#I QUITE LITERALLY came here straight from TikTok to see if anyone was

[alarrylarrie]

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#don’t publish anon #I JUST SAW THAT #I QUITE LITERALLY came here straight from TikTok to see if anyone was #and you know what? #I choose to believe it #and do you want to know why? #because I’m a larrie that’s why #I believe it because I can lol

[ptergwen]

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

-

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

-

if i forgot you please lmk!

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #spiderman #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic

[plush-rabbit]

I Want To Hear You Say It

Chapter 3: Claw Marks

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: Listening to the FNAF timeline and thinking about that tiktok

Prev.

He dreads going to the hideout. He doesn’t want to think about what he's going to say, what excuse he’s going to make up that will keep everyone satisfied with his answer. The correct thing to have done on the journey home would have been to make up a believable lie but without the safety of numbers and the area that he was in- he had to focus on not getting caught- his mind too preoccupied with his surroundings to actually have time to think. 

His steps are heavy, short breaths that fill his lungs and leave in puffs, bones aching and he finds himself nearing the building. Dark in color, weeds sprouting from the edges, the color of the building, once something deep and polished, is now faded and dirtied with random tagging symbols that have long been washed out by the weather. He stands at the door, sky clouded overhead and a light mist that falls onto him and makes him uncomfortably wet. His stomach is full with chicken that you bought and shared with him. The hideout is dark, the windows boarded up and he can’t hear a sound coming from inside. No screaming, arguing, music, or singing. Tomura stands outside a hidden door and he takes in a deep breath, cold air chilling at his throat and making his mouth dry.

He walks inside; the door creaking as it announces his arrival to anyone who is willing to listen. His eyes scan around the old room, the floor solid underneath as he takes careful steps, hands poised and a deep unsettlement that settles in his bones as the stillness seems to place everything inside on pause. His mouth opens, his tongue coming out to lap at his lips, a passing thought flashes by that he should call someone’s name but as quick as it came, he denounces it just as quickly. He won’t risk calling someone’s name- someone could be listening in, the hideout could be abandoned and still wiretapped in case any wandering heroes had gotten lucky- no, he’ll walk around and assess.

He takes a careful step forward and then the room is bathed in a yellow light. His shadow stretches and distorts, elongating and he feels bare, his face naked and cold, immediately, placing his hand over himself in a mock attempt to mimic Father. His eyes snap up, hand already reaching forward with every intent to rid the possible threat until he lands on sun colored eyes. 

“Tomura-kun!” Toga says especially, her smile wide and a slight skip to her step as she walks towards him. “You are alive!” The way she says it makes it sound as if there were doubts. “Took you long enough to get back, huh?”  Her smile is almost teasing as she rocks back and forth on her heels. 

He gives her a disgruntled look, eyes narrowed and wants to snap a response towards her. His eyes meet hers where she does not falter, smiling sweetly at him with a certain glint in her eyes. “Where are the others?” 

Her smile falters, a hand at her side fisting at the loose material of her joggers. The hem of an oversized sweater spilling past the waistband of the joggers. “Sleeping,” she says with a tight voice and under the light he realizes that her arm is dusted in a purple bruise, dark in color as it spills to blue with a hint of sickly yellow. “Where were you?” 

He eyes the bruise, a scowl on his lips as he meets her gaze yet again. “Nowhere important.” Words get stuck in his throat, the bruise dancing in his peripherals, filling his mind with other unseen possible injuries. Her face is clean, free of any marks as she stands in front of him. She can stand; Toga is still standing in front of him. “The mission?” His nails dig into his skin, pulling at the old scars that have long closed up.

Her smile falls and he finds annoyance lapping at him. She shrugs, her hands spreading wide as she looks at him and her shadow dances along with her. “Went as planned. We were able to find a new location in case this one goes south but we did run into trouble while transporting the items.” 

“Trouble?” He takes a step towards her, eyes glancing behind her trying to find wandering movement that lies in the shadows.

“Spinner hit his head pretty hard so for now he’s resting. Twice went to find Giran so he can bring in some type of aid or something-” she waves her hand in a tired circle- “I didn’t really pay attention,” she finishes, her smile returning. “Anyways, now that you’re here, I’m going back to bed.” She turns on her heels, her hand coming up to cover her yawning mouth. She pauses as she steps to the other side of the entrance to the hallway. “Oh, by the way,” amusement has left her face, a thin smile on her lips that doesn’t reach her eyes, “your hands on your bed. You must have dropped them when we split.” 

He stands in the empty room, eyes growing heavy and anxiety grabbing at his insides. His collar is too close to his neck, wrapping around the base in a tight hold that makes it impossible to swallow, acid riising and leaving a tart taste on his tongue, heavy and sickening. “Thank you,” he whispers to an empty room with eyes glued where Toga stood just a minute ago. His hand spills from his face and falls beside him in a limp.

The doors that line the hallway and spill onto different ends are all closed, subtle chipped marks carved into the wood to indicate which rooms are occupied. His hair still smells of your shampoo, light and sweet. His clothes reek of what you used to wash them. His hand forms into a fist as he thinks about you. It’s a fleeting thought that he latches onto and soon enough he isn’t able to escape you from entering his mind. His hand wraps around the doorknob with a pinky raised as it twists under his palm. He enters his room as you enter his mind. True to her word, his hands are displayed on his bed, laid in an orderly fashion.

He stands at the edge of the bed, eyes lidded as he stares at the hands. Slowly, he grabs each hand, one by one, each placed back at their respective spots, a heavy weight that falls on him with each addition, a tight grasp that holds onto him with a promise to pull him down and suffocate him, the promise of false love and a mock hug as hands encase him. The last hand that goes on his face is held tenderly, the palm facing towards his face, an open strike that is welcomed and makes him feel calm, settling his nerves for just a moment. The hand is cold and heavy against his warm skin. The thick cartilage is tough- sturdy and unwavering- his fingertips flutter against the raised bridges, lowering until it reaches the metal end. 

His hands are nothing like your hands. 

He can almost feel your touch. It was light and fluttery, soft against his face. You held him with care, trying to calm him down when the first thing he had done to you was pin you down. You were nice to him. You told him that you had done it because you wanted to believe that you were a good person. His hand tremors, sliding past the metallic end, a light brush against his chest that stills as it reaches his stomach, clenching at the shirt with a careful grip, twisting the fabric in his hand. You quite literally picked him off the streets and gave him a temporary home. You gave him kindness that he hasn’t witnessed or felt in so long. You were kind to him- doting over him and making sure that he was fed. You washed his clothes and had calmed him down when he feared that he had lost his hands. Your hands held him together, grabbing at him and pulling him close to you. He sucks in his bottom lip, remembering the pull of your thumbs against his chin, the touch that you gave him that didn’t fill him with sickness.

He misses your touch. There’s a deep tug in his body. It pulls at him, tugging against his very essence and making him feel stretched out. His chest stutters, rising and dipping with lungs that expand and a heavy flush that warms his body. His eyes go wide, pupils dilating as he leans over, hand leaving his stomach and resting on the bed in a closed fist, the pads of the fingers dig on the top of his head, clenching as they squeeze his head with a painful grip.

He doesn’t need this right now. He doesn’t need you invading his mind. He can’t handle the thoughts and feelings that come with you. The need to see you. The need to have your hands replace the ones on his neck. He’s breathing heavy, wheezing over the bed, mouth gaping under the palm of Father, his heart erratic and mind wandering. He’s never felt like this before. He’s never had emotions this strong. The desire to see you is stronger than anything he’s ever faced- stronger than anything he remembers. He’s gasping for air, eyes watering and he stands straight, a hand placed along his neck as his nails etch themselves against him, sin bleeding out, hot and thick against his skin. 

-

The sun is setting, casting a soft orange glow across the city as you walk home. It’s quiet, your phone buzzing in your hand and merely swipe at the notification for the Discord chat that you’re part of but never engage in. The time reads back to you and you come to a slow, walking towards the edge of the building, standing against the corner with eyes trained on the time. 

