were crazy. Dustin sighed, pulling the binoculars from his eyes to give her a look. Steve furrowed his brow at her until he remembered that she had left them last night before they discovered the Russian transmission came from the mall. Heat bubbled in his chest, remembering why she had left them. His jaw clenched, his brown eyes hardening on the wall across from him, hoping that his stare could make it crumble.

“The Russians aren’t in Russia, music from the Indiana Flyer was heard in the background of the recording, blah blah blah, there you’re all caught up-” Dustin grumbled, peering through the binoculars again, leaning forward as he looked at each person mulling around suspiciously. Ophelia opened her mouth to retort, but Dustin cut her off. “Now go back to your date so that I can actually spy - unlike somebody.” Dustin shot the last part towards the older boy who sat there, stewing in his anger.

With a groan and a roll of her eyes, Ophelia turned on her heels and strutted back towards Brett who now held a pretzel and a drink in his hands. Steve watched as he greeted her with a smile, handing her the drink. His now free hand slipped along the small of her back as he guided her towards one of the empty seats. “Ugh, he doesn’t need to be so handsy.” Steve grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest, his lips pouting.

“Oh my god, I don’t get why you can’t just see it, are you really that blind?” Dustin asked Steve, not taking his eyes from the binoculars. Steve looked over at the busy-haired pre-teen.

“See what?” Steve snapped, trying his hardest not to look over at Ophelia again, just knowing he would be greeted by the sickening sight of her giggling for another guy. Just the thought of another guy making her laugh like Steve does made his stomach churn. He felt like he was standing out in a field as the world around him turned cold, the blue skies swirling into a dark gray - just seconds before the cold rain poured down on top of him.

“See how you actually feel about Leah, you Dipshit,” Dustin exclaimed, growing tired of Steve’s blindness. “Everything you’re seeing with Brett being an ass is all in your thick head, fueled by your jealousy!” Dustin told him. Sure, Dustin hadn’t noticed the crush that his friend harboured for his sister, but the second that Ophelia told them about her date, Steve had changed. It had become obvious to Dustin. All the time Steve just suddenly dropped by the Henderson household with Ophelia’s favourite movies in his hands, the fact that Steve was always parked by their curb in the mornings to drive them to school.

“I feel like she’s a friend, you Dipshit,” Steve argued back, his top lip rolling up into a sneer at Dustin's suggestion. The fact that everything in his life had suddenly become a downcast blue since Brett had asked Ophelia on a date didn’t mean he liked her. Just because he felt like his heart had been struck with a hammer does not mean he liked her. “And I am not jealous, I am quite positive if I do say so myself.” Steve liked to view himself as Mr. Sunshine. Full of positive light and energy. Though, he couldn’t shake the images of them after their date. Brett’s fingers trailing along the curve of Ophelia’s side as their lips mashed together. The hockey player’s fingers slipping under her skirt, running along her thighs. The mental image hurt him so much he could have punched a wall.

“Come on Steve! You like her, why else would you be so obsessed over her going on a date with Brett?” Dustin pointed out. Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes. Why was he even fighting with Dustin on this? Dustin was a kid, he doesn’t understand the complicated world of love. He doesn’t know the arch of a heart, he doesn’t know the pining and the angst. He has no idea what he was talking about.

“Because Brett Morris is a dirty sleezeball and Ophelia shouldn’t be on a date with him!” Steve told him, his arms moving frantically even though he knew Dustin wasn’t going to pull his eyes away from the binoculars to watch him.

“Sure,” Dustin hummed, finally pulling away from the binoculars far enough to turn his head to look at Steve. “And the fact that you can only refer to Brett as Brett Morris has nothing to do with jealousy?” Dustin posed the question. Robin and Dustin all refer to him as just Brett in a nice, casual tone, but Steve always spat his first and last name as if it was venom he had just ingested, his face always screwing up as if he had just referenced his arch nemesis.

“I just don’t like him, I know his type.” Steve avoided, his head swirling from Dustin’s interrogation. Why did he not like Brett? Steve never really talked to him. Sure they were both popular, but Steve hung close to the basketball crowd while Brett spread out a little more within the high school groups. Brett and Ophelia ran in the same crowd, being involved with multiple organizations in school. Without an explanation, Steve had developed a hatred for the tall hockey player from the first time he saw him and Ophelia talking in the school hallway as they stood at her locker, why back when Nancy was in the picture.

“You like her and if you don’t figure that you soon, you’re going to have to figure out how to forget her because she’s not going to wait around for you.” Dustin shrugged, telling him how it is. Of course he knew how his sister felt, he figured out how to pick the lock on her journal two years ago. He knew everything about her, and some of it, he didn’t want to know.

“I don’t like your sister dude!” Steve gave up trying to make excuses, knowing that Dustin will just mess with his head someway, making him question if he actually did like Ophelia.

“Yes, you do.” Dustin stated pointblank.

“No.” Steve denied again. Dustin shook his head, peering through the binoculars once again.

“Yes-” Dustin sang back, pleased with knowing that he was right once again.

“No-”

“You do!” Dustin shot back. Steve glared at the younger boy.

“She’s not my type, okay? She’s too nice, too sweet, too pretty - too perfect.” Steve trailed off towards the end, not being able to find the correct reason why she wasn’t his type. When he was King Steve, he was positive that Carol and Tommy wouldn’t have any problem listing reasons why she wasn’t his type, but now he wasn’t sure. She was gorgeous, funny, insanely smart and caring. She was everyone’s type.

“What’s your type again? Girls who don’t like you?” Dustin perked an eyebrow at him when he pulled away from the binoculars once again. Steve shot him a sharp glare for the comment. Steve wasn’t sure what his type was in all honesty, but he was sure that Ophelia wasn’t it.

“Thank you,” Steve forced the corner of his lips up in a sarcastic smile before they dropped back down into a straight line. “For your information, Ophelia is still in school and that’ll be weird for me to date someone who is still in high school and she-she is nice to the weird-o’s like Robin. She’s on the prom committee and homecoming committee, and she likes hockey players apparently - hockey players are the bottom of the sports food chain.” Steve ranted, searching his mind for his next point.

Dustin looked at him once again, rolling his eyes at his reasons. “Now that you’re out of high school, which means that you’re technically an adult, don’t you think it’s time to move on from primitive constructs such as popularity - which Ophelia is popular.” Dustin suggested, trying to get Steve to see the world that’s outside of all the worrying about fitting in.

“Oh, primitive constructs? That some stupid shit you learned at Camp Know-” He paused, shaking his head, trying to come up with the name of the camp Dustin had went to this summer. “Nothing?” He settled for an insult, his defence mechanism starting up.

“Camp Know Where, actually. And no, it’s shit I learned from life,” Dustin told him. Nerds, with all that they have to put up with from the popular people, have learned things. They’ve learned that you shouldn’t focus on making other people see you as cool, instead you should focus on making yourself happy. Steve hummed, looking away from Dustin to scan over the people walking around. “Instead of dating somebody you think’s gonna make you cooler, why not date someone you actually enjoy being around,” Dustin suggested. Steve blinked, thinking about it. He did like being around Ophelia. She made his day brighter and just the thought of her made a smile stretch onto his face. “Like me and Suzie.”

“Oh, Suzie-” He mocked, bouncing his head. Dustin gave him a look, pulling the binoculars back to his eyes. “Yeah, you mean ‘hotter than Phoebe Cates”, yeah that Suzie, and, uh,” Steve paused. “Let’s actually think about it, how exactly did you score that beautiful girlfriend,” He posed the question, scratching the side of his face in faux question. “Oh yeah! With my advice,” He reminded him. “Because that’s how this works, Henderson. I give you advice and you follow through - not the other way around, all right, pea-brain?” Steve shot at him. Dustin gave him a look before resuming his search.

***

Ophelia walked towards Scoops, a dazed look on her face. The feeling of Brett’s lips on hers was still fresh. The odd feeling she felt in the bottom of her stomach returning at the memory. His lips felt odd on hers, they didn’t feel as pillowy as she imagined them to be, instead they were chapped against hers. His lips had touched her so gently, almost as if he was scared that she’d shattered under him any second. Normally, she would have found his gentleness romantic and endearing, but the kiss was almost just his lips hovering over hers, just barely brushing together like he didn’t even want to touch her. It was like that for the entire date, his fingertips just brushing against the small of her back or his arm barely touching her shoulders.

She found her mind wandering off to Steve and if he would have done the same thing. Would he have barely touched her, would his lips just skim over her’s in a short kiss? Would his fingertips ever so slightly touch her body? Maybe Brett just didn’t want to touch her? He hadn’t even mentioned a second date before he scampered off for his shift with blushing cheeks. She sighed, her heels scraping against the floor sluggishly. “Does he even like me?” She whispered to herself. She heard thudding feet running towards her, making her lift her head to see Steve and Dustin rushing out of Scoops in search of someone.

They ran towards her, Steve’s hand reaching out to grasp her small wrist in his, yanking her along with them. She let out a squeak of surprise as she was spun on her heel and pulled towards the center of the mall. She tried to ignore the tingling and the heat that crawled up her arm, spreading throughout her body at his grasp. Steve came to an abrupt stop when they arrived at Robin who stood on the bench wrapping around the center planter’s box that held an assortment of fake plants and a tree, a wide eyed look on her face as she looked down at the three of them. “Robin, what are you doing?” He asked, walking closer to the blonde, his hand still wrapped around Ophelia’s wrist.

“I cracked it.” She said, a hint of excitement in her usually monotone drawl. Ophelia furrowed her brows, glancing at Steve’s hand still on her wrist. His grip, it wasn’t just hovering over her like Brett’s was. His touch felt different from Brett’s. His touch was just something brushing against her body while Steve’s ignited warmth in her that spread throughout her body, like a fire burning under her skin.

“Cracked what?” Steve asked, prompting Robin to jump from the bench - Steve and Dustin’s eyes following her. The sound of her sneakers slapping the tiled floor made Ophelia look at her.

“I cracked the code,” She couldn’t help the smile that consumed her face. Ophelia smiled, proud of Robin for cracking the seemingly impossible code. Robin brushed past the group, glancing down at Steve’s hand encircling Ophelia’s wrist. “Oh, um, Steve?” She turned around, walking backwards with a smirk on her face.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, his eyebrows jumping up as he turned his body to look at Robin, waiting for her to ask him something. Her eyes jumped from between Ophelia and him with sparkles of amusement dancing in her vibrant blue eyes.

“I think you can let go of Ophelia’s hand now.” She beamed at the older boy. Instantly, Dustin and Steve’s eyes dropped down to see that Steve’s hand still held Ophelia’s wrist, making Dustin snort and slap his hand over his mouth to stop his chuckles while Steve nearly choked on his own spit - a blush covering his cheeks. His hand dropped Ophelia’s wrist, the warmth she felt from his fingers grasping her wrist still burning throughout her body.

“Thanks.” Ophelia smiled, walking towards Robin, leaving Steve and Dustin behind. Slipping his hand from his mouth, Dustin looked at Steve who stared at his hand, clenching it in a fist before stretching it out, feeling a weird tingling that felt like he just grabbed an electric fence. Steve’s brown eyes looked up at Ophelia who talked to Robin about how she managed to figure out the code. Her hair bounced behind her as she tried to keep up with the slightly taller girl, her heels clicking against the clean tile.

“Yeah, you definitely don’t like her.” Dustin mused, giving Steve a look as he shook his head. Steve looked over at him, still fisting and unfisting his hand.

“I don’t like her!” Steve denied making Dustin hum and walk away, joining Ophelia and Robin. Steve rolled his eyes, trudging after the group.

“So, Leah,” Dustin cut into the girl’s conversation, earning pointed glares from both of them. “How was the date, from what I saw, it went pretty good.” Dustin inquired, stealing a glance at Steve who glared at him as well. Ophelia glanced at her brother, before glancing at Steve who dropped the glare and gave her a smile instead.

“Yeah, Leah, how’d the big date with Brett go? You were so excited yesterday.” Robin easily changed the subject, knowing that she had the rest of the day to explain her thought process and the plan she was cooking up in her mind. Ophelia shrugged, glancing down at her feet.

“Uh, it was okay. We just kind of walked around after the movie, we shared a pretzel and sat by the fountain, that’s about it.” Ophelia waved them off, her tone less excited. The date was good, he made her laugh, paid for everything before Ophelia could even think about it, but she couldn’t help but let the kiss and lack of talk about a second date put her off. Steve sensed her downcast mood, his heart itching to cheer her up. He couldn’t stand to see her so down, but he also couldn’t help but to feel delighted at the thought that her date didn’t go well.

“Did he kiss you? Is there a second date?” Robin pressed, glancing at Steve from the corner of her eyes as he waited for her answer with baited breath. Ophelia shook her head, a heaving sigh leaving her lips.

“He did kiss me, but it was weird and I have no idea if there is a second date, he didn’t even talk about a second date,” Ophelia admitted, looking at Robin. Robin simply looked at her with wide, confused eyes. She was shocked, Brett seemed to actually like Ophelia. “I’m fine, really. Brett’s cute and nice, but I think we might just be better as friends.” She brushed off Robin’s sympathetic eyes.

“Still, that must suck, Leah. I know how important this date was for you.” Robin rested her hand on Ophelia’s shoulder softly, offering her support. In a private moment with Robin last night when Steve was scooping ice cream and Dustin had been in the bathroom, Robin had made Ophelia crack, admitting her feelings for Steve along with her hopes that this date would help her get over the goofy dingus. Hoping that Brett would be the antidote to the poison that was her crush flooding her veins.

“It’s no biggie, he has my number. Maybe he’ll call me, maybe he won’t - who knows,” She continued to deflect Robin’s support. They all walked into Scoops, seeing barely anyone in the store. Robin opened her mouth to talk to her, but she cut her off. “I’m just going to change into sneakers, I want out of these shoes.” The words were heavy with a lack of emotion, a huge contrast to her normally sweet voice and cheery disposition. Steve watched her as she walked sluggishly into the back room, his heart hurting. He didn’t want to see her so sad. He wanted to see her bright smile, to hear her laughter bouncing off the blue and white striped walls of the overly cheery parlor. He was snapped out of his trance by both Robin and Dustin whacking the back of his head.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” Steve grumbled, looking at Robin and Dustin who glared back at him.

“For being an idiot.” Dustin retorted, walking around the counter, grabbing a sample spoon and skimming the top of one of the ice creams.

“I did it because I’m tired of this,” Robin threw her hands in the air, also walking behind the counter, closing the screen, but not before peeking in at Ophelia who sat at the table slowly putting her shoes on. “She is upset because she’s trying to move on.” She shook her head, speaking mostly to herself, but she wasn’t aware of Steve standing on the other side of the counter, hearing the words.

“Move on from what? She broke up with her last boyfriend back in September, she’s not still caught up on that asshole, is she?” Steve asked, making Robin whirl around in surprise, not wanting Steve to hear that. Dustin and Robin shared a look before glancing at Steve. A mix of emotions flurried around Steve’s mind like a blizzard, making him mad. Why would she still be hooked on the asshole who barely paid attention to her? Couldn’t she see that she deserved more.

“Why would that matter to you, Steve, you don’t like her.” Dustin sneered, reminding him. Steve jolted back at Dustin’s sudden aggression. Dustin felt protective over his sister. She was obviously crushed that her date didn’t go well and from what Robin just said, it wasn’t because she liked Brett.

“I care because she’s my friend. I don’t need to like her romantically to care for her,” Steve bit back making Robin groan, stomping her foot against the floor in frustration. Steve was just as thick as the layer of product in his precious hair. “What? I shouldn’t care about her?” Steve asked, his eyes wide as he tried to pinpoint their emotions based on their reactions.

“Let me ask you a question Steve,” Robin paused, placing her hands on the counter by the cash, her hard blue eyes looking up at him. “Were you upset about Ophelia going on a date with Brett?” Robin threw the question up in the air, already knowing the answer.

“I wouldn’t say upset-” Steve was cut off by Robin raising her hand at him.

“How did you feel about her going on a date with Brett?” Robin rephrased the question, her hand slapping back to the blue counter, waiting for Steve to answer. Steve blinked, thinking.

“I guess I was a little upset, I mean, Brett Morris is not good for her. She can do so much better than him.” Steve answered, growing upset at the thought of her not realizing how great she was and underestimating what she deserved.

“Okay, so what type of guy is good for her?” Robin bounced back instantly with another question, trying to get him to figure out that he liked her.

“I don’t know,” Steve muttered, thinking. With a sigh, he placed his hands on his hips. “I honestly can’t think of any guy who is good enough. They’re all shit,” Steve confessed. Robin raised her eyebrows, giving him a look. “Alright! I was upset that she was going on a date with Brett Morris, happy?” Steve exclaimed, admitting defeat.

“You hated it so much that you couldn’t stop spying on them, Steve. You were ready to kill the poor guy.” Dustin chimed in, trying to bring Robin’s point home.

“Yes, I spied on them and I might have made some comments about how much I don’t like the guy, what’s your point?” Steve asked them, kicking his leg out to the side, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip. Dustin groaned, his forehead hitting the top of the cooler.

“My point is you like her Steve and you have the power to make her feel better. I know it’s killing you to see her so upset so could you just take a second, try to let the realization penetrate that thick skull of yours and figure out that you are head over heels for her?” Robin pressed, gesturing towards the backroom where Ophelia still hid. Steve scoffed, shaking his head at their antics.

“I don’t like her, okay? I’m not even looking for a serious relationship - not after what happened with Nancy.” Steve denied. Robin and Dustin grew even more frustrated by his denial. Robin rested her elbows on the counter, leaning down as she clasped her hands together in front of her. She licked her lips, glancing down at the counter before back up at Steve.

“You’re just going to stand there and tell us that not even a tiny little part of you realizes that you like Ophelia?” Robin asked him point blank. Steve blinked at her. He thought about it. Did he really like Ophelia? The way Robin had phrased it and the way she said it made him question how he really felt. Had he been denying how he felt about Ophelia because he was scared of being hurt again? His heart did practically leap out of his chest at the sight of her. Seeing guys shamelessly flirt with her day in and day out made him feel like he was continuously running into a solid brick wall with his heart tapped to his face. Oftentimes, he would find himself imagining her smile to calm him down when he’s sad.

“I-I don’t really know,” Steve stuttered, unsure of himself. He shook his head, righting his posture. “Even if I did like her, she probably doesn’t like me. I am the furthest thing from what she deserves.” Steve argued back.

“You won’t know if she likes you if you don’t ask Steve, I know you know how you feel about her,” Robin’s tone was soft and comforting. “We know how she feels about you, but it’s not our place to tell you that. If you want to know how she feels before you realize your feelings, you’re going to miss her - she’s not going to wait around if she likes you.” She told him. Steve looked at her in confusion.

“What?” Steve blinked, not understanding what she was saying.

