#excuse you i care very much about this gifset!

[eternalgoldfish]

heavy lies (say you’re true)

Inspired by this gifset by @disdaidal

Harringrove  |   1137 Words   |  Read on AO3

“But Steve,” Robin says, words all exhale, “Billy?”

And Steve knows what it sounds like. He knows a lot of fucking things, alright? He’s a smart fucking guy. But he also can’t do anything about this. He didn’t just decide to wake up and be like this. This is completely and utterly outside of his control.

“Will you stop making that face?”

Robin blinks, like, “What face? Oh, this face? This face of concern? Tell me, Steve, under the weight of this catastrophically world-altering information, what face should I be making?”

God. Steve grimaces and leans back against the hood of his car, rubbing his brows. “Do you have to be so dramatic? It’s like I’m hanging out with Dustin.”

“Oh no, if I were Dustin this would be much, much worse. I haven’t called a code red yet. I haven’t growled through my teeth.”

And thank fuck Dustin has gotten over that phase, but.

“I’m pretty sure he thinks that’s sexy.”

“Huh.” Robin puts her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. It’s like she never stops pacing, worn Converse crunching on the gravel, accusatory. “It always makes me want to run away. I was sure that was the point.”

“He thinks it gets girls -- you’re being sarcastic.”

“Yes, Steven, I’m being sarcastic. But I’m not using an ounce of sarcasm when I tell you that you are making a very, very bad choice here. Possibly the worst choice you’ve ever made. And I saw you go out with Hannah from my Spanish class. Una tragedia.”

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion. He just changed my tires.”

“Oh, your tires.” 

“He works at the auto shop! I took my car to the auto shop!”

“The auto shop where Billy just so happens to work? After you just so happened to hear Max say he worked there?”

“My car needed work. I don’t know what you want from me.” Steve throws his hands up. “If I wanted to see how he was doing I wouldn’t need my car as an excuse.”

“So you did want to know.”

“Robin.”

“He gets out of the hospital and your car needs new tires? It’s curious, is all.”

“It’s almost winter. In the winter, you put on your winter tires. Which you would know if you had your license. But I’m still picking you up from your band practice because you don’t and I’m a nice guy, so.”

“How was he?” Robin asks, hands going into her pockets.

“He was fine. Alive. You know. Good.”

Robin snorts. “Alive. What a ringing endorsement. Is he getting back into shape?”

And Steve knows a trap when he sees one, has spent an awful lot of fucking time in recent years learning to spot traps. He squints but still says, “I think he’s been working out, sure. I’ve seen him at the gym.”

“His hair is getting long again.”

“It is.”

Robin twists on a dime, gravel jumping across the driveway as she jabs a finger in Steve’s direction. She grins, says, “You’re making the face.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“The face. The face you make when you’ve asked a girl out. When you’re trying to act cool--”

“I don’t have a face--”

“--and don’t want me to think you’re serious about it. And I always support you, don’t I? I know we haven’t talked about this before, and frankly, this epiphany is kind of a high--”

“What epiphany is--”

“--You know I wouldn’t care if you liked guys, right? That’s out in the open? We’re clear there? This doesn’t have to be a one-way thing? Although I can’t relate to dicks the way you do with boobs, but that’s not--”

“Robin--”

“And I’m glad that you’re getting back on the horse and feeling optimistic about something, but--” her smile falls, nose and eyebrows scrunching, “--Billy, really?”

It makes Steve want to die a little, all of it too much and too soon, not at all what he planned for. Not that he has a plan. Not that he even knows what he’s doing. Not that he even knows what Robin is talking about.

“It’s not a date.”

"Steve.”

“Robin, that’s really not -- that’s really not it, okay? We’re not -- I just asked him if he wanted to get drinks.”

Robin raises her eyebrows. This time it’s Steve’s turn to point.

“No, look, I know what that sounds like. It’s normal drinks, normal drinks between guys. Guy-drinks. After-work-drinks to try and put the past behind us. Trying to mend the old fence and all that.”

“It that what we’re calling your nose now?”

“Robin.”

“Sorry.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest, tips his head back, wonders if he could stare at the sun long enough to go blind, if people ever actually do that. He exhales, slow. “Why do you think it’s a date?”

After a pause, Robin hops onto the hood of the car, butt hitting the metal with a soft thwump as she sits. “Real answer?” She asks.

“Real answer.” Steve swallows.

Even though he isn’t looking, he can tell she’s picking at her fingers, can tell she’s choosing her words carefully from how her elbow brushes his ribs. She finally says, “You’ve been bringing up Billy a lot lately, especially since he came out of the hospital. And I don’t know what you guys were like before all the mall stuff this summer, but--”

“We weren’t like anything. He broke my nose, remember?”

She waves a hand. “You’re missing the point. You’ve been talking about him a lot. And then today you’ve got that look, that one you get when you think a date is going to go really, really well, even when you’re wrong, and instead you open your big dumb mouth and say--”

“I’m getting drinks with Billy.”

“You’re getting drinks with Billy.”

He needs to sit on that, really let it stew. It should alarm him a little, maybe, that Robin reads him like an open book. That she can just flip through pages he isn’t even finished writing yet. She’s not always right about everything, but this? He wishes she was wrong about this.

“I don’t think he knows it’s a date. Or thinks it’s a date. I don’t think he thinks it’s a date. Which I’m pretty sure makes it not a date at all.”

Robin knocks the toes of her shoes together. “But you do want it to be?”

Steve stares at the sun.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean. Yeah.”

Robin groans, hits the car so hard it makes Steve jump. She shouts, “You have the worst taste--”

“Stop that, you’re going to wreck the paint--”

-

It’s not a date. It’s absolutely not. But when Billy walks into the bar and grins his way, it’s easy for Steve to believe it is.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #robin buckley #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #my fic #is this how people post these things i don't know i'm 102 years old

[paperstorm]

Your tags on that gifset hit home a bit for me, I think.. something I've found very difficult this season is seeing sort of a lack of compassion from some people in this fandom toward Carlos' tendency to avoid difficult situations and conversations. I understand that things are dialed up for dramatic purposes, but as someone who can relate to that tendency and also struggles with it, it's been upsetting to reckon with the idea that TK showing him kindness, grace, and compassion is too much, or that he shouldn't be. I understand people being upset by his actions and I don't want to invalidate those feelings, but I'm left wondering if the wishes for TK to have been harsher are a reflection of how these people treat individuals in their real lives who struggle with this as Carlos does. Again, I don't want to dismiss anyone's feelings, this season has definitely been polarizing, I just wish people would be more careful with the words they use.

I have a lot of compassion for anyone not enjoying his story this season because I don't think anyone wants to feel that way. I think there are people who have loved Carlos and were excited for this season and feel really let down by how he's been written this year and that's not a place anyone would be by choice. It's just how they feel, and that's gotta be really awful.

Idk. The writing has been somewhat sloppy with some of this, I don't deny that. But at the same time, Carlos is a person who spent his whole life until he was 26 years old feeling like he couldn't be fully honest about basically anything. Feeling like he wasn't safe to tell people his truths. That's not a thing you can just shake off or something that magically goes away the day someone falls in love with you. That's a lifetime of trauma and learned behavior. Of course he should have been more honest with TK but that's not a simple thing, for a person who's spent their whole life being guarded as a necessary defense mechanism. It's not an excuse, but it's a valid reason, and a little bit of grace is not unreasonable. Especially from someone who loves him. Sometimes it feels like the internet at large likes to talk a big talk about how supportive they are about mental illness right up until the point that someone starts displaying symptoms of mental illness, and then it's too far or they're problematic or they should've gone to therapy and fixed themselves or they're using it as an excuse or they're causing harm by daring to not be perfect. And Carlos isn't real. You can't hurt his feelings by not offering him any compassion. But other people are real, and they see those harsh and uncompassionate reactions, and that's where feelings get hurt.

#911ls asks #911ls discourse #i'm introspective tonight #because I'm very tired lol

[coppoladelrey]

I saw your edit posted of viserys and alicent recently. In the show when they were showing it I just skipped through the scene as it was too uncomfortable for me but I didn't know it was very graphic.

And this is why I don't understand why the hell the showrunners did not give alicent a scene where she was allowed to rage at Viserys. My goodness they keep telling that there is only 1 r*pe scene and they do not consider this as that?? They even allowed her to waste her tears over him??

Others have commented before that sansa was allowed to resent littlefinger and we all know how terrible d&d were on this subject. But c'mon what is up with hotd?? And the worst thing is the narrative keeps glorifying him. I actually liked viserys in episode 1 but afterwards he is the one I hate the most in the show.

Also this is one of the main reasons why I hated the show changing alicents age. If you want to portray Viserys as a lovable grandpa and horrible father who is trying to keep his family in check and sucking at it due to his own indecisiveness and blatant favouritism it is fine. I can deal with terrible family dynamics. But I cannot deal with sa. Also wasn't the actress 19 why would the show runners put her upto this🤮. And team bl@ck think this dude is father of the year?? Why didn't they follow the books- atleast they had a closer age gap 18-29 or something right?

Sorry for ranting...you can ignore it but ur gifset really shocked me. I do like your edits though please don't take it the wrong way.

Hey love, thanks for the ask.

It is quite ironic that in the books Viserys and Alicent's age gap is the healthiest one.

They had to change many things due to Alicent and Rhaenyra being the same age, and they really wanted Paddy to play Viserys and didn't think of the implications.

Now onto them...they will excuse anything for their girlboss qween Rhaenyra. They excuse Daemon's awful behaviour and character because he's on the "right side". The writers decided to frame Rhaenyra's struggle as feminism, which couldn't be further from the truth.

It was very intentional on their part, they made the greens argument about that corpse's last words...when they had law on their side, which is why they say "tHe KiNg'S wOrD Is LaW" and it really isn't, otherwise Jaehaerys wouldn't bother calling the Great Council, making the doctrine of exceptionalism and Viserys wouldn't be pressured to marry again.

The thing is in my honest opinion, Alicent is the writer's punching bag. Alicent is not allowed to rebel, because she's not Khaleesi 2.0. Alicent has to grovel to Rhaenyra, forfeit her children for a woman that never cared that much about her, if at all.

The writers needed someone to suffer and it couldn't be Rhaenyra, otherwise, people wouldn't like that, since Alicent is framed as the villain, the evil stepmother, and is accused of seducing poor Viserys as a 14 year old, what she went through is simply bad sex.

tHaT iS wHy ShE's So BiTtEr...they say.

People are excited about B&C something that GRRM made sure to make inexcusable and they still cheer for it, in this fandom if you aren't a Targaryen everything that happened to you is your fault. At the same time, you have to learn your place and shut up.

The writers wanted to make sure that Emily and Milly looked particularly young, so they went for actual teenagers. I would give them the benefit and say they didn't think this through, but the script, the filming, post-production and everything else made me think it was their intent or simply didn't care about the actress.

#alicent hightower #anti viserys i targaryen #house of the dragon #answered

[raideo]

Issey drama anon here, please tell us about Romance Doll because I have not heard anything about it

also, have you heard of Quartet? I've seen like 50 gifsets from it and it seems legit funny as hell

UMMM WELL- I'll put my thoughts on Romance Doll under a break at the end because the movie is pretty nsfw and weird and yeah...

Quartet is on my list! I'm definitely going to watch it at some point, but I also really wanna watch Miracles! Honestly that one has been the most interesting to me from the beginning but my adhd is just causing me to watch whatever's convenient first, not the ONE IVE REALLY WANTED TO WATCH THIS WHOLE TIME. I still have to finish Koisenu Futari too... I stopped that one cuz I was watching it with someone and we had a long period of time where we couldn't watch it. And then also it's just VERY HEAVY as a person who happens to be demi who has gone through periods of feeling like I could be aroace in the past. It's so realistic and deals with the painful things as well as the funny things and I am scared to finish it bc I KNOW THERES MORE HEAVY SHIT TO COME but it's an amazing show AND I DO WANT TO FINISH THAT ONE TOO.

And on a completely polar opposite note: ROMANCE DOLL, LMAO

Ok so, this movie is very much one of those WEIRDLY REALISTIC stories where all the characters are so real and flawed and HUGE MISTAKES ARE MADE by characters and it's just such a wild ride. You probably haven't heard about it because its FUCKING WACK.

Without giving too much away in case you wanna watch it (netflix dropped it last monday, which is actually why I ended up watching it over the weekend at all, but it's still available to rent on amazon 🙄) Issey plays Tetsuo, an unemployed art college grad who is desperate for a job. His friend gave him a tip about this sketchy job opening but told him literally nothing else about it. He shows up and this old woman greets him and shows him around and he's a bit shocked to find out it's a shop that makes SILICONE SEX DOLLS. The woman is like "your friend didn't tell you that???" And Tetsuo was like "he literally just said there was a job here-" and she laughs and says "Some friend he is then!" Honestly I loved the old lady she's great, I wish I could remember her name I'm too lazy to go look it up rn.

Anyway so yeah, he takes the job even though the interview was super awkward and there's this gross pervy old guy who works there and he doesn't really care about the subject matter he just needs money (mood)

One thing and another happens (and a lot of me wanting to slap the old man into next tuesday, seriously he's the worst) and a little bit later Tetsuo meets the love of his life through some bullshit connection to his job, and they end up getting married some time after, but she doesn't know what he does for a living and ITS ALL VERY HARD TO EXPLAIN WHY HE KEEPS THAT FROM HER without spoiling things but just- the movie is wack, I really didn't like it in the beginning but it pulls a complete 180 and ends up being this weirdly emotional and AT TIMES, a holesome wholesome slice of life movie??

Don't get me wrong it doesn't sugarcoat things like objectification of women and there's some degree of realistic portrayal of that bc of the whole Tetsuo working at a sex doll shop thing, it is very true to life- how men can be gross even if they aren't going so far as assaulting anyone. It doesn't excuse it either it just presents it as it is, which is good I think. But then there are OTHER moments where the movie is very sex positive- so its a wild fucking trip tbh. Definitely don't watch it if you have sensitivities to the things I mentioned above bc bro omg the first half almost had me like "yeah I can't watch this" a couple times jfc.

BASICALLY by the end of the movie the message is that communication and being open with people you love (and not getting bogged down with anxiety and guilt) is important, because on top of not being fair to the people who are important to you, hiding things from them can eat you up inside and make you act irrationally and hurt them even more whether you realize it or not. And also, you never know how someone will feel about the things you don't want to tell them. Something that could be huge to you could be no big deal to another.

Its just a very interesting movie. I don't know if I'd recommend it, theres some NUCLEAR SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT CRINGE MOMENTS like oh my god i wanted to die- and like I said above, there's lots of intense subject matter and some not so pretty moments that a lot of people may want to avoid. Id for sure check one of those sites that gives content warnings before watching bc hoo boy...

But all that aside, once again Issey is an incredible actor and his range is apparent in this movie. I saw some like- borderline SLAPSTICK physical comedy moments that had me so surprised bc he did them so well but its so new and different from anything else ive watched him star in. Dude is just unstoppable tbh. He HAS 👏 THE 👏 RANGE!! 👏

Also you get to see him naked a lot. So there's that!

#LMFAO GOD #its a long post and read at your own risk #rai replies #anon #takahashi issei #sorry to clog the tag with my thoughts I just want issey anon to be able to find it #romance doll #collecting Issey characters with different sexualities like infinity stones lmfao #finally with this movie we have the straight guy

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

sorry if you have answered this already, but who are your favorite characters in Twd ?

I haven't answered this before!! I have posted about my favourite characters before - reblogging gifsets and such, but I have never made an official list of my favourite characters. So I thought this would be interesting. Based on this, I decided to do an official list of

My Top Ten Favourite Characters In The Walking Dead

Fair warning: This list contains spoilers for the show. If you are just watching the show for the first time, or if you have never seen it before and you want to watch it spoiler-free, then don't read this list. It contains mentions of character deaths and major plot points from the show.

Honorable Mentions: Gareth (probably my favourite villain from the whole show), Noah (such a great character, saddest death), Carol (her character arc is so good that it makes me wanna vomit confetti), T-Dog (they wasted his character so much it makes me wanna cry sometimes), Sasha (such an amazing badass and I love her soft, sweet moments, and her death literally had me screaming), Andrea (I love the display of a sister/sister dynamic with her and Amy, and I love how they showed her struggle with mental health and suicidal ideation and being left behind). OH FUCK I ALMOST FORGOT (because I haven't watched their seasons in a while, I have an excuse) - King Ezekiel (he is so sexy and like he has a TIGER and the way he talks is so beautiful I don't care if it's theater kid bs), Jerry (I love him so much I need to write a fic about him some day), Aaron (Rick tying him to a pole and forcing him to eat applesauce as a form of torture will forever live on in my mind as peak comedy).

There is actually very few characters from the show I dislike - even when it comes to the villains, I feel like they have their merit and their place in the show. But here are my top ten characters in the show that I will always cheer on and scream when they come on screen

10. Dale Horvath

I love Dale so fucking much.

I have mentioned this before, but a lot of the time people adopt blorbos from shows romantically (like a boyfriend or a wife), or platonically as a best friend, or sometimes even as a child you want to take care of (like the Stranger Things kids) - but I am someone, who, at an alarming rate, adopts blorbos who I want to be my father.

I have such a wide blorbo collection of father figures. Gideon from Criminal Minds, John from the Saw films - the list goes on.

Dale is my father. I love him so much as a father.

Right from the moment he made that speech around the fire about 'this watch will suit you no better than it suited me, no better than it suited his father or his father before him' - it was so DAD. and him talking about fixing the fucking radiator hose, and begging them all to save Randall. Like I love how compassionate he is, and how he is so slow and caring. And I hate that the actor left the show, but I love how it adds this symbolism - that Dale is not suited for their world. The world was turning too dark for him.

He is a character who brings something amazing for me every single time he's on screen. I love him so much.

9. Bob Stookey

I love Bob!!

I am so, so in love with the Bob/Sasha ship, and how she unintentionally saved him from slipping back into alcoholism and that stupid game they play where she says something negative and he puts a positive spin on it - it the definition of grumpy grump and sunshine person. I love it so much.

But I would have to say that Bob is slightly more my favourite of the two.

I love his upbeat attitude, and even though I wish that he would have stuck around longer (like with a lot of the characters who were killed off too soon) - his death was so perfectly jarring. I feel like a lot of people say that The Walking Dead isn't scary, which I don't fully get? There is a lot of terrifying parts to it, and Bob's death is absolutely one of them. His death feels like a set piece from a horror film. Him seeing his own severed leg on the fire and screaming 'tainted meat!! tainted meat!!!' is one of the most wonderfully horrifying things ever. And it does make me like his character more because I love the horror of it.

I also think his backstory is so interesting.

Him being alone for so long and finally finding a family at the prison - it hit me. Ooof.

(The next characters, I am having such a hard time putting in order because I love them all so much.)

8. Beth Greene

I don't see a lot of people saying that Beth is their favourite character, and I don't get it?

I know that it's very easy to view soft female characters as weak, but honestly - I love Beth's weakness. Her jump towards suicide when finding out the truly hopeless situation is so relatable (how many fucking people make memes about 'why do people wanna survive the apocalypse, I would just die!!!') - but they mock her at the same time?

And when Rick was out to lunch and Lori had died, Beth stepped up and took care of an infant when she was just a teenager and it was not at all supposed to be her responsibility and there was plenty of other adults around to do it - but she took pride in taking care of the baby and fostering new life.

I feel like a lot of people don't see the silent strength in her character, and while her death is sad because of how it affected Daryl and Maggie, I think it's sadder because of the lost potential of her character. I would have loved to see how she did in Alexandria. How jarring a quaint community was to her after everything she had been through.

Also - I was one of the people who shipped her and Noah. And can you imagine the what the storyline would have been like, paralleling her random boyfriend's death at the BigStop with Noah's death?? Like - emotionally detatched Beth vs Beth who is just learning to feel again???

Devastating.

Also - a lot of people say that Still is one of the worst episodes because it's boring, but I think it is by far one of the best episodes in the show. It's part of why I love TWD - because it's raw, slow character work. I fucking love it. It's one of my favourite Beth episodes (and it's one of the things that made me love Daryl).

7. Tara Chambler

A character that I was not expecting to like as much as I do. When she introduced herself as a cop and did the whole 'hey, hey, buddy, this isn't the four seasons' to the Governor leading his plate outside (like, it is the Governor, but she came off as too rude) - finding out that her being rude was just terrified gay cat posturing is hilarious.