You wouldn't call yourself overly paranoid. Sure, you've heard things that go bump in the night and hid yourself under the covers rather than go and investigate, you've slept with rather odd, sharp objects under your pillow and have practiced time and time again how quickly and quietly you can reach into your bedside drawer and pull out a pair of scissors. But that was in the past. You've grown past the need to hone your skills and now all you have for protection is an old stuffed bear with stuffing that has gone limp and dull. 

You stand at the edge of the alleyway, taking a few steps into the dampen area, clicking your tongue as you step into a puddle. There’s a deep feeling that washes over you, making you chew on your bottom lip and edge deeper into the growing dark area. You take a small step to the side, your head tilting as you search for any shapes that are too humanlike, looking for anything with soft, blue hair or a hint at it and with a final step, your phone buzzes your hand. It’s stronger- a phone call, you realize. Snapped out of whatever trance you had, you turn around and make your way out of the alley, frowning as the words “Scam Likely” is written on your phone. You click and pull at the red phone symbol, the call ceasing immediately and you walk in a crowded street.

Perhaps you should have given Tomura your phone number. Or had offered him a ride or insisted that he stay for another night. He didn’t seem well enough to leave- much leave the way that he did. You purse your lips, your pace increasing as you walk home, your bag patting lightly against your back. If you had at least given him your number then he could have called you or sent you a message indicating that he was home or at least safe. You let out a sigh, your lips pulling into a thin line. 

The trek to your apartment is short, your hands resting along the rail as you climb the steps, unable to stray from the memories of when you had to help carry him up the steps. He had only rested for a day- if you wanted to be generous- and had eaten only two meals and slept on a couch. He couldn’t have possibly been comfortable. Maybe if you had insisted that he stay another night then you could tell if he had been lying about any hidden injuries. But there was no dried blood when you checked the shower, no stain that had caught against the porcelain or carpet- it was clean. You fret over a stranger- the only facts that you know of are that his name is Tomura, he works in a bar, and he’s socially inept. You check the time on your phone- there could be a possibility that you can pass by the same area and see if he’s there or any trace of him- but no. You grimace at thought- it sounds too stalkerish, as if you’re waiting for him to arrive and if he is there by any chance, you don’t want him to feel bothered or- You gasp as you bump shoulders with someone, stumbling a bit and you're grateful you’re on a flat surface rather than the stairs. 

“Oh my goodness!” You raise your shoulders, pulling them close to you. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking-”

“Hey, hey,” the person says in a calming voice and you close your mouth, stepping away as your neighbor comes into view. “It’s cool, don’t worry about it.” He stands tall in front of you, a soft purple hue of skin that darkens slightly at the tip of his ears. Spiky hair that jets out in multiple directions, a dark blue that almost shines blue and purple under the light covers his forehead in wispy bangs with two curled, ram-like horns that protrude from the side of his head, dark in color with silver highlights. “I wasn’t looking either-” they laugh, sending you a friendly grin that is quickly overwritten with concern- “Are you okay?”

“Oh, er, yeah. No, I'm fine. Sorry about bumping into you again-” you step to the side, already waving a goodbye- “I’ll-”

“Wait!” He says in a rushed tone, spinning on his heels to look at you, a nervous chuckle spilling past his lips. “I, uh- Ha, sorry. So uh, did your friend go home?” He jerks his head to your door, eyes shifting nervously.

You blink at him, the moments with Tomura briefly forgotten as you strike conversation with your neighbor. “Oh, yeah. He went home last night,” you trail, the word “home” not feeling correct on your tongue. 

“Oh, really?” I uh- didn’t see him.” His smile is tense and his eyes widen. “Not that I was spying or anything. I had to pick something up from the pharmacy late last night and I noticed-”

“No, yeah. He left.” You give him a tight smile and edge backwards. “Listen, I have to go and put... something away.” You give him a final grin, toothy and forced. “Bye!” You wave a goodbye at him and promptly hurry to your door where you- thankfully- have no trouble opening it.

You shut the door, your back against the wooden frame, your eyes drooping and you slide slowly to the floor, bringing your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs and resting your head on the spot that you have created. Your bag presses uncomfortably into your back, the items inside pressing into the faux leather and into your soft back.

You close your eyes, trying to hear the sounds of wandering steps, mouth pulling into a thin line, and brows knitting together. “Maybe I should have asked him if he saw him anywhere,” you mumble under your breath. You let out a bitter laugh, raising your head and resting it against the door with a faint thud. “Great,” you whisper to yourself, “now I’m thinking about him.” You exhale, letting your eyes close with a weak smile stretching across your lips. “Well,” you trail, slowly opening your eyes, “it’s out of my hands now. Best I can hope for is that he’s home safe.” You push yourself off the floor, wincing slightly at the movement. 

You flutter around the apartment, changing out of your uniform into something more comfortable, your hands aching and body accepting the weariness that it possesses. Your sock clad feet walk around the apartment, phone in hand, as you walk into the kitchen.

It’s a decent size, enough for things to be ordered in a way that makes it feel both cluttered and homely. The fridge is decorated in an assortment of magnets- new with vibrant colors and cute designs, old and faded, simple in design but something from long ago- pictures and various numbers and business cards placed on the surface. You open the fridge, food and ingredients inside but it’s too much work to actually prepare the food itself and wait for things to defrost. You close the fridge with a huff and make your way to the living room. 

You stand at the edge of your couch, the blanket that Tomura used is folded at the end of the couch. Your brows knit, a frown tugging on the corner of your lips. You sigh sadly and there’s a bitter taste on your tongue, thick and heavy, and you scrunch your face. In your hand, your phone gives a curt buzz- a message from your friends. Your mood brightens and you sit on the opposite end of the couch, away from the blanket, and curl up at the end, eagerly responding to your friends' plethora of messages that you had missed- and partly purposely ignored due to heavy thoughts- on your walk home.

-

You sleep on the couch, covered by a throw blanket, a deep blue color that covers your frame as you curl under, a stuffed animal in your grip with shiny black eyes that reflect the television, an assortment of colors played against the room, and reflecting in the eyes of your comfort object. You sleep soundly, undisturbed and protected by glass, watched and protected by a pair of crimson eyes, between the blinds. Tomura Shigaraki sits with his knees pulled up to his chest, thin scratches around his neck and a burning desire in his chest to reach forward and accept your generosity that you had given him. 

He’s confused on why he’s here. He's out in the open, Father on his face which would surely give away his identity- could that be why you didn’t recognize him, he wonders- and he’s outside like a stray animal, waiting by your door and watching you sleep. Maybe that’s why he’s back. You didn’t fear him and while fear is something that he really does long for, something that so undeniably means you have the upperhand in something, it was different this time. You sat near him, did his laundry for him and cared for him on the pretense that you wanted to be a good person. That’s almost laughable, really. You treated a literal villain as some wounded puppy and practically saved his life. Heck, if it was anyone else or maybe if you had decided to watch the news more often, he would’ve been found out and captured. You wanted to be a good person and because of that, you are good to him. 

It’s fascination more than anything. This odd sense of longing towards you, the way that your hands felt on him and how you fretted over him as he panicked- he places his hand over Father and lets out a breath. The air cool, nipping at him with a slight shiver, and he looks inside with blank eyes, remembering how it felt to be inside, the candy scented candle that filled the room and how overtly sweet it was when he woke up. You were nice to him, there didn’t seem to be a hero in sight, so the probability of you being watched over is fairly low- you were nice to him and you trusted him enough to know where you lived. His leg tremors, eyes narrowing through the gaps of the fingers on his face as he stares at your unmoving frame. His hand flutters against the glass, index resting followed by the other three, and his prints are left.