“I’m saying that if you don’t just figure out your feelings for her, you’re going to miss your chance with her,” Robin was handing him the answer of Ophelia’s feelings for him on a silver platter and it was up to him to figure it out. “And if you don’t figure them out fast, you’re going to mess up.” She warned.

***

Rain poured down on them as they laid on their stomachs, watching a storage room being loaded up. Ophelia rested her chin on her hands that laid on top of the concrete parapet in front of them. “Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes!” Robin instructed Dustin from beside Ophelia. She pulled her hood up over her hair, her bare legs that her dress didn’t cover becoming cold as they got soaked with rain. She could hear one of the delivery guys whistling over the pounding rain, but because of the distance, she couldn’t see anything through the pouring rain.

“They’re with that whistling guy, ten O’Clock!” Dustin exclaimed from the other-side of Steve, his binoculars once again pressed to his face. Lazily, Ophelia let her eyes move towards the direction Dustin told them, seeing a man with a yellow raincoat pushing a trolley with three boxes on it into the storage unit. She also couldn’t help but notice the two large guys dressed in black, both holding rather large guns.

“What do you think’s in there?” Steve asked, his eyes squinting as rain fell on his head. He was the only one without a proper raincoat, but that didn’t surprise Ophelia, he wouldn’t be one to own a rain jacket.

“Guns, bombs.” Dustin suggested.

“Chemical Weapons.” Robin also suggested. Steve’s eyebrows jumped as he licked his lips. He wasn’t pleased to have Ophelia with them, not wanting her mixed up with this. It was starting to get dangerous.

“Whatever it is, they’re armed to the teeth.” Dustin announced, his eyes dropping to one of the stern faced guards. Thunder clapped overhead as Steve rubbed his eyes that were irritated from the rain.

“Great,” He commented, nodding his head as he pulled his hand away. His eyes were screwed shut in hopes not to get any more water in them. “That’s great.” He grumbled, opening his eyes. Ophelia reached up to his shoulder, patting it twice before letting it rest on the concrete once again. Her eyes squinted when one of the guards started to move, trying to see what he was doing. She was so focused on what the man was doing, she jolted back in fright when the storage room doors suddenly opened.

“Hey, what’s in there?” Robin perked up, also noticing the doors opening.

“It’s just more boxes.” Dustin told them. Ophelia nodded, watching as the delivery man pushed the trolley into the now open room.

“Let me check it out.” Steve told Dustin, reaching his arm up to grab the binoculars blindly. Dustin pulled the binoculars from his eyes, his grip tightening around them.

“No! I’m still looking!” Dustin pulled back on the binoculars, trying to get Steve to let go of them. Steve simply slapped his other hand on them, trying to wrestle them away from the younger boy.

“Lemme see it.” Steve pressed, pulling harder. Ophelia scooted closer to Robin, not wanting to be hit by Steve’s flailing elbow. A flash of lightning temporarily blinded them as Dustin and Steve continued to tug on the binoculars.

“Hold on!” Dustin argued, giving a sharp tug to the binoculars just as Steve let his hands go - making Dustin hit one of the metal pipes, a loud bang sounding over the pounding rain. Ophelia and Robin jumped at the sound, their eyes jumping from Dustin before looking down at the guards.

“Shit!” Ophelia cursed when she saw the guards glancing towards their direction, their hands reaching for their large semi-automatic guns. All four gasped, fear making their blood run cold in their veins. Ophelia was almost positive that her heart had stopped beating for a second.

“Duck!” Dustin cried as they all dropped to lay down. Ophelia flopped on her back, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her head rested against the slope of the parapet uncomfortably, a dull ache already making itself present in her neck. She had barely noticed that Steve had grabbed her hand tightly in the middle of the mess until she felt the same heat crawling under her skin that she felt when he grabbed her wrist earlier. It was a welcomed contrast from the cold rain pelting her like bullets, but she couldn’t let the sensation distract her from the fact that they could very well die right then and there.

“We gotta go,” Steve whispered harshly. His mind raced, trying to figure out how they were going to get themselves out of this situation. “We can hide along that.” He pointed towards the larger structure attached to the roof entrance. He didn’t even wait for them to argue before he started to move, tugging Ophelia along with him. He hadn’t even noticed his hand in hers, he was too occupied with trying not to die. They all awkwardly ran, pressing themselves up against the tin siding of the structure.

“I hope this plan works because we don’t have a plan b.” Ophelia panted, letting her head fall back against the wall, her eyes closing. Her chest stung from the panic and running, her lungs burning as they continued to grow greedy for air. She could feel herself shaking, but she wasn’t sure if it was mostly from the cold or her pending death which was rapidly approaching.

Nobody said anything as they all tried to calm their wildly beating hearts in hopes to control their loud breathing. The faint but rapid clang of heavy boots hitting the stairs was muffled to their ears, but detectable none-the-less. The heavy door slammed against the tin making them jump. Ophelia pressed the palm of her free hand to her mouth, her heart rate picking right back up. She found herself trying to plead with every higher power there was to just let them make it out of this situation alive, even wishing on the stars she knew were hidden behind the thick black rain clouds. She hoped that the planets and stars were aligned just the right way so that they all could live another day.

Thunder clapped, overhead making Ophelia suddenly start praying to Zeus of all people, hoping her name was a good enough reason for the mythical god to help the four of them. Steve squeezed her hand tight, nearly cutting off the blood flow to her fingers, but she didn’t care, she just squeezed his hand back equally as hard. They listened carefully, trying to hear any sign of movement over the rain splattering against the concrete of the roof.

It felt like an eternity before they heard the door swing open and slam shut, followed by the sweet sound of heavy boots hitting the metal of the stairs. “We should wait here until we know for sure he’s gone.” Dustin whispered, anxiety filling him, making his mind race. For all he knew, the guard could be waiting to catch them at any second, successfully catching them in his masterplan.

“Good idea.” Steve nodded. Robin and Ophelia looked at them with hard eyes.

“Well then how do we know when to leave? It’s not like he’s standing out in the pouring rain, he can wait there for hours!” Ophelia pointed out a flaw in Dustin’s wait-it-out plan. Just as she said that, they heard the guards loudly talking to each other in Russian, their voices booming over the rain. Dustin smiled at his sister.

“That’s how we know.” He remarked, darting towards the door. She rolled her eyes as the rest of them moved after him, their hearts still racing a mile a minute. They filed into the stairwell, their panting breaths echoing off the wall along with the squishes and squeaks of their sneakers against the clean floors. They were all drenched from head to toe, their clothes a soaking mess that clung to their skin uncomfortably. Ophelia’s hair hung in clumps around her head, a few clumps sticking to the back of her neck and allowing water to trail down her dry back. For the most part, Ophelia, Dustin and Robin’s clothes were somewhat dry thanks to their raincoats protecting them; the protection of the rubber coats stopped the second the Russian guards discovered their presence, their hoods sliding off their heads, their unbuttoned jackets flopping open to expose them to the cold rain.

“Well, I think we found your Russians.” Robin declared the second they reached the back corridors that connected all the stores to the loading dock. She glanced between Steve and Dustin as they all rushed back to Scoops, wanting to be safe once again. Steve continued to hold Ophelia’s hand, tugging her along behind him as he sped walked to Scoops. Robin glanced at their intertwined hands, sharing a look with Dustin who also noticed.

***

Robin was long gone, having biked home so that she could sleep off the memory of nearly dying, something the other three had unfortunately faced twice before. Dustin retreated to Ophelia’s car, but forced her and Steve to get his Camp Know Where hat that he accidentally left behind in the backroom of Scoops. Ophelia and Steve walked in silence, Steve’s mind wrapped up in trying to figure out if he actually liked her. “So, that was kinda scary earlier, huh?” Steve asked, his voice coming out squeakier than he wanted, as he pulled the door to the outside open, the sound of raindrops hitting the wet pavement meeting their ears.

“Yeah, just a little,” Ophelia nodded. She had sensed his rigidity around her. It was like he was constantly on edge, overthinking everything he did. She felt fear settle into her chest at the thought that he had figured her feelings for her. He was probably trying to figure out how to let her down gently or how she could have possibly misread his signs of friendship for something more. “We’ve almost died a lot of times, but this is the first time we’ve almost died from guns.” She tried to carry on the conversation as if her heart wasn’t threatening to rip itself in half.

Stepping into the pouring rain, their barely dry clothes were instantly wet again, weighing down on them along with the crushing silence beating between them like a pulse. Even with the cold rain drops pelting them and thunder rolling over their heads, they still took their time walking to their respective cars. Despite the suffocating silence that bathed them, they still wanted to spend time together. “I don’t think this is a good idea - not after what happened on the roof.” Steve suddenly stopped, turning to face her. Ophelia dug her heels into the ground, whirling around to face him with furrowed brows. He didn’t know what prompted him to say that, the thought of not wanting her to get hurt pressing itself to the forefront of his brain - begging for attention.

They both ignored the raindrops rolling down their faces at high speeds and the rain beating at their faces, their eyes blinking rapidly. “What do you mean? You don’t want to figure out what they’re doing anymore?” She asked, confused. Steve was stubborn, he never gave up on anything. It wasn’t like him to back out of something.

Steve shook his head, water spraying from his hair at the action like a dog. “No, no,” He breathed out so softly Ophelia almost didn’t hear it over the rain. “No, I don’t want you to be involved in this anymore.” He told her, gesturing his hands in the small space between them. They stood so close, you could barely fit another person between them. Ophelia blinked at him, her mouth opening and closing as she processed what he had just said.

“Why not? If you haven’t noticed, I’ve dealt with things a lot scarier than Russians.” She shot back, her hands flying through the air. They had been through so much the past two years, they had been through hell and back and there was no way she was going to bow out at Russians. Last time she checked, they weren’t some unknown force from another dimension.

“Did you not see the giant semi-automatics they were holding Ophelia? That’s a lot harder to avoid than a monster,” Steve’s voice boomed, his blood pressure building. He didn’t want her to get hurt; he didn’t want her to end up with a bullet in her. He wanted her safe, far away from this. Monsters were one thing, but these monsters had guns and a ruthless urge to kill. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He admitted, his voice quieter, but scratchy - realization hitting him. He felt like he had been hit by a tonne of bricks. The world was spinning around him like he was standing on a spinning top that was spinning out of control. His stomach churned, making him want to throw up, but the dizziness made him feel like he was going to pass out. He liked her. Here he stood, in a deserted parking lot with rain pounding down on him, starting a fight with her because he liked her.

Steve watched her face, a mixture of sadness, hurt and anger perfectly blended to match the storm swirling overhead. She chuckled dryly, shaking her head as she folded her arms over her chest. Licking her lips, she set her watery, but hard eyes on Steve who seemed to be caught up in his own thoughts. “You don’t want me to get hurt,” She echoed like she couldn’t believe the words he spoke. “Do you not remember who saved you from being killed from demodogs and Billy Hargrove last year? Oh, yeah! That’s right,” Her tone picked up to fake enthusiasm. “It was me.” Her tone dropped dangerously.

“Billy was different and you ended up right next to me on that floor, Ophelia,” He reminded her, his voice raising as well, his voice strained. “I can’t do that again, I can’t see you laying there barely hanging on to consciousness again!” His body shook as he screamed into the night. He was screaming out silently, hoping that she could hear what he was trying to tell her.

“And you think I want to see you being beaten to a pulp again? No, but I’m not going to try and stop you from potentially saving the world again and you shouldn’t try to stop me!” She screamed back. She was trying to get him to hear her, to hear her true meaning in the words that she spoke.

“I can take care of myself, you-” He cut himself off, his mind stopping his mouth from talking before he put his foot in his mouth. “You-” He tried to come up with something else quickly, knowing that what he wanted to say was a complete lie. She could take care of herself. She had proven that multiple times. “You-” He tried again, but she cut him off with a stressed cry.

“I- What, Steve,” She asked, her eyes dancing with fire despite the water that pooled in them, trying desperately to smother the fire. “I can’t defend myself? I can’t take care of myself, huh,” She asked, choking back a little sob as her heart pulled itself apart slowly. She had always been undermined, nobody letting her do anything because she wasn’t strong enough, because she was just a little fragile thing that would break if the wind blew too hard. She listened to his silence, his eyes darting to the wet pavement guiltily. “God Steve! I thought that you of all people wouldn’t look at me like that, but I guess you’re just like everyone else.” She spat, tears finally breaking through the wall, sliding down her cheeks along with the rain.

Steve noticed instantly, his heart feeling like it was being held together by a single thin string that was seconds away from snapping at the sight of the tears. “No, Ophelia, that wasn’t what I wanted to say-” She cut him off once again.

“Then tell me,” She stated, sniffling slightly. “Tell me what you don’t think of me like a porcelain doll that will crack at the softest touch,” She prompted him. Silence banged like the thunder over their heads. Steve’s mouth hung open, wanting to say something, but he couldn’t, his mind blank. He really didn’t see why she couldn’t continue this with them other than the fact that he likes her and will go insane if something happened to her, but he couldn’t say that. Not yet at least. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” She muttered bitterly, wiping at her face. “Think what you want, Harrington-” She spat his name as if it were a bad taste in her mouth, sending a dagger into his heart - severing the string holding it together. “I’m doing this whether you like it or not.” She told him, turning on her heel and speed walking towards her car where Dustin sat.

Steve stood there, hair hanging in his face as he watched her. The warning Robin gave him earlier echoing through his head. “If you don’t figure them out fast, you’re going to mess up.” Steve sighed, kicking the ground and walking to his dark car. His thoughts were consumed by Ophelia, wondering how he was going to fix this and his new found feelings for her. He had always felt it, he just finally realized it. Ophelia Henderson could take anything she wanted from him, even his beating heart from his chest, and leave and Steve would just be happy to see her smile.

She was always there for him. She gave him shelter when his dad and him were fighting about College and he didn’t feel safe to be home for weeks. She held him, gave him food, cared for him when his parents wouldn’t. When he felt like he was losing everything, like he was drowning, she was the one keeping him afloat, keeping his head above water. She was the reason his head was still above the rising water levels of his life. She was the reason he was still hanging onto hope that his life will get better. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t able to protect herself (which he knew full well that she could), he’d still rather give his life for her because she’s saved his life more than once and he knows that she’d do it all over again, even if it meant giving her life for him. She was the reason he was still there, being able to be there for Dustin. She pulled him out of his darkest time, of the period of his life where he honestly couldn’t picture himself in five years because he thought he’d be dead. He didn’t understand how he couldn’t have realized his feelings sooner, how he so clearly liked her that even Dustin noticed it before him. He could have avoided doing the one thing he never wanted to do: hurt Ophelia.

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incarnateirony · 4 years

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The way I see it is this: the threshold for het couple canon and queer couple canon should be the same. Wanting more than a handhold or whatever is *fine*, but whatever standard het romance is held to (the bare minimum to "count") should be the same for queer couples. We say all the time, "if one of them was a girl it would already be canon." Not bc of *potential* kissing, but bc it would be seen that way bc of what's already there. But you've said most of this already, so basically I agree lol!

Yup! That’s just it. If Detty or any other non-kissing couples can be taken as canon, so can queer ones, if the text is thoroughly framing it in every method equally. That’s how it works, actually! Applying a different standard *is* homophobic. And a few years ago, Destiel fandom actually knew this and pointed it out but somehow in this weird version of political extremization that we have around here, the pendulum has flipped around and knocked the octavarium on the ass from the other side.

Because people think that means you’re telling them to settle– of course it isn’t! Or making them “feel bad” for wanting more– nope! Now, will we make you feel bad if you make up a goal post where nothing counts until [your explicit marker]? Yeah, probably, cuz yeah, that’s problematic. Does it make them feel small? Tough shit tbh. For the last year or so I’ve dealt with people taking warped and extremized viewpoints to try to bulldoze over me and when I finally said “ENOUGH” and slapped back with a brick wall of history and perspective, they all cried it’s mEaN. No, you guys just don’t know what to do when your placebo activism turns out to not have substance versus the actual issues at hand, and yeah, you feel small and yeah, you feel bad.

Especially when you realize misdirected and empty gay rage got you nowhere except a hand full of very old very directed old gay rage in counter, and you really can’t cry victim after stomping on the work of activists ahead of you. If you spent years stomping on people and they finally stomp back, and you try to cry to someone as the victim, that’s literally playschool bully behavior. Grow up. When the nerd you’ve been trying to pick on for getting you to reconsider your ways turns out to have been schooled in 6 forms of martial arts and launches your ass to the nurse’s office when you come for round 14 of trying to give him a black eye, all your complaining is about being embarrassed that the nerd kicked your ass after trying to patiently deal with you this whole time. Again, playschool bullshit. Again, grow up.

This isn’t you (not Nonnie-you, just the Royal You, that know who You are) arguing with homophobes or antis anymore. Antis have even cracked in waves. Shipping-fandom-cosplaying-as-activism has completely lost the plot on what their activism lines mean but, a trained routine in thinking it was unvanquishable, have turned it against the wrong things, in the wrong way, and their own people and content. There’s now a few YEARS of “activists” flaying people for, while not 100% happy with the level of content, supporting the queer authors and content and lifting it up – warping it into lines of “settling” to attack them, to diminish them, to make THEM feel small and their own podium – now warped beyond recognition from its original position like a goddamn tea party – big and righteous; and when finally someone clobbers them with a big fat dose of reality of how far they’ve mutilated the dialogue in the name of ship warring, they complain about feeling small. And I’m sorry, fucking no. Not a soul is here to make you feel bad for wanting more. They’re here to make you feel bad for queerphobic deletion and goalpost jockeying.

As I’ve had to say like a repeating song chorus: You can do both: want and hope and push for more, while *not* deleting the queer text and efforts at hand. Complex thought processes are less appealing to many people than linear pile driving, but it’s generally how the universe functions. And when it comes down to realizing they’re setting unlevel goalposts for the levels they *want* to push it to, suddenly yeah, there’s a rug pull, and they have a choice to pull left or right. If they double down, that’s their choice. But I don’t have to humor that choice or give it platform.

But one thing I hold 0% patience for is people saying they’re here for the rep fight while simultaneously pretending there isn’t a rep fight and trying to villainize core elements like incrementalization or struggling queer authors, many of which beg for public understanding.

We could be having nuanced conversation about the values of different forms of representation; we could be having nuanced conversation about how to effectively organize to help these queer authors into better situations. We could be talking about the show’s evolutionary path, or even culture’s social evolution path and how this show will age with public perception over the years. We could be comparing it to stages of LGBT history.