And she is not only one of my favourite TWD characters, but she is one of my favourite characters of all time.

I can't even describe all the ways I love her. The fact that she is Glenn's ride or die and they have the Lesbian and Lesbian Protector vibes going on, the fact that she is funny, sweet, awkward, dorky, cute. Her saying 'I know you're scared, and I know it sucks, but you have to be brave right now' - is eternally stuck in my head. And it helps me get through everyday life.

I just love her so much. She is so precious to me.

6. Abraham Ford

The love of my life. Every time he opens his mouth, I feel inspired to kick god's ass.

I wasn't too sure about him when he first came on the show because he was disrupting Gleggie, but then - I learned to love him so fucking quick. I love the way he talks, I love his attitude, I love how imposing he is.

"When you were pourin' the Bisquik... do you intend to make pancakes?"

He. Is. Iconic.

Now, every single time that fucking truck pulls up beside Glenn's unconscious body, I scream. Because GREATM is the greatest squad of all time (it was back when Eugene was still tolerable).

Even without Maggie, they were GREAT. (puns <3)

5. Michonne

I have said this before, but I feel like she is such an underappreciated character outside of her relationship with Rick.

I love her in the earlier seasons - how her showing kindness to Andrea and taking her in unintentionally gives her good faith with Rick's group and ends up giving her a home with them later on - even the utter coincidence of her overhearing Maggie and Glenn being kidnapped and taking the formula to Judith.

I also just love her dynamic with Andrea.

"We need a couple of days to get our shit together."

"My shit never stopped being together."

(That will never not be funny to me.)

And I love how she is a character who is presented with such a tough outer shell, but she is slowly revealed to have a softer side, when interacting with Judith and Carl. I really love her when she first comes onto the show, and I wish they wouldn't have tried to cut away her edges and just put her in Lori's place. (Maybe the new show will bring back more of the old aspects of her character - the toughness with only showing a soft side around family. But idk)

4. Daryl Dixon

He is definitely one of my favourite characters of all time.

Again, a character that I didn't like when he was first introduced on the show (but I think that is the intention and part of the beauty of it) - and it's fun to rewatch the beginning of the show and laugh at how much of an asshole he is when he's first introduced.

I think it's truly iconic that his first line in the show is "son of a bitch!" like, it says so much about his character in the best way.

His evolution from asshole loner to the emotional core of the group and one of the leaders is so well done, and the way he handles himself around children is so sexy. I don't know if I have said this before, but I am often attracted to characters based on their actions rather than their looks, and he is absolutely one of those characters. I wanna fuck him senseless because he makes children a priority in his life and because he is very selfless. OOOOOOF

3. Rosita Espinosa

I need to write a fanfic about her!!! It is something that needs to be on my priority list! I need to write a fic about how she finds out that she is a lesbian during the apocalypse, especially after all the men she has dated. it would be amazing

Anyway - I'm in love with her. Her short shorts are one of the reasons I'm gay. those shorts had a very special impact on me during my teen years.

I love how one of the general themes of TWD is breaking down gender barriers, and her character represents that so much. she is so fucking powerful, and I love it. I also love how the actress got the character killed off in the most 'last hurrah' peaceful way possible in the last episode just so she couldn't be brought back for any reboots. hilarious

2. Maggie Greene (Rhee)

I don't even know what I can say about Maggie

"Some chick came in like Zorro on a horse and took Lori. It was awesome"

Glenn already said it.

Maggie presents like this demure little farm girl at first, and then she seamlessly rides her horse and takes out Walkers at the same time - she has no problem mastering a gun, or any other weapon she is given. she is one of those characters who somehow looks stunningly gorgeous while filthy and sweaty. she is smart, badass, holds herself so well.

I love her so much.

and as I have said so many times before - I need to be in a Gleggie sandwhich. I need it. (I feel like being in a poly relationship with Abraham, Rosita, Tara, Maggie, and Glenn would be the best part of my post apocalyptic life, but hey - who's gonna write that fanfic? maybe me.)

1. Glenn Rhee

What else can I say about Glenn?

If you have been following me for more than five minutes, you have heard me talk about how fucking much I love Glenn. He is easily my singular favourite character of all time. Right from the moment I first heard his voice inside the tank, I fell in love with him.

He was the first character I ever wrote death denial fanfiction for, and at the time, it was the only twd fandom thing I had posted on my all kpop fanfiction blog. And I didn't even care if anybody else read it or care about it - I wrote it and posted it because I needed to mourn. Because his character death hit me so hard, and I am still 100% in denial of his character death to his day. I pretend it never happened.

Anyway - I love Glenn so much!

He is the hopeful one of the show, he is the heart of the show. Everything he does in the show matters so much to me. The fact that he always lifts them up and reminds them who they are matters to me. He had to die for the group to go in such a dark and hopeless direction. And he will always have such a special place in my heart.

#sundrop answers #anonymous #the walking dead #twd

[mushroomwriter]

(pt 1) "Atleast we can suffer together!" lol true! Gosh, that line (and tbh that whole scene with Sergio and Martín murders me of FEELS)... it's just so angsty cause it's not even the fact Andrés died, but he was also sick and Sergio knew that and he still never truly considered the possibility of his brother dying :(

BTW, what headcanon for the hermanos backstory do you subscribe to? I'm not sure when you first started the show, but I watched the show back when s3 was just released and in those days everyone subbed to the hc that they were half brothers, and there was this interview where Alvaro mentioned even more headcanons abt the bros (they shared a father, who abandoned Andrés for Sergio & his mom, then after he died Andrés appears on the scene and tells Sergio he is his brother, took care of him for medical treatment etc)... of course, 2 years later s5 seemingly retconned all that and just made them normal full(?) brothers growing up in the same household with both parents which I didn't appreciate very much lol. Anyway, just asking you that because some of my thoughts about the hermanos are influenced by my thoughts about their childhood - especially if Andrés raised Sergio as a kid, it makes everything so much more WORSE and heartbreaking cause of course he'd have grown up thinking his older brother is invincible almost, right? Interested to know what you think!!

(pt 2) Yeah all but one of my exams are done with... meh I've been pretty miserable but thank you for all your kind wishes! You're so right, if Andrés just mentioning Sergio makes us feel things, I can't even imagine what a whole scene with them together again would do!! I miss Sergio too 🥲 Once again, feel free to take your time and wait for the inspo, I actually came across an angsty quote that might fit the Scene that shall not be Named and since you love pain, I will tell you. "I wanted to fall down right there but I knew you wouldn't catch me because you're dead." - Richard Siken. Don't think about how as Andrés fell, Sergio was also falling in Helsinki's arms. (Also please don't feel like I'm forcing you to make a gifset with the quote or anything, I'm sorry if it comes across that way I just wanted to share for the #hermanos angst) I have no words for your next para but just. yes. I agree with everything you said. I will never get over the fact he literally tried to run back into the (idk how many metres long) tunnel himself despite knowing the police were on the other side and it would almost definitely lead to capture but Sergio was willing to risk all that just to get his brother to safety :( (pt 3) "When they're together, they're a big brother and a little brother" I knowww 🥺🥺 it makes me so SOFT. I'm with Andrés, how can you possibly eat breakfast when the world's most precious hermanito is not there yet? That scene when he wakes up Sergio is so sweet, Sergio looks so adorable and just the fond amusement Andrés has when he picks up the book "did you stay up late studying again" and how gentle he is when waking him up, Sergio also does not startle in the slightest, in that small moment you can see how familiar they are, how much they both love and trust each other, your honour I LOVE THEM!! Ah the Toledo house always makes me think how they spent those 5 months pretending to be strangers, I mean you can't tell me that Sergio was also not taking every excuse he can to spend more time with his brother (it's DEFINITELY to discuss important plans with the heist Captain!) but I like to imagine Sergio also took care of Andrés in secret, helping him with the meds and stuff... despite everything, Andrés did have a clock running out and they both knew it :( On another sidenote, I've been wanting to write a oneshot of the bros in Toledo since like 2020 but I never got around to it LOL so thank you once again for letting me ramble abt the heist brothers to you Oh god yes, those lyrics truly come straight for the heart and make Sergio's grief infinitely worse! Awww I'm glad you enjoy my thoughts (and I hope you haven't regretted your invitation yet) Haha, you should probably put this one under a cut too, how do these things always get so long??? Truly the hermanos live rent free in my head... but you're right it's great the Range of thoughts they give us from sheer tragedy to happy little childhood memories asdfjsk. YES IT'S THE CUTEST EVER and Alvaro plays it so well :') Comfort scene of all time to me <3 No, thank you for your patience and just being so lovely!! As always, it gives me so much serotonin to talk with you abt the heist bros ❤ Have a great day/week whenever you see this!! (also I hope you got all 3 parts, my wifi is being so weird rn 😭 I can't imagine how confusing it would be to get only 1 half or someth, anyway. pls ask me to resend if tumblr did in fact disappear an ask)

So true (that scene really leaves me on the floor suffering!!)... he knew and yet... at the very least he was convinced they were going to have time after the heist (the scene where he's giving instructions to the other band members about where they'll live etc. always gets me because he was supposed to go somewhere with Andrés...)

About the hermanos' childhood, I feel like I'm an outlier there 😅 because I learned of that headcanon later, I don't remember exactly when, for sure after watching season 3, and season 3 gave me the impression they were full brothers, because I think we get scenes where Andrés refers to their mother and to their father in a way that made me go, okay, so they share both parents. You know, the scene where he tells Sergio he's got mom's disease and the scene where he asks him where did dad go wrong when he robbed the bank... So when after that I saw that interview I didn't really embrace (? I don't know how to say that lol) the half-brothers headcanon because the show had already given me another impression. On the other hand, I immediately accepted the idea of Andrés bringing Sergio to Russia where he got the cures he needed (also because lol that's a point they never clarified in the show, right? How he ended up healing). That said, I really like the potential and implications of the half-brothers headcanon too... like, for example, as you said, Andrés basically raising Sergio. I think you can kinda work that into the full-brothers scenario as well, though maybe not quite at the same level, because if their parents already had trouble with medical expenses for Sergio when they both were there, once their mother was alone I imagine she really had to bury herself into work, which left Andrés in a position to really have to take care of Sergio... also as I mentioned I believe he was the one who found that hospital in Russia where Sergio could be cured, and found a (probably not very legal) way to take him there and so on... and at this point I like to play with both options and confront them and see like, okay, in half-brothers scenario Andrés probably resented their mother for abandoning him while in full-brothers scenario he ended up resenting her because she couldn't take proper care of them and (probably especially) because she failed to come up with a way to save Sergio's life, Andrés had to take matters into his own hands. And I think it's super interesting that he doesn't end up resenting Sergio (which I think he could have easily done in both scenarios! Like, in half-brothers scenario because he was abandoned for him, and in full-brothers scenario I have to imagine his unhealthy little brother received a lot more attentions!) One thing I think we get more intensely in the half-brothers scenario is that taking care of Sergio is really a Choice, like he really didn't have to and still!

Oh, and regardless of scenarios, I really love the idea of Andrés being the one who ultimately saved Sergio's life, it's possible that at some point doctors in their hometown were a bit resigned about him not making it but Andrés was like NO. And he did save him! I bet he's ferociously proud of that, and maybe it's another think that makes him feel especially protective of his hermanito (and makes Sergio feel like Andrés can do ANYTHING).

I see, at least you're almost done... ugh, I'm so sorry, I get it... I hope once you get rid of that last one too you'll feel a bit better... Gosh, I would probably never ever stop screaming if we get a new hermanos scene! And HOLY HELL, that quote fits the whole thing so well, I feel sick! Literally literally Sergio falling but he's not falling in his brother's arms, his brother isn't there anymore... no, absolutely, don't worry, it goes without saying that I appreciate the #hermanos angst, and suggestions about quotes that could fit them are always welcomed (I mean, as of right now I wouldn't know how to make a gifset with it but maybe by turning it over and over in my head I'll get an idea...)!! Also, I actually got inspiration for a gifset about them, finally!!! from another Richard Siken's quote, no less (he was really writing about them lmao), like I'm still not completely sure of which scenes to use, but I do have an idea, I hope it'll work :D

Oh god that's true. Oh man he really tried to run into that tunnel, no matter how crazy that was... I cry!!

It's trueee, that scene where Andrés wakes Sergio up OVERFLOWS with familiarity, it's so clear it's not the first time he had to wake his little brother up after he stayed up late to study and had to pick up some book Sergio left lying around... he's so fondly amused!! Please and now I'm smiling so much at the idea of Sergio coming up with Very Important Topics He Needs to Discuss with The Heist Captain... and I wonder how many times they were the last ones left in a room (a mere coincidence, of course!)... and yeah, I bet Sergio also played the Finding Many Small Ways To Take Care Of You game, this is making me emotional! Hehe I'm happy I gave you the chance to talk about these things, if you ever get around to write that please let me know (if you want to of course)

I definitely don't regret my invitation, when I saw your new messages I was like yessss! Oh right, at this point the ability to put things under a cut is my friend sjsjsjsk but I feel you, I can't get them out of my head!!

Don't mention it!! Talking with you about the hermanos is such a serotonine boost, and honestly I very much needed that, the last few weeks have been pretty tiring! Thank you, I hope you do too, despite that accursed exam! Please take care! (Also as you can see all three parts made it safely to my inbox, thankfully!)

#p #my askbox

[carmenlire]

hi!! i just read your flex on me fic and saw your jaeyoung tags on a semantic error gifset and can i just say i love your perspective on these characters. the fic made my heart so warm and i love you write jaeyoung and sangwoo so lovingly. i especially love how you write how much jaeyoung spoils sangwoo. i was wondering what your pov would be of jaeyoung if sangwoo ever got sick or hurt. id love to know <3 again ty for the amazing fic!!

Hi!! omg this is such a lovely message!! first of all, thank you so much for reading Flex on Me and sending a really nice message :') I'm so happy that you enjoyed that fic. i love semantic error So Much and it was so fun to write jaeyoung and sangwoo in an established relationship!!

I am such a sucker for the way that Jaeyoung cares for Sangwoo. In the show we see that, even when they aren't together yet-- even when Jaeyoung isn't completely sold on if he even likes Sangwoo-- he still tells on himself. Half the times he was "annoying" Sangwoo, it was just him flirting/taking care of him!!! And as we know Sangwoo's reactions might not be as overt but he still falls so deep and his love for Jaeyoung shines through in the quiet moments. These two play so well together and I love that they're both idiots in love but as individuals, they're strong and capable and independent.

Which brings us to this LOVELY scenario you sent me! Honestly, this entire message made me so happy but then you asked for me to talk about these two even more?? I'm like a kid in a candy store right now.

So, as previously established Jaeyoung is 1) exceedingly smart/capable 2) hopelessly in love with Sangwoo and 3) loves to spoil his boyfriend. So what happens if Sangwoo is injured/sick? Jaeyoung turns into the Ultimate Boyfriend, of course!

I'm putting the rest under a read more because i lowkey wrote a whole fic-- I hope you like it!!

Let's say that Sangwoo gets a horrendous cold every fall. He can feel it coming a few days before, the first warning signs.-- a tickle in his throat, a vague ache in his joints. He's been dating Jaeyoung for awhile now and he's so happy he didn't think it was possible to feel this much-- and as much as it pains him, he knows the next week isn't gong to be very fun so he starts pulling back a little from Jaeyoung. Sangwoo doesn't want him to get sick-- he has a important deadline coming up-- and, well, he also doesn't want Jaeyoung to see him like that. Gross and snotty and even more easily irritable than usual (forget that now that they're together, while Sangwoo can be prickly and exacting, Jaeyoung is rarely treated to the full Sangwoo Effect anymore. Yuna thinks it's disgusting how soft they are on each other, especially considering their origin story).

So, knowing what's coming, Sangwoo starts coming up with excuses for why he can't see Jaeyoung. Oh, he has to meet a professor during lunch. Sorry hyung, I have to get this project done tonight you can't come over. The first time it happens, Jaeyoung pouts for a second but goes ahead and meets Yuna and Hyeongtak for lunch. When Sangwoo avoids him that night, however, his suspicions rise but he still easily accepts it, working halfheartedly on his own stuff for a minute before quickly growing bored without Sangwoo there to ground him (he’s really gotten so used to working next to his boyfriend at night) and putting on a show on Netflix while sending Sangwoo a truly alarming number of messages that are both cute and annoying!

Sangwoo responds to them later that night after he finishes his homework and Jaeyoung is treated to a goodnight selfie that makes his heart warm and his cheeks ache with how much he loves his boy. Sangwoo is wearing one of Jaeyoung’s hoodies, hair messy like it only is right before or after bed, and there’s a hint of a smile on his face. The message is short and sweet. Goodnight, hyung. I love you. Don’t forget to set an alarm.

And part of Jaeyoung wants to scoff because they’ve been dating less than a year but a much bigger part of him just wiggles in delight because Sangwoo has memorized his schedule and cares enough to send these little reminders. It makes something soft and warm curl up and flutter in his stomach anytime he stops to think about it.

Still, he thinks he sees a hint of red lining Sangwoo’s eyes, touching the tip of his nose. Goodness knows that Jaeyoung stares at the picture long enough to memorize it but he tells himself it was just the lighting and goes to sleep– but not before sending his own selfie and message with way too many emojis.

All of which to say, Sangwoo is able to dodge Jaeyoung for another day before his careful plans melt into disarray. By this time, his throat hurts and he accidentally-on-purpose snapped at an upperclassman who tried to wheedle for the answers to this afternoon’s homework. It’s Thursday and he already knows that his plans for the weekend will consist of nothing but being lonely and miserable with nothing but a box of Kleenex for company.

Because that’s another thing. It’s been less than 48 hours since he saw Jaeyoung and he’s going half crazy with it. Knowing that Jaeyoung is so close but that he can’t see him is affecting Sangwoo more than he thought it would. Especially when he’s so miserable and feels like shit and knows that it’ll get worse before it gets better.

He catches himself wanting to text Jaeyoung every hour– sometimes just to talk but a lot of the time he has to stop himself from asking his boyfriend to come over. God, he wants nothing more than to lay down on his boyfriend’s chest. He’s been sleeping in one of Jaeyoung’s hoodies for the past couple of days but it’s a sad imitation of the real thing.

But no, he tells himself firmly for the hundredth time. He doesn’t want to get his boyfriend sick. Jaeyoung has so much going on and it would be selfish and unfair of him to not only impose but impose knowing that Jaeyoung could get sick.

Saying it doesn’t help the way he wants, though. He’s always been a little needy, a bit clingy when he’s not feeling well. When it’s happened at university, he’s powered through knowing that there was no one to take care of him but himself. Knowing that Jaeyoung is just a call away is bittersweet.

Jaeyoung, for his part, knows by this point that something is up and that Sangwoo is definitely avoiding him. What he doesn’t know is why. Sangwoo’s replies are still as understatedly loving as ever. He still sent a goodnight selca last night. But besides his time in France, this is the longest they’ve gone without seeing each other in person and it’s kinda driving Jaeyoung crazy.

Deciding enough is enough and that Sangwoo can damn well tell him to his face why he’s avoiding him, Jaeyoung decides to meet Sangwoo after his coding class that afternoon. It’s Thursday and Thursdays are always their movie nights and Sangwoo hasn’t ghosted him yet but Jaeyoung can see it coming and he wants to know why.

After his consulting meeting is done, Jaeyoung heads over to campus. Looking down at his watch, he sees that Sangwoo’s class should be letting out in ten minutes, so he heads over to the computer science building to wait. He replies to Yuna’s texts in the meantime and looks up just as a dozen or so students pour out the doors.

He scans their faces but none of them are Sangwoo, which is unusual. His boyfriend is usually the first one out. Jaeyoung’s just getting ready to text him, see if he missed him after all, when Sangwoo finally exits the building.

Before he even quite knows what he’s seeing, something in Jaeyoung’s heart just melts. It’s a cold November day, the sky dark and gloomy, the air frigid. And there Sangwoo is, bundled in one of his hoodies– a red one, to Jaeyoung’s surprise– face mask and hat all but completely obscuring his face. Over the hoodie, is one of Jaeyoung’s jackets that he’d thought he’d lost last time he did laundry.

His mouth curls at the corner in delight. He’s such a little thief, Jaeyoung thinks absolutely besotted.