Your blinds are left open and he snorts at your lack of self-preservation. He can let it slide since your little home isn’t somewhere where people can easily see. But here you are, covered by a blanket that he hadn’t used- the one he touched remains folded at the end, untouched and your legs pulled away from it. He watches you for a long time, his phone buzzing with either notifications from his mobile games or those from the League. If he were to be frank, he finds it all so difficult. He’ll complete and fulfill his vision, he’ll lead his comrades into victory, But for now, he'll rest against your balcony, and watch you sleep.

taglist:

@dillybuggg @gladiatorandroid

#shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura headcanons #bnha shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki imagines #yandere tomura shigaraki #slight #sorry for the shortish chapter #thoughts ran out #bye #love you #drink water babes

[remythologise]

Hello! I found your blog via you amazingly summarizing all that's going on with the spn drama. Due to my schedules, rl stuff, some of the arcs that didn't vibe with me, my availability to find a place to watch...the rollercoaster I was used to with this fandom was more me binging it in a weekend to going months to over a year without watching it. I still haven't watched the last season(but with a fandom this big it's pretty impossible not be spoiled so I more or less know what happened) BUT oh great one I ask of thee for more information if you have it...other than being busy and whatnot, I'm not really one to keep up with the actors as well. So could you also maybe do a summary of all the stans? I'im seeing terms I haven't seen before. Who is Kelios(sp?)? Hellions?? probably messed it up but like...I guess what are the name of each legion? Who do they have alliance towards? What was their desires? Que paso?!?!?!?

Hi there! 'Some of the arcs that didn't vibe with me' me emotionally quitting Supernatural in Season 7 after they killed Castiel 😂 Anyway I totally get it, I went through the same culture shock mid-last year when I got back into SPN and tried to find where fandom was at! There's really a LOT of lore and content after 15 years though so I'll just do the broad brushstrokes based on my impressions and personal stereotypes PLEASE remember this is oversimplifying groups and individuals to tendencies and I'm very biased! Also important that there are sub-factions within sub-factions - again, I'm simplifying here!

I've also linked to the 'Super-wiki' in terms of some definitions because the Super-wiki has pages for them where the Fandom-wiki does not. Great introduction actually - only in the Supernatural fandom. There are two Supernatural wikis. One, through curation and twitter activity, supports BiBro/Wincest factions and does not support Destiel users. One is more neutral or Destiel-friendly (I don't know that the Fandom wiki has a personality/social media presence per se). You cannot make this up. There is a factional war... within use of fandom wikis.

Destiel faction

People who primarily ship Dean/Cas, love Castiel and (often, although not always) Jack, and the 'found family' of Supernatural as well as the brothers, and like the post s3 seasons too. Hated 15.19 and 15.20 for killing Dean and ignoring the other characters/narrative arc of the show. Nicknamed 'Destihellers' by the Wincest faction as a derogatory term, 'reclaimed' and shortened as 'Hellers', a nickname they use affectionately to describe each other. See more info on nicknames here.

Sometimes also ship ‘Cockles’ (the ship between Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles) although generally speaking they're more respectful of the wives of the actors than J2 shippers, who are notoriously responsible for... a vast series of insane-fan misdemeanours. Historically most were also good at keeping RPF to themselves and not harassing celebrities with it directly, although recently, particularly with younger twitter fans, that has not been the case.

Sub-factions:

The ‘Desticule’ or ‘Destiel tumblr’ - general grouping of Destiel-shipping tumblr users around 20-30 years old, usually LGBT+, most who came back to the show post-15.18 after leaving it for various reasons including getting sick of the queerbaiting. Funniest bitches alive etc. and responsible for the best text posts you’ve ever seen. Can also start stupid discourse and in-group drama when they’re bored.

'POLOL' - People of Lots of Letters, a discord group (of tumblr and twitter users) that ran on the assumption Andrew Dabb was playing a hugely intricate game of 3D chess to do with gnostic symbolism among other things, and would make Destiel canon. Have since had their own factional sub-wars and fallen apart a bit. Some of their meta was and is good and interesting! Some of it was wildly off the mark. Now generally insist that Dabb/the writers were all pushing for Destiel canon and the network is entirely to blame.

Twitter fans (TikTok edition) - younger fans around 18 and younger who (FOR REASONS BEYOND ME) started watching the show around 2018-2020. Definition of 'stans'. Tend to be very loud and aggressive on twitter when Events Happen, which like. I do get, because they've grown up in a completely different media environment and this kind of Dinosaur Politicking around LGBT+ issues is beyond them. Fancam central. Anyway stream #CASTIEL for clear skin!

Twitter fans (AO3 edition) - older fans around 30+ who kept going with the show but either don't have a large tumblr presence or just prefer twitter. A lot of fic writers, GISH-ers, and BNFs in this group. Some of them are very cool and reasonable in their opinions, some of them act like the younger stans. Some of them too accepting of what happened wrt 15.19-20 in my opinion, because, in contrast to the younger twitter stans, they grew up expecting Destiel to NEVER be canon or respected. 'Can't believe we got this far' etc.

Multiship faction

Multishippers or shippers of things not as large as the two main behemoths . Sub-factions based on shipping, e.g. Megstiel and Sastiel. I don't think these groups are very large though, and seem to have very little influence in the Discourse.

Wincest faction

LARGE overlap with the 'BiBro' faction and their opinions, which I'll get to. Ship Sam and Dean romantically. Often pretend to be BiBros on places like twitter and reddit in order for outside groups to take their opinions more seriously. 'Wincesties' etc. are derogatory nicknames given by the Destiel faction.

Sub-factions:

Multiship fans - ship Sam and Dean but respect Castiel/the 'found family'. Politically overlap with the faction of multishippers, I think. I don't have a lot of insight on this group of people honestly, but I know they exist.

Bronlies - the typical BiBro and 'Wincest' shippers most people think of, twitter user 'Kelios' is one of the would-be ringleaders of this faction - typically tend to be older white midwestern women. Historically have been pretty nasty on twitter (leading to Robert Berens, writer who made Destiel canon, occasionally subtweeting Kelios). Also tend to ship 'J2' - and take it very seriously as a legitimate thing that is really real. This is called 'tinhatting'.

BiBro faction

People who think the show should JUST be about the brothers, love Supernatural s1-3 and everything after it should have been just like Supernatural s1-3. Hate Castiel, Jack, and the 'found family'. Largely loved 15.20. Go to literally any comments section on any Supernatural article and You Will Find Them complaining about how the show should just be about the Brothers. Tend to be older, straighter, and more conservative/Republican (and male) fans. (I am aware that the definition of 'BiBro' used to refer to people who just liked the brothers but there's no definitional difference now in the discourse.) The Wincest and BiBro faction are generally much more wealthy than the Destiel faction (they being younger and more diverse/queer/left-leaning in general) and would be the biggest revenue generators at conventions etc.

Sub-factions:

Reddit bros - literally anyone who visits r/supernatural. Well, that's not fair - there are people who post reasonable opinions on there, but it's pretty rare and they get downvoted a lot. Like to talk about 'toxic Destiel fans' 'ruining the show' and how Dean is a straight man who is straight and could never possibly be gay. Might even think the confession was platonic despite all evidence to the contrary. I'm Not Homophobic I Have Gay Friends, But No Gays on MY Show!

Old Guard - group of older fans who overlap strongly with the Wincest faction, but might not necessarily ship Wincest.

GA faction

'General Audience' - These are the group of audience members that aren't 'online' so to speak; most watch the show on TV as a Casual Viewing Experience (are therefore also sometimes referred to as 'casuals'. Mostly their opinions tend towards BiBros, but they have a vast range of baffling views thanks to being Not Online and usually Not caring about Supernatural that much or thinking that deeply about it.

Sub-factions:

People who simply watch Supernatural on TV and then don't think about it very much after that.

I said they weren't 'online' but that's not entirely true; I'd probably classify people on Supernatural Facebook Groups as GA, along with friends of friends who post statuses about how 15.20 was a neat finale that wrapped up the series.

Conclusion

Supernatural is famously the show that appeals to both Republicans and Democrats, literally All Orientations, so there's a WIDE range of factions. However, most warring online boils down to Destiel vs. Wincest/BiBro - the war that started in Season 4 and has simply never ended. In terms of the 'actors' and their stans, in general, Wincest/BiBro fans love Jared, like Jensen, and dislike Misha. Destiel fans love Misha, like Jensen, and dislike Jared. Of course as with everything, there are variations and this is just a generalisation. But that's the summary of it, from my perspective!

This didn't even get into Sam girls, Dean girls and Cas girls. God. Anyway.

Hope that answered your question, anon!