But we’re not. We’re having conversations where people, abandoning their former angle of discussion, are now screaming “pics or it didn’t happen”, are now tossing up goalposts they themselves used to call homophobic only a few years ago, are now rewiring the dictionary or entire AV medium study (sometimes while claiming themselves an authority while literal cinema literacy sources and decades of studies or even just flat-ass LGBT history say they’re wrong) because they want to feel righteous for demanding more without any actual organized effort or support. They want so desperately for the remaining upset to pass as activism. So badly to flatten even other LGBT community members for trying to hold up the queer canon, because it wasn’t the canon they wanted. And once they realize someone cast Reflectga and their own bullshit methods mow them down, this time with amplified substance of the actual world beyond, they cry foul, that *they*, not the people they’ve been trying to mow over, are being cruelly bullied, just because someone said – no, enough, you’re acting like clowns, I’m fucking over biting the bullet to listen to you on it, you are well past the pale folks.

Miss me with it, fandom. If I have to explain any further than this why one of these is activism and one of these is not, then you’re already beyond hope in the field anyway. I’m not here for your petty ship war nonsense. The representation clearly isn’t for you little fucking tumblr goblins so willing to shred it for not performing to and for you how and when you want regardless of circumstance, much less if you’re even in the damn demographic being represented to goddamn begin with. No, a cis lesbian doesn’t get to tell a trans person how their rep should look. A trans man actually can’t tell a cis gay man how his should look either because their paths are fucking different.

No, a bunch of women should not be bulldozing over and deleting shit and say it’s For The Gay Men while the vast majority of LGBT men in this fandom hide away in recesses because they’re tired of being bulldozed over if they don’t comply with the shitty fandom dialogue. Or the few that do that warp into it and abandon their original points just from sheer peer pressure – often younger ones, often outside of the demographic. They certainly shouldn’t be trying to flame a middle aged male queer & all other liberal and socially conscious rights rights media representation-commenting activist for writing within his limits about middle aged queer male content. That isn’t how this. Mother. Fucking. Works. I shouldn’t HAVE to have little cluster hoards of LGBT men I adopt that hide in DM or outside of fandom space entirely and poke their nose out with peeps of cautious gratitude and fish around to see how supportive I *really* am – it *shouldn’t* have surprised one of my newly made best friends that I understood the problematic nature of penetration culture and heteronormative ideas of MLM in this fandom. Or to cautiously click my recs because they’re worried about getting fucking ass stomped for daring to speak up on their own representation. It shouldn’t BE like that.

You wanna support queer creators? Y’all missed that boat because you were too busy being headass to organize and actually petition the network. No, screaming at execs until they delete social media and put a black mark on the idea, @’ing accounts with spam until you’re put on a mute list and negatively impact marketing algorithms, that’s not petitioning. Building portfolios and presentations delivered sensibly are. A few did. Good for those people. Fuck everyone else. Virtue signaling nonsense. No wonder they’re so enamored with shitty mass marketing as a goal.

“WELL IT SHOULDN’T BE THAT WAY!”

Yeah well welcome to being a grown up. It is, whether you like it or not. It’s hard out here. America shouldn’t have a giant orange cheeto racist for its president either and yet here we fucking are. Life isn’t fair. So figure out how to actually put feet on the ground and change it instead of yodeling online like a bunch of idiots at the people trying to help you. Bobo sure as fuck did a long fucking time ago and never stopped. Maybe you should catch up. Cuz even at “slow and steady wins the race” he’s gone miles ahead of you while you’ve been distracted anally grooming like a cat or some shit.

Imagine how (not) far queer rights would get if every incremental step we took, even if it wasn’t far enough – TV or real life – we just let everyone scream and take away entirely because it wasn’t the kind you wanted. It’s regressive garbage. It doesn’t actually do you any benefit. It doesn’t do the community any benefit. It doesn’t do queer creators any benefit. It doesn’t do queer cinema history any benefit. Nobody but homophobes and other agenda’ed asshats benefit. Which is why they trained you to think like this to begin with. Stop.

#supernatural #spn #representation #bi!dean #whatever #tired #tired gay #that's what I'll tag this #destiel #lgbtqia

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leoalcrights · 4 years

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Have you seen ELEANOR ALBRIGHT? LEO is in HER SOPHOMORE year. The BUSINESS MAJOR is 20 years old & is a VIRGO. People say SHE is CLEVER, INQUISITIVE, NARCISSISTIC and COLD. Rumors say they’re a member of CALLOWAY SOCIETY. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE LEFT HER FRIEND TO DROWN IN A LAKE AFTER HE OVERDOSED ON OXYCODONE AND CONSPIRED IN FRAMING IT AS A SUICIDE SO SHE WOULDN’T GET CAUGHT UP IN AN INVESTIGATION.

tw: drowning, tw: death, tw: alcohol, tw: drugs, tw: suicide tw: grief

hi u guys !!!! my name’s nina (she/her), and i’m sososo excited to meet/rp with all of you :’)) below i’m gonna list some things about leo and whatnot and yea!!!

so eleanor ‘leo’ albright was adopted by new york senator, lucas albright and his celebrity socialite wife, harriet valentine at age 6, born initially to a single mother and then having grown up in foster care until the albrights adopted her

leo had a very confusing childhood, to say the least

although she knew she wasn’t the “outcast” within her adoptive family, she couldn’t help but feel that way

she never mainly knew why she was adopted? Considering her parents were never necessarily affectionate towards her, she ultimately concluded that her adoption was a ploy to make her parents seem charitable and as if they were do-gooders, having adopted a child from a “broken” background to give them a better life

ALSO to add to the confusion, leo faced a lot of identity issues culturally considering she only grew up around.............white people

but anyway !! leo was not only trying to make her parents proud as she was growing up, but she was also vying for their love and affection in the ways she figured would work… always looking perfect, getting perfect grades, overall being the ideal child

the opposite of what her wildcard sister darby did

leo tried to follow in her brother’s footsteps, but no matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to garner the attention that her father endlessly gave him

nothing was ever enough -- her mother was very caught up in her own problems with alcoholism and her father, as said before, was too infatuated with james to pay leo much mind

of course, her parents proudly showed her off at public events and social gatherings, but that, as we know, doesn’t equate to love and affection

regardless of how leo felt, the media ate this up… she became somewhat of the “golden child” in new york’s elite society

this lead to leo becoming a narcissist in the lowest of keys

since she couldn’t get the adoration she craved from her parents, she looked to the media to give it to her

at 14, right before she was about to enter high school, the real golden child of the family, her older brother james, passed from a brain tumor

not being able to cope with the suffocating environment that her household had now created, leo somehow persuaded her parents to permit her to attend knollwood boarding school in connecticut (one of the most prestigious in the country)

leo, being incredibly bright, naturally excelled at pretty much everything in high school. she always made most top honor roll, captain of the soccer team, and was the editor-in-chief for her school’s newspaper

that being said, the girl quickly fell into the more popular, exclusive, elite crowd

it made sense, right? the girl was wealthy, beautiful, smart, acerbically witty, and came from quite the influential family

leo became the definition of “work hard, play hard” – weekdays, she’d be holed up in her dorm or the library studying, and weekends, she’d be popping percs and blacking out (and of course, she only partied with those who would have just as much to lose as her… that’s how she stayed out of scandals)

flash forward to her senior year of high school, it was time to apply for college, leo (to no one’s surprise) was accepted into the business school at yates university

june came around and leo, like the rest of her peers, considered herself invincible – the world was her oyster and she was about to go and pave her way in it

one night, leo and her friends decided to spend the night at a member of their crew’s lake house

of course, they got a little rowdy with a whole assortment of drugs and alcohol

one thing led to another, and one of her good (and highly intoxicated) friends fell off the edge of the dock and into the lake

this sent everyone, especially leo, into a frenzied panic

she claimed someone had to save him or that they had to go to the police or something until somebody else said it would be easier to assume he was dead/let him drown because if they went to the police, they would get be drug tested and face more significant consequences… she namely remembers hearing, “why should we suffer for his mistake?”

of course, they had to do more to cover their tracks… one of leo’s close friends suggested they frame the drowning into looking like a suicide. and they did. leo, having an incredible talent for imitating anyone’s penmanship and beautiful words, was pressured into forging the note. and she did. she heard it, her own words as someone else’s, read at his funeral.

and that shit haunts ! her !

anyway, leo moved forward with life (or tried) and never spoke to her parents, a therapist, her friends, anyone about the incident. she prays that one day, she’ll forget about it

doesn’t help that her parents never really spoke to her about it (or speak to her) in general

rly homegirl needs some therapy

but ANYWAYSJAKJS

the thought of attending yates was indeed the only thing that kept leo going through the summer after her senior year… like she honestly swore to herself that things would be different because they had to be, right??

that being said, leo does not party as much as she used to because she sort of associates alcohol and party drugs with that night… but that doesn’t go to say she NEVER parties anymore

like when she does… she goes hard. probably too hard. but she tends to steer clear of hard drugs now bc of her mother & sister and overall it’s just not rly her thing now ........ growf perhapth

she’s also pretty reserved and keeps to herself ...... like she’s still social and talks to ppl and has a lot of surface level friendships but . she doesn't rly share her thoughts and opinions mostly bc of her father essentially telling her ppl don't care ab what she has to say like that HDSJHDSJ fuck lucas albright rights

also… leo doesn’t necessarily have a passion for business? tbh she’s really doing it to appease her father because “an investigative journalist isn’t a fit career path for someone of your prestige, eleanor”

ANYWAY, as a result of all she’s gone through, it is quite difficult for her to make like sincerely deep connections because she’s either afraid of being used or losing people.. she kinda cold..... but shes mad eloquent and polite and hardly ever like Mean to people unless she has a reason to be

but ! if you do win her over, she’ll remain loyal to you for the rest of time and will genuinely always have your back

random facts: shes a very avid reader ..... n for some reason was rly into shakespeare at one point idk.....

also like a pretty good cook? idk pt 2

ok that's all i fink

but that’s pretty much it !!! i lowkey need to tweak and whatnot but here’s the gist of my little trash child leo :`) if you wanna plot slide into my dms or like this and i’ll go to you!!!! okay thank u love u bye

#yatesintro #did i proofread? no :)#drugs tw #alcohol tw #drowning tw #death tw #suicide tw #grief tw

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unproductivx · 4 years

Text

Dealing with the pressure to achieve

Inspired by @collegemode‘s post about gifted kids.

Link to the post is here. It got me thinking a lot about how, so often, many of us [particularly here where I live, in Asia] are faced with the pressure to do well in school, to excel, and to achieve. We go to schools that, from young, drill a mark-objective mentality into learning. If it’s not from the schools, it just exists SO much in our societies. As someone who goes to a very academic, result-oriented school, I know what that’s like.

Don't get me wrong, I love my school. I miss going there so much (with the quarantine and all) and I love my friends and all of my teachers. It's been a place of wonderful memories and learning.

But I wrote this in the hopes that sharing my story may help those of you who are also struggling with this problem.

PROBLEM #1: Resting VS Unproductivity

It's just... I read a lot about "burn-out" and I am so scared it will happen to me. Maybe you’re scared it will happen to you. Maybe it has happened to you. I'm trying to find a balance between working hard and taking rest, but the whole "resting" thing is kind of alien to me to the point where I don't really know when it's TOO much or not enough. And I think that is the first problem. We are always being pushed to fill our time with things deemed ‘productive’ - our extra-curricular activities are tailored to ensure success in our tertiary education.

It’s been quite difficult to come to terms with the fact that taking a break is okay. Not every second needs to be filled with purpose. Sometimes, it’s good enough to just exist. It might be a little unnerving. Maybe you’re afraid you’ll get so used to ‘resting’ you’ll never be able to work again, or that you’ll become a lazy couch potato.

And that’s the thing. We need to learn how to relax. How to unwind. How to watch Netflix and not get addicted. There’s nothing wrong with binge-watching: except when that binge-watching is replacing studying for an upcoming test. Believe you me, I had that problem. My solution was to stop watching Netflix entirely during schooling days, but I’ve realised that was never a viable solution. I essentially ‘ran away’ from my problem. We need to learn it’s okay to like things, and learn how to do so in moderation. If you’re planning on watching then getting back to work, write it down in a schedule and commit to going back to work after your break.

Little by little, discipline will form.

PROBLEM #2: Misconceptions about hard work.

I know the grades I achieve come from hard work (and not from being intrinsically genius) but a lot of times my peers don't see that, so they continue to project that unhealthy mentality of "gifted kids" no matter how much I try to change their minds. It’s a huge labelling thing, that I am guilty of too.

“He/she is the smart kid.” The ‘smart’ kids being people who’d achieve the best grades, top all the exams. They were the ones people wanted in their group projects. Then of course, there were the ‘quiet’ kids, and all the other classroom personalities.

A lot of the time, I was labelled as one of the smart kids. I suppose in a sense, it could be flattering, but then we’ve got this huge huge huge misconception about what it means to be ‘smart’. It’s also a little heartbreaking, specially in Primary school, when people only want to befriend you because they think you’ll help them out, or join their group and do most of the work.

I've always held back from speaking out about it, because, nobody wants to hear the ‘smart kid’ complain. I'm afraid people will think that I am being ungrateful, that I'm complaining about getting good grades. But it's not like that at all, and I really hope it doesn't come across that way.

I’m tenth grade, and have another one and half years to go before I graduate from school. I have this huge pressure to do well for my igcses and get all A*, and sometimes I'm not sure if I can do it myself. It's a goal I would like to achieve,, but it's kind of scary. My peers, and my teachers too, I think, are kind of expecting this and I have this horrid fear that I won't make it and everyone will be disappointed! I've ranked first in the year every year since Year 3. And even writing that, and admitting it, is scary to me. I don’t like talking about those achievements, because there is just so much doubt that follows.

It is motivation to go further, but at the same time, it's "holy shit if I don't make it this year then im going to look like such a disappointment ohmygod ohmygod.. "

“All those books and articles about high-school burn out are right, what if I really have ‘peaked in high school’ and I’m never going to do well in ANYTHING ELSE ever again?”

It scares me. It really does. But at the same time, I know a lot of these thoughts are not me, but the manifestation of the pressure being put on me. It’s one of those things where you know you shouldn’t compare yourself to others, but it’s just so hard not to.

Talking to someone you trust helps.

My ex-Principal and I were quite close, and "close" in the sense that I felt I could talk to her about stress, or feeling pressured, and all that sort. I joined the Prefectorial Board in my school in Year 7, and she was the Prefect Advisor, and that’s really how she got to know me, and perhaps vice-versa. It was only really in Year 8 and 9 when I opened up about my feelings.

Talking to her was probably the first time I had ever talked to anybody, properly talked to anybody, about how stressed and worried I was. I didn't even realise it was something that I had been bottling up, because I literally just burst into tears when she talked to me.

God, it was kind of embarrassing. We were on our way back from a Leadership conference and I guess the ‘trigger’ was me, having an argument [no, more accurately my dad scolding me on the phone about something] and me, feeling so upset that I finished her box of tissues and I was just like NSKSJSKS :"((.

I've always been someone who can appear confident. I'm a loud, outgoing, extroverted person so maybe that's why. But sitting with my principal and talking to her literally made me realise I had so many insecurities and anxieties that I kept telling myself I didn't have, or I kept pushing away.

I find it difficult to tell people no, and it’s because I hate letting people down. Out of all my fears, my fear of disappointing others is huge - especially my parents, and it doesn’t really help that I do have that typical ‘Asian mentality’ of doing whatever it takes to make mom and dad happy. They don’t pressure me outwardly, but it’s still “there”.

To use an euphemism, my ‘bruhh’ moment of realisation was when my principal said to me, ‘nobody really knows, nobody really sees everything behind your results’ - a tip of the ice-berg kind of thing. Hell, I haven’t even summoned the courage to talk about this to my parents. You can’t expect people to psychically know how you feel if you don’t talk to them. I agree - I love both of my parents. I know everything they do is just for the betterment of my well-being.

“Why haven’t you talked to them?” she asked.

I don’t know. I don’t want them to be disappointed, or to be more honest, I don’t want to be a ‘burden’. It sounds stupid... but they’re busy people. My dad is really stressed a lot of the time, and additionally, I only rarely feel so low.

I’m not going to tell you to talk to your parents if you’re not comfortable, because neither am I [though I hope to get there someday], but you do need to ‘let it out’. Someone you trust, someone who’s going to listen and give good advice is the one you need to talk to.

And hey, my DMs are open too. Though please excuse my social awkwardness sometimes - I will be listening too.

Something she said that really stuck with me [no, it’s not really anything cosmically amazing], was she asked me:

“What do you want?”

What do you want to achieve? Is this something that’s going to make you happy?

And I think in dealing with the pressure to achieve... this is something that’s so, so, so important. If you’re going to be working hard, you should work hard for something that’ll make you happy. Don’t lie to yourself, because then you’ll be lying to yourself for the rest of your life.

This doesn’t mean don’t think about others. Thinking about what you want doesn’t automatically make you a selfish person. It’s something that has helped me move away from being hyper-competitive. It’s a slow, long journey.... but we will all get there, eventually.

<3 lots of love,

- tv

#studyblr #thoughts #deep-thoughts #dealing with pressure #what do you want?#dms open #struggles #school #unproductivxstudies #unproductivx-notes #unproductivestudies

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boymeetsweevil · 6 years

Text

For Science 4/7

Grouping: Reader x Nerd!Jungkook

Word Count: 9.6k (im sorry its so long!!)

Warnings/Themes: definitely probably nsfw but purposefully not that many again. drunk jungkook being angry and then clingy, idiot kook, making out? ANGST?? Hoseok being the slimiest being on the face of the earth,

Summary: Jungkook asks you to let him watch you get off. For science.

A/N: I would like to thank @b-angst-tan for beta reading this series as it is so far. I also would like to tag @m-icdrop , @jiminslye & @ephemeral-mindset to let you know that i finally got my shit together and posted lmao. hopefully i didnt leave anyone out who wanted to be tagged. if i did im very sorry and if you want to be tagged for subsequent posts, just DM me and let me know :)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5, part 6, part 7

You wonder if maybe you should have chosen something more weather appropriate as the chill of the still early air nips at your stockinged ankles. It was a hard choice: The fleece-lined sweatpants with the dried tide pod stuck at the hip or something cute and feminine so you could play catch-up with whatever nice thing Yoori was wearing. The sight of Yoori in a slightly similar outfit of an elegant pea coat and demure pleated skirt convinces you that you made the right decision. But while your anxiety about picking the right clothes wanes, a sudden wave of exhaustion hits you. Normally you would be able to rest on a Saturday after 90 minutes of contorting yourself into endurance-testing positions, but today you had no time to untangle mentally—only physically—as you rushed through a shower to give yourself enough time to run to your apartment to grab a change of clothes.

Yoori looks up from her phone and sees you approaching her where she stands by a Starbuck’s storefront. A large grin splits her face, revealing a pair of adorable dimples on each cheek. You’re not expecting her to shove her phone into her coat pocket so she can run over to you and crush you in her arms.

“Hi, how are you!”

“Oh, uh, I’m good. How are you settling in?” Her grasp is fairly constricting , but you try not to appear shaken as you spit her hair out your mouth.