“Sangwoo-ah,” Jaeyoung calls out.

Sangwoo jerks to a standstill, looking up. Even though most of his face is covered, Jaeyoung sees well enough that Sangwoo feels caught.

“Hyung?” Sangwoo asks, not stepping any closer. “What are you doing here?”

Well, fine then. Jaeyoung takes it upon himself to close the distance between them. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of Sangwoo and then he leans down until he’s in his space. “Can’t a boyfriend surprise his boyfriend after class?” He raises an eyebrow, knowing he’s definitely annoying Sangwoo.

And there’s the spark in Sangwoo’s eyes that’s always a dead giveaway that he’s about to get huffy. Something in Jaeyoung hums in satisfaction– he loves getting a reaction out of Sangwoo.

In the next moment, he’s frowning, though. Because sure there’s a spark now but Sangwoo’s eyes look a little dull, the shadows underneath them pronounced. His forehead is a little sweaty and that doesn’t make sense at all– sure, Sangwoo is wearing a hoodie and jacket but it is November and it is freezing. He’s dressed appropriately.

“Baby,” Jaeyoung asks, voice dropping to something low and warm. Sangwoo had said once, half delirious with sleep deprivation, that he loves Jaeyoung’s voice always but especially when it takes on this cadence. Makes me feel taken cared of, feels like it wraps around me, makes me feel warm, he’d said.

The admission had ruined Jaeyoung in a way that made him want to use the voice all the time, just to see the way tension melted off Sangwoo’s shoulders. He’d made a study of it– using the voice during sex was a given but slipping into it when Sangwoo was stressed, when he wanted to tease in a way that made both of them turn into each other, when it was just the two of them and Jaeyoung just wanted Sangwoo to know he was there– the feeling is indescribable, knowing the power Sangwoo lets him wield.

Now, when there’s just a few other students rushing around, when it’s like the two of them are in their own bubble on campus, using that tone stills something deep in both of them.

Jaeyoung reaches a hand up, trails a finger over the shell of Sangwoo’s ear.

He wasn’t really worried that something was wrong. Most of Jaeyoung just missed Sangwoo and wanted to see him and maybe tease him about how could school be more important than spending quality time with his perfect boyfriend.

Now, though– well, he’s still not worried but he knows something is up and he knows they aren’t leaving this spot until Sangwoo tells him.

Sangwoo is staring straight ahead at his chin, not making eye contact. Jaeyoung leans even further down, until he’s almost touching the fabric of Sangwoo’s face mask, until his boyfriend has no choice but to meet his gaze.

“Baby,” he murmurs, watching as something shifts behind those beautiful eyes– even when he’s not at his best, Sangwoo still takes his breath away. “Tell hyung what’s wrong, hm?”

He hears Sangwoo suck in a breath before he’s leaning back, holding a hand to Jaeyoung’s chest to keep the space between them.

“I told you that I need to focus on school for the next few days,” Sangwoo says. The words words feel stiff, like he’s rehearsed them too much to ring true.

Jaeyoung reaches up for the hand staying him, links their fingers before bringing them right back together. Sangwoo doesn’t protest.

Time to play a little dirty, then. Jaeyoung smiles, something small that curves the edge of his eyes. Sangwoo’s own narrow in warning but Jaeyoung doesn’t pay him any mind.

He squeezes the hand still in his, wraps his other arm around Sangwoo until it rests low on his back. He pulls him forward into an embrace close to a hug as he whispers in his ear, “Come on, baby. You know I can tell when you’re lying.”

To his surprise, Sangwoo doesn’t immediately pull back and get defensive. Sangwoo doesn’t deflect or start arguing. There’s no quip on his tongue, eager to spill out and start a round of bickering that’s usually fun and engaging.

No, instead his cute little boyfriend just snuggles into him?

Jaeyoung can’t help the shiver that snakes up his spine as Sangwoo noses along the column of his throat. His face mask is scratchy against his skin but his boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind the barrier between them.

“Sangwoo?”

Sangwoo’s arms come up to wrap around his waist, squeezing him closer. He lays his head against Jaeyoung’s shoulder, seems to settle in, humming contentedly.

Tightening his grip, Jaeyoung starts swaying them back and forth a little. Resting his head on top of Sangwoo’s, Jaeyoung can’t help his smile. He squeezes a little. “Sangwoo-ah, baby, can you answer me?”

Something in Jaeyoung– definitely his heart– absolutely melts at the way Sangwoo relaxes against him. This isn’t anything new, Sangwoo has a tendency to slip like this when it’s just them, but it is unexpected for it to happen in public. And while Jaeyoung still doesn’t think anything is dangerously wrong, he needs to find out what’s going on.

Finally, Sangwoo sighs. His voice is low and hoarse and rough at the edges. His tone is petulant as he reluctantly says, “I don’t feel good, hyung.”

Jaeyoung’s heart squeezes painfully before tumbling at Sangwoo’s feet. He lays a soft edge to the shell of Sangwoo’s ear. “What’s wrong, baby?”

It’s silent for a long moment that fills with the sounds of birds in the distance, the chatter of a group of students several yards away talking about the midterm they all just failed. Internally, Jaeyoung starts compiling a list of things he might need in the immediate future, from medicine to Sangwoo’s favorite ghibli film to that chicken congee recipe he had his eomma email him during his freshman year.

Sangwoo eventually pulls back enough to meet Jaeyoung’s eyes. His own are red and a little hazy. He stares at Jaeyoung for a long moment and Jaeyoung lets himself look back. The truth is, Sangwoo looks a little miserable and things are coming together but he needs Sangwoo to just tell him so that Jaeyoung can do what he wants to– what, suddenly, he has a burning need to do.

“I’m in the midst of an annual cold,” Sangwoo finally says, sounding extremely disgruntled. Jaeyoung bites his cheek so he doesn’t smile– God, Sangwoo is so cute like this.

Jaeyoung leans a little closer, narrowing his eyes in the way that’s mostly teasing but still has a kernel of seriousness. “And why didn’t you tell me? Me, your boyfriend, whose job is to take care of his boyfriend when he’s not feeling well?” He pouts exaggeratedly. “I can’t take care of you if you avoid me, Jagiya.”

Studiously avoiding his gaze, Sangwoo takes a shuddering breath before he mutters, “You shouldn’t have to take care of me, especially not when you have so much on your plate right now.”

Jaeyoung immediately shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter,” he says firmly.

Even under the mask, Jaeyoung can see Sangwoo’s mouth turn down. “I could get you sick.”

Jaeyoung reaches a hand up to flick against the brim of Sangwoo’s hat just to see the mulish set of his brows better. “Doesn’t matter,” he repeats.

“But–”

“Sangwoo-ah,” Jaeyoung cuts him off, leaning down until he’s back in his space. He gentles his voice. “Baby, I love you and I love taking care of you.” And oh, here he gets to see the quiet happiness well in Sangwoo’s eyes, the easing of tension along his brow.

“I want to be there when you’re happy and feeling good but I also want to be there when you feel like shit and not you best. Don’t you want that, too?”

“It’s not fair,” Sangwoo offers weakly, closely his eyes against the onslaught that is a pouting Jaeyoung.

Jaeyoung hums in thought. “What’s not fair, my stubborn boyfriend, is you trying to hide this from me. Do you know how amazing I am at playing nursemaid? You haven’t even tasted my congee!”

Sangwoo leans forward until he can rest his forehead against Jaeyoung’s chest. “I’m probably going to be an ass when I’m sick.”

He feels Jaeyoung laugh before his hands come up to rub soothingly down Sangwoo’s back. It feels amazing, exactly what he’d been imagining over the past few days when he desperately wanted to call Jaeyoung for the comfort only his boyfriend could provide– he feels warm and cared for and it’s so good he feels tears sting his eyes.

Now that he’s caught, he doesn’t really want to argue and belabor his point. No, he knows what he wants– what he’s wanted since he first started coming down with this hellish cold– and he just doesn’t have it in himself to deny him– them both, apparently– of this.

His voice is tired but any remaining tension drains out of him as Sangwoo finally accepts that he does have someone he can lean on and that the person is not only willing but eager to do so.

“Please take care of me, Jaeyoungie-hyung.”

Jaeyoung’s heart stills at the request, soft spoken but aching with want. His chest feels too small to contain this feeling, the sheer desire to care for the man in front of him in any way he needs, in every way he can. “Of course, baby. Of course.”

Jaeyoung kisses the top of Sangwoo’s hair before letting go just to immediately hold his hand. “Let’s go home.”

Over the next three days, Sangwoo’s cold does indeed gets worse. He loses his voice almost completely, his coughing annoying him so much that he can only wonder at how Jaeyoung seems unbothered and he goes through enough tissues that he should’ve bought stock in Kleenex.

Through it all, Jaeyoung takes care of him. That first night, they went back to Sangwoo’s apartment together and while Sangwoo took a shower, Jaeyoung ran to the corner mart to pick up anything he might need, including groceries for his eomma's congee.

When he gets back to the apartment, Sangwoo is in a clean Sweatshirt of Jaeyoung’s and a pair of leggings, hair hanging in his eyes. Jaeyoung urges him to rest on the couch while he sets about making dinner. He hasn’t been sick in a while, though, and so when he gets to step seven he calls his eomma just to make sure he’s making it the best way possible.

His mom is endeared– Jaeyoung has talked extensively about Sangwoo– and Jaeyoung keeps his voice low as he finishes cooking in the kitchen.

Sangwoo actually does cry, just a little, when Jaeyoung wakes him up with a bowl later in the evening. Jaeyoung doesn’t tease, doesn’t show just how he’s melted into a puddle at seeing his boyfriend’s wide eyes upon seeing dinner after his nap, at the way Sangwoo tears up because it’s so good and Jaeyoung is taking care of him so well even though it’s only been two hours and he loves this man so much, he’s so lucky–

Jaeyoung cuts his rambling off with a kiss, looking pleased with himself when he pulls back.

Sangwoo, for his part, is horrified. “You’re going to get sick,” he hisses, covering his mouth, scandalized.

Jaeyoung just shrugs and winks at him. “Guess you’ll have to take care of me, then, huh?”

Sangwoo does his best to glower but it quickly morphs into a sneeze and Jaeyoung laughs softly, way too fucking endeared as Sangwoo just looks like a sad kitten and really, he wonders, the heart can’t be meant to hold all of this feeling.

Most of the weekend is spent with Sangwoo cuddled up to Jaeyoung, resting his absolutely aching head against his boyfriend’s chest and using Jaeyoung as his own space heater. Jaeyoung keeps a strict schedule with the medicine and fluids and they spend the entire weekend watching movies or resting. Jaeyoung, for his part, spends a lot of the time that Sangwoo is asleep watching his boyfriend. It’s a quiet but no less striking contentment.

Even though Sangwoo’s hair is sweaty and Jaeyoung definitely knows he’s going to be sick by this time next week, it’s more than worth it to him. And contrary to Sangwoo’s warning, he’s not an asshole at all– he’s pliant and soft around the edges, clingy in a way Jaeyoung will never admit he loves.

And sure enough, ten days later it’s Sangwoo’s chance to return the favor as Jaeyoung proves to be a dramatic– but not difficult, not at all if you know him, if you love him, if you treasure any and all chance to show him and care for him– patient himself.

#ahhhh thank you again for this lovely LOVELY message!! it totally made my day! #also i hope you like this fic i wrote??? i definitely didn't mean to get so taken away but i couldn't help myself! #i may just have to edit this a little and post it to ao3 :') #i'm always here to talk about anything and everything semantic error related #and i hope i did your idea justice!!! #asked #answered #anon #semantic error #my writing tag #semantic error fic #se anon

[kyanitedragon]

[ID: Part 2 of a gifset, showing a scene featuring Sakuko and her best friend Chizuru from Koisenu Futari.

Gif 1: Placing a house decoration down to show her friend, Sakuko says, “Look at this, isn’t it cute? Thought about decorating our room with it.” Chizuru stares at her, clearly nervous and distressed, and softly says, “Sorry.” Sakuko’s smile drops.

Gif 2: Nervous and distressed, Chizuru manages to explain, “I got back together with my ex-boyfriend. And he asked me to live together with him.” She ducks her head, nervous and ashamed, as Sakuko stares at her, taking in that information.

Gif 3: Sakuko asks, “In that apartment?” Chizuru replies, “No. In his house itself.” Sakuko slowly looks down, sad and disappointed.

Gif 4: Bowing her head in apology, Chizuru continues and says, “Sorry this is sudden. I wanted to meet and apologize directly.” Sakuko continues to stare, uncertain what to think or say.

Gif 5: Sakuko awkwardly says, “I should be congratulating you, right?” Chizuru nervously glances back up at her. Sakuko forces out and tries to say genuinely, “Sorry! I couldn’t say it properly!” She nervously adds, “I just got carried away.” Knowing she’s upset and trying to hide it, Chizuru blurts out, “I am sorry!”

Gif 6: Sakuko’s smile drops again, and Chizuru continues explaining herself, saying, “But I can’t help it because I love him! There are these uncontrollable things that come out of nowhere! I am human!” Sakuko only stares at her.

Gif 7: After a moment of awkward and tense silence, Chizuru stands up and says, “Then I am going.” She walks away towards the door, but hesitates, turning around and taking a breath before calling out, “Sakuko.” Sakuko turns around to face her.

Gif 8: With genuine care and concern, Chizuru says, “I hope you also... meet your fated partner soon.” then turns and walks away. Sakuko slowly turns back around in her seat, looking very confused and uncertain of what to do now. END ID]

This scene was so painful. Being an unfortunately common aromantic experience, you know exactly that it was inevitably going to end this way from the very moment being roommates was suggested. But this scene was still so raw and real to experience.

And I can’t help but keep thinking that, as far as amatonormative society goes, this was a good reaction. Chizuru knew she hurt Sakuko. She was ashamed and nervous about it. But she still worked up the nerve to apologize for it, going so far as to meet in person instead of just blow her off through text.

Other people might have not have even apologized for it. They might have used “true love” as an excuse for making their choice, or called Sakuko silly or immature for thinking that two friends could live together forever, with no romance ever again.

Chizuru was genuinely sorry, but she still made her choice. She still strung Sakuko along, thinking that they could move in and live together, before going back on her word and bailing out and instead moving in with her ex-boyfriend.

And that last line. That casual amatonormativity. That as much as her friend is genuinely sorry and wants the best for Sakuko’s future, the only way she can imagine Sakuko happy is just like her. That that’s the only way to properly fix this situation: for Sakuko to have and live with a romantic partner of her own.

#koisenu futari #two people who can't fall in love #aro #aromantic #aro representation

[blackstarising]

coming back to this post i made again to elaborate - especially as the ted lasso fandom is discussing sam/rebecca and fandom racism in general. there are takes that are important to make that i had failed to previously, but there's also a growing amount of takes that i have to, As A Black Person™, respectfully disagree with.

tl;dr for the essay below sam being infantilized and the sam/rebecca relationship are not the same issue and discussing the former one doesn't mean excusing the latter. and we've reached the glen of the Dark Forest where we sit down and talk about fandom racism.

i should have elaborated this in my last post about sam/rebecca, but i didn't. i'll say it now - i personally don't support sam and rebecca getting together for real. i believe what people are saying is entirely correct, even though sam is an adult legally, he and rebecca are, at the very least, two wildly different stages of life. for americans, he's at the equivalent of being a junior in college. there are things he hasn't gotten the chance to experience and there are areas he needs to grow in. when i was younger, i didn't understand the significance of these age gaps, i just thought it would be fine if it was legal, but as someone who is now a little older than sam in universe, i understand fully. we can't downplay this. whether or not you think sam works for rebecca or not, even despite the gender inversion of the Older Man Younger Woman trope, whether or not he is a legal adult, i don't think at this point in time, their relationship would work. i think it's an interesting narrative device, but i don't want to see it play out in reality.

that being said!

what's worrying me is that two discussions are being conflated here that shouldn't be. sam having agency and being a little more grown™ than he's perceived to be does not suddenly make his relationship with rebecca justified. i had decided to bring it up because sam was being brought into the spotlight again and i was starting to realizing that his infantilization was more common than i felt comfortable with.

sam's infantilization (and i will continue to call it that), is a microaggression. it's is in the range of microaggressions that i would categorize as 'fandom overcompensation'. we have a prominent character of color that exhibits traits that aren't stereotypical, and we don't want to appear racist or stereotypical, so we lean hard in the other direction. they're not aggressive, they're a Sweet Baby, they're not world weary, they're now a little naive. they're not cold and distant, they're so nice and sweet that there's no one that wouldn't want approach them, and yeah, on their face, these new traits are a departure and, on their face, they seem they look really good.

but at a certain point, it reaches an inflection point, and, like the aftertaste of a diet coke, that alleged sweetness veers into something a lot less sweet. it veers into a lack of agency for the character. it veers into an innocence that appears to indicate that the person can't even take care of themselves. it veers into a one-dimensional characterization that doesn't allow for any depth or negative emotion.

it's not kind anymore. it's not a nice departure from negative stereotypes. it's not compensating for anything.

it's patronizing.

it is important that we emphasize that characters of color are more than the toxic stereotypes we lay on them, yes, but we make a mistake in thinking that the solution is overcorrection. for one thing, people of color can usually tell. don't get it twisted, it's actually pretty obvious. for another, it just shifts from one dimension to another. people of color are still supposed to be Only One Character Trait while white people can contain multitudes. ted, who is pretty much as pollyanna as they come, can be at once innocent and naive and deep and troubled and funny and scared. jamie can be a prick and sexy and also lonely and also a victim of abuse. sam, however, even though he was bullied (by jamie, no less), is thousands of miles away from home, and has led a protest on his team, is usually just characterized as human sunshine with much less acknowledgement of any other traits beyond that.

and that's why i cringe when fandom calls sam a Sweet Baby Boy without any sense of irony. is that all we're taking away? after all this time? even for a comedy, sam has received a substantive of screen time over two whole seasons, and we've seen a range of emotions from him. so as a black person it's hurtful that it's boiled down to Sweet Baby Boy.

that's the problem. we need to subvert stereotypes, but more importantly, we need to understand that people of color are not props, or pieces of cardboard for their white counterparts. they are full and actualized and have agency in their own right and they can have other emotions than Angry and Mean or Sweet and Bubbly without any nuance between the two. i think the show actually does a relatively good job of giving sam depth (relatively, always room for improvement, mind you), especially holding it in tension with his youth, but the fandom, i worry, does not.

it's the same reason why finn from star wars started out as the next male protagonist in the sequel trilogy but by the third movie was just running around yelling for REY!! it's the same reason why when people make Phase 4 Is the Phase For Therapy gifsets for the mcu and show wanda maximoff, loki, and bucky barnes crying and being sad but purposefully exclude sam wilson who had an entire show to tell us how difficult his life is, because people find out if pee oh sees are also complex, they'll tell the church.

and the reason why i picked up on this very early on is because i am an organic, certified fresh, 100% homegrown, non-gmo, a little ashy, indigenous sub saharan African black person. the ghanaian tribes i'm descended from have told me so, my black ass parents have told me so, and the nurses at the hospital in [insert asian country here] that started freaking out about how curly my hair was as my mother was mid pushing me out told me so!

and this stuff has real life implications. listen: being patronized as a black person sucks. do you know how many times i was patted on the back for doing quite honestly, the bare minimum in school? do you know how many times i was told how 'well spoken' or 'eloquent' i was because i just happen to have a white accent or use three syllable words? do you know how many times i've been cooed over by white women who couldn't get over how sweet i was just because i wasn't confrontational or rude like they wrongly expected me to be?

that's why they're called microaggressions. it's not a cross on your lawn or having the n-word spat in your face, but it cuts you down little by little until you're completely drained.

so that's the nuance. that's the subversion. the overcompensation is not a good thing. and people of color (and i suspect, even white people) have picked up on, in general, the different ways fandom treats sam and dani and even nate. what all of these discussions are converging on is fandom racism, which is not the diet form of racism, but another place for racism to reveal itself. and yeah, it's uncomfortable. it can seem out of left field. you may want to defend yourself. you may want to explain it away. but let me tap the sign on the proverbial bus:

if you are a white person, or a person of color who is not part of that racial group, even, you do not get to decide what is not racist for someone. full stop. there are no exceptions. there is no exit clause for you. there is no 'but, actually-'. that right wasn't even yours to cede or waive.