#for some reason read more does not work on my blog main page now? you'll have to click the permalink #season 17 time for a theme change tumblr has broken this one too much sigh #ask #anonymous #this might be the most controversial thing I've ever posted or I might escape with nobody noticing it. Only Two Outcomes #didn't mention any other factional ringleaders because well #I value my life etc. #unironically who will fund me writing the PhD on supernatural fandom etc. etc. #the graphs. the statistics. the sociological insights #kira for ts #supernatural spoilers #spn spoilers

[bisluthq]

Hi Nat!! In honor of pride month, I just wanted to let you know this. I’ve been following this blog for the past 8 months now and in doing so I’ve learnt quite a few things. Some slightly weird (y’all really push the limits on this one lmao), some insightful (hello GrammyGate and celeb discourse) but most importantly, I’ve learnt a lot about sexuality/fluidity in general, even though I thought I understood/knew what there was to know about it in the past.

Enter the pandemic + me taking a year off studies + tiktok (it’s embarrassing how much self reflection stemmed from this) + the discovery of ‘bisluthq’ and it was a real wake up call.

I thought I was straight due to the completeness of everyday life, crushes on guys, and being with guys in general but alongside all of that I’ve also always felt this inexplainable attraction to women. I’d notice/pay attention to them in more detail?? compared to men as well as feel this sense of awe and wonder whenever a woman was too beautiful to comprehend (which rarely occurred with men). I’d also always notice their physical appearance, mainly the tutors, from a pretty young age and I’d tell myself I was just appreciating the way they looked (wow she’s so pretty/beautiful/perfect).

As I got older, I realised that sometimes certain people (Natalie dormer rail me challenge) and certain situations ended up doing more than just leave me in awe, but rather turned me on. A lot. And I was so confused, so much so that I refused to even think about it or acknowledge it. Like I’d watch a movie/see this pretty girl talk to me/watch literal wlw porn, get turned on in multiple ways and be like, ‘well that was fun, how interesting’ and still consider myself straight if someone asked what my sexuality was.

This blog (and several others) helped me understand and learn about a lot of things. I started to understand and pick apart how I felt and whom I felt it for, I learnt about the Kinsey scale, I learnt about fluidity, I learnt about the non binary spectrum and so many more things and eventually came to the conclusion that I was, in the simplest of terms, queer.

In terms of ‘labelling’, I’d come across TONS (literal tons) of discourse over the bi/pan labels and how inclusive each is allegedly is and ended up deciding on bisexual because I liked the flag colours better the pansexual one (apparently that’s a thing, so I’m doing it) and ever since I did, I felt like I was free-er?? (Despite not telling anyone, lmao.) But each like, comment, reblog, repost, retweet I made regarding my sexuality made me feel so much lighter, and very true to myself in the midst of everything going on rn and I’m fairly certain I couldn’t have come to this conclusion in the same educated/informed way as I did if it hadn’t been for this blog and the incredibly safe space you’ve created here, and for that I wanted to say thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels like you and the space that comes with this blog is a safe escape to learn, chill and/or clown your ass off but I do want to express my gratitude. I hope this ask finds you well and I most certainly hope your future-vaccinated self finds a bombass girl to be the Joe alwyn to your Taylor swift or whoever you want them to be. I hope that you’re safe and healthy and stable. I hope that this blog will continue to be a safe space for whoever needs one. I’m well aware that I may not have had the most difficult, confusing or terrifying journey but this blog provided an outlet that was safe, therapeutic and educational for me and I can only hope others can find it just as or if not more helpful.

I’m low-key in my feels I guess as i suppose this is my first pride month where I don’t just wish people good happy healthy safe vibes as an just ally anymore because I’m more than that now. And I felt like you should know because now there’s another player on the team lmao. Anyway, thanks for existing and Happy Pride Month, y’all!

This is SO fucking nice. I really have sat on this message for a little bit because I like... enjoy rereading it. A lot. And as much as this blog is mostly just for dumb entertainment purposes and like jokes and clownery, this is at the core of what I am trying to achieve. I'm hoping people - however many, whether just you and Roommate Anon or like a couple others - feel less alone, less confused, and more normal from reading us here.

Because we're not alone, and that's what Pride's for. And we are normal, and that's what Pride's for. And we do generally tend to be confused but eh, that's what the rest of us are for, so we can figure it out together.

I'm really happy for you babe, and am wishing you even more happiness and lightness in the future.

Sending so much love, and Happy Pride to you (too).

#pride month at bisluthq #anons for bisluthq

[waywardnewcomer]

Built in Best Friends Part Six

A/N: Well you’re getting some Y/N and Tom action, just not the way you want. This and the next chapter are heavily inspired by Love, Rosie. I couldn’t help myself. It’s about to kick off in the next one, prepare yourself.

Summary:  Y/N goes on a date, Tom reminisces.

Warnings: Slight mention of a panic attack, jealousy

Pairings: Reader x Tom Padalecki, Tom x OC, Jensen x Daughter!Reader, Danneel x Daughter!Reader, Reader x OC

Word Count: 2k

Previous Part Series Masterpost Masterlist

When you returned to school a week later you were very wary of spending too much time with Tom, aware that it makes his girlfriend jealous and that you’re still a bit unsure whether to trust him or not. 

Instead, you spent more time with Penny and her friends, who had finally got out of detention. Her friend Zach was quite clearly a prankster and loved being a class clown; he had no problem making you laugh during your lunch breaks. Lily was calmer, but she was a good listener and gave great advice. And then there was Josh. You and Josh had hit it off straight away, feeling comfortable around one another and already giving hugs and small touches here and there. He always gave you little compliments every day to make you smile. You were completely upfront with them about your anxiety and they were all really supportive. You found you didn’t need Tom to be happy; you were your own person. It took you 17 years to get there, but you were finally gaining some independence and confidence in yourself. That group was a really good influence on you and Tom, and your family could see it.

When Penny invited you and Lily over for a sleepover you jumped at the opportunity, never really having any girlfriends to do that with. You turned up at her door, big bag full of treats in one hand and your pillow and sleeping bag in the other with a big smile on your face making her laugh.

“You excited Y/N?” She teased softly.

“I don’t really get to do these things, Tom’s a boy.” You laughed, and she nodded in understanding and led you upstairs.

“Well, the most important part of a sleepover is having fun!” She gleamed. Lily was already on the floor surrounded by a pillow fort.

“That looks comfy,” You laughed, putting your bags down.

“Go get your PJs on and come join us!” Penny shrieked.

After watching a couple of movies and eating more than your body weight in junk food you had all decided to make some TikToks. 

“Let’s do the one with the beat where you have to call your crush!” Penny laughed, a glint in her eye.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” You mumbled nervously. You could not call Tom: it would be so embarrassing. 

“Come on Y/N it will be fun! It probably won’t even land on you anyway.” Lily smiled at you reassuringly making you relax a little and give in.

As you pointed at each other you made sure to point as quick at you could to Lily so it wouldn’t land on you, face dropping when it did. You breathed out a curse word and pulled out your phone. You called the number and breathed out heavily feeling the anxiety fill your chest. Lily took your hand from beside you as she saw who you were calling. As it rang you felt yourself regretting this more and more. 

“Hello?” A grumbly voice came from your phone almost making you jump.

“Hi, Josh,” You breathed out shakily.

“Y/N what’s up? You okay?” He asked gently, hearing the nerves in your voice.

“I just needed to tell you something.” You giggled softly as you realised what you were going to do.

“You can tell me, go on.” He said patiently.

“I um - uh - likeyou.” You rushed out hoping he had heard you as your cheeks flushed red.

“Bit slower love,” He laughed.

“I like you, Josh,” You mumbled embarrassed, looking into the camera that was still recording and regretting ever agreeing to do this.

“I like you too.” He spoke without hesitation making you breathe out. 

You took the phone off loudspeaker immediately as they shut off the video, not quite believing what just happened.

“Josh it’s okay if you don’t. You don’t have to say it back, I’m a big girl.” You said, not really trusting your words.

“No Y/N I really do, I’ve wanted to ask you out since I set eyes on you, but I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” You could hear his smile down the phone making you relax instantly.

“That’s sweet of you Joshy,” You giggled, making him laugh.

“So, do you want to go out on a date Y/N?” He asked softly, knowing it could scare you away.