“I’m doing fine. I leased my apartment while I was away so, I’m still at the hotel until that contract ends. But that’s only for a few more weeks. After that I’ll move back in and really be at home. You smell lovely by the way. What scent is that?”

“Thanks,” you blink, “It’s just soap.”

“Mm, what kind of soap?”

“The dollar store kind.” She nods with a smile. “Um, where are we going?”

“Just to this little place up on Main Street. It’s called La Lune, have you heard of it?”

“Of course I have. They’re notorious for only ever being un-booked twice a year! And even then it’s just because they’re taking breaks so the owner can fly to her house in Paris.”

Yoori plays with the sleeve of her coat. “I suppose it does have a bit of a reputation. I must have just gotten lucky with their date book.”

“Don’t you need an appointment to get in?”

“Yes,” Yoori trails off.

“Will we be able to even get in? I-I didn’t call ahead to make a reservation since you said you’d take care of the plans for today.”

“They said they have an extra spot open for us today since they’re training a new technician.”

You don’t push because you know what they say about looking gift horses in the mouth. But you can’t help but wonder how you could have gotten so lucky on your first attempt to get seen at the nail shop. Any suspicion you have about Yoori’s methods of getting onto the appointment book evaporates when you step foot into the shop.

From looking at the pictures of the interior that you could find on Google images, you know that the design is based off of a bunch of spas that the owner herself went to during her many travels to Europe. All the décor is a novel twist of organic meets minimal with polished woods and metals and clean, sloping lines all existing harmoniously. You sit down in a plush chair in the waiting area while Yoori chats enthusiastically with the woman sitting behind the front desk. She does a little spin for her as they most likely talk about how much prettier she looks since the last time she came to the shop.

After confirming the appointment, Yoori makes her way over and sits next to you. She leans over the arm of her chair to peer over your shoulder at the vials of designer nail polish in your hands.

“Do you know what color you’re going to get?”

“Not yet. I usually just do black since it doesn’t clash and it doesn’t make my fingers look as stumpy”

“What are you talking about? Your hands are precious.” She reaches over to bring one up to inspect. “You have such a nice natural nailbed color. A nude would be perfect.”

“You don’t have to flatter me, I know what my hands are like. We can’t all have perfect OPI model hands, Yoori.”

She grins at your indirect compliment. “You think they’re perfect?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. Some things are just objective facts.” She’s quiet for a bit, a small expression on her face as she looks at you carefully.

“I think this shade would look good on you”, she picks out a specific soft shade that highlights that mimics that pink tone of your nails. “Plus, its suitable for the winter and spring. So, you could wear it for a while.”

“It’s really pretty. Thanks.”

“I could buy it for you. If you like.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’re already doing so much for me today as is. I—“

“Too late.” She swipes the bottle out of your hand and gets up to go pay.

The guilt is too much for you to sit back and let it happen, so you launch yourself out of the chair and rush past her to the front desk, debit card out and ready.

“I’d like the buy the shade that Yoori has in her hand, please. Thank you.”

Her eyes are wide, but she doesn’t argue, and lets you buy the shade. You give her a pat on the arm and accept the tiny satin drawstring gift bag and try not to think about the chunk of money that just left your account.

You can only assume the rest of the nail appointment is nice but you can’t know for sure. You do know that you must have enjoyed yourself because you promptly fall asleep two minutes into the hot rock hand massage that comes with every booking. Yoori snapped a quick picture of your lax dreaming face and woke you up when the technician asked her what shape you wanted your nails. Leaving the salon finds you refreshed and with a beautiful manicure.

“Feeling hungry yet,” Yoori asks after she catches you staring wistfully at a random pedestrian with a bagel. “There’s still time for it to be brunch at the place I was talking about.”

“Yeah. It’s just too bad my nails are all nice now,” you joke. “Saturday mornings are for ribs at my house.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. They don’t have ribs on their brunch menu, I don’t think. Do you want ribs? I can check and see if there are any barbecue places that are open for lunch.” She fumbles for her phone and types frantically like she didn’t just get a hundred-dollar manicure.

“Yoori, Yoori, hold on! I was just kidding. There’s no way in hell I’m messing these nails up. I’m almost considering just drinking water for lunch so I don’t have to use my hands.”

“Wow, you…really got me.” She lets out a breath of relief before side-eyeing you. “Are you sure you don’t want ribs?”

“Positive.”

“Good,” she chuckles.

The two of you make small talk about what brought each of you to engineering as you take walking directions from Yoori’s phone. The walk ends at a pretty looking place with a yet another French sounding name. It’s filled to the brim with fresh flowers, giving the air a sweet scent that has your mouth watering even more. You take a chance and allow Yoori to order for you, trying not to be suspicious of the strange cheese dish she orders as an appetizer.

“—And that’s how we met Tae. We didn’t meet Hoseok until about a month later when he spilled his drink on me in line for the comic book signing at the campus bookshop that one year.”

“I think I remember that day, actually,” Yoori blinks up as if sifting through the memory in mid-air.

“Oh! Did you go? I feel like I would have noticed another girl there. I think I could count all of us there on one hand.”

“No, I wasn’t there. I’m not a comic book person actually. I just remember seeing all the people coming back in cosplay. There was actually this one really beautiful green elf costume I saw on my way to class. There were lights woven into the fabric and everything—I almost took a photo.”

Your cheeks heat up and you duck your head to take a sip of your extremely expensive blood orange mimosa. “That was actually me.”

“Was it really? Did you make it yourself?”

“No—well, yeah, I did the bulk. But Jungkook helped me a lot and Tae helped me find the materials.”

“And Hoseok?”

“Hoseok scratched his ass and watched.”

“Wow, I can’t believe that was you. It’s like destiny. We must have been meant to meet,” she lays a hand next to yours. You can’t help but notice how well the color of her pastel nails goes with your nude.

“Yeah, I suppose so. But enough about me, I feel like I’ve just been blabbering on and on about my friends.”

“No, I love hearing about them. I always envy people with lots of stories to tell about their friends. I feel like I have to ask,” she trails off, a shy smile splitting her face. “What’s it like being the only girl in that friend group?”

“It’s…only mildly frustrating,” you say with a laugh as your food arrives. It smells wonderful and given the amount of truffle shavings, you’re glad you chose to come here on a day that you weren’t paying.

“How so?”

“I mean, you know how guys are and you know how STEM guys are. Add to that the fact that they aren’t getting laid and you have a very interesting strain of emotional constipation.” Yoori nods along understandingly. “And let’s not forget all the stupid questions they ask me since they can’t ask any other woman.”

“That sounds like it might be frustrating.” You chuckle at her diplomatic tone.

“I mean it is, but they’re nicer than most guys and they mean well.”

The sly smile appears again and she leans forward to create a bubble of privacy.

“Nothing more than platonic has ever happened between you and one of them?”

Thankfully, a waiter rushes by and bumps the table a little and you can use that as an excuse for suddenly choking on your food. You certainly weren’t expecting her to inquire about your sex life so early into the conversation, and the irony of the situation isn’t lost on you. Of course, the apple of Jungkook’s eye would ask you about which of your guy friends you’ve ever screwed around with.

You blot at your face with a cloth napkin. Luckily for you, the way you look when you’ve narrowly avoided asphyxiation and when you’re concealing guilt is very similar. “Oh my god, please. I’m trying to enjoy this food, not regurgitate it. But to answer your question, no. They’re not my type. They’re too…” you make some abstract gesture in the air with your fork and Yoori nods.

“What about Jungkook, then? Surely, he’s decent otherwise I’m sure you would have warned me by now.”

“No, he’s nice. He’s a little out of it sometimes, but that’s always been his thing, you know? But he’s really kind and warm and funny in his own way. Plus, he’s in love with you so I don’t think you have to worry about him doing the man-child thing too much.”

Yoori blushes and shifts in her seat, looking a little uncomfortable. “Yes, I figured as much.”

“Can I ask what took so long for you two to finally meet up? I just—I know he’s been contacting you for a while now.”

“It’s complicated,” she sighs.

“I can keep up.”

“You could say I’ve just always been very wary of the men in our department. They’re not your average guys, but they’re still men. They still want the same things from you. And,” she looks away from you to continue. “I wasn’t sure if Jungkook was that way as well. So, I kept my distance. This must seem pretty suspect to you. Especially since it happened after he got put on the department website. I’ve heard what some people have been saying.”

Your hands fly out to console her. “Oh my god, of course not. That makes total sense. You’re not obligated to entertain everyone who expresses interest in you. I get it.”

“Oh, gosh, I feel so bad.” She hangs her head in her hands and you watch helplessly as her hair nearly falls into her water glass. When you inquire why, she shakes her head with guilt. “Jungkook never outright expressed an interest in dating until a few weeks ago. All the times before that, he’d been a perfect gentleman via text. But it was the way he would stare at me in public with those…those moonpie eyes!”

“He does look like that sometimes. Especially with those glasses.” She points at you like you’ve hit the nail on the head.

After doing a cursory look around the restaurant to make sure no one around will be able to hear her confession, she elaborates. “It was just so obvious how he felt and I was so used to guys feigning wanting to be platonic friends only to corner me in the parking lot after what was supposed to be a friendly dinner out. I-I couldn’t trust him. But then I heard that you were friends with him and I decided I would give it a chance.”

“Why would you trust him just because of me?”

“I have my reasons. And I just figured if you were willing to be friends with him, he might not be so bad. Plus, my mom has been pestering me about getting married and I wanted to get her off my back.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re giving him a chance. It means the world to him and he can finally stop pining silently. When is your first date,” you ask neutrally. Although you know that as soon as you get a date, you’ll have to terminate your weekends with Jungkook.

“Oh well we haven’t really discussed anything like that. I think he might ask about it soon, though. I’ll keep you posted.” The little eye roll and laugh she lets out breaks the heavy mood and you try to steer the conversation in a lighter direction.

“Tell me about your friends, Yoori.”

“Me? Well, I probably don’t have as much to say as you do. Most of my friends have long since finished the program and I’ve been so busy with my dissertation that I just don’t have as much time as I used to for hanging out and stuff like that.”

“I thought you were friends with Sunyoung. The bio double major? Jungkook said you were pretty close.”

“Well, he’s right. At first, we were. She’s been really busy ever since she got engaged, so,” she trails off.

“To that Jaehyun guy, right? But, wait,” you drop your fork as the details fall into place. “Weren’t you guys all friends? And didn’t they get married like half a year ago?” Your heart breaks when you realize Yoori may have been alone for at least 6 months while working.

“I could tell I was making things difficult by third wheeling, so Sunyoung suggested I give them some space.”

You were pretty certain you saw Sunyoung and Jaehyun hanging out with a few of the other women in the engineering building on the regular when you went to print things for class using the department printer. Even with her indirect language, it’s pretty clear what happened between Yoori and her friend and you don’t push. Though you do feel bad for the animosity you felt towards her when she first introduced herself.

“Well, I’m glad we met. It’s nice to finally have a new girlfriend,” you say. She looks up at you with slightly dim eyes but perks up when you lace your fingers together briefly.

The smile she gives you is brilliant and infectious. “Me too. So much,” she says quietly.

When brunch ends, Yoori suggests continuing your stroll so you can walk off the post-food sleepiness. The weather is a bit brisk and there are unanswered texts from Jungkook on your phone, but you don’t say no and keep the notifications unread. Something about the fact that you’re in the shopping district with a pretty manicure and your pretty friend makes you feel good. Good in a way that you haven’t felt in a really long time.

You link arms and window shop for hours, though it doesn’t feel like it. She pulls you into store after store because she saw something that she thought would look ‘splendid’ on you. Somehow you manage to look past her imploring eyes and put the designer garments back on the rack, but not until after she’s made you try them on and spin around in them so she can sing your praises. While you browse each shop, you make comments about the other shoppers or the items that make her dissolve into giggles or make her cheeks flare up with a warm blush and a gaping, incredulous smile. By the time you finally part ways, you almost don’t want to get into the cab she’s called for you, but your feet are aching and the sun is starting to set. She blows you a theatrical air kiss and makes a surprisingly dorky ‘call me’ gesture with her hand that has you covering your face so she can’t see how hard you’re smiling. When you step out to face Jungkook’s building, the mood of the day’s outing lingers on you like a perfume. Or maybe it’s a halo. Either way, Jungkook notices something about you is slightly different when you finally arrive at his doorstep.

“Hey,” you greet him without looking and instead focus on getting your feet out of the little heeled booties you’d been wearing for so long.

“You changed?” His voice is muffled from where he lays with his cheek smushed into the sofa. The xbox controller in his hand dangles as he takes in your appearance. “When did you do that?”

“I went back to my house after yoga. I couldn’t go meet her in a rank t-shirt and the sweats that I slept in.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you turn to see why he’s so silent. One look at the handful of empty beer bottles sitting neatly by the floor by his feet lets you know what the deal is.

“You been drinking, Jeon?” Jungkook when he’s drunk is quite the handful, but the owlish way he blinks at everything when there’s liquor in his system is almost funny enough to make the rest of his drunk antics worth it.

“Yep,” he hiccups. He tries to shoot finger guns at you but almost ends up flipping you the bird.

It draws a string of giggles out of you. He squints and takes in your frizz free hair, your glowy skin, your nice blouse and skirt, the easy way you walk over to the couch to sit by him. His stare is tangible.

“What?”

“You’re really pretty,” he rasps and his hand reaches out without his permission to trace the swell of your cheek.

His comment takes you by surprise and you can only laugh awkwardly and lean out of his reach, unsure of what to do with such a blatant compliment.

“Wow, I spend one afternoon with Yoori and you’re calling me pretty? She must have rubbed off on me real good.” You take the controller out of his hands to un-pause the game of Zelda he was playing.

“S’not cause of her. ‘S cause you’re not hiding,” he mumbles before picking up the other controller that was laying off to the side. His comment doesn’t reach your ears which he’s secretly glad for. “You want a beer?”

“Sure.”

He reaches over the arm of the couch to fish out one of the leftover full bottles and hands it to you. He doesn’t say anything while he watches you chug half of it, meanwhile nudging the inside of his cheek with his tongue. A classic sulking Jungkook pose.

“Oh my god, what? Are you mad I got to spend the day with her and you didn’t?”

He blinks, surprised, when he realizes that he’s actually not mad about that. Rather he’s mad you spent so little of the precious Saturday with him, though it wasn’t clear at first. To think that he’s jealous of Yoori is funny enough to break him of his brief pouting session.

“Yeah,” he fibs, “but it’s fine.” He scoots clumsily nearer next to you. “You’re here now and there’s still the rest of the weekend.”

“That’s true. But I don’t want to play Zelda. Let’s do Mario Kart?”

“Loser each round has to take a shot and winner picks the next course?” He’s already stumbling his way back to the kitchen to pull the tequila bottle someone left in his fridge a while back and a pair of plastic shot glasses.

“Is there any other way?”

It takes three rounds, the first two of which are Rainbow Road, but you quickly catch up to him in terms of tipsiness level. Your whole body feels like its vibrating, and the tequila makes it seem like your blood is carbonated. Like you could float away at any moment. By a streak of luck and then redirecting to Bowser’s castle, you manage to get in the winning position. You’re on a roll and get cocky enough to start gloating, egging Jungkook’s underlying competitive nature on.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath as you cross the finish line 9 seconds before him. His stomach feels sloshy after four shots and the bottles of beer he downed earlier. You slam down his, now full, shot glass in front of him, spilling some of the clear liquid onto the table.

“That’s like, what, your fourth one? No, wait, it’s your fifth one. My bad.” You stick out your tongue as you perch next to him, pressing yourself to his back and reveling in the way he grimaces at the shot. “If I had known you would make the game so easy, I would have stayed out with Yoori.”

You’re so busy teasing him about his slow gaming reflexes that you don’t notice the way his smile twitches after he downs the drink. He moves uncharacteristically fast and all you can do is sit there as he tosses the tiny plastic cup to side and then turns to lunge at you. Your back hits the couch cushion with a soft thud and your breath leaves you in a whoosh. If it had just been him caging you into the couch because he was fed up with your taunting, it would be fine. But the moment his fingertips dig into your sides, you lose it and start thrashing.

Jungkook knows better than anyone else that you’re a wild tickling victim, all flailing knees and elbows. Truly a danger to anyone who dares to tickle you. But he’s still smart despite being five tequila shots and a few beers in and uses his bulk against you to keep your movement to a minimum. Perhaps it’s a little cruel to take it out on you, but he still can’t get over the selfish simmering of regret at not suggesting you ditch Yoori in favor of letting him spend the day wrapped up in you. He missed you, is what it really boils down to.

“No,” you cackle underneath him, “No, please! Jungkook this isn’t fair. Please!”

He merely flashes you his teeth in a mean grin and continues until your eyes are shimmering with unshed tears and you’ve stopped squirming so you can keep your bladder in check.

“Jungkook, please,” you beg softly in surrender, toes curling.

Maybe it’s the angle. Maybe it’s the pleading voice you’re using, maybe it’s the sparkly quality of your eyes, or the fact that you smell like lavender. The color, not the flower, he notes. Whatever it is, his eyes fall closed automatically and he leans in to slot his mouth over yours. It’s a slow kiss and even though his tongue swipes across the seam of your lips, it has a chaste feeling still. You wriggle your arms out from under his weight and push him off you slowly. Thoughts of Yoori float around in the back of your mind and you can’t turn them away without feeling awful.

“We can’t get into anything today,” you snap and smooth out your skirt. “I got my period while I was out.” You wince when the lie comes out, but you don’t know if there’s any other way to put enough distance between you so you can keep your head straight.

He watches you look around until you spot your overnight bag at the end of the room. “Are you leaving?” His tone bleeds annoyance and takes on a sharp edge.

“Yeah,” you say like it’s obvious. Because it kind of is and the longer you stay, the weaker your resolve gets. “We can’t fool around if I’m on the rag.”

“Just because we can’t fool around, doesn’t mean I want you to leave.” He’s thinks for a second. “Do you want to leave?”

“Well, if we don’t fool around, I should probably go. Otherwise, why the hell am I here?”

His frustration flares up once more and you’re surprised that he’s as upset as he is. “Because I want you to be? And because maybe you want to be here too? Is that so weird? You said yourself this wasn’t anything to make a big deal of.”

“It’s not. But—”

“Then why the hell are you leaving?” He rakes both hands through his hair until he looks frazzled and barks out a sarcastic laugh. You’ve never seen him so angry with you before and strangely your first instinct is to get angrier.

“As opposed to sticking around? To do what?”

“I don’t know. Anything? We could play Mario Kart until our eyes bleed. You could let me practice kissing you and feeling you up all night. Or we could just be silent and drink until we both pass out. I really don’t care just…tell me what you want. Just stay if you want to stay.”

Your cheeks warm at his blunt words, but you put your bag down. He lets out a sigh of relief when you don’t charge out the front door, but he tenses up again when you head out the living room and only relaxes finally when he hears the shower start up. After nearly half an hour, you emerge looking squeaky clean and a little guilty in sweats. He’s not sure what the cause of the guilt is, but he tries not push. You shuffle over to stand in front of him, the sheepish curve of your shoulders making you look tiny.