(it's also important to note that people of color also have the right to disagree on whether something is racist, but that doesn't necessarily negate the racism - it just means there's more to discuss and they can still leave with different interpretations)

people don't just whip out accusations of racism like a blue eyes white dragon in a yu-gi-oh duel. it's not fun for us. it's not something we like to do to muzzle people we don't want to engage with. and we're not concerned with making someone feel bad or ashamed. we're exposing something painful that we have to live with and, even worse, process literally everything we experience through. we can't turn it off. we can't be 'less sensitive' or 'less nitpicky'. we are literally the primary resources, we are the proverbial wikipedia articles with 3,000 sources when it comes to racism. who else would know more than us?

what 2020 has shown us very clearly is that racism is systemic. it's not always a bunch of Evil White Men rubbing their hands together in a dark room wondering how they're going to use the 'n-word' today. it's systemic. it's the way you call that one neighborhood 'sketchy'. it's how you use 'ratchet' and 'ghetto' when describing something bad. it's how you implicitly the assume the intelligence of your friend of color. it's the way you turned up your nose and your friend's food and bullied them for it in middle school but go to restaurants run by white people who have 'uplifted' it with inauthentic ingredients. it's telling someone how Well Spoken and Eloquent they are even though you've both gone to the same schools and work at the same workplace. it's the way you look down at some people of color for having a different body type than you because they've been redlined to neighborhoods where certain foods and resources are inaccessible, and yet mock up the racial features that appeal to you either through makeup or plastic surgery.

it's how when a person of color behaves badly, they're irredeemable, but a white person performing the same act or something similar is 'having a bad day' or 'isn't normally like this' or 'has room to grow' and we can't 'wait for their redemption arc', and yes, i'm not going to cover it in detail in this post but yes this is very much about nate. other people have also brought up the nuances in his arc and compared them to other white characters so i won't do it here.

these behaviors and reactions aren't planned. they aren't orchestrated. they're quite literally unconscious because they've been lovingly baked into western society for centuries. you can't wake up and be rid of it. whether you intended it or not, it can still be racist.

and it's actually quite hurtful and unfair to imply that concerns about racism in the TL fandom are unfounded or lacking any depth or simply meant to be sensational because you simply don't agree with it. i wish it was different, but it doesn't work that way. i'm not raising this up to 'call out' or shame people, but i'm adding to this discussion because, through how we talk about sam, and even dani and nate, i'm yet again seeing a pattern that has shortchanged people of color and made them feel unwelcome in fandom for far too long.

coach beard said it best: we need to do better.

#ted lasso #sam obisanya #ted lasso spoilers #fandom racism

[ellsbclls]

White Winged Dove

warnings ➛ COUNTRY!TOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!!!! smut, baby! (PLEASE do not interact if you are a minor), hurt/comfort, minor angst, happy ending: guaranteed!, a handful of swear words, and y/n has no choice but to have a country accent, i don’t make the rules here. extended warnings will be under the cut!

word count ➛ 9.5K

authors note ➛ i saw that gifset of tom taking a shower in cherry and my brain short circuited, so here! have a cupcake!

synopsis ➛ Tom feels like his world is falling apart, so he turns to you, the only person that reminds him of home.

extended warnings ➛ nsfw, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected f/m intercourse (please practice safe sex, kiddos! wrap it before you whack it!), a tiny tiny tiny sliver of blood!play if you squint with one eye closed.

You remember the night in waves, docile, fleeting waves that tease the rim of your consciousness before reeling back. Golden whiskey licks at the seam of your lips with each pass of the bottle, and the pond is glittering beneath the blinking trails of all the lightning bugs — tens of hundreds of fireflies, dancing in the night’s misty skyglow, rivaling the pale moonlight.

You remember the night in waves, but he is a mighty current.

You can’t scrub the memory of him from your mind, that bleak, hopeless expression that hollowed out his features. You remember how your heart split into a million little shards the second it appeared, and just when you thought there was nothing left to break, his fragile voice pleaded for you to take him somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was far.

By the time the sun spilled past your window pane, you were nothing but a drowsy amalgamation of lithe limbs, coated in morning glow as it spilled through the glass.

But behind your eyelids lives an imprint of the night before — a shimmering reflection of the night sky, and the moments that unraveled beneath its sweeping gaze.

9:17PM — You’re belting into your hairbrush, not a care in the world, and pouring your heart and soul out to a crowd of none. Somewhere between all of your clumsy twirls and impromptu choreography, you stumble over the shoebox that was poking out from under your bed, and a flurry of damp tresses and musical giggles fan across your comforter.

The walls in your house have always been notoriously thin, but what could you possibly expect from the weathered planks of wood paneling that lined your bedroom? You could hear your father’s creaky footsteps whenever he ransacked the fridge for leftovers in the dead of night, and the heavy thump of laundry that your mother would throw down to the basement, but once your radio crackles to life, and Stevie’s enchanting croon permeates the air, all those subtle nuances fades to a dull, lifeless roar.

With each passing note, the white winged dove becomes you, and you soar above endless miles of  Mississippi wood. There’s not a soul that can drag you back to the outskirts of town, force you to confront what may become of you when you land, there’s no room for trepidation where you go. There, in your own little corner of the woods, it’s just you, Stevie Nicks, and the moon.

And, technically, Thomas.

Minutes have gone by, you still can’t find the strength, nor the energy, to lift yourself up, and as your downy blankets hug your tired frame, you remain blissfully ignorant of your peeping tom.

Thomas, affectionately penned Tommy, has been your best friend, your confidante, since the very first day of kindergarten. You had pulled a pack of scented markers from your tiny, pink barbie backpack during free time, and he had pulled out the empty seat beside you, plucking, sniffing, and ultimately discarding each and every pen until the box was empty. When you asked him which one was his favorite, he asked you the very same in response, just so you’d “coincidentally” have a shared affinity for coconuts. He was oddly endearing, which is a trait that’s always stuck with him. So, even at a young age, you never wondered if he was just using you for your nice possessions, or trying to take advantage of your courtesy — he always offered himself to you at face value, and you never stopped taking as much of him as you could get.

Had you been aware that your childhood friend was waiting expectantly at your window, you may have handled your alone time with a tad more discretion — but you weren’t, and each act of your private concert forces him into an even harder position. To what extent does he let you embarrass yourself before he makes his presence known, and for how long will you bury your head in the sand before the embarrassment mulls over? He sees your stage dive as a golden opportunity, and seizes it before you begin to stir.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Three short, mild raps, uttered in quick succession, jostle you from your lavish daydreams like a bucket of ice water, and you have to squint just to make out his fair features amidst all the darkness shrouding them.

“Tommy?” A flash of his soft, earthy hues tame the wild drum of your heart, confirming your suspicions, and you fight the urge to chuckle when he innocently waves at you.

“Well don’t get all shy on me now. Come in.” You open the window just enough for him to slip through its frame, allowing your eyes to graze the sculpted plains of his back, and admire, albeit shamelessly, how his muscles ripple beneath his fitted t-shirt.

Yet, there’s something about him being in your room, towering over fixtures that once towered over him, that makes you feel uneasy. A part of you adores the way he instantly makes himself at home, but the remainder is doused in fear, fretting over his wandering hands and what they may discover, surveying little trinkets and souvenirs that decorate your desk.

“Hasn’t changed much since the last time I was in here, has it?” He notes, absentmindedly shaking the contents of a snowglobe your grandma brought you from New York, a miniature skyline of Manhattan continuously buried in a flurry of snow. Most of your playdates took place in his house, so as your friendship flourished past elementary school, and the time that spanned between your meetings grew shorter and shorter, you’d found yourselves frequenting his home for all of your endeavors. It was just easier that way.

That’s the sole reason you rarely visited your room. It surely wasn’t the suffocating atmosphere that plagued your home, or your hormonal, angst ridden brain convincing you that you’d scare him to the high heavens if he caught a glimpse of your relationship with your family — how dismal it is. How you build entire worlds, cycle through dozens of bountiful lives, in the luxury of your mind in hopes of retreating.

You’d be lying if you said the poster of Zac Efron, now lurking precariously behind his shoulder, wasn’t a glaring reason as well.

“Yeah, couple things here and there, but it’s pretty much the same.” You try to be discreet as you wander around your own room, Destination: Tiger Beat. Once you reach it, you rise up on your tiptoes to cover as much of the poster as humanly possible, but scramble for an excuse once you notice him turning. “You actually left something the last time you were here. It’s on the top shelf.”

RIP! The poster is crumpled in your grasp no sooner than his back turns to you. You’d have to give a formal apology to your wildcat once you were left to your own devices, but until then, he was banished to the most unsuspecting corner of your room.

“Jesus Christ Y/N,” His thumb fondly strokes a small, yellowed testament to your friendship, a weathered page of loose leaf etched in awry plumes of ink that perfectly encapsulate his very essence — egregiously passionate, regardless of the outcome. He had written it when he was about seven, intending to give it to the “girl of his dreams” once he met her. You can still hear his sweet, little voice echo between your ears, endearingly mistaking his r’s for w’s. “You kept this?”

“Of course I did.“ Candor coats your tongue before you catch yourself, the tail end of your answer turning to dust as soon as it hits the air. You can’t bring yourself to admit just how many restless nights you’ve allowed yourself to clamber up that oak dresser, just to read that letter over, and over, and over again, praying that if you had stared at it for long enough, his messy scrawl would transform into the words you yearned for most — that it was meant for you, that he’s loved you from the very start. “Wasn’t sure if you were planning to repurpose it for some other lucky gal.”

You lock eyes with him for the first time since he appeared at your window, and stowed beneath his reservation are faint embers of warmth, kindling behind ebony curtains as you indulge in the hearth of his gaze. Lifetimes seemingly pass before his eyes are flickering back down to his hands, and it prompts you to offer him the note. “You can have it back.”

“No, you keep it.” Your brows pinch together, and a thousand questions collect on the tip of your tongue. You wonder if he recalls the same memory you do, if he remembers the significance buried in that little scrap of paper, but ultimately choose not to dwell on it. He knows just how much you love to collect memorabilia — keep cherished memories stowed away for safekeeping — he’s just being thoughtful. “Consider it undeniable proof that I know how to read and write.”

“Ain’t nothin’ in here about knowing how to read.” You tease, catching your tongue between your canines as a smirk conquers your lips.

“Ya got me,” He chuckles, smile reaching for, but never quite meeting, his faraway stare. You are so accustomed to his teasing quips, his usual flair for the dramatics, that this half-hearted attempt at replicating it fills you with discomfort. He tries to punctuate his words by tossing his arms to the sky, but they don’t reach high enough to convince you that he’s okay. Something is plaguing him, and you won’t settle for anything less than the truth.

“Tommy,” His name is sweet on your tongue, all honeyed vowels and soft, descant consonants that command his attention. “What’s wrong?”

“No, nothin’, I just-“ he’s avoiding your eyes, which is a clever strategy on his part. If eyes are the windows to the soul, then his are a stained glass mosaic, a vibrant display of all his emotions, and you — you are but an avid observer.

“Hey, look at me,” Two slender digits underline the curve of his jaw, and with a firm grasp of his chin, leave him no choice but to meet your gaze, tender and resolute all the same. “ You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready, but I can tell when someone’s been rode hard and put away wet.”

“I just, I need to get out of here, and I thought I’d ask my favorite distraction to accompany me.” He stumbles over his words, faltering over his messy façade, but you’d rather this over nothing at all.

“And where might we be goin’?” You query. You can tell that this is going to be a long night, but luckily for him, you don’t have any plans that can’t be rescheduled. Your adoring fans will just have to wait another night.

“Somewhere… Anywhere,” He murmurs hopefully, and your heart nearly sinks to the floor. You’ve never seen such a chasm of joy, not in those bright, amber orbs you study so adamantly. You’d almost deem it pain, whatever’s tugging at the frame of his optics, whatever’s depriving them of that usual, warm glow. “as long as it’s far from here.”

9:39PM — “Watch your step.”

“Can you help me?” You whine — one hand reaching out for his assistance, the other firmly clasped around a bottle of Jack Daniels. There is an awkward incline just below you, only a few inches off the ground, but tall enough to make you stumble, and he could already see you bumping your knees on the way down, so he offers his elbow as a point of leverage.

“Atta girl, you’ve got it.” He coos, reluctantly abandoning your grip once you’re safely on the ground.

Mystical, and buzzing with life, you introduce him to the farthest corner of the woodlands. Whenever the walls of your room become suffocating, your legs always give out right about here. 

Your secret hideaway. 

Where you let your most worrisome thoughts roam free, and when those thoughts seemingly wander into nothingness, you chalk it up to wishful thinking, and fail to realize that they haven’t disappeared, they just don’t belong to you anymore. They belong to the babbling brook, constantly replenishing itself and its inhabitants with fresh, spring water, belong to the frogs and crickets as they fill the night with their moonlit ballad, they belong to the night, and it’s reflection, as it wades across the face of the creek; dotted with lightning bugs or the cosmos themself, you weren’t sure. All you know is that you always returned, as if a piece of you was tethered to the very spot.

“Where are we?” He wonders aloud, raking his fingers through his downy, chestnut locks as he explores his surroundings.

“I don’t exactly know.” You confess, making yourself comfortable on the ground. Most nights, you slip off your shoes and sink your feet into the brook, but you know Tom like the back of your hand, know what kind of ideas might venture through that rascally mind of his when he spots you near the water. So, you play it safe, pulling your knees up to your chest as you peer up at him from a safe distance. “It’s nice, though. Quiet. Good place to let your thoughts wander.”

“You ever take a dip in here?” Predictable. You stifle the urge to laugh at his query, sinking ivory veneers into your pillowy bottom lip, and shake your head in response.  “Hell, if I were you, with my own nature-made swimmin’ pool, I’d bring all the boys around.”

“You know I don’t waste my time with no silly boys.” You sigh, sending him a wistful glare. 

“You sure about that?” He counters, mimicking your perked brow with eerie precision.

“Oh, I’m sure.” You huff. God doesn’t build boys the same way he built him, he took his time crafting that statuesque frame, implemented hawk-eyed precision for each and every beguiling detail you’ve come to adore. He is a man, tried and true, from his sharp, angular structure to the neverending bounds of his heart, but rather than inflate his ego moreso, you let him assume the worst. “You can take a dip if you want, though. I wouldn’t mind.”

You wonder if he can tell just how little you’d mind as a mischievous glint highlights his amber hues, but before he can even open his mouth, you’ve already pinpointed the source of his glower, already voicing your adamant refusal. “No, absolutely not. Not a chance, Tommy.”

“But why not?” He whines, bellowing over your feeble chant, conjuring the most convincing set of pleading eyes he can muster. “It’s dark, it’s humid, and ain’t no one around to tell us not to.”

“Sounds like all the more reason to not do that.” You scoff, scooting further away from him and the strength of his hopeful gaze.

“I hate to pull out the big guns, but... what if I told you that it’d make me feel so much better if you accompanied me?” You’re left to wonder what the big guns are supposed to be, if they aren’t the way he is encroaching on your personal space, crawling up the length of your legs until there is only a sliver of space between you. 

“I’d remind you that there are much drier ways to make you feel better.” You could feel your warm breath fanning across his lips, distracting you with the scent of minty toothpaste and your vanilla chapstick, ultimately failing to notice his hands, and how they’re positioned just below your waist.

It would only take one swift move to reach the small of your back, two to scoop you up in his arms, and about six more to drag you into the pond — kicking and screaming, but successfully so.

And he doesn’t chance it.

SPLASH! You’re no sooner submerged in the brooks’ murky depths, reaching out for lily pads and cattails that fail to provide you leverage, and your screams bubble into thick, smothered embers of a once irate flame. He better pray you never emerge from usunder, because he’s merely a howl away from being swept up in the tide — the tide being your arms as they force him to the bottom of the crick.

“Y/N,” your name scrambles between the slosh of the water and the pounding in your ears, but you manage to break the surface and blink spare drops of water from your eyes.

“I was drowning!’ You gasp, struggling to keep your head above water as you kick, and splash, and writhe around in the stygian abyss.

“In two feet of water? I beg to differ.” You can barely make out his comeback over his fit of giggles, but a part of you would rather this bright, teasing version of himself that what you’ve been dreading beforehand. Taking his outstretched hand, you stumble to your feet and, much to your dismay, find yourself standing in about two feet of water (which, in your defense, is a far more daunting threat to someone your size as opposed to his). You cool his inflating ego with a cold splash of water, dispersing tiny droplets from your fingers as they wave in front of his face.

You splash around in the water for what feels like forever, transforming stray lily pads into makeshift hats, dressing to the nines in the latest collection of aquatic couture, and as the moon casts a pale spotlight on the babbling brook, you occupy it’s centre, huddled in one another’s embrace, swaying back and forth amidst the shallow pools.

10:02 — You're still wet.

Drenched, really.

You’ve resorted to wringing out your hair with your bare hands, twisting the dampened locks between your fists until water pours from the follicles. You’d never once pondered the benefits of freshwater landings, but you were about to find out. A glare threatened to slice through the air, but immediately wavered at the sight of him — desolate, void, so lost in his thoughts that you’d wondered if he were even there.

God, you’re worried sick. You’ve dealt with bouts of sadness, sprinkles of melancholy, but this was downright depressing. You wouldn’t even know what to do if you tried, and that’s what worried you the most.

Thomas, your best friend, your crush, your light — the best parts of you all wrapped up in a clumsy little package while the best parts of him threaten to snatch up your heart, as if it wasn’t already his.

“Tommy?” You break him out of his reverie, but press on, scooching closer to his form, dangerously standoffish, like an uncaged animal winding up to attack, until you cross the threshold into his personal space. With a sturdy hold on his bicep, he melts into the palm of your hand, practically leaning all of his weight into you, stealing a reprieve you didn’t know he needed. “You can talk to me, y’know. It’s just us.”

“She left, Y/N.” The evening air seems still, in perfect tandem with your breath as you fear what might come out once you finally exhale. You know he’d shove all of his feelings down if he caught you shedding a single tear, and this isn’t about you, it never has been. So you hold your breath, latching onto the heavy silence that follows his confession, and pray that your chest is strong enough to smother the sob bubbling beneath its surface.

Fortunately, he takes your silence as a cue to continue. “The closet was empty, and all her cookbooks were gone. I looked downstairs and there was nothin’ there.” You don’t know if he’s finished, watching as he toys with a loose string on his jeans, but he breaks his own silence with a newfound waver in his voice.  “I had a feelin’ she was ‘bout to leave, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon. I thought I had a lil’ bit more time to say goodbye.”

Edie was a good mother, the best of mothers, and never had she drawn a line when it came to who she nurtured. When you were little kids, you’d race each other to his house once the school bell rang, tiny little bodies weaving through the stalks of corn that prefaced the farm. She would follow the shuffling crops with a heavy eye, leading you to the porch with her raspy, whimsical chime, and crouch down to envelop the both of you in a tight hug when you emerged. She was the best of mothers.

But she wasn’t the best of wives. You were both far too young to notice the signs — the nights where you found her sound asleep on the sofa by her own volition, the packed suitcase that hid underneath the stairwell to the basement, the hesitance that laced her tone when she said I love you to his father — and something tells you she wanted to keep it that way. 

Her son didn’t need to worry about his parents, and how fast they were falling out of love, and whether they really loved each other in the first place. Her son just needed to be a kid, and that is a belief she devoted the best years of her life to.

But he isn’t a kid anymore.

That’s why she fled in the middle of night, leaving nothing but a ruby encrusted ring on his dresser — her class ring. The same one he’d snatch from her jewelry box whenever she wasn’t looking. The same one he used to propose to you at the wee age of four, promising you as much of the world as a toddler could imagine.

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he recounts every detail, and every fiber of your being yearns to just schoop him up in your arms, hold all his broken pieces together with the strongest embrace you can muster. He doesn’t deserve that type of pain, shouldn’t have to relive it, and yet he takes it upon himself to tell you everything, to relive it for your own selfish gain.

You grow envious of the way the moon trails kisses down the slope of his nose, across the high rise of his cheeks, and over the swell of his bottom lip. There were times where you’d find traces of his mother in Tom’s features, lining the curve of his warm smile or, when the sun hit them just right, speckling his earthy hues with tiny rods of gold. Tonight, he is shrouded in a celestial spotlight, mesmerized by its waning body, and if you squint just enough, you’ll find her longing stare hidden beneath his own.