“Of course!” You agreed.

“Great, tomorrow? 7pm?” He asked and you mumbled a yes and hung up.

Fuck, you hadn’t had a date in a year, was it still the same? What were you going to wear? What if he didn’t like you? What if you said something wrong?

Penny and Lily’s eyes snapped to you as they heard your breathing quicken, immediately rushing to your side and taking your hand.

“Y/N it’s okay.” You heard Penny whisper as she stroked circles on your back.

“I just haven’t been out with anyone in a while. I’m okay, I swear.” You mumbled giving them a half assed smile that seems to appease them a little.

“Y/N Josh would never hurt you. He’s been talking about asking you out since you met him.” Lily explained laughing slightly. You raised your eyebrows looking at her questioningly.

“You planned this didn’t you?” You giggled when they nodded their heads looking very proud of themselves. You shook your head at them and relaxed, you were going to enjoy yourself for once.

You didn’t think about the date until the next day, when Tom was sat on your bed trying to make plans with you for that night.

“C’mon Y/N the girls had you last night, I don’t get a movie night with my best friend?” Tom pouted slightly making you laugh.

“I can’t, I um have a date,” You rushed out casually. “So, you want some lunch?” You coughed hoping he hadn’t heard you.

“Hey, you don’t get out of that that easily,” He laughed, looking at you with his head tilted. “Who with?”

“Josh.” You mumbled softly, not even being able to look him in the eye. It felt like cheating, but it wasn’t. You were just friends. You shook your head and focused on Josh.

“That guy?” Tom asked jumping up. “No, nu-uh. Not happening,” He mumbled stepping in front of your closet.

“Tom calm down, he’s sweet. Why can’t I date him?” You folded your arms and looked at him pointedly.

“He’s not good enough for you, and he’s always in detention. You need someone who’s a good influence.” He shrugged, ignoring the fire burning in the pit of his belly. It was a common occurrence whenever you went on a date, but he had always ignored it.

You raised your eyebrow at him and shoved him out of the way, laughing as he fell onto your beanbag chair. You stepped into your closet and took out a few dresses as options for Tom to help you choose from as he sulked on your bed.

“You can’t choose who I date Tom, your girlfriend hates me.” You shrugged laughing as he tried to protest but realised, he had no argument.

“Fine, but you tell me all about it tomorrow, and if you’re in trouble you ring me, and I’ll be there.” He wagged his finger at you, making you laugh and push it away.

“Stop being such a Dad Tom. Now, blue or purple?” You asked him, holding the dresses up to your chest making him shake his head, God you were so adorable in his mind.

You literally had to force Tom back over to his house through his window as Josh pulled up outside. He wanted to go scare the guy a little, but you wouldn’t let him. As soon as he got back through his window he sat down against the wall and pulled his legs into his chest. What was that? Sure, he always felt overprotective and a little jealous before you went on dates, but he hasn’t felt that jealous since… since you went on your first date.

****

At the ripe age of 12 being asked out on your very first date was nerve wracking, and even more so when you knew you were probably going to get your first kiss. You didn’t know if you were ready for that. So as always you turned to Tom to freak out.

“Y/N calm down, kissing can’t be that hard. Why did you agree to go out with this guy anyway?”

“Because he’s the only one who’s asked.” You mumbled, not meeting Tom’s eyes.

“Peach that should never be the reason you go out with someone, you hear me.” He spoke, lifting your chin so you looked into his eyes. You were close, noses almost touching and both gazing intensely into each other’s eyes. It was almost romantic, until you pulled away harshly at your phone pinging.

“Sorry, it’s him.” You mumbled softly, typing a quick answer to the text and ignoring your heart beating against your chest.

“Look Peach, if you want, we can do a practice kiss, that way you won’t be nervous. I’ve never done it before either so you can’t mess up with me.” Tom shifted in his place, looking at you shyly. His heart was hammering in his chest and he was hoping with every part of him you would say yes and forget about that stupid guy.

“As long as it doesn’t mess up our friendship,” You mumbled, inching closer to him.

“Nothing ever could.” He whispered, pressing his lips to yours. You both felt the same that day, butterflies in the bottom of your stomachs like a pit of fire, sparks between your touch and inching to kiss more and more but you couldn’t. You were best friends, nothing more.

“Thanks Tom, I feel a lot better.” You smiled at him, not noticing the way his face falls softly as your phone pings again. “He’s here, I’ll see you after Tommy.”

As you rushed out the door and he climbed back through his window his heart fell to his stomach, he couldn’t fall in love with his best friend. He promised himself that day he never would.

****

He shook it off, he was with Sasha. He couldn’t go back down that road, not when there was never a chance of you liking him back. So, he pushed the feelings back down and texted his girlfriend. You were always just going to be friends, best friends.

Josh had treat you like a princess all night, he had set up a picnic on a nearby mountain top in the back of his pickup. He had lots of blankets and an iPad to play some movies on while you cuddled up. It was perfect, and he almost took your mind off Tom.

“Josh, this has been great. Thank you, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble.” You smiled at him, eyes sparkling in sincerity.

“I wanted to. I really like you Y/N. I have something to ask you.” He grinned as he sat up in his truck.

“Yes?”

“Will you go to the dance with me?” He asked hopefully, you hated to crush his sparkling face and ruin this moment.

“I can’t Josh, I’m sorry. I go with Tom every year. It’s a tradition, you know.” You shrugged sadly, squeezing his hand in apology.

“I get it, I wish it could be different, but I understand. At least save a dance for me?” He asked sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Of course, can’t miss up that opportunity.” You smiled and leaned in to give him a quick peck. Although you felt the butterflies at the bottom of your stomach and you really loved kissing him, your mind couldn’t help but to circle back to Tom. It was never the same feeling as Tom, but all you could ever be was best friends. So, you settled for the rougher, less tingly lips of Josh and smiled sadly. You would always have to settle.

Next Part

BIBF Series Tags: @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @colie87 @atlas-of-the-world @duckieburns @biawol @maralisa124 @gabriels-trix @the-winchesters-impala @letmebeyoursforever @rosie-winchester @bellero @dreaminemz @aomi-nabi @babygurl224221 @sebstanismyman @captured-memory @thatbandchick39 @thevelvetseries

Forever Tags (people who have asked, let me know if you want adding) @creativedogs​  @a-magey  @natashacamillaus @platonic-plots  @captainsherlockwinchester110283 @sleepylunarwolf @claitynroberts @theshortegg @casiskween @robfangirl @fanficwithasideofcanon @jaremish @mlovesstories @lauren-novak @hi-my-name-is-riley @spn-tw-37 @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @spnrelatedurl @phonegalhelp @springholland @the-hufflepuff-hunter @chonisberonica @coralphantomninja @therealmrshale

#bibf #bibf series #bibf part six #Tom Padalecki #tom x reader #tom padalecki x reader #oc #original character #jensen x daughter!reader #danneel x daughter!reader #Jensen x Danneel #jared x genevieve #Jared Padalecki #Genevieve Padalecki #Jensen Ackles #danneel ackles #jealousy #first kiss #spn #spn fic #supernatural #supernatural series #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #SPN Family #spn rpf #rpf #supernatural rpf #spn fluff #spn angst

[thisnerdsadventures]

I, a campaign manager

so in addition to being a CTO, a CS major, and a dorm vice president, i was also a campaign manager for 2 weeks (the exact campaign that I was managing is not entirely difficult to figure out if you really want to know, especially if you click on the links BUT i will be trying to not mention it specifically here lol). You might be wondering - (1) why and (2) how did you end up becoming a campaign manager..... you're not even a poli sci/gov/humanities/literally anything vaguely related to this major??

You're correct, yes, how did this happen? Well that's a great place to start this story:

How in the world this happened

Friends drag you into stuff. This happens to be the same friend that dragged me to New York, and then was 20% of the reason I got dragged into the negotiation class, and then was maybe 15% of the reason i got dragged into nonprofit activities? In terms of providing unique opportunities in my life, she definitely takes the cake. So one day, she says "I'm running for this position," and me and the squad says "we gotchu." What does that mean? Clearly wasn't sure in the beginning, but we were texting campaign strategies and slogans and tiktok ideas in the chat for fun. None of us had any real responsibilities, especially since the actual candidates were still weighing the playing field and figuring out their platform.

