#and reading

thinking about saving a simon’s life once. Now he’s convinced he belongs to you. it got me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. please lemme know if any of this resonates because I have so many thoughts.

thinking about how your girl's night out ended with one too many sweet drinks bubbling in your system and your best friend going home with a guy who had some sort of accent and a short mohawk. she deserved to have a bit of fun. rain poured heavy as you exited the pub, pulling your hood up, you decide to take the short walk back to your flat.

At the end of the sidewalk, a tall figure loomed beneath the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp. A cigarette burned between his fingers, the ember flaring bright against the curtain of rain. You shivered, unsure if it was the biting cold seeping through your drenched clothes or something deeper—something instinctual.

Rain pelted down in relentless sheets, soaking you to the bone. The city around you was eerily silent, the empty streets offering unspoken permission to move forward. But as you lingered just behind him at the crosswalk, the air felt charged, crackling with something unseen.

He took a step forward.

Before you could think, before reason could intervene, you moved. As if possessed by the strength of Athena herself, your fingers curled into his shirt, fisting the fabric tight. With a sharp pull, you wrenched him back, your breath coming fast, your pulse pounding.

“Emmy,” Steve says all of a sudden, glancing up from his crumb-covered plate. “Can. Can I ask you about your thing?”

“My thing?”

“Um.” Steve frowns. He does that a lot, she's noticed. “When you don’t date. Not that you couldn’t get a date, I mean, your hair is amazing and I. Um.” He glances over at Robin for help. “Robs?”

“He means asexuality,” Robin says through a mouthful of food. “He wants to know more about it.”

“If that’s okay,” Steve adds, suddenly incredibly interested in his fork. “Robs told me it was cool to ask.”

Emmy likes Steve. He makes excellent breakfast sandwiches for anyone who wants one (her) and always does the washing up, unlike some of the other visitors to the house (Hannah’s boyfriend). Every time she sees him, his nails are a different colour; today, they are a dainty lavender. Most of all, Robin is visibly happier now he’s moved closer than fucking Indiana, happier still whenever he stays the night.

So, Emmy tells him about her thing. Halfway through an explanation of the evolving terminology and the main thesis of Lisa Orlando’s The Asexual Manifesto, she realises Steve is staring at her oddly. Not ‘I’m going to hurl slurs at you’ odd, more a ‘trying to place someone’ kind of odd.

“Can. Um. Can guys be that way too? Or just girls?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Steve shrugs, his cheeks flushing. “It’s different. Men have to take charge.”

Emmy leans back in her chair, suddenly on edge. Of course it had been going too well. She glances over at Robin, raising a ‘what the hell?’ eyebrow at her.

Robin shoots her a, ‘I promise he’s cool’ look, almost pleading, before saying gently, “What’s going on in that head of yours, Stevie?”

“Well.” Steve fiddles with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “Um. Guys? They have to ask the girl out, right? To pay for the first date and get flowers, all that stuff. That’s their job.”

Emmy’s just glad Ash has already left for class. It’s too early for a rant about dismantling the patriarchy. She’ll finish her coffee first, then get on it if she feels like it.

Robin, thankfully, takes over, reaching out and snagging Steve’s hand in hers. His hand is already moving, meeting hers halfway across the table. “Stevie, babe,” she says, ever so softly, “Have you been dating girls because you think it’s your job to?”

Oh.

Oh.

“That’s what boys do, right?” He glances at them both, desperation swimming in his eyes. “Right? You just do it, ‘cause you have to? To get married and have kids and have a family?” And then, as Robin shakes her head slowly, looking stunned. “Isn’t it like that for everyone?” And then, even more bizarrely, “Like Spock, right?”

I just saw a post about not liking a fic and blocking the author because of it

that’s totally fine and valid. and you don’t have to like everyone’s works. obviously I write some stuff I know people may not enjoy

but I don’t love the vibe of the people that were in the comments of this post

we’re a community. you don’t have to like everything. if you don’t like it, simply don’t read and don’t interact. in my opinion, we should be uplifting each other. supporting one another. I’m not saying you have to follow people who write things you don’t like, like honestly feel free to block me if you don’t like my content. I get it. I have things I don’t personally care for either.

but I don’t want to come online and shame other people for the kind of things they like to read or write. we’re all just a community of people who like the same fandom! fanfiction is about expressing ourselves and relating to characters and whatnot. it’s about connecting with others and our own interests. so seeing people shame others for liking/reading/writing it… I don’t love seeing that. I just think we should all understand we have different likes and that’s okay!

and again, I know my page isn’t for everyone. that’s okay! I know I characterize Bucky in my fics in a way that is completely inaccurate from canon. but it’s fanfiction! I’m just writing a story using the character. it doesn’t always have to be perfect.