You hesitate for a second before planting a knee on either side of his thighs and seating yourself in his lap. Your arms come to wrap around the breadth of his shoulders and you rest your cheek on top of his head.

“How was your day,” you mumble into the strands of his shiny chestnut hair.

He preens silently at the affection that he didn’t realize he’d been craving all day and his arms mirror yours. They come up to snake around your waist as he reclines a bit and shifts so he can relax into the couch without jostling you. Out of all of the things you’ve started physically doing with Jungkook, cuddling with him like this might be his favorite thing to do. There’s something incredibly satisfying about getting to bury himself in your scent and softness.

“Fine. Got my work done, skyped with RealiCorp. Met Tae for lunch. Tried to call you to see if you wanted to do dinner with us, but I guess you were busy. How was your time with Yoori?”

“It was,” you sigh, looking for the right word. “It was really fun. Honestly, its really nice to talk with another girl for a change. I’m glad we were able to.” He hums sympathetically and squeezes you a little tighter. “She’s really nice. You’ll be good together,” you admit.

He tenses a bit and changes the topic.

“I could fall asleep like this.” It’s the truth. The way your fingers run through his hair and the warmth of your breasts pillowing his head make him drowsy. Though he can’t focus on it as much as he’d like or else he’ll ruin the mood with an awkward boner.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, shifting so he can smile into your t-shirt.

“You’re so…” you can’t get the words out so instead you hastily smack a loud kiss onto his cheek.

It shocks both of you, but he doesn’t look put off. Instead, he merely adjusts his glasses, which you jostled with the force of your kiss. The gesture is so characteristically him that the floodgates open and you keep planting kisses on his face until he laughs and starts trying to catch your mouth with his own. He manages one or two cheeky kisses on your lips, but you swerve around enough to keep things PG. He huffs and keeps trying, one of his hands coming up to grab at your arm and keep you still. He leans forward, forcing you to lean back in his lap until you can’t anymore without risk of falling. When you clutch at his shoulders to maintain your balance, you’re right where he wants you.

Your eyes are squeezed shut as he brushes his nose against yours. It’s cute, he thinks. By now he knows in theory how you feel about period sex, but where’s the harm in kissing?

“Why are you being so shy? I just wanna kiss you,” he scoffs while attempting to nip at your bottom lip.

“Just kissing?” You open your eyes cautiously, lids at half-mast. He nods hurriedly, fingers drumming an impatient beat on the small of your back.

“O-Okay.” You barely get the word out before he’s swooping in with a low contented sound.

Making out just for the sake of making out reminds you of your time with your first boyfriend, the summer before college started. Only this is so much better because it’s Jungkook and because there’s no race to sex like there was when you were 18. Every press of lips is a deliberate choice and when you finally come up for air, somehow, you’re horizontal and are regretting the lie you told terribly.

He pulls away with a kiss-swollen pout and checks the time. When it’s an appropriate hour for bed and he suggests you both retire to the bedroom to watch TV before bed. You’re a little wary at first, but he’s a gentleman and doesn’t do anything untoward. He even lets you take control of his laptop and the HDMI cord while he writes continuously in his journal. You try to peer over at what he’s writing once you recognize it as his sex journal, but he pins you with such an offended look that you can only turn around feeling properly scolded without having actually been verbally addressed. You don’t think too much of the fact that he’s writing in it despite the fact that you haven’t done much in the amorous realm and he wrote on and off the entire day yesterday.

Even after you’ve watched three episodes of Elementary, he’s still writing. You unplug the computer and turn to look at him in his pretzel legged position. Every so often he’ll look over at you and then return to frantically writing in his journal. You try to engage him in an unspoken staring contest, but your eyelids drop closed and prevent you from winning. Only once it becomes clear that you’re trying to sleep does he wedge his journal underneath his half of the mattress and turn off the lights.

Passing through the weekend and into the next week doesn’t suddenly bring things back to normal. Instead it feels as though you’ve entered the twilight zone.

You and Yoori text on and off all of Sunday and into Monday to compare schedules and see when you can meet up for some quality girl time. This means that Yoori has started to come meet you outside your lecture halls when your classes end to walk to the library together and you arrive at your agreed meeting spots with her preferred coffee order. Your nails are holding up amazingly and you tell her so constantly while she smiles at how excited you are at something she often takes for granted.

Yoori suggested you have your your study sessions in the corner of the library coffee shop because the picture window shows all the light snow you’ve been getting and provides a nice form of visual ambiance to work to. Sometimes the guys attempt to crash the sessions. Often times you have to shoo them away by letting them take your ID card to stock up on hot chocolates with extra whip from the front counter. Your funds are depleting at an alarming rate, but it’s better to have the uninterrupted time with your first girl friend in a long time so you can get to know her better.

“So, are you going home during winter break,” you ask one day while typing away at the results section of a lab report. Yoori sits across from you in an oversized cashmere sweater you wish you could pull of half as well as she does. She’s been working silently for nearly an hour and you know she won’t take a break unless you distract her from the work.

At the sound of your voice, her head pops up instantly, her loose bun spilling out of its structure with the movement and cascading down her back. A freshman walking by the table nearly slams into a door trying to keep looking back at the same time. She closes her laptop, completely unaware of her effect on the people in the surrounding area.

“Yeah, I am. I haven’t in the past few years but my grandparents are coming from the countryside, so I should probably go this time.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you. I’m sure they’d all like to see you.”

“Are you going?”

“No,” you give a bittersweet smile as you play with the damp stirring stick next to your drink. “My family lives too far away for me to be able to go home and make the plane ride worth it. I’ll probably see them in the summer, though.”

“Won’t you be lonely? Do you want to come home with me?” Her brow furrows in sympathy and she reaches out to rub at your arm.

“No, that’s okay, I’ll be fine. It’s not my first rodeo, you know. Plus usually some, if not all, of the guys stick around since they live nearby but still want a break from their families during the day. But thank you though.”

“Okay, well there’s still time if you want to change your mind.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Are you almost done?”

“Almost. I’m waiting on my VASP energies to come in and then I can update my poster and I’ll be all set.”

“VASP? Since when do you do chemistry,” you get up to peer at her computer screen.

Yoori pats the open seat next to her and let her explain the very quick favor she’s doing with a professor she’s been in contact with since undergrad when she thought she would be pre-health.

“—So basically, now she’s just waiting to evaluate grain boundary energies to see if the electrolytes we’re using actually have the right structure to make a difference in hydrogen atom velocities. And I’m just here to help with some minor calculations.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

A small ping from your phone alerts you of an incoming text from ~JK~.

Is Yoori with you?

“Um, I think Jungkook is trying to reach you.”

“Oh! I keep my phone on silent during the day,” she explains and hurriedly switches on the volume before opening whatever texts he must have sent her before he texted you.

“Really?”

“I have yours set on urgent, though.”

You grin. “And why’s that?”

“Because! What if you send me another meme about neural networks? I can’t just let it rot away in my inbox.”

“No one appreciates my memes like you do.”

“Aren’t I great?”

“So great,” you admit with clenched eyes and fists for dramatic feeling.

“I wish I didn’t have to go. I’m enjoying you complimenting me.”

“Oh. Are you headed somewhere?”

“Unfortunately, yes. The energy files just arrived and I’m about to finish entering them. I think Jungkook wants to meet up to discuss things, so I’m just going to pack up now and meet him at the dining commons before the dinner rush kicks in. I’ll text you later.”

“Okay, sure.”

After Yoori packs up to leave, you consider texting Jungkook to ask what he plans on discussing with her, but it feels so clingy and invasive that you’re ashamed of yourself and force yourself to dive into work. The lab report is nearly done, but there are a few articles you could read to get further ahead in your classes. It takes a long while, and you work through the usual dinner time to do it, but you manage to finish thanks to having turned your phone off as soon as Yoori left.

When you turn it back on there are a few recent messages from Taehyung and Hoseok inquiring about late night munchies plans. You figure eating with them is better than eating soup alone in the middle of the nearby convenience store. And better than ignoring the messages in favor of going home early to have pity sleep for dinner. You text them back saying that you’ll meet them in 10 and pack your things up.

You arrive at the smoothie place feeling haggard and not ready to balance Taehyung’s energy and Hoseok’s chaotic existence. The bright side is that there is a medium chocolate shake sitting in the empty seat at the tiny high table they’ve managed to save. You greet them with a tired smile and immediately suck down the drink, reveling in the way the chocolate is already lifting your spirits a bit.

“You look like shit,” Hoseok greets you. Taehyung slaps his arm, but turns to you with concerned eyes.

“Are you sleeping?”

“Why are you guys acting like you don’t see me passed out throughout random parts of the day 80% of the time?”

“Because you don’t look like you do,” Hoseok quips. At your blank stare, he goes back to innocently sipping his guava juice. “Just looking out for you, buddy.”

“Yeah, well I slept all of this weekend, thank you very much. What about you guys? You get up to trouble at the Dairy Queen again? Is that why we’re here this time?”

Tae nods somberly. “Hobi put lit firecrackers in their dumpsters again. But this time he almost caused their elderly delivery guy to go into cardiac arrest.”

“Something is wrong with you.” Hoseok merely winks at you in response.

“The worst part is that I didn’t even have anything to do with it, but they still wouldn’t let me in, even when it was just me and Kook,” Taehyung whines.

Hoseok snorts. “Ok, that’s on you. You were my accomplice even though you technically didn’t touch the fireworks but people remember your face better than they do mine. Should have waited at least a week before trying to go back in there.”

“Wait, this was all in one weekend?”

“Yeah,” Tae reaches over and dips a fry into your cup. “The fireworks were Friday, after game night. And then we tried to go in on Saturday, but they wouldn’t let us in. We tried calling you and everything.”

“You’re mad at me now? It’s not like I could have helped you.”

“Yeah, you could have,” Hoseok corrects, gesturing to your general chest area. “You’ve got the tits for that sort of thing.”

“Why are we friends,” you ask him with a soulless smile.

“Because you won’t let me motorboat you.” His response is immediate and just as dry. It spooks you a little.

“Well, I’m gonna go. I would say it’s been fun, but it hasn’t.”

“Wait!” Taehyung scrambles out of his chair and helps you back into yours. “You can’t leave. Jungkook might be done soon and said he’ll try and meet up with us. It’ll be the first time we’ve all been out together in such a long time.”

“We literally saw her on Friday,” Hoseok groans and tosses his head back in what looks like a mini tantrum. You roll your eyes.

“That was at Kook’s house, that’s not ‘out’. It doesn’t count.” Taehyung turns to plead with you, eyes big and starry, with a comical pout on his face. “Please stay? For me? Ignore him. I do.”

“Hey!”

“Fine,” you sigh before shaking your empty cup. “But I need another one of these. And Hobi is buying.”

“Like hell I am.”

“Do I have to remind you that if it weren’t for you and your whipped cream fixation, I wouldn’t be in the red for dining dollars and I might be able to afford my own drinks from time to time? You owe me, Jung.” You try to poke his sternum menacingly, but he moves to snap his teeth at your finger and you quickly pull back with a shriek. He agrees, though its reluctantly at best.

While Hoseok waits in the line to order your refill, Taehyung scoots his chair closer to yours. Carefully, he attempts conversation.

“How are you holding up?”

“With what, work? It’s the same as always. Tedious.”

“No, I mean with…Did Kook not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“That he planned to officially ask Yoori out tonight,” his voice is quiet and uncertain.

“Oh. No, he didn’t tell me. But, it’s not like its our right to know. He’s an adult. H-how did you find out, though?”

“He told me.”

“And me,” Hoseok says as he sets down the second milkshake in front of you.

“I see.”

You start drinking on autopilot, too busy thinking about why Jungkook wouldn’t tell you such big news despite your being his best friend. You figure maybe he found out about your big fat crush on him and decided he’d rather tiptoe around you than have to let you down gently. Or maybe he just didn’t care enough about you enough to tell you these things now that Yoori was in the picture. What’s good is that the latter thought doesn’t make any resentment towards Yoori rise in your stomach. Instead you just want to curl up in a ball and wonder you did in your past life to deserve such a horrendous love life. Or, you suppose, lack thereof.

“He just shared his location. I think he’s on the way,” Taehyung tentatively disrupts you from zoning out any further.

If you hurried, you could probably take the campus shuttle home and be on your way home before Jungkook arrives, but part of you wants to see how he’ll explain his decision to you. You decide to stay because you don’t want to be anything less than supportive of his new relationship though it’s kind of crushing you in the process.

“Tell him to hurry up, then. You know what happens when I drink cold things,” your voice is light and a little bouncier than is appropriate and you know Taehyung knows what’s going on in your head. But Hoseok doesn’t and you don’t want him to.

Jungkook arrives 10 minutes later with Yoori in tow. She looks sheepish until she sees you sitting at the table and her dimples make an appearance. She runs ahead of Jungkook to envelope you in a hug. You’re still working on the physical boundaries of your friendship given that you’re not a huge fan of suffocation. Still, you pat her arm and let her get her fill before pulling back and offering up half of your chair. She gratefully accepts it and links arms with you immediately after settling down. Everyone scoots closer to open up more space and Jungkook pulls up a seat as well.

“It’s good to see you both, again,” Yoori chirps politely. Hoseok melts at the sound of her voice and beams at her. It’s gross.

“We’re good. It’s nice to see you so often now.” Taehyung chances a look at you. The initial shock of watching you and Yoori become fast friends apparently still hasn’t worn off. You don’t blame him but he’s so obvious about it.

“It is, isn’t it? You guys are just so fun to be around.”

“We like hanging out with you too, Yoori.” Hoseok’s voice climbs almost half an octave trying to sound so abnormally accommodating. Everyone else tries to contain their laughter. “You know, you still haven’t come visit me at the dance studio. I’m starting to get hurt feelings.”

“W-well, it’s just that I’ve been so busy and I still haven’t figured out a gap in my schedule when I can properly come see you. I’m very sorry,” she squeezes your arm unconsciously as she bows her head a little to him in apology. Your pulse picks up sympathetically for her.

“Hobi, if she wanted to see you do sweaty body rolls in an empty room, don’t you think she would have done it already?” When his smile twitches at your comment you add a quick, “I’m only trying to be realistic. I’m looking out for you, buddy.”

Yoori hisses your name in your ear, but you can tell that she’s trying not to smile at your sharp wit from her tone of voice.

“Anyway,” Hoseok starts up again, “Yoori, don’t you and Jungkookie have some good news to tell us all?”

Yoori’s cheeks redden at the sudden shift in topic and she looks to Jungkook for help. His face is similarly pink with embarrassment, but he still clears his throat like he’s about to make a toast.

“It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to say that I can’t do game night this Friday since I’ll be having dinner with Yoori in town.”

“You’re all welcome to join us, if you like,” she quickly amends. Your eyes widen and you swoop in to help Jungkook save face. You know it probably took him a lot to muster the courage to ask her out in the first place and if you don’t do anything, you know Hoseok will gladly wriggle his way in and ruin the date.

“Oh, we couldn’t possibly intrude on your dinner. But, thank you, for the offer. Right Tae? Right, Hobi?” Hoseok sulks but wordlessly agrees to stay out of their date.

“Yeah,” Taehyung jumps in to help you. “We’ll just have the game night at my place. I want to play cards anyway, instead of console games this time around.”

Everyone nods until the awkward air dissipates and all that’s left is the background noise of the diner and the sound of people finishing their drinks. The cold from your shakes starts to seep into your bones and you decide to use this as your exit ticket.

“Hey, sorry to ruin the fun, but I’m freezing and I didn’t bring a real jacket, so I think I’m gonna head home. You guys have fun without me, though.”

“You can just wear my sweater,” Jungkook pipes up and begins to pull the thick, woolen pullover he was wearing over his head. But you hold your hand up to stop him as you get down from your stool and collect your trash.

“No, Kook, you’re fine. I’m just gonna use the cold as motivation to get to the bus quicker. Have a good night, everyone.”

“It’s colder out there. At least take his sweater,” Yoori calls out to you. “For me,” she adds when you look like you’re thinking about it.

“Fine,” you huff as you take the sweater from Jungkook. You slide it on in front of everyone so they can have their worries assuaged. It’s still toasty from his leftover body heat and smells like his laundry detergent. He might not get it back for a while. “See? I’ll definitely be fine now.”

“Why don’t I go with you? I’ve still got a robotics assignment I have to work on. Plus, we can split cab fare instead of waiting for the bus.” Tae shrugs on his own coat and goes to stand by you.

“Okay.” You ignore his probing look until you finish waving to everyone and leave the restaurant.

Taehyung shoves his hands in his pockets as you request a ride home through an app on your phone. The silence is companionable, but the waves of pity and sympathy rolling off Taehyung are damn near palpable and you’re about to burst if you don’t address it.

“Just say what you’re thinking. I can practically hear it anyway.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m not 12. I’m not going to be devastated just because they’re going out on one date.”

“Yeah, but,” Taehyung hesitates for a bit, trying to cushion the blow, “You know it’s just a matter of time before they become official, right?”

“I know that too,” you wince when your voice cracks a little.

“If you ever need anything, you know we’re here for you.” You raise an incredulous eyebrow at the implication that Hosoek would do anything less than laugh in your face if you came to him looking for comfort. “Well, I am, at least.”

“I know, Tae. Thank you.” You let him wrap you in a one-armed hug, but don’t let him pull away so you can steal his warmth as you wait for your car to arrive.

Yoori’s apartment is nicer than anything you’ve ever seen. So much so that you have a hard time believing that you even live in the same town. It’s technically not your first time visiting her building and you’ve called many a late night cab from her plush lobby. You’ve even started to make small talk with her doorman since you’re there so often. But something was keeping you from coming up and visiting her actual apartment. All the times you’d hung out off campus had been at your place or at Jungkook’s place. There had been a lull in all that since Jungkook announced that they’d be going on a date only a few days prior.

After that fateful day, it was hard to act like there hadn’t been subtle changes in the way people were acting. Jungkook was suddenly super busy or always at the gym and couldn’t ever pick up your calls. And when he did return them it was only when you were dead asleep and couldn’t pick up your phone. For that, you were actually kind of grateful because you were certain that the next time you saw him on your own, he would try to break it to you that he couldn’t return your affections and that you could no longer be friends.

Taehyung and Hoseok, on the other hand, were still somewhat normal, but Hoseok was too excited about Yoori’s unofficial entry into the friend group and Taehyung kept soft-touching you like he could take up your pain through osmosis. Yoori was the only one who hadn’t suddenly turned weird and it was only because she wasn’t aware of the chaos floating around you all.