“And the worst part is that I ain’t even mad at her. Not even a lil’ bit.” He concludes, talking more to the sky than to you. “Not even at all.” When his gaze falls back to you, you can only try to cover up the betrayal, wipe the back of your arm across your tear-stained cheeks before he notices they’re even misty.

You inevitably fail, expelling a wistful sigh as he pulls you into his side, comfortingly running his hand over your bicep as he murmurs sweet nothings into the night.

“I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t want you to find out like this,” You furrow your brows, and wonder just how he would want to break the news to you. Would he let you find out for yourself, or would he bring you out to the plantation, and let you sink into the soil until the news began to blossom in the fields? Would they be cornstalks? And would they reach for the sky just like her?  “I didn’t wanna make you cry, but... I didn’t know where else to go.”

“It’s okay.” Your voice is a wash of dulcet tones, fingers soothingly raking through his damp tendrils in a silent bid to comfort him. “It’s okay, I’m a big girl. I can take it.” You’re quick to clamber to your knees, wrapping him up in an airtight embrace, keeping him from wallowing into a puddle of tears. “I’m right here, Tommy.”

“I know,” he sputters, with an edge of sorrow to his tone.

“I’m right here, I’m not goin’ anywhere.” You promise.

“Don’t say that” He whispers, and shatters any trace of consolation looming over the encounter. Your brow furrows, your heart pounds against your chest, and for a fleeting second, you feel like you're caught in a lie. What if he knows? What if he can tell just how much you’d surrender to be with him? What if he doesn’t want it?  

“Why not?” You’re near hysterics, praying that the intensity in your eyes makes up for the tremor in your voice. “Why not? I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.” 

“I just don’t want you to make a promise you can’t keep, Y/N.” That sullen gaze resurfaces, chills the air with it’s haunting presence — that hollow stare which fosters the remnants of a bright, contagious joy, and carves a pit, just as empty, in the well of your stomach, one that aches to be satiated. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but his palm lingers against your cheek, trying to smooth out the heavy creases in your expression with the gentle stroke of his thumb.  “Hell, I don’t want you to promise that in the first place. You deserve more than all this, you deserve the best this life has to offer you, and I’m not gonna keep you from all o’ that.”

You’ve lost track of your heart long ago, it’s dizzying tempo rivaling a hummingbird, nearly undetectable as it flitted uncontrollably, knocking against your ribs until its ultimate descent to the pit of your stomach. 

You pray that he can one day see everything that you see in him, that loving himself is as easy for him as it is for you; you hope that there is a life where he never has to feel as small, or inconvenient, as he confessed, and you wish that this would eventually be that life.

You decide that it’s time to put an end to wishful thinking. 

“Let me make something clear to you, Thomas.” You cup his jaw, firmly, and utter each word without a trace of uncertainty. “I’m not sure exactly what I want from life yet. I don’t know if I wanna spend the rest of it in this little ol’ town, or just pack my things and go as far as the wind will take me. I couldn’t tell you if I tried, but… that’s okay.” Slowly but surely, your lips give way to a sheepish grin, feeling lighter, freer, the further into your declaration. “It’s okay, because there’s one thing that’s for certain, and it’s that I’m all yours. It don’t matter how far I go, I’m always gonna come home to you.”

The silence is deafening. 

All your emotions hang in the air, crippling your air supply with insurmountable regret. But his gaze is what terrifies you the most; just as suffocating, but in a way that sweeps the air from your lungs. You knew that there would always come a time where all the unrequited feelings you’ve harbored would finally boil to the surface, fueled by the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as one sided as you thought; but under the void of his empty gaze, you wonder if you’d made a huge mistake. 

Or maybe there really is nothing — nothing to reciprocate, nothing to subdue you, nothing to salvage what little remained of your friendship after such a loaded confession — and so you scramble to assemble an apology convincing enough to overshadow your lapse in judgement.

But he doesn’t even spare you the chance, swallowing your half-hearted excuses with the firm press of his lips, pouring a lifetime of ardent desire, of longing, into the hollow of your mouth. It’s crystal clear that you’re his, the realization comes borderline cathartic. There has never been a day where your heart has not beat for him, and only him, forever threatening to spring from your chest and return to its rightful owner. The days, the months, the years of back and forth felt like a cruel jest from the fates, but now you were here, bundled in the warmth of his strong embrace, tongues curling against one another in an endless battle for dominance, and you would endure it all over again if this was where it lead

He searches for some sign of absolution, paws up and down your back in hopes of grounding himself, and you reverently provide, mustering what little strength you have left to crawl into his lap, brushing against the growing bulge in his jeans without a trace of subtlety, offering him the most sacred parts of you in hopes of bringing him home.

“Y/N,” he sighs raggedly, a half hearted attempt to gain your attention, one that proves unsuccessful as his pleas whittle into a frail, insipid shadow of what they could be. You’re too busy acquainting yourself with the plains of his body, embedding a trail of deep red marks into the column of his neck as your hands slip beneath the hem of his t-shirt. He’s built like a greek statue, you don’t even need to discard his shirt to indulge in the taut muscles tensing beneath your fingertips. “Y/N, darlin’, wait.” He interrupts your greedy ministrations by fastening his digits around your wrists. This is the point of no return, you can feel the fragile divide between friends and lovers, splintering beneath the weight of your heart, and yet you fail to concern yourself.

His digits are free to roam the high plains of your cheeks, pioneering the flushed expanse with beacons of soft, arching butterfly kisses until there’s no skin to cover, ultimately pressing his forehead against yours. ”You don’t- I don’t want you to do anything you don’t wanna do.” Seems almost redundant, you muse, to wonder if you want him when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’d follow him to the ends of the earth. You are a pillar of salt, and as he showers you in a knee buckling torrent of kisses, you melt into the palm of his hands. If the way you’re draped against his form isn’t evidence enough, then the wetness pooling between your thighs most certainly will be, he’ll come across that confirmation once he tends to the spot you need him most.

You trace the cleft of his chin in delicate pursuit, whining as he tears his lips from their languid path, and peer through your inky lashes to meet his gaze once more. “I want this, Tom. I want you.”

“You have me. I’m all yours.” He echoes your words back to you, reverently, delivering a sacred vow from the hearth of your soul, ove you have, and will continue to, dedicate your humble living to, and you seal that promise with a bruising kiss. 

The weight of his palm melts into the small of your back, pulling your chest flush against his own as it sweeps up your spine, and you moan against his lips when your nipples press up against his sturdy chest, aching to be freed as they strain against their gossamer confines. 

You’ve only had the pleasure of making out with Tom for less than five minutes, but you can already tell that it ranks high on your list of favorite pastimes. Soft, pink petals brush against your own like they’re a flourishing canvas, and he’s trying to even out the brushstrokes, but all he leaves is a scorching flush in his wake, and your clothing, despite being bathed in pond water, do little to ease the blistering heat. It’s suffocating you, and you begrudgingly tear yourself away so that you can rid yourself of the article.

Besides, the less fabric separating you from his anchoring, toned embrace, the better.

“I’m all dirty,” Your meek voice collapses into a fit of giggles, and your feeble attempt to wring out your clothes is thwarted by his hands, venturing up, up, up, and under the hem of your skirt at a teasing pace, savoring the feeling of your warm, silky skin beneath his fingertips. You can tell he’s as desperate as you are, confronted with acres of new terrain to explore, and only so little of his patience to spare.

“I know, I’m sorry angel.” His voice is soft, and soothing, and riddled with mischief. Even if there is even an ounce of truth in his apology, you can still make out the devilish grin that toys at the corner of his mouth. “May I, m’lady?” He croons teasingly, flashing those whiskey glazed hues in a way that you could never refuse. 

“Proceed, good sir.” You counter in the most refined timbre you can dictate, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he bunches the hem of your dress in his palms, hoisting it over your head to expose the breathtaking contours and curves of your body. You can’t remember what compelled you to forego your bra, but the thought is soon pushed to the corner of your mind, making room for the warm, fuzzy feeling that conquers your insides when Tom lays his eyes on you, bared to him and only him. His gaze alone makes you feel like you are a spectacle to behold, the most enchanting vision to ever cross his line of sight. If there was even a speck of insecurity buried deep in the back of your mind, the sight of Tom’s eyes, blown wide with adoration as they worship every sinful inch of your skin, instantly quells those fears. 

He struggles to find his words, to occupy this infinite silence with anything, everything, as his calloused palms caress the sides of your waist, but all he can manage is a husky growl. One that prefaces the reappearance of his tongue, and its feverish descent from the column of your neck to the tops of your breasts, bathing your skin with gluttonous, broad strokes, and coaxing pretty, little whines from the back of your throat.

There is something so unhinged in his actions, so carnal, it summons another wave of arousal to pool against your soiled panties, knowing you have such a strong clutch on his resolve. Though, another branch of your mind races at a mile a minute, consumed by the endless possibilities that come equipped with Tom’s skill. 

You try not to dwell on the little flings that came before you, especially now, in the afterglow of your confession. The taunting, pitious gazes you shared with his hookups in the hallowed halls of your alma mater, toting a reminder that they could indulge in everything you yearned for, scorched you more than the thought of the act itself — but the rumors were just plain inescapable. If even a fraction of them hold a candle to the truth, then you are in for one hell of a night.

“You’re just as sweet as I imagined, angel.” Angel. The nickname sends sparks flying in the well of your stomach. “Can’t wait to taste that perfect little pussy. Just know it’s gonna be even sweeter when you cum all over my fingers.”

You whine softly at his words, but clench hard around nothing, aching to be filled by those unbearably long, slender digits. Nothing could have prepared you for the scene unraveling below you — his lips latched around the stiff peak of your nipple, a husky groan reverberating around the pebbled surface, and head slightly moving against the palm of your hand as your fingers tug at his chestnut locks. The long, covetous laps of his tongue mingling with the vibrations of his contented little hums make you desperate for more, arching, writhing, trembling against him in hopes of finding a semblance of relief for the ache between your thighs.

“Tommy, please.” You plead in the most convincing, fucked out tone you can muster, but he doesn’t budge, showering your other bud with a flurry of quick, relentless kitten licks. Even mother nature joins in his relentless teasing, making you squirm as the gentle breeze blows cool, summer air against the glistening bud.

This is torture, a blissful, euphoric form of torture that, despite your irritability, you would surrender to time and time again. But you fail to notice just how hard your canines puncture the swell of your bottom lip, too immersed in the stroke of his tongue, in the ghost of pleasure that stirs in the pit of your stomach each time you rut against his clothed cock. A sharp, metallic tang seeps into your mouth, hitting the tip of your tongue and forcing a trembling whimper to the front of your mouth.

The pitiful sound piques Tom’s interest, and before you can wipe the blood from your lip, your face is already cradled between his palms. “Fuck, Y/N, look at you,” His eye were wide with concern, and your heart sputters over the blistering scorch of need his compassion arises in you. “C’mere.” Dropping his forehead against your own, his tongue tentatively brushes the curve of your lips, lapping up every last drop of blood that is smeared against it. He applies pressure to the wound, cauterizes it with a searing dance of bloodstained brims, as his one hand weaves into your damp locks. You barely know how to respond, but your body compensates with an untapped sense of hunger, scraping your teeth against his lower lip as you desperately claw at the toned valley of his back.

“Please, Tommy, please. I’m dripping.” You mewl, teetering over the perilous edge of delusion, foraging between your stomachs in search of his free hand. Yet another wave of arousal pools between your thighs at the sight of him, with his puffy, saliva stained lips slightly parted, and his eyes blown wide with the insatiable need to indulge himself, to spoil you. Once your fingers circle around his wrist, you guide his hand to the apex of your thighs and urge him to feel for himself, applying the lightest of pressure against his fingers, urging him to caress your tender lips through the sodden barrier of your panties. To feel what he’s done to you. “You feel that? It’s all for you.”

“All for me,” he echoes back, mesmerized, cognac hues fading into obsidian orbs as he rubs deliberately teasing circles over your covered clit. “And you ask oh so pretty. Let me take care of you, my pretty girl.” Before you even get the chance to reply, he’s pushing your panties to the side, dipping the pad of his middle finger between your silky folds — feeling, exploring, acquainting himself with the tight ring of muscle that he plans on stretching open. 

His hesitation is nothing more than a plight at this point, you are more than willing to take anything he has to offer, and he can gather that much from the wild gleam in your eyes, so he slowly works one finger into your snug, velvety walls and curses under his breath at how heavenly you feel. You’re unlike anything he’s had before, far exceeding the lengths of his imagination as you softly clench around his digit, and it only takes a few seconds to adjust to the lithe intrusion, your walls already twitching against his shallow, testing thrusts, before he adds another.

“So fuckin’ perfect, darlin’. Love the way your pretty little cunt takes me.” A thin sheen of sweat coats your forehead as he rocks his digits at a leisurely pace. Tom is obsessed with the tiny frown forming between your brows, almost like you’re confused by the amount of pleasure building between your legs, struggling to keep your eyes open, your juices spilling past your opening to trickle down the palm of his hand. To say your experience is limited is a bit of an understatement — the whopping two men you’ve slept with prior were merely amateurs in comparison to your lover. Even if there was enough air in your lungs to articulate it, you don’t have the heart to tell him that you’ve never been fingerfucked. Period. The embarrassment almost swallows you whole.

But even without anything to compare it to, you’re convinced that you’re receiving the upper echelon of experiences.

As his pace quickens, prodding against your pulsing walls with an onslaught of keen, ravaging thrusts, you’re too busy gasping for air to notice how he’s switched his angle. Now the heel of his hand is rubbing against your bundle of nerves with each stroke, applying just enough pressure to light a spark without ever setting you off, and as the pads of his fingers pound against your sweet spot, you are reduced to a limbless puddle in his hands, doused in an ethereal glow that only he could surface. “God, Y/N, you look like an angel. My pretty little angel— ‘bout to cum all over my fingers.” he panted, voice biting the air with a wolfish gleam, canines peaking past his thin lips.

“Tommy, I’m so close.” You aren’t sure if you can hold on for much longer, dangling on the coattails of insurmountable bliss, finding a new reason to fall apart with each lewd kiss or sharp thrust. Your orgasm is already creeping up, threatening to crash over you each time he plunges into your slick heat, but you know that you want to feel him — all of him — stretching you to unimaginable lengths as he sinks into your tight little hole for the first time. “I wanna feel you. I wanna- I need to cum on your cock.”

Tom’s brows meet in the middle, and you wonder if you’ve strewn too far, surrendered the remainder of your common sense to lust and her shameless palms. “Such a filthy little mouth for such a good girl.” He whispers, wondering aloud, his free hand abandoning the nape of your neck to cup your jaw as his thumb sweeps over your bottom lip, applying just enough pressure to drag it down before letting it spring back to its pouty default. “You will, angel, you will, but I gotta get you ready first.” He reassures you, and you remember just how prominent his length is, straining against the denim cage of his jeans, and attribute his wavering tone to the sheer restraint he’s been exhibiting. But you have to admit — if his fingers are only a fraction of his length, then you are not sure just how much of him you’ll be able to handle. The thought sends you barrelling toward your climax, but not without the help of his thumb, pressing up to rub fervent, clumsy circles against your clit, his husky tenor cooing sweet words of encouragement into the space just below your ear. “I can feel you, angel, let go for me. I’ve got you.”

With one final thrust, he buries his fingers to the hilt, caressing your g-spot with a tentative come hither motion, until you are ridden with overwhelming waves of pleasure. All you can feel are your tender walls tightening around his fingers, and your thighs starting to tremble under the weight of your high. But he is spellbound, mesmerized by the swirling vision of you at your most content, eyelids hanging low over your blown out hues, your hips absentmindedly grinding against his hand, meeting his timid rhythm as he tries to work you through your aftershocks.

Emptiness soon replaces the stretch of his fingers once he slips them out, but a twitch of excitement follows the path of his slick hand, and you can’t stop from outright moaning at his shameless display.

“Just what I thought,” he murmurs. You are too captivated by the sight of his lips — pink, and kiss-weathered, and frankly obscene —  opening wide to welcome his slick fingers, gracing his taste buds with your juices, and humming around them as they coat his tongue in an intoxicating elixir . “Open up, pretty girl,” You‘re torn from your trance by the pressure of his digits, knocking against your bottom lip, begging for entry. “Come taste how sweet you are.”

Hollowing your cheeks, you graciously welcome his fingers, putting on a show as you swirl your tongue between the two digits, moaning softly as the bittersweet taste that hits your tastebuds. You aren’t prepared for the shallow, tentative thrust of his digits, or how he starts up a slow, steady rhythm against the back of your tongue — but god do you welcome it, softly gagging with each steady downstroke, spit already dribbling down your chin as you try to keep up with his quickening pace.

“Atta girl, that’s it.” He offers you a ginger smile, one that makes the tears pooling in your eyes worth gagging for. “Good girl. Good, good girl. I wish you could see how pretty you look.”

You try to reply over his digits, but your words are muffled and faint as they thud against the wall of your lips. Luckily, he’s coherent enough to notice that you’d like to speak — and who is he to stifle that sweet little voice of yours? “Thank you,” you pant, fluttering your tear-stained lashes up at him as you clamber to fill your lungs, disputing your feverish pleas as you wriggle away from the outline of his cock. The sensation of his waterlogged jeans rubbing against your sensitive bundle of nerves has you keening over him, pushing you further from his crotch, and closer to his embrace, back arched with a near-feline agility.

“Can I?” you ask, kneading your palms over his thighs, feigning innocence as you inch closer and closer to his zipper with each upstroke, and he nods, granting you permission to free him from his denim confines. In one fluid motion, your one hand unzips his fly as the other helps him kick off the remainder of his offending items, and you have to resist the urge to drool at the sight of his cock springing from his boxers, let alone his sinfully perfect, exposed form.

He’s a little bit larger than you expected — what he lacks in length, he makes up in girth, but there isn’t much to make up for in the first place. His shaft is decorated with pretty, ivory veins, ones that would no doubt twitch beneath the hot, heavy weight of your tongue, and the crown of his cock is flushed, glistening with a thin sheen of precum that makes your mouth feel conveniently dry. Your walls twitch at the disheartening reminder of your emptiness, but all out spasm as his fingers eclipse the circumference of his cock, using your juices to leisurely pump himself.

“You’re so pretty.” You sigh, a flurry of giggles floating beneath your words as you reach out to touch him, hovering just above the tip in order to send him a cautionary glance — one he hurriedly accepts, nodding his head fervently as he stutters into his grasp. A rosy hue blooms across the valley of your cheekbones as you encircle him, covering whatever he can’t as he all but bucks into your palm. His heart strains against his chest upon the realization that his hand easily dwarfs your own, watches your smaller fingers barely curl around his engorged shaft and fights the urge to cum right then and there.

No, he needs to feel you.

“Are you sure?” He asks once more, granting you a final chance to salvage what little scraps remain of your childhood friendship, but you are already committed, determined to devour every last, glorious piece of him, to prove that he is the rightful owner of you, all of you, every shimmering shade of you.The sentiment would be almost derisive if not so loving, so noble, and yet you dismiss it with three, chaste kisses upon the outline of his profile — against his forehead, the notch on the bridge of his nose, and finally his lips, warm and inviting.

“I’m certain.” You promise, merely a breaths width away from his lips.

You have never been more certain of a decision in your life, desperate to feel him nestled deep inside you, to blur the line where he begins and you end. Your fingers curl around the base of his cock, their pressure neither here nor there as they coax a hiss out of him, and you line him up with your entrance, tossing your head back as you waste no time breaching your needy hole with the bulbous head of his cock.

It’s blindingly clear that you have been given the reins, what with Tom’s finger’s seeking refuge in the soil beneath him, a low groan rumbling beneath his chest, his eyes rapt with an unspoken urgency as they survey the spot where you connect, and you relish in your paramount. Your knees dig deeper into the ground as you lower yourself onto him, and with little resistance, your walls steadily welcome inch after inch with a searing embrace, etching every delicious ridge and vein of his length to memory until he bottoms out, and you’re left with an overwhelming sense of fullness. There is a dull pain laced in the stretch of your opening, intermingling with the remnants of your last orgasm, and as you twitch and pulse around his girth, he appears like an dream before you, sifting through a thick haze of desire, wispy curls clinging to the thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead, and eyes blown wide with ripples of pleasure, of lust, that long to be indulged.