I also was a course 6, so I guess there was some expectation that I would make the website, even though I didn't actually code the website from scratch.

but anyways, it was actual campaign time.

CAMPAIGN SZN

After they figured out the campaign platform, it was game on for the campaign materials. We spent a lot of time on artwork, we photoshopped pictures from a photo shoot, we came up with campaign motto ideas, we brainstormed strategies for officially announcing the campaign. We had an actual campaign meeting to talk over things in mid-April where I met like six different people, friends from both candidates on this ticket, who were supporting this effort. We had a google drive AND a Dropbox. Look at this:

Despite this seemingly organized effort, it was not that organized because this publicity team didn't actually actively do anything for like a week. Many reasons for this: one being it was actually the semester, and it was also CPW weekend. Unfortunately for me, that weekend was literally hell for me, because I was managing this site for our nonprofit, CPW events (so like five zoom calls on a Saturday), classes (because those are still happening), and then the campaign thing finally started, about a week before voting opened. In the form, of a website.

So the tl;dr is I developed an entire Squarespace website in one night. Yes, one night. I had to model it from I think the website from a Harvard campaign site, which took me like three or four hours on a Saturday night, which is a very fast time in my opinion to learn how to use Squarespace. I also bought a domain and figured out how to connect it to Squarespace at like 1 in the morning, which was the first domain I ever bought in my life!

(It expires in a month. I am absolutely going to let it die.)

Also, if anyone from squarespace is reading this for some reason, yall made a really solid product. I actually was very happy with my experience. You all should use it, I am 100% not sponsored by them at all, but honestly it was a very good experience. If you need to develop a website in four hours and don't have a lot of webdev experience, definitely consider it. You can even see website clicks and user analytics, it's actually really put together.

The next day we spend a lot of time going through website changes and artwork changes. It's bad. We had so many discussions about color palettes and the advantages of a 3 column vs 4 column layout. Yes. I'm serious. I'm starting to go crazy.

If anyone's interested, I would say that our website definitely was better than the other campaign's website. Like objectively. Like both campaigns were great, but the website? well. Here's the link (archived because I only paid for 1 month of squarespace :D) The amount of detail that went into it is actually incredible, the amount of spacing, i even had to custom CSS the header image so that mobile headers would show up correctly.

THE CAMPAIGN VIDEO

so sometime during this week, I had this thought about making a really good campaign video. I was very inspired by some of these Google ads that started with a Google search bar. (Yes, I am aware that I am that much of a Google simp.) To be honest, rewatching this ad, I really definitely just copied this entire ad lol, it's ok we don't have to talk about that.

That Wednesday, we coincidentally talked about what makes campaign videos successful. We talked about how Trump's incendiary imagery helped stoke the flames and how it was really effective in getting people to vote, and eventually helped him beat Clinton in the presidential election. So I went and took that and grabbed news clips and campus videos and overlayed that in the video, and it went from like a solid 6 to an 8 immediately, in my honest, unbiased opinion. You can see what I mean in the video itself: [link].

We also had to put together quite a few interviews about what they wanted from the school and were looking for in their candidates, which took a million years of coordination, but we somehow got it done in three days, and everything was put together in a flurry of a weekend, unending changes and small fixes for sixteen hours straight. I could not even tell you how much I learned about premiere pro and how to use layer masks and everything. I even composed the music for the first fifteen seconds of it. Literally, composed, it.

And so on a Sunday afternoon FINALLY right before voting, the video drops. I'm sitting in my backyard absorbing the sun because I hadn't left my computer for 48 hours straight.

It gets like 1000 views or impressions or something in like two days, which is incredible for me, since I'm not a professional by any standards, but I am considering being a professional campaign manager at this point. By the way, we're also managing an Instagram page, a Facebook page, a tiktok page, a website, our individual social media pages, and we're trying to synchronize this video drop and all of our publicity efforts across every single one of these channels. It's chaotic at best.

VOTING SZN

So it's voting week, where we give everyone an entire week to vote. Across the week, it's mostly a waiting game, we make a few more tiktoks and funny videos that we publicize to get out the vote more. The last day, we're thinking about it, and we know the final vote's gonna be close, so we message every. single. person. in our Facebook friends list. I think I singlehandedly convinced like twenty people to vote (and hopefully vote for our ticket).

There's a lot of drama about different stuff. I won't really talk about it because I think it got really messy, but this week and entire couple weeks was a lot to get through honestly. As a reminder, I'm also working on my senior thesis and my nonprofit website work is peaking at this point, so everything is very, very bad and none of us have slept in a while. Also it's the pandemic.

Finally, the results come out. We lost by like 20 votes or something, out of 1500 or so total votes casted or something like that. It's one of the highest voter turnouts in school history or something, I don't quite remember. After that, we're so emotionally drained from this whole thing that we just don't talk about it for a while and that's that.

If the ticket won, I wonder how it would've turned out. I feel like things would've continued to be busy, and maybe that's not a great thing. So maybe everything happened for a reason. I don't know, but those three weeks were quite interesting, quite fun, quite odd. I'm putting those videos in my personal portfolio and am putting Adobe Premiere Pro and Squarespace on my resume and moving on.

Anyways, thought I'd just share! i haven't posted in a while, and this was definitely one of my #weird #odd stories from my time at MIT, which is quite reminiscent of #weird #odd at MIT in general.

#m

[humansofhds]

Evelyn Nam, MTS ’18

“I am humbled when I witness the impact that my content has on people. It’s been a really cool experience to read messages from nine-year-olds to 65-year-olds saying that they are inspired by my confidence and that I'm being helpful.”

Evelyn is an HDS and Harvard Kennedy School grad and a feminist content creator on TikTok with over 655k followers and 11.5 million likes. View all of Evelyn’s work here, and follow Evelyn on TikTok (@herspective) and Instagram (@herspectivefeminist).

The Journey from Academia to Social Media

I came to Harvard Divinity School in 2016 for my Master of Theological Studies and then went straight to the Harvard Kennedy School where I pursued a second master’s program for two years. So, I ended up graduating in 2020 into the worst economy possible, and an especially hostile one for Asian individuals. 

The year 2020 was a year of reflection for a lot of us, and personally it really gave me the opportunity to process all the education and experiences I had collected at both HDS and HKS, and to think about how I wanted to utilize and leverage them to make a difference and have impact. This led me to start creating content on TikTok. 

I started posting on TikTok somewhat as a joke initially, but when I began to notice just how toxic, racist, and sexist the app was, I decided to address it; and here I am. 

When you live in a white supremacist patriarchy, everyone else faces the risk of being dehumanized. Therefore, when technology is added on top of it, it's even doubly dehumanizing because it is much easier for people to attack and harass each other fueled by the anonymity of social media. There are people on the app who make destructive content and actually get celebrated, recognized for this. Seeing this happen up close was revealing and showed me that I had been living in something of a progressive bubble. 

HDS especially is such a spiritually progressive place that it made me think that the world couldn’t really be that bad. So, in a way, TikTok, Instagram, and social media influencing gave me a wakeup call. My education at HDS and HKS helped me in different ways. HDS emphasized the tenet of leadership, most adequately expressed in the ability to know and understand where the other side is coming from. I don't have to meet them where they are, but I have to know where they're coming from and to extend empathy even to those with whom I disagree. This does not mean that I should stop calling them out, or that I should stop speaking the truth, but it does mean that even though they might have successfully demonized somebody like me, an East Asian woman, I can still humanize them. This is a really difficult thing to do, but HDS really hammered in its importance for me.  

Friendship as Activism

Additionally, HDS validated my voice and my eagerness to intervene when something is happening that shouldn't be happening. It validated that it is important to trust our instincts for justice, to get involved and to use our power and privilege to get in between somebody who is getting bullied and someone who is bullying them. And so, when I saw bullying happening on the app, how could I not feel called to intervene? If I had turned a blind eye, who was I helping? 

