#I don’t fucking know how all of this exists
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scriblesandbits · 3 days ago
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So god created us in his image, right? And that’s cool and all but what if it turns out god, like, hates his own image??? What then????
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threeacttragedy · 2 days ago
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Entry 18: The One Where Two Roads Diverged in a Wood of GIFs and Written Words
“Lukola Crisis Hotline. How may I be of service?”
Me: Houston, we have a problem.
Dad: Do tell!
Me: You won’t believe who showed up last night! –
Dad: Oh, my goodness! Oh, my goodness! Whoa! I don’t know what to say! Wait – let me grab my Coke and my smokes. <waiting> Okay, I’m back. So, Misty appeared out of nowhere with Thang?! Well, this just got fun! <laughing>
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For clarity’s sake, my father tends to give everyone a pet name. Some of the pet names are funny; some are quite cruel. But if they help him remember who the players are in this fandom (and in any other situation), I’m game to play along. Plus, his pet names tend to add a little comedy relief to whatever is being discussed, especially when it is not an outwardly funny subject.
In Lukola-Land, Luke is “Thang” (it’s actually “Thing” – as in the hand from The Addams Family – but my dad’s accent muddles the pronunciation into “Thang”); Nicola is “Ireland,” for obvious reasons; Antonia is “Misty,” for, umm, the Clint Eastwood movie, “Play Misty for Me;” and Jake is – well, Jake is actually just “Jake” because my father finds the USS Jakola offensive. In fact, when I was discussing the recent fandom events with him on Friday evening, my dad was genuinely shocked to learn the Jakolas still existed. His pet name for the Jakolas is “Fucking Stupid,” by the way.
Moving on to the matter at hand –
There’s been so much “noise” over the past few weeks that, when taken collectively, it is rather eye-opening. We’ve got Luke’s mother posting on Facebook about “Luke’s girlfriend…from Cyprus.” The leaked funeral video and photos (by allegedly Luke’s family). The Best in Show pap pictures of Nicola and Jake. The “just friends” interview. The disappearance of Jake (because he’s rehearsing for a play) and the sudden reemergence of Antonia.
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If you’ve noticed from my recent entries on this blog, I have obviously found most of what has happened of late to be comical and not worth putting into written word. Instead, my thoughts have been dumped into GIF stories. To be honest, I was rather disappointed I couldn’t put this last part – Antonia emerging from the misty edges of the forest – entirely into a GIF story. Her reappearance was like a certain Bond villain coming back to life for the seventh time. In other words, it was total cringe. But it also altered an otherwise slow burning campfire into a motherfucking forest fire.
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Me: Thoughts?
Dad: I need some time to think about this one – and a cigarette. Or two. Call me back in 15 minutes.
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“Psychotic Fan Rescue Center, at your service.”
Me: You’re a dumbass.
Dad: <laughing> Well, this is insane. It makes no sense and it’s a convoluted mess. Why bring Misty back? She was killed off two seasons ago.
Me: No shit, Sherlock.
Dad: Hell, maybe this has all been a nest of vipers.
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A nest of vipers? Ah, yes, the idea that we have a group of venomous snakes thrown into the same close-quartered trench – in an every-man-for-himself type situation – each taking strikes at the others whenever their backs are turned.
In Entries 1, 13, and 15 – with an emphasis on “Entry 13: The One Where the Ashes Blew Towards Us with the Salt Wind from the Sea” – I wrote about what the Lutonia narrative could look like, if real. I will not rehash in detail those entries here, but I will link them at the end of this entry if you want to read, or reread, them.
Now, the General Audience almost certainly didn’t pay a lick of attention to Antonia when she appeared alongside Luke at the Boss event held January 30 (she’s always just been a Face in the Crowd). But the sudden reappearance of Antonia stopped the Lukolas dead in their tracks because – like my dad said – she was seemingly killed off two seasons ago.
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The Lukolas have suddenly found themselves at an intersection of confusion and, likely, a bit of distress. The long and winding road we’ve been traveling along has diverged into two paths – and, no, you cannot travel both.
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The problem with the Lutonia narrative has always been that Luke has never formally acknowledged Antonia as his girlfriend. In fact, Luke had the perfect opportunity to do so when he posted about the Boss event on his Instagram grid – but he did not. I could rationalize the idea that Luke and Antonia wanted to keep their relationship private after the Papsmear misstep if it weren’t for the fact that Antonia has been historically loud in her social media posts. We spent the summer and fall with insinuation post after insinuation post from Antonia. Yes, all those posts that alluded to her being with Luke without any actual evidence that she was, in fact, with Luke. By the time Antonia got to “Pasta-gate” in mid-November, the Lukola fandom barely even blinked before dismissing her as, well, the antagonist from “Play Misty for Me.” And this leads to something even more problematic for the USS Lutonia – Luke has never rescued Antonia from being ridiculed and torn apart by the fandom. My dad would call – and has called – Luke a cad for this.