Once you’ve adjusted to him, you test a few shallow, tentative rolls of your hips, lifting yourself off the tiniest bit before filling yourself up again. He just feels so perfect, like god spent a little extra time molding him just for you, rubbing against parts of you that have never known such ecstasy until now, and you struggle to find a rhythm amidst all these new, dizzying sensations. “Poor little thing, you’re so worked up, you barely know how to take my cock.” It’s funny, how he can make such degrading words sound so sympathetic, and regardless, your body responds long before your brain can register, wildly spasming around his cock. It doesn’t take long for his fingers to return, digging into the curve of your hips to assist you, working you over his length in long, plundering strokes that steal the air from your lungs. “That feel better, angel?”

“Mhmm,” you shakily nod your head, fingers finding purchase in the broad expanse of his shoulders as you dig your nails into the freckled expanse, flooding his senses with the weak little uh, uh, uh’s tumbling from your lips each time you’re impaled on his cock. If he could lap up every hitch of your breath, every wayward sigh, he’d be drunk off the height of your unbridled joy. Hell, he can barely sustain himself as is, ravenously lapping up the beads of sweat clinging to your temple, swirling his tongue around your earlobe in its descent. Yes, yes, he’s swept up in sultry waves of you, and as your pelvis kisses his, as the air is filled with the sounds of your hips snapping against his own, he’s less and less concerned about emerging from your enchanting depths. “You got another one for me, angel? I can feel you squeezing my cock, baby, I know you got another one.” He’s delirious, clawing at the altar of your hips, and nowhere near as close to finishing as you are, but god is he eager to tear another orgasm out of you.

You, on the other hand, are a furnace, taunting flames of embarrassment licking up your insides, pooling in the small of your back, racing up your cheeks, at such arduous lengths as to mix with the coil of pleasure tightening in your core. Tom seizes the opportunity to find some leverage, pulling his knees up to rest on either side of you, planting his feet on the ground so that he can thrust up into your sopping cunt at a punishing pace, and you both can already feel the tell-tale signs of your building pleasure. “It’s okay, Y/N, you can let go.” Nothing more than a faint whisper, you indulge in the way his cock massages your inner walls, how your name sounds so filthy, yet beguiling, as it slips from his slightly ajar lips, how it blends so well with the weak little moans of his own name rolling off your tongue. “Let go for me. I wanna feel that perfect little pussy cum all over me.” His hand dips between your sweat slick forms, firmly swiping his fingers over your hypersensitive bundle of nerves, turning circles into your favorite shape, and his change in position makes the crown of his cock curve into your g-spot each time he pounds into you — so your helpless to the crescendo of pleasure that washes over you. 

A broken, startled shriek tears through your lungs, and you topple over his thighs, digging crescent shaped indents into his knees as you surrender to your climax, walls fluttering and contracting over his length as he works you over the edge.

“Oh, what a good girl.” He coos encouragingly, reaching his hand out to cup the weight of your breast, swiping his thumb over your peaked bud as his pace eases up, and it isn’t until now that you realize he’s leaning back, holding himself up by his forearms while he drinks in your pleasure-ridden form. “My sweet, sweet girl.” You can tell he’s holding back by the way his hips still stutter up into your overstimulated heat, how his cheeks, his forehead, all of his features are set with a heavy flush, how you aren’t filled to the brim with his cum — and you simply won’t allow that. 

“It’s okay, Tommy.” You whisper, carefully lowering yourself until your chest is aligned with his own, sharply exhaling as you feel him push up against your tender core. Your eyes are soft, and dazed, and oh so pretty, glittering beneath a thin layer of unshed tears, but this is about him, it’s always been about him, and as his cock twitches amidst your spasming walls, you firmly believe that you can handle another orgasm if he can coax it from you.  “Keep goin’, it’s okay. I want you to fill me up. I wanna feel all of you.”

“Y/N—” His voice is stern, but your lips are fierce, stealing whatever argument may have been building in the cavern of his mouth as you weakly tilt your hips downward, offering yourself to him once more. When he muscles up enough strength to tear himself away, he only finds a bounty of understanding, of devotion, of love, teeming at the brim of your eyes, and he needs no words to indulge himself, to yield to a mesmerising whirlpool of you, you, shimmering you.

Tom wraps one arm around your back, holding you close to his chest while you scatter soft, lingering kisses to his shoulder, smoothing his palm over your damp tresses as he hoists one leg over his hip, prying your legs even further apart so he can fuck up into you — impossibly tighter, and tormentingly more responsive as he slams into your overstimulated cunt. You can feel every square inch of him now, every long sweeping vein, the tiny sliver of skin hidden beneath his tip, it’s all crystal clear as he plunges into your weepy core, and you’re so cockdrunk, so fucked out of your mind, that you don’t even notice your hips slanting down to meet his thrusts. You’re just that greedy for another orgasm, hellbent on tumbling over yet again as he fills you to the brim.

It doesn’t take long for him to work himself to that precipice once again, the coil in his stomach pulled taut with your whimpered chant of his name, with each strong pulse of your cunt tightening over him. He buries himself to the hilt one last time, stuttering into your hips with a loud, frenzied groan, and finally teeters off the edge, dragging you down with him as you sink your teeth into his shoulder blade, pumping his hot seed into you, coating your walls with hot spurts of cum as you milk him for every last drop, the crude sound of your arousal mixing with his own making you shudder.

You both lay there for a second, safe in each other’s warm embrace, basking in the aftermath of your fortuned affair, and you cowered beneath the sky and it’s constellation clad ceiling, feeling infinitesimal, but oh so contented, beneath its glorious gaze. There, wrapped up in one another, two splintered halves mending, healing, into the whole they were destined to become — the sky was but a star in comparison to your light, your bright, everlasting light.

How did we get here? You wonder. How, oh, how is he finally mine?

You follow the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way the moon lounges across his curly lashes in a silver chaise — you survey him at his most vulnerable — and determine that you have more than enough time to find the answer. As long as he’s here, by your side, you don’t plan to wander too far.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! PLEASE LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT, IF YOU ENJOYED!

TAGLIST: @devotion @reawritesthings​

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland blurb #tom holland oneshot #I CAN NOT BELIEVE I ACTUALLY FUCKING FINISHED THIS #the way this magically climbed from 4.7 to 9.5k in one day will never cease to amaze me #and i hope that this spawns a new love and excitement for country boy tom because i love arvin but #BOY does that man scare me a lil bit #this is more like a . . hart of dixie type of country #more apple pie! less homicide! #I ALSO DONT KNOW WHA THAPPENED TO THE SMUT THIS IS LIKE 40% SMUT #anyway i really do hope yall enjoy #mine*

[luciferloveschloe]

goodbye, lucifer (but not really!)

I cannot BELIEVE that I just watched the last episode of my favourite show.

I usually cram everything I have to in tags under gifsets I reblog, but for this final season I'll go through the pain of actually writing shit down. I'll try to keep it short, and I'll try not to ramble. (Edit: Did not accomplish that.)

what i loved

SCREAMS

God, soooooooo much!!

Deckerstar baby

Okay, so when Rory showed up in the trailer I was like "Ugh, another annoying angel? Meh." FORGIVE ME, my sweet murder child! Of all the things I thought they might do, a Deckerstar baby was DEAD LAST on my list. And a daughter no less, I just... When she says she's Lucifer's daughter, I was like *SCREAMS*, but when we learn she's Lucifer AND Chloe's daughter, I completely lost it. My boyfriend's on a trip with his friends this week and I'm sooo grateful for that, I made the weirdest, loudest, ugliest noises while watching this season, I ran around our apartment like a maniac, I squealed and laughed and cried and just generally lost my mind. But when she says that?? Oh my God. Also the way Lucifer reacted when Chloe shows him the pregnancy test? Straight outta fanfic.

Lucifer being a father

Oh my God?? I've always said he'd be the BEST father, and actually seeing it on screen... I love the parallel of him being ridiculously over the top with Rory at first, just like God and Lucifer in S5. The way he looks at her when he sees her playing the guitar? Their duet?? Instantly one of my favourite scenes. Them driving in the Corvette, their last day together, how he keeps her from killing Le Mec? Just murder me.

Established Deckerstar

All the hugs and kisses?? The declarations of love, the besotted looks, the absolute power couple we got? Their look from Maze and Eve's wedding, OH MY GOD???? Just, these two are so pretty and we got SO MUCH. Also, their scenes with Rory?? I just love them so much...

(More under the cut!)

Ella's storyline

I wanted a reveal for her so badly, and the way it turned out was brilliant! I loved her figuring it out for herself and calling everyone out lmao. I especially loved poor Carol returning to that room full of shocked people. They had some GREAT punchlines and gags this season, absolutely hilarious! I also love Lucifer's parting gift for her and that she finally found a good one with Carol.

Hugs, so many hugs!

That's it, that's the paragraph.

The Police storyline

As a white person who has literally never once had a problem with the police, I know this is not my place to say, but I think they did a good job? Not giving into the "a few bad apples" excuse but acknowledging that the whole system needs to change? I also really enjoyed the scenes with Amenadiel and Officer Harris, showing what policework could and should look like.

Maze and Eve's happily ever after

I'm so glad auntie Maze and auntie Eve got their happy ending! And that wedding was a bomb. Also, "You're my hell!", lmao.

Dan's ascend to heaven

First of, great to know his only torture was Belios' lack of table tennis skills. Secondly, how very fitting for the show that they didn't hand Dan his happy ending easily, that he fought and won it for himself. Him as a ghost and him as Le Mec was equally funny, and his talk with Trixie was just perfect, literally tears you guys.

Amenadiel becoming God

I mean, dude's perfect for the job! From the loyal, distant, obeying servant to a God who wants to work as a team with his siblings, who wants the Celestials to experience the human world, who hates injustice and loves fiercely? In this universe, I couldn't imagine anyone better suited to be God.

Nobody misses the case of the week

At least I don't! God, I wish they'd tried this out sooner.

The bittersweet ending

Let's preface this by saying I HATE bittersweet endings. Give me a happily ever after or else. And yet, and yet!! I think the ending they settled on is perfect. Would I have loved it if Lucifer had a life on earth with Chloe, Trixie and Rory? God, yes. Do I get emotional over him being alone in hell, again? Goddd, yes. But still. I so love that he found his calling in the end, that they reunited, and that he actually makes good on his promise from S5 to change the system. Also, I don't care if this is canon or fanon for now, but they totally spend time in heaven with Rory and visit earth whenever they like. And this would have been my ideal ending - them being free to go where they like, and I don't see why they shoudn't. It's definitely more satisfying than just traipsing off to heaven indefinitely, so I really, really loved that.

what i didn't (do feel free to skip this!)

Lucifer missing out on Chloe's life on earth and being alone in hell again. Chloe being left again.

Time travel shenanigans. I just finished Dark and that was enough of a mindfuck. Do not want to think about loops for this show, thank you very much.

Chloe felt a little too housewifey in the first episodes, but it thankfully didn't stay that way for long.

Lucifer and Chloe talking about keeping secrets for a whole episode, and then NOBODY TALKING ABOUT URIEL AND CANDY. I mean, ahhhhhhh! If you don't want to talk about it, then don't, but don't remind people of it constantly and then NOT discuss it. It drives me mad, honestly, how many times they referenced these storylines only to completely ignore them when there were opportunities to resolve them. Ahhh. That's what fic is for, I guess.

Adam. Like, why? Bye, dude.

what i'll keep with me

When someone I'd just met at my boyfriend's cousin's wedding in 2019 recommended this "funny, little show" to me that intrigued them because they were interested in finding their faith, I really didn't think I'd write all this three years later.

Lucifer is my third fandom, and it won't be my last, but it sure as hell - ha - will stay with me. I resonate so deeply with Lucifer as a character because he fights with the idea of God, fights with this concept of a benevolent father that everyone seems to believe in but never fit his experience. I come from a Christian family and studied theology, but somewhere along the lines I had to come to terms with the fact that the faith I had as a child and teenager didn't fit me anymore. I want to believe again, and maybe someday I will, but right now I don't know that. So Lucifer's journey with that meant a lot to me. I'd like to find what Ella did, I guess.

Although I never really thought Lucifer needed redemption, I loved the whole "anybody can be redeemed" message as well. And hell reform! Hell is such a weird, awful construct - speaking as the theology expert - bringing a bit of purgatory in in this universe is really fucking cool.

Also, I binged Lucifer when I was alone in hospital late at night. That experience alone I'll never forget.

So, I guess - thank you!! Thank you to the cast and crew, to the fans who campaigned for season four, to Ildy and Joe, to the writers and the directors and the people who brought lunch: Thank you so much for this incredible show. I'm not ready to say goodbye, not by a long shot, and I hope this fandom feels the same.

Yabba dabba do me, I love my stupid little show!!!

#lucifer #lucifer netflix #chloe x lucifer #deckerstar #lucifer spoilers #lucifer season six #meta #s6 #i will also leave so many comments on gifsets

[starlightervarda]

Hey ,i am so sorry you had to go through so much pain and harrassment because of lgbtmazight. You are not alone, there are many others like you in this fandom and outside this fandom who were harassed by this person. Its just so sad this person and her 'i am not racist' friends have made so much antisemitic, racist, xenophobic and "many other" offensive comments and were able to get away with it because of the massive following they had. And when I say massive following, i am pretty sure there is no brown or black people in it. Cause what kind of POC (who have gone through actual shit) follow a white person who preaches about race and talks like they know better than you. This entire racefaking issue is so messed up because people who got harrassed by her never got and will never get half the support and care she gets now.

The entire people in the discord in which she is a mod of is prevented from reblogging or getting involved with post about her whole racefaking issue. Wow!! What kind of discord does that? Are all these people in this discord sock puppets? Does someone have to tell them whats good and whats bad? I pity these people who are silent and supporting her.

Its funny her bff supporters are still posting "cute tropes and fics about joe" , and are silent about the fact she used racial slur on marwan kenzari. Its disgusting. They dont get to celebrate joe, when they can't call out the racist who used racial slur on him!!

Again I am so sorry about all the trauma you had to go through. All i can do is say that you have my support, love and hugsss!!

Thank you, nonny

It is severely disgusting the amount of support she got, that no one from any of the groups she's lied about belonging to, ever or will ever get.

This is why I'm certain that her friends knew that she was lying. You don't spend months in groupchats with someone who talks as much as she did, and goes into (lousily researched, stereotypical, offensive, hilariously illogical) detail about her ~life's story~ without picking up on the huge inconsistencies, or not having personal conversations.

This again, goes back to my point that she claimed to be Muslim/Mediterranean/MENA while the actual people who are those identities got hostile treatment from everyone that was up her ass and smugly used her words as permission to attack others on the basis that disagreeing with her was 'racist'.

It was suspicious at first, but now it's an admission of guilt. None of them claimed to be shocked / horrified / disgusted / hurt by her being exposed. They either closed their inboxes or vanished to avoid being held accountable, or are brazenly continuing on as they were, defending her, threatening people and going on anon to harass me and everyone that suffered thanks to them.

This was a plot cooked up by some of the worst people to sow discord and dominate a fandom, while chasing out all the people who posed a 'threat' to her status as the Token and the Only Source on shit she never cared to even Google.

Oh, and apparently her besties are defending her on Twitter, claiming that this dissertation of all her lies, taken from her own accounts, is false so they can downplay her being a tankie genocide denier. That and apparently she also racefaked being an Asian American to have power in a C-Pop/K-Pop fandom???

They don't care about Joe, or anyone that resembles him. In fact, they really seem to despise him, and Nicky and anyone from their part of the world. They've made that very clear. She saw Marwan Kenzari in that gifset styled like so many MENA dads - including my own - and her first thought was 'I'm gonna call him a racial slur to be cute'. If she said that on her blog, imagine what else she's said in her servers with her defense squad?

All he is the excuse they use to attack others, and show-off how Woke and Totally Not Racist they are. Because trying to hold them accountable got you accused of everything they were doing, and have harassment campaigns sicced on you and character assassinations like she shit she posted on Twitter about myself and nizarnizarblr -- by the way, her besties spread a rumour that he was a racefaker because he disagreed with her. Accusing others of being what you are must be their favourite pastime :))))

Seriously, that was the purpose of Helene's brownface: a carte blanche to be as racist, xenophobic, antisemitic, and openly share monstrous beliefs like blood libel, genocide denial, praise for dictatorships and systems that have caused the suffering and deaths of millions. Because she, and they know, that if she did this as the Rich White French Woman she truly is, she would have been run off the site.

Anyone in that Discord you mention is a coward and an enabler at best and a supporter of everything she and her friends have said and done at worst.

What kind of a bullshit excuse is this? I've cut off years of friendship for 1/4 of what Helene's done, and they're kissing the feet of this sociopathic stranger to remain in a shitty server? GO JOIN ANOTHER ONE, YOU SPINELESS DEMONS!

Seriously, what the fuck do they mean a mod 'banned' them from reblogging a post -- that proves she has spent over 10 yrs being and doing everything you claim to be against? What is wrong with you that you find this acceptable and would rather remain in a server run by her than leave and support her victims? Shove your head further up her unwashed French ass, why don't you?

Everyone who knew her knew she was a fraud, and I refuse to believe anything else.

The reason the Racefaking Tankie Defense Squad is not dropping and denouncing her is that they hope that, if not enough people reblog that post, people will forget and she can continue as she was. This must be why she's neither deleted her blog or changed that URL, declaring herself 'lgbtmazight', when she is no such thing. They hope to reestablish their chokehold on The Old Guard, if not another fandom, riding on the fear, respect and specialness of all her faked identities and bullshit stories of suffering.

They care more about the status and power she afforded them than any of the people whose skins she's worn and the others they've hurt.

This post, along with all the others @lgbtracefaker have posted, need to be boosted. People are still reblogging her racist shit as 'informative posts from a trusted source', have her listed as a 'sensitivity reader' and have had their view of MENA history and culture shaped by this overprivileged racist French woman.

Thank you again for the support and the tip-off about that server. I wish I had a list of the people in there so I could block them.

#this fandom is a fucking nightmare #lgbtmazight #tog #the old guard #marwan kenzari

[halliewriteshockey]

Do you know much about the Jordan Bennington meltdown that happened?

I didn’t watch the game because I’ll only voluntarily watch the Blues if they’re playing one of my teams. Thankfully, that means that I only have to see them when they play the Knights this year.

However, I heard plenty about it. When I saw the gifset circulating, I read about what happened from a variety of sources. He let in four goals and his coach decided to pull him, which is completely understandable. On his way off the ice, he shoved Simek, a Sharks D-man, then punched Erik Karlsson with his blocker before trying to engage with Devan Dubnyk, the Sharks goalie. None of these men had done anything to him other than perform better than him that night.

I was very disappointed in The Athletic, where the writer explained it away as “spirited” and him trying to “motivate his team”. Look, I don’t know Binnington personally, any more than the guy who wrote that article, but as a hockey fan in the same city with him for years, before and after he was called up, I can’t escape stories about him or coverage of him. And he wasn’t thinking about anyone but himself and the “injustice” of being pulled, not to mention the humiliation, when he lashed out like that.

When he doesn’t play to his potential, he gets angry. That’s understandable. We all get mad at ourselves when we feel like we’ve performed poorly. What’s inexcusable is the way he blames everyone around him. He lashes out in his rage. He attacks other players physically when all they’re guilty of is being better players than him that particular night. 

That, to me, is unforgivable behavior. Those are the actions of a child, stomping his feet and shrieking that it’s not fair. I don’t care how talented someone is if they can’t be gracious in defeat as well as victory. And coaches, sports writers, and fans alike need to stop excusing this kind of thing because “oh, he’s just talented and fiery and he’s acting like this because he has such high standards”. No. Anyone who takes his anger out on those around him is a pisspoor human being and I don’t care how “talented” he is.

#that's it #I'm done #unfollow me if you need to but I refuse to ignore his behavior #if we don't call it out then we're tacitly accepting it #and the hockey community already has a shitty track record of doing that #we need to do better #hockey #Jordan Binnington #Hey nonny no

[phandombigotryarchive]

Trigger warning:

Discussions of sexual assault, transphobia, transmisogyny, chattel slavery and violent antiblackness.

Good afternoon,

It may come to many people's great happiness in this community that I am no longer interested in muling for a fandom that wants my community dead and excuses our deaths.