As an MTS student with a focus on Religion, Ethics and Politics, I had structured my course selections in ways that would enable me to be a good feminist. So, while I took gender courses, I also took courses about forgiveness and spiritual counseling because I wanted to be an effective friend to women and non-binary individuals who wrestle the most with patriarchy. There is a lot of religious illiteracy on the app, but I am grounded in my own knowledge that Jesus is a feminist, and a loving God. 

As a progressive Catholic, I may not agree with the church, but I agree with God. I am confident of his love for Black folks, for indigenous folks, for people who are marginalized, struggling, or poor. When God is represented as an authoritative, cosmic being responsible for punishing people and managing punishments, it bothers me because that narrative instills fear in people and it traumatizes them. What I would love to see instead is a more diverse representation of different religions. Right now, the app lacks this, so there's an access gap there that is exacerbating the religious illiteracy problem.

Highlighting Marginalized Voices

TikTok recently made a public apology in which they admitted to having suppressed the voices of LGBTQ+ content creators, stating that they did that because they were afraid that LGBTQ+ creators were going to be bullied by the public. And my response to that is, well they should have reprimanded the bullies instead. 

I think about the many activist content creators that I see, especially Black queer women who talk often about oppression and are so insightful and wise. They don't get as much traction and they have a harder time reaching audiences and going viral than white cis women do. As it currently stands, the content that easily blows up is usually put out by cis white women with “pretty privilege”. The more marginalized identities one has, the harder time they have on the app, so it is quite literally a microcosm of the world. 

One of the reasons why I'm still active on TikTok is that I can utilize my platform to highlight marginalized creators. There is a community in that; we see each other and talk to each other even behind closed doors, and this is necessary because personally, as an Asian woman this has been a really tough year. And one of the things that made it even more difficult was feeling like I was isolated or that nobody cared about my struggles. But through this app, I have met a lot of people who do care about my struggles and care about marginalized identities. 

The  second thing is that I am humbled when I witness the impact that my content has on people. It’s been a really cool experience to read messages from nine-year-olds to 65-year-olds saying that they are inspired by my confidence and that I'm being helpful.  

Practicing Selfcare and Healthy Boundaries

I think my version of internalized misogyny is that I still believe that my role is to self-sacrifice. This is what makes me a great advocate to begin with, because I jump to the defense of people who are struggling without really caring about the risks it might pose to me. 

However, it is not always healthy to think that my role is to prioritize everyone else above myself. It has finally reached a point where that is not working anymore, so I have some unpacking to do there. I am now realizing through social media activism that if I show up all burned out, I'm not good for anybody. So no, I don't think I'm an expert at selfcare yet, and I think being open about that is important because I hope that by being vulnerable about my own internalized misogyny, I can encourage other women to be also open about their own. 

This presence of vulnerability is something I miss about being in the HDS community. HDS is a really special place, and I want people to know that. It is an exquisitely compassionate place, and your time at HDS probably is the only time where you will get to be as vulnerable, authentic, and honest as you can be about yourself and all your flaws and still be accepted, loved, respected and valued. 

The entire culture of HDS is that all anyone has to do is to show up as who they are. And I would like to encourage everyone at HDS to fully know and understand that. 

Interview by Suzannah Omonuk; photos courtesy of Evelyn Nam

#Harvard #Harvard Divinity School #harvard kennedy school #selfcare #catholicism #gender #activism #large

[lunapaper]

The year was 2010. Emo was just starting to die out (long live the scene). I was studying to become a secondary school teacher, and Katy Perry was shooting whipped cream out of her boobs...

Second albums, more often than not, fail to live up to the hype. And yet, Teenage Dream has somehow endured.

While Perry’s 2008 debut, One of the Boys, launched her into the mainstream, it really hasn’t aged all that well. On tracks like ‘Self Inflicted’ and ‘Fingerprints,’ she tries way too hard to emulate Paramore’s bold pop punk. On others, she attempts to rebel against her gospel roots by turning the bawdiness up to 10.

It can also come off pretty juvenile at times. The singer was almost 25 when she sang on the title track: ‘So over the summer, something changed/I started reading Seventeen and shaving my legs/And I studied Lolita religiously/And I walked right in to school and caught you staring at me.’

But let’s be honest: Even though it’s been declared ~problematic~, you still jam out to ‘I Kissed A Girl’ when you hear it, don’t you? I hadn’t listened to ‘Ur So Gay’ before this, either, but its slinky, jazz-infused vibe absolutely slaps.

Like Teenage Dream is also a product of its time, presenting pop at its most sugary, hook-laden and bombastic. It managed to spawn 5 No.1 singles, the second album in history to do so after Michael Jackson’s Bad, as well as a documentary, Part of Me. There’s even a deluxe edition, cleverly titled The Complete Confection. It was Perry at her peak.

You know the title track, of course. Evoking images of cherry red lipstick, tight denim and driving down an empty highway in summer, Perry desperately clings to the memory of young love, breathlessly pleading ‘don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back.’

‘The One That Got Away,’ meanwhile, is its bittersweet sequel, Perry's lovesick nostalgia now tinged with regret. Yet, the only thing I really remember about the song is the video starring Cassian Andor himself, Diego Luna, as Perry’s past love, the beautifully dishevelled and tortured artist of my dreams (Dear God, that penetrating stare...) He’s also the only reason why anyone bothered to watch Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights, if it wasn’t already obvious.

First single ‘California Gurls,’ on the other hand, is pure pop exuberance at its most campy and carefree, indicative of a more innocent time when it wasn’t driven by algorithms or social media. ‘Firework’ is still a go-to empowerment anthem for just about every kind of montage imaginable. ‘ET’ (featuring a pre-’presidential’ Kanye) is heavily-synthesised cyber pop that doesn’t get nearly enough love.

But Teenage Dream, in retrospect, has quite a few misses. ‘Peacock’ is just one big, long, glitchy dick joke. ‘Not Like The Movies’ is big ballad schmaltz. The brassy soft rock of ‘Hummingbird Heartbeat,’ meanwhile, opens with a hell of a line: ‘You make me feel like I'm losing my virginity/The first time, every time when you're touching me.’ And I’m pretty sure ‘What Am I Living For?’ is partly plagiarised from Justin Timberlake’s ‘My Love.’ Even Pitchfork awarded Teenage Dream a rather tame 6.8 in their recent retrospective review.

By the time Perry released Prism in 2013 – her ‘darker, moodier’ record - she had shifted further into ‘inspirational anthems.’ There was the inescapable mega-hit ‘Roar,’ the saccharine power ballad ‘Unconditionally’ and the Eastern-tinged ‘Legendary Lovers,’ complete with wellness and spiritual motifs.

But it wasn’t without its bangers: ‘Dark Horse’ (featuring Juicy J) jumped onto the trap pop bandwagon just in time with its subterranean bass and eerie, otherworldly synths. Even the slick, 90s-indebted ‘This Is How We Do’ has a certain charm.

Prism also marked the point where Perry’s invincibility began to wear off. Where the masses once lapped up her candy-coated antics, they were now calling her out for wearing braids in the video for ‘This Is How We Do’ and dressing up as a geisha during a performance at the American Music Awards.

And they would only get louder during her era of ‘purposeful pop.’ Released in the aftermath of the 2016 US election, Witness was meant to cement Perry as ‘Artist. Activist. Conscious’ - as her Twitter bio read at the time. She had joined Hillary Clinton on the campaign trail. On Instagram, she was quoting the likes of Socrates and Plato. She was Woke now, and she was telling anyone who’d listen.

Yet you’d be hard pressed to find much trace of this ‘purposeful pop’ on Witness, bar the first single, ‘Chained to the Rhythm.’ Written with Sia and Max Martin, the singer implores listeners to ‘put your rose-coloured glasses on and party on’ amid whirling, colourful synths.

The rest of the record, however, is made up of either soppy, overly sentimental ballads (‘Save As Draft,’ ‘Pendulum,’ ‘Into Me You See’), awkward lyrical turns and CHVRCHES/Purity Ring knock-offs (‘Hey Hey Hey,’ ‘Roulette,’ ‘Deja Vu’).

Funnily enough, Purity Ring’s Corin Roddick produced some of Witness’ better tracks: ‘Mind Maze’ and the soaring ballad ‘Miss You More, along with ‘Bigger Than Me.’