When she’d asked you to come shopping with her on the high street, you had a hunch that it was so she could get some new outfits for the many date nights with Jungkook ahead. You didn’t expect her to try and rope you into buying things as well, though you managed to get out it by truthfully explaining to her that Taehyung and Hoseok were still using your student ID like it was a credit card in someone else’s name and you had to be frugal as a result. But just when you thought you were in the clear as you approached her building, she invited you up to help her style the stuff she bought and stick around for dinner. To keep from having to explain yourself, you said yes.

But you instantly regretted it as you stood in the middle of her chicly decorated bedroom with picture windows and realized that despite the fact that you were extremely fond of Yoori, there was still a very small part of you that wished you had her life. It felt juvenile and reminded you that even after you stopped being a teenager you still had a ton of self-esteem issues left to address. The sooner you finished helping her with her outfits, the sooner you could maybe curl up on her couch and down the bottle of wine you bought while you were shopping earlier.

“I don’t think I like this one as much now that we’re not in the store anymore.” Yoori frowns at her reflection from inside the walk-in closet. The fact that she had a walk-in closet did not surprise you, but your mouth still dropped open when you the little seating area and the full-length panel of mirrors inside of it.

You finish picking out an alternative and then call out to her. “Come out and let me see it?”

She emerges in a short and slinky dress that would be perfect if it weren’t for the way it slouched at the neckline. It seemed intentional in the store with the way the salesman was pushing hard for her to buy it, but now it looked oddly frumpy.

“I think I see what you mean. Turn?” She obeys and turns gracefully, the skirt flaring out around her hips. “Why don’t you try these? They’d look amazing with that red blouse you wore when we went to the movies that one time.” You hand her some satiny trousers that she picked up on a whim but ended up really liking. If she paired them with red, Jungkook’s favorite color, he’d eat his heart out.

“You’re right, I think this is the one,” Yoori smiles widely at you and comes out with two pairs of shoes in her hand. Silently you point to the pair that would go better with the outfit, the ones with a subtle gold traces etched into the stiletto heel.

“If you want, you can wear your hair in a ponytail. Show off your neck, he’ll like it.”

“Really?” She laughs, slightly bashful. “Is he a neck guy?”

“For you? He’s a neck guy, hand guy, lips guy, ass guy. You name it.” As soon as Yoori hangs up her outfit for the date and puts it on her closet door, you flop face first into her bed, exhausted in so many ways.

“Why do you know so much about his, um, preferences? Is he vocal about that sort of thing?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” your voice is muffled by her bedspread.

“And are you not vocal about that sort of thing, then?”

Luckily she can’t see your face as you roll the question around in your head. You’re no prude and if it weren’t for the unfortunate series of events that is your life, you would love nothing more than to swap sex stories with Yoori as a form of bonding. But given that you can’t and you don’t really want to end up having to listen to her talk about sex with him when it comes, you decide one more white lie won’t hurt.

“I’m just a really private person, so I don’t really do that.”

“Good to know,” she chuckles and you miss the disappointed look on her face when she realizes she won’t be able to share with you. Although, it would make sense that you wouldn’t want to hear her talk about your childhood best friend like that. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Sleep.”

“Are you tired? How about we take a rain check and think about it again in a few hours? I’m gonna go come up with some slides for my coding class, but you’re welcome to nap in here and I’ll wake you up before it gets too late.”

“That…sounds great. Thanks, Yoori.”

“No problem.”

You wait until she closes her bedroom door and you’re certain you’re alone. When the sound of the soft music that she plays when she works drifts through the speakers in her living room, you crawl up to the head of the bed, get under the covers, and cry into the pillow. The sleep that follows is amazing though and you think it’s half because your body was running on fumes and half because Yoori has the best mattress you’ve ever slept on.

#bangtan bookclub #bttnetwork #networkbangtan #btswriters #bts scenarios #bangtan scenarios #bts fanfction #bangtan fanfic #bts imagines #bangtan imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine

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thelastarchangelaskblog · 5 years

Text

Charcoal as Breakfast

This is another fun group chat! Involving most of the party talking about food and that you should not let Tony cook at all because otherwise bugs or tools may end up in the stew.

Tony & Zira’s Chat

Tony & Rhodey’s Chat

Tony & Rhodey Compile a List

The Trouble with Two Tonys

Rhodey & Bob(Tony)

Rhodey & Zira (and Tony)

DJ & Zira

DJ & Tony

Rhodey & DJ

** (Read more.)

It's morning time. Everyone has started waking up, moving around and breaking camp. Rhodey has gravitated towards the fire, attempting to make the rations more palatable for everyone [without much luck] and his new friend with an unknown name today and Luna are nearby.

Rhodey (to Bob): Hey, friend. What's your name today?

Jim Bob: My name is Jim, always was.

Rhodey: Alright, Jim.

Luna: Jim's a nice name.

Luna (to Rhodey): How are you with breakfast? Anything I can do to help?

Rhodey: I'm not really sure what I'm doing, so... if you have any ideas feel free.

Jim Bob: Same here. I only know the basics to cooking.

Luna goes over to look at the rations.

Luna: It looks like you're doing well. Nothing's on fire anyway.

Jim Bob: ....Should anything be on fire?

Rhodey: (chuckles) that's something I suppose. No, no, I don't think so.

Luna: I used to set my food on fire a lot when I first started cooking so I have a low bar.

Rhodey: That sounds like an exciting experience.

Luna: Not really. My Mum used to experiment so I was used to more explosions.

Rhodey: Oh? What type of experimentation? Was she an alchemist like DJ or an artificer like Tony?

Jim: Wait, there are supposed to be explosions when you cook? I was never told that!

Luna: Not when cooking, no.

Jim: Ah, okay.

Luna: She was a healer so she liked to try new things.

Rhodey: That sounds wonderful. Did you pick anything up from her?

Luna: I can make a few healing potions with a herbalism kit, but she, uh, didn't really get much chance to teach me before she died.

Jim: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

Rhodey: Oh, I'm sorry for your loss.

Jim and Rhodey speak at the same time.

Luna: It's okay. I just miss her sometimes. I want to be someone she'll be proud of.

Jim: I'm sure you're living up to that. It can't be easy, the loss of a family member...

Luna: (mournfully) No. It's not. What are your families like?

Jim: (looks away) I don't know them.

Luna: Sorry.

Rhodey: I'm sorry, Jim.

Jim: It's fine. You can't miss what you don't know, right?

Rhodey: I suppose that's true.

Luna: It's still sad.

Jim: Yeah, I guess. I might find them if I look long enough. But enough about me, what about you, Rhodey?

Rhodey: I, uh, I'm from a farming community. Grew up with my parents and two siblings. They... Well, I was always a little different than them, but we got along. Argued and loved each other, that sort of thing. My little sister was always my favorite. She was always full of joy at everything.

Luna: That's nice. Siblings always sound like fun.

Jim: Yeah.

Rhodey: They're also a pain in the ass, sometimes. But that's what family is. Just look at Tony and DJ-- they both drive me up the wall sometimes.

Luna: They seem very skilled at that.

Rhodey: Very.

Luna: But they seem very caring anyway

Rhodey: Yes, I'm rather fond of them.

Luna: They must be happy you can call them family.

Rhodey: I hope so.

Jim: Okay, I hate to break this up but THE FOOD IS ON FIRE HELP

Luna: What? OH !

Rhodey: Shit! (He lunges to grab it out and juggles with it) Hot hot hot!

Luna pulls off her cloak and waves it at the food and fire. The smoke blows away from them.

Jim pulls his off as well and joins in with Luna)

Luna: Is breakfast okay?

Rhodey manages to pat out the fire on the food and it's just... a little charred.

Rhodey: More or less?

Luna: Still edible.

Jim: Food enough, I guess.

Rhodey: I think we should not try that again.

Luna: That sounds like a good idea. Maybe one of the others is better at cooking than us? I'm only really good with the basics. Stews and stuff.

Rhodey: Gods, I hope so. Let’s go... break the news to everyone.

Luna: And meat.

Jim: (calling out to the rest of the group) Breakfast is uh..... ready, guys. Nothing- nothing happened at all.

Luna: I'll just sort out the fire.

Rhodey face-palms and sighs.

Luna: A forest fire would be very bad. Might attract heliopaths. And kill lots of innocent animals.

Rhodey: Heliopaths? (He squints through his hand at Luna.)

Luna stamps out the edges of the fire, leaving only the controlled middle.

Luna: Heliopaths are spirits of fire they're not particularly friendly. Out here though you'd only find the children so there’s no need to worry.

Rhodey: .... ok?

Jim: That sounds pretty cool.

Luna: Which bit of breakfast is mine?

Jim: ...Or hot, depending on your perspective. And here. (He sections off rations and slides part of it to Luna.)

Luna: They're not. Thanks. But we really don't know enough about them

Jim: I'd love to know more about them later.

Luna stops talking and tucks into breakfast.

Rhodey shrugs and does the same.

Luna: I'd love to tell you more. When we're on the road maybe?

Jim: Sure, I'd like that very much.

Tony drops by briefly to check on the cooking.

Tony: I think I’m going to eat from my rations. Note of warning, don’t let Rhodey cook again. It usually involves fire.

Jim: To be fair, we were distracted...

Tony: That is no excuse. He’s supposed to be a soldier! Vigilant! How does he lose track of what he’s cooking?

Rhodey somehow hears Tony despite being several feet away and immediately whirls around. Rhodey: That was one time, and you were involved in it, too, mister!

Jim: Oh?

Zira is dragging herself out of her bedroll, hair somehow even messier and fluffier than it normally is.

Tony: I was not! You were the only one cooking! And maybe I would have helped if someone hadn’t banned me from cooking!

Rhodey: And remind me what you were doing??

Jim: Zira! You’re up, breakfast is... uh, something.

Zira: Cooking? Why are we cooking?? Breakfast is what??

Tony (to Rhodey): I was helping DJ is what.

Rhodey: because I definitely remember an explosion.

Zira: I thought we were talking about cooking.

Jim: Luna said there weren’t supposed to be explosions when you cook...

Zira: How in the world would you explode something while you cook

Rhodey: Oh no, they weren't cooking. They were just distracting me!

Jim: I would like to know that, too, please.

Zira’s staggering over, and peers at the, uh, food.

Tony: We weren’t anywhere near the fire!

Zira: What did you do???

Rhodey: Yeah, Tony, what did you do?

Tony: Although maybe what we were doing ended up being thrown into the fire...

Jim: ...the food may or may not have been on fire?

Rhodey: Maybe? Maybe?

Zira: This is exactly something Asher would do. She loves fire.

Tony: But to be fair the food was already on fire before anything fell into the campfire.

Zira: Please don’t explode my food.

Tony: So the food being on fire was 100% not my fault. Or maybe 85% not my fault.

And before anyone else can set it on fire or blow it up or whatever, Zira grabs her portion of whatever it was and retreats back away from the flames.

Tony: The other 15% is DJ’s.

Rhodey: ...

Zira: I’ll say it once I'll say it a hundred times. Every single one of you is absolutely crazy.

Jim: ..thanks?

Tony: Well, sure we are! But what does that make you since you’re hanging out with us?

Zira: Along for the ride. And entertained. (And with that, she raises up the plate, and her face splits open, mouth widening far past what should be possible, and she swallows the burned rations whole.)

Rhodey: (mutters, wandering back to pack up his stuff) We're all insane. I'm insane... (He doesn't notice Zira.)

Tony: (calls after Rhodey) You love us!

Rhodey waves back vaguely but doesn’t turn around.

Jim doesn’t see what Zira did due to his shit eyesight.

Tony did see what Zira did and doesn’t even blink, shooting her a thumbs up and a wink.

Zira smiles back, seeming a bit confused at the thumbs up + wink but happy nonetheless, and then, she drags herself to her feet and mumbles something about coffee and wanders off towards her pack, presumably to get ready for the day.

Tony (looks at Bob): Anyway, don’t let Rhodey cook.

Jim: Okay?

Tony: I mean it. Unless you like your food being charcoal. And you honestly don’t seem the type.

Jim: Well, I can do the basics. Feel free to pitch in.

Tony: Didn’t you hear me? I’ve been banned from all cooking-related activities. You accidentally put your tools in the stew one time...

Jim: You can, uh, shout helpful advice from a distance if it makes you feel better. And how on earth do you put your tools in stew????

Tony: Well, they weren’t in the stew so much as next to the stew and I guess to be fair no one was expecting the chittering recording I was trying out...

Jim: Next to the stew?

Tony: What else am I supposed to do when waiting for it to stew? People get creeped out by bugs; I was trying out something creepy for size. ...there may have been bugs that ended up in the stew

Jim: Okay, I understand where Rhodey is coming from.

Tony: It was only the one time!

Jim: But it could happen again....

Tony: Besides, bugs are nutritious. You sound like Rhodey.

Jim: You eat a bug.

Tony: Not normally but yeah, I’ve had a few in my lifetime.

Jim tries to modulate his mental voice to sound like Rhodey's.

It doesn't work.

DM: It's very hard to change your Inner Thoughts voice.

Tony: That sounded absolutely terrible and nothing like Rhodey at all. Please do it again in front of him.

Jim: Sure.

Tony: He’d go (puts on high-pitched voice) That does not sound like me!

Jim: ...I don't think you sound like him either.

Tony: Fair. He’d probably just pat you on your back. Anyway, enjoy your charcoal. I’m going to go and eat something that hasn’t been burned.

Jim: Enjoy your meal, too!

#rebaobsessions #thechaoticwave #imagine1117 #heliocentricgeometric #d&d campaign

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powerwordsleep · 5 years

Text

naruto!DnD au

the team 7!DnD verse that nobody @baasama asked for

and because there’s already some stuff out there that’s completely terrible not only for team 7, but also DnD, so i felt the need to do right by both.

Three travelers stand alone on a vast cliff, a smoke-darkened sky above and an endless drop to death below. Blood, dirt, and weeks worth of grime litters their skin and clothes. Their journey has been long, perilous, unrelenting, but they finally made it to the end. Victory beckons them. The promise of peace, happiness, and a not ungenerous sum of gold is only one more fight away. One more dance of kill or be killed.

The horizon dances red with the flames of the nearby villages burning below them. They had managed to evacuate most of the civilians before the attack began, but they had passed by more than a few charred, burned beyond recognition bodies on their trek up the mountain. Each fallen they passed only hardened their resolve.

The sound of an earth-shaking roar escapes from the mouth of the cave in front of them. The ground quakes as the footsteps of something giant stalks forward to meet its challengers. A large red snout appears first, shining like the blood running in the streets below, and the lips spread in a bloodthirsty grimace, revealing a row of sharp, glistening fangs. The creature growls in what is meant to be a chuckle, a plume of smoke shooting out of its nostrils and into the faces of the three tiny figures before it.

“So, you’ve arrived at last.”

One figure steps forward, seemingly unafraid even in the face a would-be god. “Yeah, we’ve come to put an end to your stupid reign of violence and bloodshed and… stupidness!” The man puffs out his chest in bravado. “Believe it!”

“Idiot,” his companion scoffs from behind. “It’s not a great idea to threaten a dragon right to its face.”

“Shut up, Lucien!” the first man whips around to glare. “What are you, scared of some lizard action?”

The man called Lucien seethes. “No, Markus, I just don’t have a death wish!”

Markus turns to face Lucien completely, the large, foreboding, capable of ending the world as they know it enemy front of them forgotten.

“How many times do I have to tell you, my name is Markus Ultimate!”

“As if I would use that ridiculous name -”

“Do you wanna fucking go? Do you wanna fucking brawl right here Lucien because I swear to god-”

“Will the two of you shut up!” the third member of the party interrupts. “We do not have time for petty squabbles when there’s a dragon to fight!”

“Aww, but Nila, Lucien is being a dick again!” Markus Ultimate whines.

The woman called Nila sighs, having heard this song many times before. “Sorry, Markus Ultimate, but Lucien kind of has a point. We should have gone with his idea and tried to find a back entrance and sneak in, rather than face this thing head on.”

Lucien raises his chin in triumph and Markus Ultimate, eyes daring him to make another snarky remark. Markus Ultimate pouts and mutters, “You’re just siding with Lucien because you’re sleeping with him in real life.”

A cacophony of groans, sighs, and indignant shouts ruin whatever slim illusion of in-game fantasy they had managed to immerse themselves in. Kakashi sighs and rubs at his exposed eyebrow, his headache sure to make a reappearance.

“Naruto, that was completely uncalled for! You know what we said about breaking character like that, and besides, I do not give special preference to Sasuke just because-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Naruto cuts of Sakura’s rant. “You boning Sasuke on the regular isn’t affecting Nila and Lucien’s relationship at all.”

“Why are you so fixated on our sex life, deadlast?” Sasuke accuses, one eyebrow twitching in both anger and disgust. “Stay out of our business.”

Naruto turns red and ignores Sasuke’s comment in favor of shouting at Kakashi, as if all of this was somehow his fault, “Let’s get back to the game already, Kakashi-sensei! We got a dragon to fight!”

“Everyone roll initiative,” Kakashi says before the argument can get any worse. Like addressing whatever weird tension that last comment had triggered.

Kakashi is getting too old for this.

“14,” Sakura says.

“Aww, man, I got a 12,” Naruto groans.

“It’s not a competition, Naruto,” Kakashi reminds him. For the 100th time.

“But if it was I would kick your ass. 21.” Sasuke just has to so unhelpfully egg him on.

Naruto predictably takes the bait. “Hey that’s unfair! Sasuke is cheating!”

Sakura rolls her eyes and gestures to the dice. “No, he’s not. He rolled an 17 and gets a +4 to initiative because he has high Dex as a Rogue.”

Sasuke smirks across the table. “Maybe you shouldn’t have chosen to be a Bard if you’re so upset about it.”

“Alright, Sasuke you’re up first.”

Sasuke peers over the map set up on the table and considers his position. “Do I have enough movement to get to those clusters of rocks over there?”

“Yes, but if you want to try and hide you have to roll with disadvantage because the dragon is right there -”

“23.”

Kakashi sighs. “Alright, you’ve somehow successfully hidden behind the rocks, because the dragon was distracted by Markus Ultimate making a scene.”

Naruto slaps the table in glee. “Ha! You’re welcome, Lucien.”

Kakashi politely coughs to reign in their attention. “Next is the dragon’s turn.”

His three former students lean in, eager to see what the first move will be. “The dragon steps fully out of the cave, his full height towering 20 feet above you. He makes two claw attacks at you, Markus Ultimate, and swipes his tail at you, Nila.”

Kakashi rolls his die behind the privacy screen. “18 and 16 to hit for you Markus -”

“It’s Markus Ultimate!”

“- and 21 for you, Nila.”

Sakura grimaces as she checks her character sheet. “Hits.”

“You take 14 points of slashing damage as the dragon swings his tail over the cliff and slams into your torso.”

Sakura marks down the damage on her sheet and Kakashi looks expectantly at Naruto.

He’s smirking. Never a good sign.