I am not here to hold your hand on why you should see Black people as human beings if you are unable to do so.

I'm not here to sit around here to convince you that the Black trauma that you are excusing is of real live human beings. That enslaved Black people were mothers, fathers, cousins, siblings, aunts, nephews, loved ones and by brushing off the pain that they went through, you are dehumanizing literal human beings.

This is a fandom that excuses white supremacy, discrimination of people with facial differences, transmisogyny, orientalism, the objectification of m/m ships (often involving a party of color), ableism, transmisogyny/transphobia, general anti-Blackness, colorism and we can go on for just about forever.

It protects those and their enablers and in addition to this, excuses and normalizes the use of chattel slavery as a fanfiction trope.

Think about this before you consider aligning yourself with the people in this fandom or joining it at all.

Therefore, this archive serves a reminder of what the true nature of the Phantom of Opera fandom holds and no matter how many times you block me, you cannot erase this. It serves as a resource for current marginalized fans and future fans to heed warning of the false respectable aura these bigots parade.

I would like to thank our allies for doing as much as they can for the sake of protecting themselves from this fandom. Don't worry. I saw your posts. I thank you.

To all non-Black people of color that stood by and watch this happen without a care, I'm not surprised that you would have such lack of feeling for Black fans. I would implore you to do better but that would imply that any of you actually had spines.

Anyways. Keep the Black names of actors under Phantom of the Opera out of your mouths and gifsets. I know who you are and that you're seeing this. No, posting pictures of Norm Lewis and Derrick Davis along with others will not solve anti-Blackness in a fandom that excuses chattel slavery.

Non-Blacks cannot accept "apologies" for anti-Blackness and slavery apologists.

Take your performatism somewhere else.

Blackness, being Irani and the beauty of being trans is something to be celebrated. Do not forget this even in such a bigoted, white supremacist fandom.

To all those who are affected by the phandoms bigotry, let me say this. You are not alone.

Now, I will recount these past months events of transphobia and antiblackness. for anyone who was lost within the narrative.

We begin with @transphantomweek. @cefantomeenhabitnoir noticed that i-penna and filthybonnet, both big names in the fandom were perpetrators of transmisogyny. When he called this out, they were instantly shut down, blocked and isolated from the fandom.

@cefantomeenhabitnoir has an entire Google doc dedicated to the harassment they faced and the transmisogyny perpetuated in this fandom and you can find it on his page and in my phandom bigotry callouts tag.

Kept Below is the fic that @cefantomeenhabitnoir is referring to.

See my phandom bigotry callouts tag and @cefantomeenhabitnoir 's transmisogyny/transphobia call out for more details, which is also in that tag.

Now we bring ourselves to our current situation. Madamefaust.

On February 25th, 2021, I called out madamefaust for using the tragic mulatto trope, exploiting the usage of the Dumas Family (real life victims of the Haitian-French slave trade) to racebend Raoul De Chagny as a biracial. Black-French Man in her since deleted fic, "Strange Sweet Sound".

I will explain to you why this is bad.

"Do you even know the implications of naming a Black/White biracial child a bastard and flat out stating that their white side was involved in the slave trade? It means that child’s mother was possibly raped. You are implying that Raoul’s mother was a victim of slavery and sexual trauma. You are playing into the tragic mulatto trope. You are anti-Black."

- Me in my original call-out post (which you can find on my pinned.)

The tragic mulatto trope is trope born from slavery times involving a Black/White biracial child who was the product of rape between a white and enslaved Black party (typically female). They are pitied for their Blackness.

"Lydia Maria Child introduced the literary character that we call the tragic mulatto in two short stories: "The Quadroons" (1842) and "Slavery's Pleasant Homes" (1843). She portrayed this light skinned woman as the offspring of a white slaveholder and his black female slave. This mulatto's life was indeed tragic. She was ignorant of both her mother's race and her own. She believed herself to be white and free. Her heart was pure, her manners impeccable, her language polished, and her face beautiful. Her father died; her "negro blood" discovered, she was remanded to slavery, deserted by her white lover, and died a victim of slavery and white male violence."

After I called this out, many people in the fandom blocked me and began to post very cryptic things regarding cancel culture.

Madamefaust is not exempt from participating in my harassment. Madamefaust is a pharoga writer and a large number of the people harassing me were pharoga shippers. You can find the list of names in @cefantomeenhabitnoir 's bigot call out list.

Even her literal friends and mutuals were posting things regarding the words, "you don't have to care about anything" about a Black woman calling out the literal fetishization of slavery.

Madamefaust did nothing to stop my harassment. Only posting a cryptic post "to stop" while these people still kept indirecting me.

Why didn't you tell them to disengage until the damage was already done? Why didn't you confront them personally and not in some text post? You knew what you were doing. You were watching. This fandom is small.

I hope you feel ashamed and that the shame follows you forever. You were playing with literal Black lives and the deaths of many people who were murdered. Slavery wasn't a fun game. It was endless brutalization and loss of self. Black people's lives were treated as products. Me and many people's ancestors literally had nothing.

Life as an enslaved person was either get raped by the slave master or labor until you die.

And this fandom has the nerve to excuse using that as a fanfic trope?

Now, we move on to @strength-to-try

@strength-to-try dubs themselves an "anti racism" page yet allows antiblack slave trade apologists and their defenders to interact with their posts.

When a Black woman criticizes them (me), they refer to me as a "Black Individual" and flat out state that they aren't going to block out literal

SLAVE TRADE APOLOGISTS, ANTIBLACK PEOPLE AND BLACK FETISHIZERS.

YOU ARE NOT BLACK. I CAN TELL.

You cannot "forgive" or accept apologies antiblackness if you aren't Black.

The entire reason that page exists is because I was calling out ANTIBLACKNESS AND SLAVE TRADE APOLOGISM IN PHANDOM.

FUCK YOU AND FUCK EVERYONE WHO SUPPORTS @strength-to-try and their anti-Blackness, slave trade apologism and willingness to stand with white supremacists all whilst throwing me, a Black woman under a bus.

IF YOU SUPPORT THEM, YOU ARE ANTIBLACK. YOU ARE STANDING IN LINE WITH SOMEONE WHO LETS WHITE SUPREMACIST SLAVE TRADE APOLOGIST ANTIBLACK RACISTS INTERACT WITH THEM.

TAKE IT FROM AN ACTUAL BLACK PERSON (ME!)

FUCKING LISTEN TO BLACK PEOPLE WHEN WE SAY THE SHIT YOU'RE DOING IS RACIST.

The Phantom of the Opera fandom is especially not safe for Black People and Trans Women. It houses, protects and defends WHITE SUPREMACY.

But it is also not safe for darkskinned people, Muslims and Iranis.

It is reeking with people who fetishize the Daroga, a darkskinned Irani Muslim man. They lighten his skin, barely even mention his religion unless they're trying to strip it away or demonize his home country. They write him hyperaggressive and hypersexual towards Erik. They call him a monkey. This is not love. This is racism.

They also hyper-sexualize Irani women and refuse to think critically about why Gaston Leroux describes the Little Sultana, an Irani woman as so blood thirsty and Erik (a white man's) main abuser.

You can find examples in my phandom bigotry callouts tag. Or just read any pharoga fic. It's filled with this prejudiced shit.

Also I encourage you all to stop demonizing Erik's facial difference and to educate yourself on the history of ableism regarding the discrimination of people with facial differences. You can find some of these resources under my ableism tag.

So, in all, go run your money to @cefantomeenhabitnoir for the transphobic trauma you've put him through if you have a single bit of sympathy for them. You know who you are.

I don't expect much from a fandom who condones literal anti-Blackness and slavery apologism. But if any of you do feel remorse, I encourage you to run your money to Black people. Especially darkskinned, disabled and LGBT Black people whenever you see a donation post as reparations.

Silence is violence.

Also, I have put together an artist blacklist of people who supported madamefaust's use of slavery in her fanfic, defended it or flat out refused to stop interacting with said defenders of it.

In addition to this, I have added said artists who have contributed to the racist orientalist sentiment against the Daroga and, of course transphobes/transmisogynist defenders.

You can contact @queerangelic or @cefantomeenhabitnoir for the list to know which in the fandom to avoid.

More than many of you are guilty.

For new Phantom of the Opera fans considering joining the fandom? Read my pinned and check out my phandom bigotry callouts tag.

I suggest that you do not join this hellscape fandom or get out of here while you can.

Avoid this fandom as much as possible.

And Phandom? I'll see you all in hell.

#poto #the phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera #pharoga #erikstine #raoul de chagny #Daroga #raoulstine #the phantom #Christine daae #gaston leroux #the daroga #meg giry #carlotta giudicelli #Madame Giry # le fantome de l'opera #megstine #susan kay #phantom #musicals #Broadway #andrew lloyd webber #alw #fandom racism #phandom bigotry callouts #le fantome de l'opera #erik the phantom #the persian #NonBlacks ok to interact/reblog

[the-littlefangirl]

TFATWS episode 1 rewatch commentary

The first scene was so beautiful. I loved that we didn't start directly with the fight sequence. It feels way closer to the quiet beginning of CATWS and I love it so much.

The title is also SO NEAT, music's on point too but hey it’s Henry Jackman the one thing I’m sure it’s going to be great overall is the score.

The choreography is AMAZING, really well shot. Sam shielding himself with only one wing was MA-JES-TIC.

“WHAT'S UP” EXACTLY SAM EXACTLY

I did feel so uncomfortable in regards to the military aspect of it. Not that I was expecting anything else, but both here and in Captain Marvel the military we're good guys < 3 propaganda is so blatant and ugh:/ At least there wasn’t a literal recruitment spot like with CM. 

The yellow filter in the Tunisia scene BYE please stop with the yellow filters 2k21

"I've been working with the Air Force for six months now" So, did Sam even catch a break at all after Endgame? Or did he just throw himself to work like SOMEONE did after being iced for 70 years. Hmmm? Sam????

"Essentially, these people, they want a world that's unified without borders" OH NO! HOW AWFUL, how evil of these bad guys smh

Joaquin: SO about Steve

Sam: :)))))) nope

"Moon stuff" SAAAM

#1 cry with Sam's speech, full on chills.. Fuck. Me. His voice about to break before saying thank you bYE.

Shady politician: "It was the right decision" (FUCKKKKK YOUUU)

Rhodey: *press any key to doubt *

I need someone to analyze the different curation of the two exhibits pretty please

NOT THE PHOTO POST-AZZANO JFC. That photo is my weakness, Bucky sweetie (also I find hilarious that usually when there are articles about Stucky and/or #givecaptainamericaaboyfriend they aaaalways use that photo LMAO)

In case someone wants to read the transcription of the texts about Bucky: "In 1944, while on a mission to thwart a Hydra weapon transport in the Alps, Barnes was thrown from a train and believed to have been killed in action. It wasn't until 2014, over seventy years later, that it was revealed that Barnes was alive, having been found by Hydra operatives. Captain America himself (i can't read) the effort to bring Barnes in only to later aid in a escape from custody having been convinced of his innocence. Steve's loyalty to his old friend, coupled with his refusal to sign the Sokovia Accords, led to the dissolution of the Avengers and drove the Captain into hiding with other like-minded Avengers including Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, and Sam Wilson. The current whereabouts of Barnes remains unknown, habing been labeled a fugitive following his escape from custody."

"current wherabout unknown" but not the government, interesting. Also, pretty good summary of CACW from the public's perspective, although one of the things I always wanted to see explored was the public's reaction of the fallout of them going into hiding after Civil War (which I'm hoping we'll get to see a little bit of in Black Widow).

Interesting point about the 70 years without having Captain America. Clearly the sacrifice play wasn't enough this time to fuel the nationalism so they went with a squeaky clean John Walker instead.

Sam saying the shield belongs to Steve I'm going to cry now excuse me. Sam. Sam sweetie.

The No. 1 Captain America comic in the display ugH fuck yes

See this is how you do a cameo that has actual meaning. Thank god for Malcolm Spellman being a competent writer. That scene was so well written.

HAVE YOU PRAISED ANTHONY MACKIE'S PERFORMANCE TODAY?? Holy shit that last shot fucked me up.

I'm loving the use of the wide shots, especially in the flashback. The camera movements are in synch with The Soldier's state of mind and mission focus, so good.

EVERYONE STAND UP FOR THE NATIONAL ANTHEM aka The Winter Soldier theme composed by Henry Jackman.

Without a doubt the most brutal TWS fight scene there has been, People involved in Punisher and John Wick are involved in this and it SHOWS. 

For the record, still stands that the only time we've seen him chocking someone with his right hand instead of the metal arm remains the Maria Stark assasination. I know it's probably because of blocking and the way the shot was composed but the implications are still bone chilling. God.

Uhhmmmm I'm very ambivalent about the "Hail Hydra". On one hand, it was 100% fanservice and the internet is probably going to go insane over it, and the dead way Sebastian Stan delivered the line. Good shit. Buuut what I love about CATWS is the way Bucky never, ever ever, mouths Hydra rethoric, and even when Pierce tries to gaslight him with it, it's just an empty effort. The Winter Soldier isn't doing anything because of ideological loyalty to Hydra, even if it's product of brainwashing, it's just sheer dehumanization. They don’t need him to say the words because he’s just An Asset. There are people who have put it more eloquently but yeah, I rather go with the fanon interpretation of that aspect.

The music growing louder with the shot of the keys. GOD.

I'm fine this is fine.

#2 cry with the therapy scene of fucking course.

The government monitoring Bucky is noooot going to end well lmao.

"We need to know that you're not gonna * slowmo stabbing motions *

Bucky: * nodding along slowly * 

I laughed out loud.

"It's passive agressive" I love him.

The way this scene just sucker punched me in the face, made me weep and then had me cracking up. Amazing.

Therapist: You can't do anything illegal

Bucky: yup yup check checkity check. What IS considered illegal tho?

*aggresive tablet finger pressing *

"Then why isn't it rule number one?" Bucky your Steve is showing.

I love the close up shot. I'll keep saying it. It's so good.

"I'm James Bucky Barnes" yeah you are🥺

That smile is nightmare fuel LMFAO I love it.

Uhm the way I'm kinning Bucky it's not funny anymore damn

That whole “are you lashing out at me” rambling is really reminiscent of the bar scene in CATFA and how he lashed out at Steve after Peggy left. Uhm yeah fuck.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" "Peace"

"That is UTTER BULLSHIT" "You're a terrible shrink"

yeah ugly crying to ugly laughing speedrun for me

"You're free" "To do what?" jesus. That entire scene. #3 and #4 and #5 cries for moi.

Ugh that Brooklyn shot. Someone needs to do a gifset compairing it to the one in CATFA asap.

"It's like Monique but it's got a "U" in there for uniqueness" "That's absurd" LMAO

"You can't keep fighting with your neighbors" uHM * redacted redacted i'm shifting into 1940s mode abort abort *

"Nobody passed 90" "So young. Such a shame" FGADHGA

🥺🥺 yes flex those flirting skills good for you

"It's a dance to this things. You can't… you gotta warm up and I haven't danced since 1943. Feels like." #6 cry I completely broke down into tears with that.

This Yori storyline is going to punch me in the face with a metal fist. Great!

The TWS theme when he looks at Yori fuuuuuck.

GREAT LET'S GO TO LOUISIANA THAT WAS GETTING HEAVY.

Those shots of Sam in the car. Immaculate. Showstoping. Yes.

Marvel, what if instead of promoting the military industrial complex you put a lot of publicity about cars?

"Uncle Sam!" LMAO subtle.

Everyone trying to have the wings lmao same.

I've only had Sarah for a day but etc. Brooklyn 99 meme

Good mirroring about Steve and Sam family's legacy. Good shit. Goooood shit.

Sam is trying so hard ouch my heart. I can't imagine how painful the scene with them reuniting must have been. He 100% still feels a lot of guilt about being gone for those 5 years (and even longer before that).

"Maybe it is time for us to move on" uuuuuuuuuuh

"To the rescue" "Always" 🥺🥺 i love them so much already

That shot outside the restaurant is so beautiful. Can't wait to see the night scenes in Madripoor tbh.

"I tried the whole online dating thing. It's pretty crazy". Uhm well that is something that Bucky Barnes has now said. In canon. Damn.

"It's a lot" "You sound like my dad" LMAO

Every Bucky fanfic trope speedrun with this scene

"Wow you really can drink" OH you have no idea

Just realized we don't even know her name, well.

"You have any siblings?" "I have a sister" THE WAY I SCREECHED. We're definitely getting Becca

Well that escalated quickly. The important thing is to try?

I can't deal with this BUCKY SWEETIE #8 cry right there fuck

The wardrobe department is KILLING IT, there's such a difference between the outfits of the shows vs how ugly and generic it usually is.

"ThEre is NO such thiNg as on time. You're either EARLY or LATE . picK One" lmao the way he delivered that line

At first I thought the flag smashers had thrown two cars out of a window LMAO

"I don't know how jurisdiction works here, but I'mma have to place you under arrest" uhm yikes. The way they changed Joaquín Torres backstory to just random army nice guy #1 is not sitting well with me, what can I say.

Sam's wings motions I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOR

Fuuuuck this guy.

"Funny how thing's always thighten around us" "Look, I'm on your side. After all, he's a hero". This script is C R I S P as hell, great fucking job.

"I don't care, I'm not gonna quit" "What are you trying to prove? And who you trying to prove it to" SHIT HSIT SHIT!!! UGH amazing. Look it's not necessary to say the show's questions out loud but how they flow between the conversations is still very satisfactory without feeling in your face about it. Inner conflicts have been set up fucking perfectly everyone * claps *

Ugh here we fucking go.  I knew this was how the episode was going to end but my stomach still dropped like a rollercoster. God.

The score is on point. Damn. Damn.

God, Sam.🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

The captain america franchise's visuals in the credits are always so amazing.

Also, does anybody know why Mackie isn't first in the billing?  Uhm what's that about?

ANYWAY CONCLUSION THAT EPISODE WAS SO FUCKING GOOD LIKE HOLY SHIT. I love them so much. The balance between the personal conflicts and the political aspect (although the military aspect is still very much yikes) was on point and it was overall a joy to watch.

#tfatws #tfatws spoilers #i'm so happy rn #sorry for the ramblings i just wanted to have it all written down #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #tfatws commentary

[vxlkyrie]

through my lens

pairing: spencer reid x reader

genre: fluff (god so much fluff), friends to lovers!au

warning: mentions of alcohol, cursing

word count: 4.8k

summary: spencer comes up with the best birthday gift a girl could ask for – along with the best confession

a/n: hey y’all, it’s been a hot minute. i apologize for going m.i.a. for a bit and only reblogging fics and gifsets. i’ve been trying to give myself a little break from writing after finishing my classes for the semester, and then i found myself having writer’s block. but now i’ve found the motivation to write again! i’ve gotten into criminal minds during this quarantine, and became whipped for reid. so why not start writing for him? hopefully i can write more for him. and with that said, i hope you guys enjoy this fluff-filled oneshot!

everyone in the bau had their hobbies. spencer loves to read, penelope knits, hotch golfs on weekends – just to name a few. 

when you weren’t creating profiles and catching unsubs, you were roaming around d.c. taking photos of literally everything. a rose bush, your lunch at the cafe down the street from your apartment, the beautiful cotton candy sunset. you were seen always taking a picture, whether it was with a dslr, a polaroid, or simply your phone. you also took pictures of the bau team whenever you all decide to hang out. 

a night at the club? pictures of emily, jj, and penelope drunk off their asses while grinding on each other. 

dinner after successfully closing a case? pictures of derek and spencer having a mini food fight and hotch trying to stop them. 

christmas sleepover at rossi’s mansion? pictures of rossi cooking and the ladies making cookies. 

jj’s wedding? pictures of the blushing bride and groom and everyone slow dancing with each other (until derek pulled your camera out of your hand and forced you to dance with everyone). 

let’s just say you have a wall filled with polaroids of your second family.

photography has been a passion of yours for the longest time. although, when you first started in the bau, you felt like a burden you stated taking pictures of the team in their happiest moments. but over the years, everyone assured you that it was fine and even encouraged you to continue, which made your heart flutter. 

but what made your heart flutter even more is when a certain doctor asks you for tips on how to get into photography.