Final track ‘Act My Age,’ meanwhile, feels like a pre-emptive strike against the criticism Witness would inevitably receive (‘They say that I might lose my Midas touch/They also say I may become irrelevant/But who the fuck are they anyway?’).

Then there’s the godawful ‘Bon Appetit’ (featuring Migos) with its food-related double entendres. It was ‘Yummy’ before ‘Yummy’ existed. Seriously, I just wanna see Orlando Bloom say he likes this song with a straight face...

But I will still defend ‘Swish Swish’ to the death. Do the lyrics suck? Yeah, but Perry’s never been the strongest lyricist. But its pulsing 90s house beat does a lot of the heavy lifting, along with Nicki Minaj’s spitfire verse.

The promotional rollout for Witness, meanwhile, proved just as messy. Among the most infamous was a 72-hour livestream, where voyeurs got to witness Perry sleep, meditate, do yoga and welcome a random assortment of guests, including Gordon Ramsey and activist DeRay McKesson. Then there was the meme-laden video for ‘Swish Swish. She literally served herself up on a platter in the clip for ‘Bon Appetit.’ She tried reigniting her feud with Taylor Swift on James Corden’s Carpool Karaoke. Needless to say, it reeked of desperation.

Looking back, though, you can’t help but feel a little bad for Perry, trying so hard to please only for it to blow up spectacularly in her face. So devastated, it sent her to the Hoffman Institute, which offers an abridged version of therapy. As she later told the Guardian:

‘I think the universe was like, ‘OK, all right, let’s have some humble pie here […] My negative thoughts were not great. They didn’t want to plan for a future. I also felt like I could control it by saying, ‘I’ll have the last word if I hurt myself or do something stupid and I’ll show you’ — but really, who was I showing?’

But although Witness lacked the perkiness of Teenage Dream or the cartoonish charm of One of the Boys, it shines best on its darker moments.

‘Dance With The Devil’ has the kind of smoky allure that wouldn’t look too out of place on a BANKS album, while ‘Power’ is a revelation. Produced by Jack Garrett, what could’ve been yet another dull empowerment ballad is turned into a gritty, groaning slab of vaporwave pop, with sultry sax riffs that sample, of all things, Smokey Robinson’s ‘Being With You.’ It’s electric as fuck. You believe it when Perry sings: ‘’Cause I'm a goddess and you know it/Some respect, you better show it/I'm done with you siphoning my power.’

If the singer had just done away with the whole ‘purposeful pop’ concept and stuck with Garrett, Roddick and Terror Jr’s Felix Snow as her core producing group, Witness probably wouldn’t have been half the failure it was. It could’ve had a chance to grow on people, the kind of slow burn Perry could’ve gotten away with at this point in her career. The cyberpop dystopian feel also could’ve gone hand in hand with her newfound wokeness, echoing people’s fear and anger in the aftermath of Trump’s win. But alas, we’ll never know...

While the rollout for Witness over the top, Smile’s was lacklustre and wildly inconsistent.

First single ‘Never Really Over’ came out a whole 15 months before the release of Smile to little fanfare, along with a hippie-inspired video to match. ‘Harleys in Hawaii’ later followed, which also stuck with the flower power aesthetic. Other singles - ‘Daisies’ and the title track – seemingly came and went without a trace.

So how did Katy Perry get to this point? And is there any chance of coming back?

It’s hard to say. A lot of artists go through a rough patch or two:   Miley's twerking antics divided audiences when she released 2013’s Bangerz. Taylor Swift’s reputation divided audiences. Only in recent years has Lady Gaga’s ARTPOP been vindicated. Such is the nature of music and pop culture in general. It’s fickle, just one vicious cycle after another; an endless quest for trend-bait that'll never end.

Right now, disco pop is going through a renaissance, while hyperpop reigns supreme. Dua Lip and Charli XCX are basically untouchable at the moment. TikTok has taken over from Top 40 radio when it comes to breaking hits, while the gap between album releases has also grown shorter and shorter. Even the nature of fandom has changed, shifting from old-school elitism to the bloodsport that is ‘stanning,’ along with an unhealthy amount of ‘endless simping’ (to quote a close friend of mine).

Perry, meanwhile, has failed to keep up, choosing to play it safe in order to avoid further scrutiny. But in doing so, she strips away the humour, the mischief and other idiosyncrasies that fans fell in love with in the first place.

But what choice did she have? As Junkee’s Sam Murphy notes in his own piece about Perry’s rise and fall:

‘At that point, you have two choices as a popstar — hunt for relevancy or make what comes naturally to you. Perry chose the former and came unstuck. She inserted vague wokeness into her songs as cancel culture infiltrated pop, tacked on rap features as hip-hop became the dominant commercial genre, and worked with producers who may have been able to find her credibility.’

(Full disclosure: I started writing my piece on Perry back in December 2020, so the timing of Murphy’s piece and mine is purely coincidental).

Even if you don’t believe in cancel culture, no one actually wants to be cancelled. It’s just not good for PR, especially for someone with an image as glossy and as carefully put-together as Perry’s. Even now, she continues to atone for Witness, telling the LA Times: ‘Having more awareness and consciousness, I no longer can just be a blissful, ignorant idealist who sings about love and relationships […] Even my travels have afforded me a new perspective on cultures, class systems and the inequality around the world, not just in the United States,’ though she carefully avoids the subject of politics on Smile.

But redemption is possible. Swift – Perry's one-time nemesis - was a total pariah back in 2016, mocked for her Girl Squad, for diddling the Hiddles while on the rebound from Calvin Harris and criticised for remaining coy on her political leanings. Now she’s earning indie cred with two of 2020’s biggest albums, folklore and evermore, and has thrown her support behind a number of social causes.

The devil works hard, but Swift’s PR team work harder. I might not be her biggest fan, but Taylor works Kris Jenner levels of mastery when it comes to rebuilding public sentiment. Thanks to her newfound indie cred, you’ve almost forgotten about the pastel atrocity ‘Me!,’ her 2019 duet with that insufferable drama kid cliché, Brendon Urie. Shifting her songs away from petty grievances to more original storytelling was also a smart move.

But while Swift has managed to move on, Perry seems to have fallen into the same adult contemporary trap as Gwen Stefani, Kelly Clarkson, Christina Aguilera and Pink, one that ensnares many female artists over 30 (Though many have also managed to escape – Gaga, Taylor, Beyonce, Rihanna, Kesha, Robyn...)

As ‘woke’ as the industry and fans at large might think themselves to be, they’re still pretty ageist. There's still an expectation to ‘mature’ your sound as you age, to become more ‘serious.’ No more fun, no more experimenting, boomer. But when you do end up filing away the edges, you’re called dull, generic and past your prime. Perry said as much on the aforementioned ‘Act My Age. You just. can't. win.

And yet, many female artists over 30 have created some of their best work yet in just the past year or so: Hayley Williams made the dramatic shift from pop rock to low-key, Radiohead-inspired tunes on her solo debut, Petals For Armor. Fiona Apple’s Fetch the Bolt Cutters was hailed by critics as her most bold, urgent and visceral. Jessie Ware’s What’s Your Pleasure? was a cut of understated disco pop elegance. Carly Rae Jepsen, meanwhile, released an equally stellar companion to 2019’s Dedicated.

At this point in her career, Perry could afford to follow a similar path to that of the Canadian singer. Once the meme value of ‘Call Me Maybe’ wore off, along with her mainstream appeal, Jepsen finally had a chance to discover real creative freedom, pushing her sound to greater heights and earning critical acclaim, all without having to compromise her love for catchy hooks and bold synth pop arrangements.

A couple of years ago, a Reddit user made a post about participating in a focus group held by Perry’s label to discuss why she’s ‘no longer one of the[ir] most notable female pop artists,’ and ‘what can [they] do with her image or marketing to make you care about her again?’

It’s depressing to think that an artist as accomplished as her needs a focus group to help solve her identity crisis. There really is no easy answer. Hopefully, Perry will be able to return more vibrant and assured than ever, on her own terms...

-Bianca B.

#music #katy perry #longform #opinion #new #Bianca B