“I cast Vicious Mockery on the dragon and say, ‘Get wrecked, you gecko!’”

Kakashi rolls his D20 and audibly groans when the dice comes to a stop.

“The dragon fails the save.” Naruto whoops in celebration. “As his claws race towards you, you say your, um, chant, and it disturbs the dragon enough that you are able to evade and reduce some of the damage.”

“Your turn, Nila.”

Sakura grins and rubs her hands together in anticipation. “Watch how it’s done, boys! I move to the dragon and take two swipes at it with my sword.”

“Roll for both attacks.”

They watch as Sakura rolls the die. “10 and 17!” Sakura says, and in sync all three head turn towards the DM, eagerly awaiting the result.

“The first one misses,” he begins and they nod, having expected that,”and the second one…” Kakashi swears they’re about to fall out of their seats. “Hits.”

“Yes!” Sakura pumps her fist up in the air. “And I cast Divine Smite!”

“Roll the extra d8s of damage.”

Sasuke passes her the extra die and Naruto gives a, “Hell yeah, Nila!” of encouragement.

After the damage is calculated Kakashi addresses Naruto. “Your turn, Markus Ultimate.”

Naruto is silent for a few moments, which is probably a new record for him. When he speaks, is low and serious.

“I walk forward in front of the dragon.”

“Don’t you dare, Naruto,” Sasuke warns. An impending sense of doom begins to overtake Kakashi.

“I say, ‘Hey dude, this here, this thing you’re doing, it’s like not very cool. In fact, it sucks. Cause people are cool, you know? You could be friends with people, instead of burning them and shit. It’s actually a lot more fun! Do you have any friends? I could be your friend! I understand the pain of loneliness. You’re just like me -’”

“You can’t be serious.” Sasuke says.

“Naruto, please,” Sakura begs.

Naruto doesn’t take his eyes off Kakashi.

“Roll a persuasion check.”

Naruto grabs his dice. Sasuke turns aways, muttering, “I can’t freaking watch this,” while Sakura holds his hand in a deathgrip. Kakashi can feel his hairline receding.

He dice leaves Naruto’s hand, falls to the table, bounces, once, twice, then rolls, swaying on one of its edges, before it falls to one side and comes to a stop.

Their eyes lock onto the number displayed.

“No, it can’t be,” Sakura whispers, horrified.

“I’m fucking done,” Sasuke says and leaves his seat.

“HELL YEAH!” Naruto yells, jumping out of his seat.

Kakashi blinks, rubs are his eye, and leans forward. Just to check. To really make sure this is happening.

20.

Naruto managed to roll a natural 20.

“Add your Charisma modifier.” Kakashi reminds Naruto mid victory dance.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Naruto grabs his crumpled and ripped character sheet and scans for the correct number. “Umm so the total is a 25!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sakura plops her head on the table, defeated.

“I haven’t even made an attack!” Sasuke yells from the other room.

Kakashi can’t blame them for their reactions. After all the weeks of careful planning he had done, after all the character building and development of the story, leading up to the final, epic battle and…

Naruto talks their way out of it.

Again.

“The dragon is… touched by your eloquent speech. He decides he’d like to be friends even though he was trying to destroy you and your world a second ago. I guess.”

“Whoooo!” Naruto cheers. “Great fight guys, yeah? That was so much fun.”

Sakura glares at Naruto. There’s a crash from the other room, presumably from Sasuke throwing a fit.

Kakashi gathers his myriad of campaign note papers in front of him, then in a blur of hand signs sets them ablaze in a quick fire jutsu.

Time to start preparing for the next campaign.

#Team 7 #Naruto #Dungeons and Dragons #fanfiction #dnd #naruto fanfic #sasuke is a rogue #sakura is a paladin #naruto is a bard #it's canon okay

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shmisolo · 6 years

Text

Some recommendations for showing your appreciation for fic

I never know how to make this post, largely because I write fic and so I don’t want it to come across as a “do this for me.” But I see my peers and friends routinely stating that they don’t know how their fics are being recieved and feel as though they are shouting their fic into a void and that it is wildly disheartening.

So since I had time on my hands this morning, I’m writing up some suggestions for you. This is long. I’m not putting it under a cut for Reasons.

Tumblr

Reblog fic.

That’s the biggest one. Hitting like feels great. I, as your fic writer, enjoy it when my fic is liked. I, as an author, get really excited when someone is recommending my fic.

Reblogging is not just showing your appreciation; it is recommending it to the people who follow you. It’s a double whammy.

Most fic readers like fic recommendations. There’s a lot of fic out there, and so someone saying “Hi, I liked this and enjoy it, you might too” is really appreciated as a reader who is trying to figure out what to do.

Comment on fic.

Commenting is a great way to show support for a fic and an author. It’s talking to them and showing your appreciation for their work. It can be finger mashing, it can be something longer. Tumblr comment culture tends to rely on sending shorter notes, but I’ve never seen an author complain about getting a long comment ever in my life.

Tag Commentaries - One of the things I like about tumblr is that tag culture has turned, over the years, into a way to add some subtle commentary while reblogging. So you can tag things functionally (#fic is my functional reblogged fic tag), and then add anything you want in the tags. Adding a simple “I loved this” in the tags makes an author feel great and might motivate them to write more.

Replies - Replying to the fic is another great way to show an author you liked their story. The author (and the person you might be getting the reblog from) will get a notification of what you are saying on their post. So even if you don’t follow the author, you can still say you appreciate their work.

Reblog additions - You can also add your own commentary to the caption of the fic as you see fit! Different fandoms have different conventions on this, and authors have different preferences. Similar to replies, the author will get a notification in their activity feed that you’ve said something and be able to check it out.

Sending asks or DMs - This is another way to reach out to an author and let them know you liked their story. It’s more private and personal, which means it happens rarely. But especially if you’re shy, sending a nice anon (especially when most people’s associations with anons are p r e t t y n a s t y, can be really a day-brightener).

Some general recommendations

Commenting is hard, especially when you don’t know what to say but have a lot of good feelings about a fic.

Things not to do: “When are you going to update?” / “More please!” - Sometimes this can be well recieved; other times it can have the opposite effect. Some authors might take it well, others might take it as demanding and it might kill the joy they have in their story and so, far from getting the update you want, you won’t get anything at all. Recommended alternatives: saying what you liked to make you want more from the story.

Tone is a tricky thing to navigate generally online. Something that might sound right in your head might be read very differently by the reader, so sometimes comments that are well-meant can come across as sarcastic/caustic and thus insulting when the author is reading them. Be mindful and aware--we know you don’t mean that, but that doesn’t mean your words don’t hurt unintentionally.

Didn’t like something? Or something grated you? The author got canon wrong? Take a deep breath. It’s just fanfiction and you are not entitled to their work. If they are not asking for critical feedback, your providing some unsolicited is crossing lines in an editorial process that you might not be aware of as a non-writer. Just take a deep breath and keep scrolling.

Something as simple as a “this was great!” can go a long way. If you want to go even further than that, pick a line you liked or a moment and say that you liked it.

Like fic.

If you’re not going to reblog fic but you enjoy it, I strongly recommend hitting the like button. Not everyone uses the like button on this website the same way. (I use tumblr across multiple devices and so I hit like on most posts I reblog just to remember that I’ve already seen the post; I know not everyone does this though.) But if you’re someone who uses the like button fairly liberally, this is a strong move.

Following.

Obviously--you get to choose who you follow. But if you like a fic, check out the author’s blog, and consider giving them a follow.

There are also frequently fic-amassing blogs within larger fandoms. Those are good ones to check out too!

AO3(/FF.N/Other Platforms)

These are mostly recommendations based on AO3, though some may apply to other fic publishing platforms.

Comments

I’m not going to type all that up again. I’d say the suggestions I made in the tumblr comment section apply across all platforms.

@longlivefeedback has a comment builder tool if you want help with writing a longer comment.

The only other point I’d say is there’s not time-limit on when to give a comment. Someone posted the fic three years ago? Five years ago? Drop a note! I’ve never seen an author complain about getting a comment on an old fic. On the contrary, most of them are thrilled when it happens.

Kudos

Kudos are not like the tumblr like function. They aren’t a way to save a fic you like--they are an easy way to show appreciation for a fic you’ve read. If you liked it, and don’t regret the time spent reading, I recommend hitting the kudos button. Most authors have daily emails turned on with Kudos updates from fics on AO3 and will get a note saying a fic got a kudos. That feels good: some read their fic and enjoyed reading their fic.

Bookmarks

You can have both private and public bookmarks on AO3.

Private is good for things you....might want to keep private (like that kinky fucking porn that you really enjoyed and might...want to...find....again later....) (Or whatever else you want to keep private.)

Public will appear on your AO3 profile. If someone is checking out your profile, they might see bookmarks as recommendations of good fic they might enjoy. Since AO3 doesn’t have a reblog function, this is as close as you can get to having a catered fic recs section on that platform.

You can add additional tags and commentaries to your bookmarks as you’re saving them, allowing you to organize as you see fit. Additional commentaries are something the author can also see and which might make their day in the way a comment might.

Cross-Platform

A lot of authors have multiple platforms they engage with. Some will post directly to AO3 (or another platform), some will post to both tumblr and AO3.

If you find something on AO3 that you enjoy, a good number of authors will link--either in their profile or in their fics--how you can find them on tumblr. If you want to spread an AO3 fic you find to your followers, see if the author has an original post they made about the fic that you can reblog--that way the author knows what traction their fic is getting, and where it’s coming from. (We like to know that shit. Trust me.)

If the author doesn’t have a post you can find, I strongly recommend @-mentioning them here on tumblr so they get a notification and know that they’re getting recommended.

If you’re making a post that lists out AO3 recs and you put the AO3 author handle--but know that the author has a tumblr, please also @-mention their tumblr. They love knowing they’re getting recommended.

If you see an author you follow is posting a lot of tumblr fic, check out their AO3--they might have more! If you don’t see a link for their profile on their blog, ask after it! Chances are you’ll make them feel warm and fuzzy because that’s an ask that says “I love your writing. Is there more of it I can check out?” Even if they don’t have an account on AO3, you might get links to more fic for you to check out.

Some Notes for Authors

I read (and reblogged) a post a while back that talks about social media and fic writing. The thing that’s hard about all this is that, even if AO3 doesn’t feel like a social media (we all know that Tumblr is one, for better and for worse) that doesn’t mean it’s not still beholden to some of the same laws that affect all web platforms, regardless of content or purpose.

I’m gonna quote the first post that I linked above (thank you @obotligtnyfiken for adding info to that post):

1 % are very active. They are the fans. They create their own content (hello, fanfic!), they cheer you on, they protest. 9 % may respond when you ask them to do something, but they will not take initiative. And they will not engage every time. 90 % will never engage, whatever you do.

Let me first say: it sucks to think about your fic in terms of marketing standards when you might not have any experience in marketing. Considering what a success rate is based on what social media success is considered to be rather than the more nuanced forms of “I got a bunch of reviews and they were heartening” sucks. But if you’re looking at hit counts and kudos counts, the above is important to bear in mind: most of your readers might enjoy but not engage because that’s how internet users engage with internet content across the board. (Think about all that stuff you see on Facebook because you follow a page. You might see it. You might even appreciate the information. You might not hit the like button.) It sucks that the same is true of fic but...the same is true of fic.

Readers: You’re reading this. You see what authors are balancing when they’re posting their fic online. Please be mindful. And I encourage you to engage with things you like. Don’t be that silent 90%!

Because of this, bearing in mind that if you have a 10% kudos:hit ratio on your fic, that’s doing pretty well.

@longlivefeedback has a good breakdown of how the AO3 hit counter works. I recommend checking it out since it was more protective of authors than I had initially thought.

People are engaging with your fic, despite the fact that 90% of people don’t necessarily engage with content on the internet that they might still enjoy. If you’re writing a chaptered fic, that number might get skewed so the percentage seems even lower.

That being said, there are still ways that a hit:kudos ratio might get skewed in ways that might actually be kinder to your fic than you think: let’s say that someone goes back and rereads your fic after a few weeks or months or years (or days tbh). You’ll get fresh hits from that. They might not necessarily say anything--they left a kudos and a comment last time. They gave their feedback. But you’re still getting hits from them.

Readers: authors welcome “I’m rereading this and still love it” reviews. If you’re reading through this section and want to support your authors, be aware of all the different feedback inputs they’re contending with, and what seem like happy fun fic time to you might come across as “no one likes my stuff,” to them which could be flatly untrue.

#fanfiction culture #fanfiction

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doomedandstoned · 5 years

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Engaging With Your Peers For DIY Success

~Bacon's Blog~

The single greatest thing you can do for your band is to make friends in every city. The single greatest thing you can do to make friends for your band is to help other bands out. It’s as simple as that. If you want DIY success, then that’s all that matters. In this article, I want to dive into some tactics for befriending other bands and working to grow together. If we can’t grow together then we are wasting our time. I know that some of you may really want to push a me, me, me approach, and that definitely works for a time. The thing is, it doesn’t work all the time and it often makes it so that you end up being stranded, unable to find people who want to collaborate with you. If you are self-serving, after a certain point, people are just going to respond with a "fuck that guy" attitude and your whole attempt at growth is going to be shot.

So how do you make friends with bands that want the same things as you? You know, the bands that are serious about finding opportunities to tour and support the scene? Well, for starts, you need to interact online in a big, bad way, then you'll start to realize that not all is as it seems. While you'll definitely find people who are cool, who want to grow and are willing to help, you're also going to find people who are self-seeking and egocentric, who will view you as nothing more than a stepping stone. Here’s a tip: if you are trying to use stoner rock or doom metal or whatever to get famous, give up and go home -- no one cares. You've got to be in it for the love of the game or not at all. You'll need a cadre of "at-bats" in this game, so you've got to put yourself out there and meet people. You may talk to a lot of different bands before you find the ones want to do cool shit, like actually contributing to their scene in new and meaningful ways.

The thing is, if a band is doing that kind of stuff they're probably in high demand, which is why you need to start by delivering some value of your own if you want to build a relationship with any kind of give-and-take. Outside of sending a DM, what I recommend doing to kick off any relationship is give the band you want to connect with a shout-out on your Instagram. Some might call that brown-nosing, I call that game recognizing game. There are other ways to find effective friends, too, like posting a frequently in Facebook groups and being generally active in the scene's online community. Like attracts like, so if people see that you are doing things like booking shows, hustling on IG, giving shout-outs and helping bands with art and stuff, then the other helpful people who care about this community are going to see the merit and want to work with you.

Once you’ve started connecting with other bands who seem to be hustling (and not idiots), you need to figure out how to be bring them value. This is especially true when you are the new dog in the pack. You want to show that you deserve to be there among the "old heads." One way to do this really well is to go beyond shout-outs and let a peer’s band use your mailing list for some outreach. If you do something like that, then people are suddenly excited about what you have to offer and maybe earning some new fans. Remember, people only care about themselves. A more low-tech version of this would be inviting that band to come play in your city. Obviously, that only makes sense if they live near you. It’s kind of silly to tell a band from Singapore, "Hit me up the next time you are in town."

With that said, last year a doom-stoner band from Montana called Wizzerd struck up a friendship with the members of a Norwegian band called Kal-EL, after chancing upon their music videos and being really taken with the concepts they were bringing to life. One thing led to another and soon Kal-El was right here in the good ol' US of A hitting the road on a handful of West Coast dates with Wizzerd. It was Kal-El's first trip to America, by the way. You think Kal-El is likely to return the favor when Wizzerd decides they want to do their European tour? Fair bet that all this good will is returned, and then some, but if not, at least Wizzard and Kal-El made some great music together, while boosting their name recognition and cross-promoting to new fans.

Norway's Kal-El & Montana's Wizzerd at Kenton Club in Portland, Oregon

Finally, if you’ve made a promise or figured out a way to help out this community of bands out there doing meaningful shit in your scene, you need to remember to really deliver. So often, I see bands who get excited to make friends and offer to book shows or provide contacts or whatever, but then never deliver. This has always been my thing, to figure out a way to deliver as much value as possible, not just say that I am going to deliver it. Once you make that differentiation (saying vs. doing), because you fully appreciate what’s going on and where the other bands are coming from, only then will you see real success. If you just talk a big game and then end up ghosting people, word will get out and no one’s going to want to work with you – it’s as simple as that. Yes, I know it’s hard to make these kinds of friends, but it’s what you need to do if you want your band to get ahead.

☀

Matt Bacon (IG: mattbacon666) with Dropout Media is a consultant, A&R man, and journalist specializing in the world of heavy metal. Matt also co-hosts the Dumb & Dumbest podcast with Curtis Dewar of Dewar PR.

#Bacon's Blog #Advice #Matt Bacon #Dropout Media #Wizzerd #Kal-El #Doom Metal #Stoner Rock #Doomed & Stoned

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mentalcurls · 5 years

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4. Il tuo ragazzo lo sa che ci scriviamo?

So, episode 4, our first glimpse of actual, real life, blood and bones Edoardo Incanti and the actual beginning of most of Eva’s troubles. For a hot minute I thought I wouldn’t actually have much to say about this episode, then Silvia happened and I wrote more than half a page about her. Keep reading for a discussion of catwalks, the first time Filippo Sava is mentioned ever and the results for the Bechdel test!

post sex cuddles for Eva and Gio is doing a staring contest

I like a woman who knows how to exploit a man’s weaknesses, like pulling the hair on his legs

wow, Gio’s subconscious must be a really weird place if that’s what he dreams about when it’s about Eva, her saying she wants to be a group of strangers’ slut, how edifying

“Oh, everyone calls her that [Osana bin Laden]” *grandma’s voice comes out of nowhere: “so if everyone went and jumped off a cliff would you follow them”?* *a wild Niccolò Fares dressed as Marty McFly teleports himself there from 3.5 Ammucchiate to make his “I’m disappointed by your generalizations” face at Gio*

I mean, Eva, maybe telling Gio Sana told you to break up with him won’t make him like her more, but that’s just my opinion

“Va bene, grazie, grazie mille, ciao, fantastico” Eva, that’s not how you pretend you’re not hiding something, that’s how you talk to the dentist’s secretary on the phone when you make an appointment

poor Gio, thrown out just in his underwear, no pants, no shoes, as if there wasn’t time to put them on at least when Eva could have simply gone to the bathroom and made a lot of noise to throw her mom off and let Gio leave with some dignity at least

I mean, that’s the guy who brings you crepes at 2 am Eva, you should treat him a bit better

“Oh God, Edoardo is here, don’t look” and all four of them look, like, C’MON!

I maintain that Edoardo/Giancarlo is cute, but nothing special, really, nothing worth having girls turn their heads for, especially when he snorts

that catwalk is nothing to turn your nose up at, tough

I was unsure about this for a bit because she doesn’t like that Gio doesn’t care that much about being widely accepted and considered cool at school, but Eva doesn’t care about being popular either, she simply wants positive female relationships with her peers, except that she was used to being one of the cool girls when she was friends with Laura, so some of that lingers

“Sometimes she reminds me of Cersei Lannister” only sometimes, Silvia?