“hey y/n!” a male voice greeted you while you were working on paperwork. you snapped your head up to see spencer giving you a small smile as he leaned on your desk.

you became close with the doctor shortly after you joined the unit. probably because you two were around the same age, but also probably because of the similar interests you two had. 

he would come over to your apartment frequently for movie nights and whenever he just wanted to unwind after a case and didn’t feel like going back to his place. 

the first time he slept over, you had to apologize for the lack of literature books on your shelves that were filled with scrapbooks instead. he told you it was no problem and found himself getting lost in one of your scrapbooks.

“no way! is that y/n in high school?” he practically squealed.

“what?!” your eyes widened as you ran towards spencer and attempted to get the embarrassing scrapbook out of his hand, only for him to lift it high into the air and out of your reach.

“why didn’t you tell me you wore glasses? you looked so cute!” he laughed as he looked up at the scrapbook that he held above his head.

“i looked horrible! give it back!” you whined.

“only if you can reach it.” he smirked.

“fuck you. you just had to be 6′1.” you pouted as the doctor continued to go through the rest of your scrapbooks (he especially enjoyed going through the scrapbook that was filled with pictures of the team).

and even though you complained the entire time he went through your collection, you couldn’t help the butterflies in your stomach as your feelings for spencer grew.

“what’s up, doc?” you beamed back.

“nothing much. i just wanted to ask you something.” he said as he fumbled with his hands.

“yeah, what is it?” you asked politely.

“i-i want to learn more about photography, and i was hoping you could help me?” he answered softly as a tint of pink spread across his cheeks

god help me, he’s so cute.

“yeah of course!” you chuckled. spencer’s eyes lit up with joy as he smiled wider. “what do you need help with?”

“well, the basics, and what kind of camera to use. although, i’ve heard digital cameras have been getting more expensive these days. maybe it’s because more people are getting into photography. i’ve seen a lot of websites that garcia showed me where people are starting photography businesses and i- i’m rambling again, aren’t i?” spencer scratched the back of his neck. 

you weren’t one to cut spencer off while he’s talking. mostly because he looked so attractive while doing it, and it still baffles you how that’s possible.

“it’s fine spence,” you softly smile at him, which caused his heart to speed up a little. “and honestly, using your phone is a great start into learning basic photography.”

“really?” he quirked an eyebrow.

“yeah, give me your phone,” you asked, holding out your hand. he pulled it out and handed it to you. “i know you’re like a technophobe, but this little guy is pretty useful, especially when it comes to photography.” you explained as you opened the camera app, showing him the different features on it. “now here’s a grid. ever heard of rule of thirds?”

spencer shooked his head, which surprised you.

“oh really? well basically...” you started to speak.

spencer started zoning out. he already knew what the rule was, but he just wanted an excuse to stare at you.

the resident genius has been in love with you ever since you joined the unit. and his feelings grew even more after finding out you both have a love for halloween and science fiction. but of course, he never acted on it. the poor boy was already shy enough, and after being rejected several times, he especially doesn’t want to ruin his friendship with you.

oh y/n, if only you knew...

“so overall, it’s a great way to line up your photos,” you finished explaining, turning your head to see spencer spacing out. “you okay spencer?” you waved a hand over his face.

“w-what? oh yeah, i’m fine. rule of thirds is my best friend when taking pictures. got it.” he blinked, making you chuckle.

“hey pretty boy, we’re being summoned by garcia.” a deep voice said as a hand slapped over spencer’s shoulder.

“hi derek!” you smiled.

“hey sugar,” he winked. “come on reid, let’s go.” derek turned to spencer. spencer nodded at the older man and started to walk.

“thanks again y/n!” he yelled over his shoulder.

“of course! if you need anything, just let me know!” you yelled back as you continued working on your paperwork.

“anything?” derek whispered, teasing spencer as they made their way to penelope’s office.

“stop. she was just teaching me some stuff about photography.”

“you are such a sucker for her. just tell her you like her already. we all know you both are in love with each other.” derek rolled his eyes.

“she’s not in love with me.”

“you have an iq of 187 and for what? you don’t have to be a genius to know that she feels the same way.” derek said as he opened the door.

-

“ah my lovelies are here!” penelope said as she hugged derek and spencer.

“what’s up baby girl?” the formal asked.

“i’ve already told emily, jj, hotch, and rossi this, but i am planning a surprise birthday party for y/n at rossi’s place!” she clapped joyfully.

“isn’t her birthday like a month away?” spencer raised an eyebrow.

“i don’t even think she remembers that her birthday’s coming up soon.” derek added.

“which makes this even easier,” penelope smiled. “the week of her birthday, we will be going over to rossi’s house after work and we will help decorate. the night of the party, spencer, you will be driving her to rossi’s. just say that we’re all meeting up to go to a club or something.” she quickly said.

“i guess that’s possible.” the younger boy slowly nodded.

“are you sure she isn’t gonna be suspicious that reid’s willing to go to a club?” derek asked.

“hey!”

“he’s a genius, he’ll come up with some excuse,” penelope said. “okay great. let’s go team! now get out please.”

spencer slowly walked down the hall that lead back to the bullpen.

what am i gonna get her this year? i already got her the whole star wars saga collection. this gift has to be more sentimental. 

he bit his lip in deep thought.

then suddenly, a light bulb flickered on above his head.

that’s it!

-

a month passes by quickly when you're working on cases mostly every day. 

there were a few times where you would have the day off or at least the night off after a long day at work. you spent those times with the bau, whether it was having a night in with the girls, checking out the costume stores with spencer (who cares if it’s nowhere near october?), or even a spontaneous night out at the karaoke bar.

the rest of the team have managed to sneak around during the week of your birthday, gathering party decorations and gifts, making sure everything is set up correctly before the big day.

spencer worked very hard on his gift for you, adding the finishing touches as he stored it in a closet that was filled with the rest of the team’s gifts.

set up for y/n’s birthday party – check.

and in a blink of an eye, it was your birthday and the night of party. the team was flying back from a case that took several days, and you want nothing more than to knock out on your bed.

“the night is still young! let’s all go out!” emily exclaimed as you all gathered your belongings in the bullpen. derek nodded his head in agreement, catching on to emily’s little scheme.

“hell yeah, i’m in!” jj responded. “how about you, y/n?”

“i don’t know guys, i’m pretty tired.” you yawned.

“come on y/n, you have to come with us.” emily pouted.

“what’s happening?” penelope walked in.

“we’re gonna hit the clubs, you in?”

“definitely. spence, you coming?” penelope looked at him as if she had telepathically sent him a message. spencer widened his eyes.

“u-uh, yeah. i’m in.” he gave a small smile.

“look y/n, even reid’s coming! you love clubbing with us. it’s gonna be a great time!” jj said as she held your arms. you sighed.

“fine. i’ll meet you guys in like two hours, okay?”

the ladies cheered in victory.

“perfect! let’s pregame at rossi’s and then we’ll all go together.” emily said.

“great! spencer, do you mind driving me to my apartment?” you said as you turned towards him. he shook his head in response and you both headed towards the parking lot.

get y/n to come over to rossi’s – check.

-

after you got ready, spencer drove to rossi’s mansion as you sang to throwbacks.

he changed into a simple black dress shirt and jeans (and of course, his converse) while you wore a black off-the-shoulder mini dress and heels. your makeup was flawless as well as your curled hair.

spencer couldn’t help but think you looked beautiful in this moment, and can’t wait for the surprise he and the team had in store for you.

soon, you two were parked in rossi’s huge driveway.

“she’s here!” spencer texted penelope as soon as he put the car in park. he ran over to your side of the car and opened the door for you.

“what a gentleman! thank you, kind sir.” you smiled and reach out for spencer’s hand as he helped you out of your seat. you two walked to the front door to see rossi standing with a huge grin on his face.

“hey rossi!” you greeted while hugging him. he grabbed your hand and opened the door and slowly let you in, with spencer trailing not too far behind. “where is everyone?” you asked as he led you to the dark living room.

“surprise!” many voices shouted. your eyes widened as the lights turned on, only to see your closest friends and everyone from the bau and their families smiling at you. even the kids were there.

there were balloons that floated onto the ceiling. foil curtains that filled up rossi’s wall (he wasn’t a big fan of it, but he was willing to hang it up because it was all for you). tables filled with drinks, food, and gifts. and don’t forget the banner that hung across the threshold leading to the backyard that read ‘happy birthday y/n!’

you felt yourself tearing up.

“oh my god!” you patted around your eye area. “i love you all, but goddamnit you almost made me ruin my mascara!” you yelled jokingly, earning laughs from everyone (even hotch).

“happy birthday!” rossi said as he hugged you and kissed your cheeks. everyone gathered around you to hug you, take pictures with you, and say their happy birthday’s.

“happy birthday, sugar.” derek hugged you.

“i honestly forgot that it was today.” you laughed as he joined you.

even spencer gave you a bear hug and a kiss on the forehead, which made your face heat up.

“happy birthday y/n.” he smiled at you.

you were in euphoria as the party went on. you were dancing with your best friends and the bau ladies (and derek) as music blasted throughout the backyard. everyone was occupied, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves, even spencer, who was having a beer while conversing with hotch.

“so when are you gonna tell y/n you like her?” he asked spencer who was looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world. spencer turned his head towards his boss.

“soon.” he smiled, sounding very determined.

“as much as i love seeing you guys dance your asses off, it’s time for the birthday girl to blow out her candles.” rossi announced.

everyone gathered around the table as you walked towards the table, seeing a beautifully decorated cake with lit candles placed in front of you. they all sang happy birthday (with hotch recording everything), making you smile from ear to ear while trying not to tear up again. soon, you blew out your candles, followed by cheers. rossi helped cut the cake and distributed it to everyone.

“as soon as everyone gets their slice, please go to the living room so y/n can open her gifts!” he shouted. everyone obeyed and started to walked back inside. spencer’s eyes widened.

shit. 

“you okay, kid?” derek asked, approaching spencer.

“uh, yeah?” he answered, clearing his throat as an attempt to try to hide his panicked expression.

“what’s got you nervous?”

“i-i didn’t know she was gonna open her gifts in front of everyone.” spencer practically whispered.

“why? what’d you get her?” derek smirked.

“i guess you’ll see.” spencer sighed.

-

everyone sat in the living room, facing you as you opened your gifts. every time you opened one, your heart melts even more.

when you opened rossi’s gift, you thought you were gonna pass out.

“rossi, i cannot take this!” you exclaimed as you held a box that contained a new camera. “this must’ve costed you a fortune!” you tried to give rossi the box, but he simply shook his head.

“you’re like a daughter to me, y/n. of course i had to spoil my child!” he said as everyone laughed around him.

“i can assure you buying that camera certainly did not put a dent in his bank account.” emily quipped. you thanked rossi with a hug and continued to open more gifts in your seat between spencer and emily.

you were curious when you lifted a slightly heavy bag from hotch. you gasped as soon as you looked inside to see a brand new laptop sitting inside.

“hotch, you shouldn’t have!”

“i know you recently broke your laptop, so i figured why not save you the trouble of getting one. you also deserve it after being such a great addition to the team.” he said, giving you a small smile as you hugged him.

emily bought you a ton of polaroid film and sd cards, as well as a bottle of wine – the key to a girl’s heart.

“these are exactly what i needed, thank you babe.” you kissed her cheek.

jj and will bought you a vinyl player along with a few vinyls from your favorite artists. they also added a few drawings of you that henry made that had ‘auntie y/n’ written on all of them.

“i am definitely putting these on my fridge.” you said as you lightly ruffled the little guy’s hair.

derek got you a pair of headphones (from the same brand as his) so you didn’t have to borrow his during the plane ride home.

“now we can both listen to our own music with our own headphones.” he teased, hugging you as you chuckled.

penelope’s gift had you screaming. you opened the box and moved the tissue paper to see a whole lingerie set laid out. spencer’s eyes widened as derek whistled, while hotch and rossi where trying not to laugh their asses off. jj immediately placed her hands over henry’s eyes.

“how did you get my size right?!”

“i have my ways.” she winked at you.

you had one more gift to open – spencer’s gift.

“you don’t have to open mine.” spencer whispered to you. you raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“why not? i opened everyone’s.”

“it’s not as good as everyone else’s.”

“spence, it doesn’t matter how expensive a gift is. you could literally give me a fake plant and i will love it until the day that i die.” you smiled at him, causing his face to slightly heat up.

“well, prepare to be disappointed because i definitely did not get you a fake plant.” he said. you scoffed.

“come on spence, how bad could it be?” you said as you pulled out an object from the gift bag. you curiously looked at it.

is it a book?

“what is it?” you asked spencer.

“well, o-open it.” spencer shyly said.

you turn the cover to see a collage of pictures. it was a small scrapbook. you examined the pictures only to realize they were picture of you. you started blushing as you flipped through the pages and recalled where several of the pictures have been taken. you didn’t even realize spencer was taking pictures of you half of the time.

-

you were having a sleepover with the girls, drinking and crying over captain america. you heard a knock on the door.

“must be the pizza guy, i’ll get it!” you stood up. you opened the door to see spencer standing there.

“hey y/n! ready to watch the new season of doctor who?” he clenched his messenger bag in excitement as he entered your apartment, shocked to see his coworkers sitting on the couch while the tv played.

“that was tonight? oh spencer, i’m so sorry. i completely forgot.” you said, feeling guilty.

“oh, that’s fine. we can always watch doctor who another time.” he reassured.

“how about you join us spencer?” penelope chirped in.

“i don’t want to intrude on your sleepover.” spencer shook his hands in front of him.

“yeah, come join us! you’re already here, and i think you left some of your pajamas somewhere.” you raised your eyebrows at him with a pleading smile on your face.

how could he resist when you’re looking at him like that?

“fine.” he gave in as the girls cheered.

as soon as he knew it, he was listening in on the gossip as the girls did each other’s nails. you laughed as you smeared a green substance on your face.

“what’s that on your face y/n?” spencer asked, earning a few giggles from emily and jj.

“it’s a facial, spence. it’s good for your skin. you want to try it?” you asked as you held out the container towards him. he nodded. “you want me to put it on for you?” he nodded again.

spencer tried his hardest not to blush while your fingers brushed against his face. he could smell the faint scent of mint from the facial along with the lavender from your shampoo.

“okay, and we’re done. wait for half an hour and then wash it off.” you said as you both took a seat on your couch.

once you started paying attention to the movie, spencer stole glances in your direction, watching you react to the movie. he couldn’t help but pull out his phone and snapped a picture of you (thank god his phone was on silent).

he smiled to himself one more time before putting his focus back onto the movie.

-

“spencer, what are we doing here? it’s july!” you said as you two entered the costume shop.

“it’s never too early to plan your halloween costume, y/n.” he laughed as you looked at the masks that hung from the wall. he busied himself, browsing through different costumes.

should i be frankenstein? maybe i should go for steampunk this year?

“check this out spence!” your muffled voice caught his attention. he looked to see you dancing around while wearing one of the masks. 

spencer laughed at you while you continued to dance in the middle of the aisle. he took out his phone and took a photo of you, not caring that your arms turned out blurry while you were flailing your arms around.

“that was fun,” you took off the masks. “anyways, what kind of costume are you going for this year?” you asked as your ran your fingers through your hair, trying to fix it.

spencer was too busy looking at you.

“spencer?” you said with confusion. “spence?”

he slightly shook his head.

fuck, she caught me staring.

“what? oh, i don’t know yet. how about you?” he asked back.

“hmmm, i’m not sure either. i might just play it safe and be a devil or something.” you said as you tried on headbands that had plastic horns glued onto them. you looked at the section next to the devil costumes and saw a bunch of angel costumes. you took one of the halos and placed it on spencer’s head, practically jumping to get it on him. “maybe you should be an angel this year.”

“you think so? why?” he asked, suddenly feeling shy.

“well, maybe cuz you are one?” you grinned.

spencer’s heart raced for hours afterwards.

-

“happy birthday to you! happy birthday to you! happy birthday dear emily! happy birthday to you!” the whole team sang as they raised their glasses to the girl of the hour. you couldn’t help but take pictures of everyone as they downed their drinks and hugged emily.

after the team found out it was the brunette’s birthday, you all collectively decided to spend the rest of the evening renting out a room at the karaoke bar to celebrate.

“thank you guys! i fucking love all of you!” emily yelled. you could tell she was tipsy. “now someone put something on, i want to get drunk and sing until my vocal chords explode!”

“well, actually, your vocal chords-” spencer started.

“shh, not right now spence. someone give me a microphone.” emily bit back. you patted your hand on spencer’s back.

after a few rounds of singing from everyone, you decided to do a number with the rest of the girls. you were in the zone, belting out notes you never thought you could do. but with a little bit of liquid courage, you channeled your inner whitney houston as you all sang ‘i wanna dance with somebody.’

hotch was recording (as always) as rossi and derek cheered you all on.

“let’s go baby girl!”

spencer was clapping along, watching you have the time of your life. he had the biggest smile on his face as he took pictures of you singing. he knew that he had it bad for you once you started dancing. but when he didn’t see coming was when you placed your hand on his and pulled him up to his feet.

“dance with me spencer!” you giggled as you whipped your head side to side. you definitely had too much to drink.

“come on pretty boy!” derek hollered. spencer started to pick up the rhythm and moved with you and the girls. the rest of the guys soon joined in and started dancing.

at times like this, spencer is grateful that he chose not to stay in.

-

as you flipped through the rest of the pages, you felt a few tears started to form in your eyes. you skimmed through the rest of the pictures. 

some of them were pictures of you sleeping. on the jet, on the couch in your pajamas during a movie marathon, on rossi’s bed in one of the guest rooms after having one too many glasses of wine.

some of them had spencer in it. once you taught him what selfies were, he took one with you every time the team flew out of state, or even if you two were just getting coffee before work.

there were some where you weren’t even paying attention and spencer was closer to the camera and made it look like he was squeezing your small head.

and there were even a few where you had your hand close to the camera. they were pictures of you when spencer would catch you off-guard. they weren’t the best pictures, but it felt right for him to print them out.

“spence, what are you doing?” you asked as you tried to push his phone away from your face.

“i’m just taking a picture of you!” he giggled.

“why? i look ugly!” you whined.

“no you don’t!” he blurted out as you playfully shoved his phone towards him as he continued taking pictures of you.

“sometimes, i really do hate you.” you joked, ignoring the fact that he said he doesn’t think you’re ugly.

you laughed at the pictures as your heart picked up its pace. aww’s were coming from everyone, making spencer blush an even deeper pink. you got to last page of the scrapbook. instead of seeing a page full of pictures, you saw a familiar handwriting that filled the page.

is this a letter?

“what does it say?” one of your friends asked.

you looked at spencer for permission to read it out loud. he hesitantly nodded. by the looks of it, everyone already knew why he made you a scrapbook, might as well go all the way.

you took a deep breath and started reading.

for the part-time photographer, full-time badass profiler:

dear y/n,

you have been a light in everyone’s life, especially mine. you brought happiness to a team during their darkest times, and you have always been there for me during mine. 

to the girl who is always seen taking pictures of everyone around her, you deserve to be photographed. 

through your lenses, i am one of the many people that fill up your scrapbooks and walls, but through my lens, you are the most beautiful person my camera has ever captured (and even then, these pictures don’t do you justice).

you are the kindest, brightest, and most breathtaking person i’ve ever met, and i am so lucky to have fallen in love with you.

happy birthday!

love, spencer.

you didn’t even notice the small pool of tears that sat over the letter. thank god the pages were protected. even penelope, emily, and jj were crying.

“oh, spencer.” you sighed as you pulled him in for a bone-crushing hug. he immediately hugged you back, placing his face in the crook of your neck. you pulled away to look at him.

“did you like it?” he whispered as he wiped away the stray tears on your face.

you smiled at him and leaned towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his lips. he smiled as he kissed you back. loud cheers and applauds can be heard from around the room, but the only things you can hear are yours and spencer’s beating hearts.

“my man!” derek yelled. everyone pulled out their phones to capture this sweet moment.

you both pulled away from each other, not being able to wipe the stupid smiles off your faces.

“i’m guessing you liked it.” spencer quipped, making you laugh.

“i love it. and i love you too.” you grinned. 

spencer pulled you in for another kiss, until you hear several clicks. you turned to see everyone with their phones pointed at you two. you hid your face in his neck in embarrassment, spencer laughing as he held you.

“this is definitely going in the scrapbook.” he chuckled.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n