Marti is wearing his blue jacket ��

“Do you know a ‘Giulia Med’ on Instagram?” is this LudoBesse trying to plant some kind of Julian Dahl??? OMG

Eva laughs when Marti says that there’s a girl stalking him, but then she gets called a stalker herself and her face goes “Nope. Nope.”

poor Gio, he really has to fish for that invitation to dinner

I can’t imagine the anxiety very message from Canegallo gives her, because Giovanni is right there, and we know from his dismissive comment on Rocco Martucci to Silvia the previous episode (and Eva probably has known it far longer) that he doesn’t understand trying to get in with the cool clique, so he won’t get it, he’ll just assume the worst

not that Canegallo helps out with that. I get, you’re cool, you’re popular, you can have any girl you want and Eva is sending you mixed signals, so you’re pursuing her… except is all of that true? No! We already know almost nobody knew him at the Easter party cause Eva had look for him for ages, he has to have gotten that Eva didn’t go up to him because she’s into him, so the only “mixed signal” is the likes on Instagram, which is something a hundred girls have probably done before, Eva’s answers to hi DMs are vague… really, dude, don’t you see you’re projecting your own attraction onto her?

And anyways, why the fuck are you acting like such a creep? You’re “excited” she’s stalking you? Why has every girl who’s come before Eva let you get away with shit like that? Why doesn’t your girlfriend teach you any better? Oh wait, yeah, because that’s just boys being boys 🙄🙄🙄

Gio senses there’s something off… so why would you think Eva doesn’t sense something is off with you when you keep stuff from her?

Gio 😀 laughing 😀 at 😀 Eva’s 😀 new 😀 friends 😀 after 😀 pestering 😀 her 😀 to 😀 get 😀 new 😀 ones 😀 for 😀 ages 😀 I’m fine, really

those last few lines, when sex is treated as a bargaining chip and Eva’s mean for withholding it and Gio is considered whipped because he keeps things Eva has asked him not to say for himself… 🤦🏻‍♀️

Silvia’s absolute adoration for Eva for having managed in a day what she’s been trying to do for years (I’d bet at least since 2nd year, when Edoardo probably became cool) and get an in with the cool people. Poor child, how much did being your sister’s sister hurt you?

Sana’s “You all follow really predictable mating rules.” and Eleonora’s hesitation before saying “fregne” have the same energy. Yet neither of them backs off.

“Grigliamo la testa a Rodi”/”Let’s grill Rodi’s head” top notch group chat name (considering all the flak “Le matte” got from Gio earlier)

looking like “sfigate allucinanti”, the worst catastrophe that could possibly befall a group of outcast-ish girls who are widely considered losers already, seeing as one is a cheating whore, one is fat, one is hysterical, one is the new girl and then there’s Sana

“Everybody livin the vida loca in this group, huh?” Eva, you hate weed. You went on a crusade against your boyfriend because

Poor Silvia, panicking already. Sana, she doesn’t “talk a lot” she’s ANXIOUS, c’mon girl, you’re smarter than that

re: Silvia talking a lot and Silvia more in general, I couldn’t help but think of this post and the article it links to. Silvia is torn between being a cool girl, the one everyone adores, so the one who gets (in her idealized picture of it) all the respect, attention and love she craves, and being low-maintenance because she’s probably been taught that careful politeness of proper, refined girls, who don’t make scenes, always look perfect and never ask for too much (which has probably something to do with her sister Francesca as well). It doesn’t come naturally to her, so she ends up trying way too hard, sounding needy and talking too much and all the other things (mostly) Sana tells her to stop doing in the first few episodes.

And because she wants to get Edoardo, Silvia does her best to change herself into the low-maintenance girl: she’s fine with him just visualizing her texts, she’s fine with just sex with no date beforehand or anything, she’s fine with not going to his place even though it means have has lo lend her her family’s house, she’s fine with maybe coming and with maybe making Edoardo come, she’s fine with not using a condom even though she’s not on contraception. She’s low maintenance. Then he says those awful thing to her and she probably snaps, understands on some level that she’s not fine, but represses it as fuck and works to be even less maintenance, and ever more perfect: she curbs another kind of hunger, the hunger for food and starts going down the eating disorders road, until she has another breakdown. We see too little of her in S2 to gauge how she’s doing, but I hope the girls are helping her recover a bit, despite the fact that at the beginning they’re actually the ones who suggest toning herself down. ETA: this post is also kind of relevant to the work Silvia puts in to be attractive to Edoardo, in particular when it says “women are expected to aspire toward passivity while improving their bodies and minds for winning a sexual competition”.

Federica, on the other hand, is the exact opposite: she’s not afraid to take up space, physical or otherwise, she’s loud and unapologetic, she is hungry for food and for fun and for sex (see the spoon scene with Marti or the kiss to a stunned Chicco Rodi) and she’s not going to pretend she’s not to make people around her feel more comfortable; actually, she’s the one who most often makes people uncomfortable. It’s really good that Silvia has her and we never see Silvia complain about her like she does about Sana or Eva when they deviate from her ideal of who her friends should be.

So, after that rant, let’s go back to Fede leaving the girls speechless with her spiel about paying back the weed with sexual favors, which just proves the point I made above.

in the meantime, Eva lies unconvincingly to Gio, and I reiterate: Giovanni Garau con la U perché sei sardo, don’t you realize that if you can spot a lie in Eva’s words from the other side of Rome, she probably can spot your lies? So given how mad you get, how can you blame her for being angry and paranoid?

this is the catwalk episode, first the Villa guys outside school, everyone looking at them first, then just the girls squad minus Ele; now the girls, first down the deserted road (cause they’re not popular), then under Chicco Rodi’s and Canegallo’s watchful gaze

the disgusted look Eva gives Canegallo as soon as she gets in, good shit right there 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

Sana surely draws attention to herself, which is not nice except that if she wasn’t so “unusual” she wouldn’t have caught Edoardo’s eye either and the girls wouldn’t have introduced themselves to him, so really, Silvia, shut up

ELEONORA VOLUNTARILY INTRODUCED HERSELF AND SHOOK EDOARDO’S HAND baby no (I mean, he’ll forget anyways, but for that exact reason honey, don’t)

Federico Canegallo laying it on thick from the very first moment, offering the girls salsicce and thank God Eva wasn’t alone or God knows what horrible, misogynistic pun he’d have made

WHO EVEN MAKES FRUIT PUNCH IN ITALY?

creepy Canegallo make another silent appearance cheering on Sara and Laura as they play beer pong so they can get drunker and drunker

the girls cheering on Silvia like it’s the final of the 2006 Football World Cup

aaaand creepy Canegallo being a creep

idk he just strikes me as a douche and rude and lewd so I just always find him creepy

oh, Fede, I know you’re just trying to be supportive, but girl, if your friend is uncertain about going with a boy or not, you should not push her! ffs, do they know nothing about consent? (Answering my own question: no!)

FILO! My lovely Filippo is calling! And Ele is all worried, rushing off and even leaving Eva alone, when we know she’d never do that if something wasn’t pretty seriously wrong… oh, Filo, what happened to you? I hope that Jack didn’t get hurt.

“You know, I mostly go out with my boyfriend.” a nice, natural, smooth way to throw that in, Eva.

Fede has her priorities straight: she drops the boy she was hoping to get the minute her friends need her, but she still goes and gets herself a kiss

Bechdel test: the episode passes the test. There’s the conversation outside school between Silvia and Eva then all the girls minus Eleonora get there and Sana roasts Silvia’s social media habits, but the rest of that scene is dominated by Edoardo and Federico, there’s the conversation between Eva and Eleonora as soon as they get to the party about Laura and Sara. Technically some parts of the conversation at the Baretto pass the test too, but it’s like two lines at a time (about the weed, about Silvia being talking too much), but 98% of that scene is dedicated to either the Villa guys, Edoardo or Fede’s friend who sells weed, plus there’s the phone chat between Eva and Gio.

This post is part of my complete series of meta about Skam Italia season 1. If you’d like to read more of my thoughts about the other episodes, you can find the mastepost linked in the top bar on my blog under SKAMIT: EVA. Cheers!

#skam italia #skamit meta #eva brighi #giovanni garau #martino rametta #skamit s1 #skamit #silvia mirabella #federica cacciotti #federico canegallo #filippo sava #eleonora sava #sana allagui #chicco rodi #a. writes

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cloudcreates · 7 years

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i saw only a few draws of yanya but i want to know more about him :

kicks the door in WELL my friend ur in LUCK bc i have a LOT of shit abt yanya to talk abt

let’s kick it off with his backstory SHALL WE

so ! yanyas a lil kitsune boi raised in a little village in the outskirts of karnosea on famia, we dont have a name for it yet its not important w/e ANYWAY

he was BORN in a bigger town in central karnosea which i also dont have a name for but its also not important, what IS important is that he was a happy lil gremlin for most of his little babby years until he hit about elementary school where all the other kids’ parents started teaching them to be racist towards orcs and kitsunes and lizardfolk n shit! so they started being little shits towards him. which made him not like being in fox shape around them anymore. or in general.

so when his mums, shiranuit, a kitsune barbarian, and resnerina, a half-orc witch, were like “fuck that shit,” they moved away to that much smaller settlement, made up almost Entirely of rarer races like catfolk and wyvaran, and also orcs and ogres and stuff yea

and things were p alright! yanyas mums love him Very Much ok i love them and i love him and they all love each other. shiranuit works as a weaponsmith, and resnerina works as a luthier. so when u mashed their work together, u got yanya, a skald, or Basically a rage bard, who makes all his weapons and instruments, bc he makes his weapons into instruments, and vice versa.

his first weapon in game was a heavy mace that doubled as a guitar! it was crafted from metal ofc but its body was in the shape of a cow skull bc that shit’s metal. on one side was the guitar all strung up, and on the other he’d flip it around and it’s just Covered in spikes for him to beat the shit out of whatever 8)c

he uses his music to express himself. even with cure and mending magic, destroying things and lashing out and being aggressive all the time doesn’t make him feel good, so he’ll usually just turn to screaming out some sick tunes instead. his music’s very important to him.

moving back to early life however! he moved on through school pretty easy. i mean. not Entirely too easily bc the boy’s dumb as a brick so w/e he just. he didnt flunk out at the very least ok Cs get degrees anyway

and when he was abt.. 16, 17, he met ash! his first..and Only girly friend who’s also a kitsune, and a gunslinger! between the two of them, she’s kind of.. the ‘brains’ but. even then she’s not like, super smart. it’s just.. not hard to be smarter than yanya w/ that sweet 7 WIS and 10 INT score lmfao. she’s plenty clever tho!

around this time yanya and ash didn’t go to school, they travelled around their local part of karnosea causing a little trouble here and there bc well. they’re of chaotic alignment. however! chaotic good alignment, so they really only gave hell to..racists 8) .. bc fuck em

the thing is though, while yanya had two mums that loved him a lot, ash didn’t. she had one mum that sucked a bunch and constantly berated her, and yanya knew, it was partially why they spent so much time just carting around wildly, having fun, bc yanya knew she deserved better!

as a side note, karnosea is neighboring artorias, which is the Big Capital of famia, where Queen Azaroa has opened a bard college! probably the best and most chattered abt all over the world tbh. you can bet yanya’s heard of it by now, being as musically inclined as he is, and has always sort of dreamed of going there.. but shit, he and his fam ain’t making that kind of money, lmfao

but! it just so happens, as rumors say, there’s a new scholarship surfacing, offered specifically to members of more. rare races, such as kitsunes! yanya can’t lie about his interest being piqued..

but the thing was, from 16 going on 18, he was sort of perfectly happy and content just travelling around like a rascal with ash, because they were best friends!! and having fun!! and without yanya, he thought ash would be all alone with her fuckin mean ass mum!! he didn’t want that, and also that bard college is probably overrated anyway, whatever..

ash’s mum isn’t having any of it, wtf ash is happy??

the second ash and yanya get back home from whatever little bout of travel they were on, ash’s mum goes on a tirade at ash about how she’s dragging yanya down and holding him back, how she’s not good enough for him, etc.. so ash panics, because she knows he isn’t going to leave her unless she makes him never wanna see her again.

so! that same day, ash tells yanya about. how she’s been cheating on him the whole time. laughs in his face. tells him he should’ve expected it, kitsunes are known for being tricksters, liars after all!

he’s heartbroken.. so he leaves for artorias in a shocked daze probably not a full 12 hr later

and he gets accepted to the college!

ofc being kinda poor and rough around the edges, it’s not without it’s fair share of. snooty ass rich kids being assholes, which is whatever. turns out tho, some of those rich kids are from karnosea! so because yanyas as subtle as an airhorn, rumors about him not being human spread. guess who gets to deal with racist school peers all over again! yaaaay

it’s not totally bleak, though. at college yanya met jonavahn, neyla, pazzoch, and a bunch of the other rare-race scholarship kids and they all form their own little nestled group of friends :’>

soo because yanya’s fuckin shit at like, learning, he like, does kind of piss poor in all the actual study-centric classes lmfao. but! he’s fantastic at the physical side of things–he excels with playing instruments and melee fighting, because it’s less read-a-book-and-study and more muscle memory and physical training and practice, ofc. he just barely graduated bc getting half amazing grades and half shitty grades only balances out to so much, but dAMMIT HE DID IT

so when he graduates, he goes back home for a little bit. im sure while he was at college, he managed to visit his mums back at karnosea for a little bit on breaks, but. just the idea of going back to karnosea, just knowing that. it’s where ash was. it made it a lot harder in practice than it was in theory for him lmfao.

but being back home, getting to see him mums again! it makes him really happy! because his mums love him a lot !!! and love and support him a shit ton!! they’re so proud! look at their son that graduated from the artorian queen’s bard college! holy shit!!

yanya realizes sometimes that he takes his mums for granted.. they’ve always been there to makes him feel like everything’s ok. and they do a damn good job of it!

a fun fact! lershe, my old incompetence quest 1 character, is a half-orc monk–by the end of iq1, he became a lycanthrope (this was in dnd 3.5, so monks could still get infected by lycanthropy), and also a lvl 30 minor deity lmfao

lershe was separated from his dad, who was raising him on his own, at a v young age. at the end of iq1, lershe sought him out, found him again, and found out that he’d started a new family with a new wife! and tbh lershe met his mum in iq1 he could not be happier for his dad lmfao. but they have a daughter! so lershe has a little half-sister! and that little half-sister is resnerina!

because lycanthropes and kitsunes share a sort of similar ability in changing shape ya kno yeah, when yanya was a little kid, lershe was still “alive” as a mortal half-orc (lershe put off accepting that he was an immortal deity for a long time) and. was a big inspiration for yanya, naturally. these kids and people were giving him shit for being able to change shape into something that resembled an animal, but his uncle lershe can do it to, and HE’S a god!! so whatever!!

anyway so iq2 started off by all the characters running into each other in a little town in karnosea and some shit abt a cave off the outskirts of town getting ransacked by mercenaries or smth, idr

a little before then our DM said txeru and yanya were going to enter town together, and aria and karrina were going to enter town together, and we could come up w/ whatever reason why they’d end up together so txeru and yanya met first actually, just outside on town in a little tavern where they. probably got into a little scuffle just bc bar fights are fun. who cares. its fine.

its ironic bc right now, in game, txeru and yanya are fucking pissed at each other! and its great. the drama is clearing my skin. my crops are prospering.

basically txeru is a kasatha, an alien race not native to famia, and he’s come to famia trying to hide from two .. sort of alien police that’re after him for all the petty crimes he’s done. thing is, these two Very Specific alien cops are after him because. he kinda. was romantically involved with Both of them, one being his partner in crime and the other being of kasathan royalty–when he was backed into a corner and about to get caught he kind of ditched his partner and left the noble out high and dry so they’re both PISSED at him

they recently made their way to famia and found txeru, and after we TURNED TAIL AND RAN THE FUCK OFF from them, txeru explained his story

having his heart fucking shattered by ash, yanya kinda wasn’t super happy to find out txeru was a heart-shattering asshole himself!

so he DECKED HIM IN THE FACE and hadn’t spoken a kind word to him in like, a week

NOW they’re talking, it’s just. every word they say to each other is some variant of “fuck you” and atm we’re waiting for a boiling point to hit to see if they’ll kiss and make up or if they’re just gonna have to hate each other! 8) im so excited

meanwhile this entire time, we’re level 10 right now. so half way to the capstone level 20.

yanya still hasn’t formally revealed that he’s a kitsune to anyone in the group. but! as i said. the boy’s subtle as a brick thrown through a window. he’s slipped up enough times in his human disguise for just about everyone in the party to catch just a little something being off about him, but since most of the party is from artorias, away from the rarer races of karnosea, not everyone knows what a kitsune is

BUT we HAVE met a kitsune in game! madame fouxy (blame my dm for that name), but even then she only shifted from an actual fox shape to anthro fox shape, not to human shape. so they’re still unaware that kitsunes can even do that atm, meaning yanya’s ruse is hanging on by a thread lmfao

he’d just come out and say it bc he’s well aware everyone’s probably seen through him by now, but. it’s suppose to be a secret. knowing that everyone knows doesn’t make him wanna tell it, it makes him wanna convince everyone they’re wrong, even though they’re right, and he doesn’t like lying ,and if everyone’s already figured it out already, then he’s not doing a good job at keeping his own damn secrets, which freaks him out, and… etc

yanya’s favorite colors are red and blue, his favorite food is smoked rabbit, he’s 6′2″ flat on his heels in human shape, but he’s wearing stilettos bc he’s use to toe walking in fox-shape, which usually puts him up to about 6′4″, 6′5″..

he’s got a shit ton of muscle, and he eats a lot to keep up his energy! so he has his fair share of fat w a soft belly. he weighs probably anywhere from 250-300 bc im not good w weights lmfao

he has a total of.. 14 piercings, four on each ear, one on each eyebrow, two on his lips, one on his nose, and one on his tongue, almost all of which he got at the bard college lmfaoo

atm at level 10, he has 5 tails! only one spell-like ability from them, however, which is disguise self.

he knows how to sew!

he has a fear of mirrors and heights.

it’s less a ‘fear’ and more. he doesn’t like looking at himself in the mirror, practically can’t stand it when he’s in human shape. seeing his human face all he can think is “liar, liar, liar” because that’s not his ‘real’ face. seeing his fox face he’s only reminded how much fewer people would rather see him this way. if he has to, he’ll much prefer looking at his fox face, however.

AND I THINK..THAT MAY JUST COVER IT..if it’s not everything it’s Pretty close, and if i come up w anything new ur probably gonna see me draw it at some point LMFAO

#LONG POST #THAI TALKS TOO MUCH #YANYA INRUHAMA #OCS #IM #SO #SORRY

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