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Jumping to the other side of this misshapen triangle, we have Nicola and her Assassin (my dad’s pet name for JVN). Assuming Lutonia is real, the only logical answer for Nicola’s behavior is that she has spent months trolling Luke, Antonia, and <gasp> the fandom. Nicola herself has admitted to being chronically online and, at a minimum, being aware of fan edits – so much so that during the London premiere she commented that she and Luke “can’t do anything” without the fandom reacting to it. Therefore, I will call “foul” on anyone who tries to persuade me that Nicola was unaware of, at a minimum, how the Lukola fandom had reacted to the Claddagh ring, Chaos Week, and the October airplane posts. JVN openly mocking Antonia on social media with, for example, their Slick Back Bun routine only added fuel to this fire.
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For shits and giggles – and so I can get to the bend in this road – we will roll with my dad’s “Nest of Vipers” theory for a moment. We will concede that Lutonia is real, which, in my opinion, makes Luke the absolute worst boyfriend in London and Antonia a woman who doesn’t mind being treated like roadkill. It also, unfortunately, makes Nicola and Fan Favorite JVN come off like online bullies – with the only plausible reasoning for the bullying being that Luke and Nicola are at odds with each other. No, I take that back – they’re not at odds with each other – they’re seemingly at war with each other. I’ll even amp this up a bit and throw in the suggestion that, assuming Lutonia is real, Netflix & Co. is aware of the strife between its two Polin actors and are protecting their asset with blurred Polin-Lukola posts to pacify the fandom. Dun-Dun-DUNN! And yes! That was a sly nod to Jake.
Me: Thanks for that. You just made Luke into an absolute prick and gave Antonia’s starring role in “Play Misty for Me” to Nicola.
Dad: Hey, I’m not the one who dug up Misty! That was all Thang!
Me: Then why does everyone say Luke is the nicest person? Nicola, his co-stars –  
Dad: All lies.
Me: Would you STOP?!
Dad: But I’m serious! Thang could be a complete pig behind closed doors and Ireland could be on the verge of a psychotic meltdown because, uhh, maybe she’s obsessed with Thang and pissed he chose Misty.
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The unfortunate thing about this Nest of Vipers theory is that I could almost certainly make a convincing argument that it was legit. I’ve always joked with my Inner Circle of Lukolas that no one wants to see me go rogue, especially not – I’ll bite my tongue on that one. But I will emphasize the importance of keeping an open mind when you’re reviewing information. Always consider both sides of the coin. That said, it’s hard to ignore the evidence that was presented to us through the World Tour interviews and behind-the-scenes footage; therefore –
Me: I’m having a hard time believing Luke is someone who wouldn’t protect his girlfriend. He seems to support Nicola online quite a bit. Why wouldn’t he do the same for Antonia?
Dad: <laughing> Fine. Antonia isn’t his girlfriend. Maybe it’s all just a bunch of fuckery like I’ve always said.
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“Fuckery” is my dad’s pet name for PR bullshit. If you didn’t pick up on it in previous entries, I am not fond of PR theories. But I also cannot ignore that PR relationships do exist and have for decades (hell, we could go back centuries and find examples of PR relationships across multiple noble and royal families – think about that, naysayers). It was my dad who first sold me on the possibility of Antonia being PR. So, I will consider this road to PR-ville in the same manner as I did the Nest of Vipers theory – with this PR theory having perhaps the better claim.
I mentioned earlier that the General Audience almost certainly paid little attention to Antonia’s existence at the Boss event. Although some people may find what I’m about to say a bit unkind, it doesn’t make it any less valid (and I’m not saying it to be cruel): Antonia, in the overall scheme of things, is of very little importance to the General Audience. She has less than 15 thousand followers on Instagram, even after being connected to a man who has almost three million. However, oddly enough, that didn’t prevent the Daily Mail from dropping a story which predominantly focused on Antonia within the same timeframe that images from the Boss event were being dropped on the Internet. It also didn’t prevent video footage of Luke and Antonia at the Boss event from being leaked online almost immediately – even when there were undoubtedly more famous celebrities attending the event. I’ll be realistic with this next comment, too: Luke may be relevant to the Bridgerton fandom, but that does not mean he is significant to, say, People Magazine’s average reader. So, why the sudden burst of publicity at this event?
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I waited to write this entry to see what Luke did with the exposure from the Boss event. Would he finally put Antonia on his Instagram grid? Would he put her in his Instagram stories? Would Antonia post pictures from the event on her Instagram grid or stories? Would Luke unambiguously acknowledge a relationship with Antonia?
Although Luke posted to his Instagram grid and stories about the event, he did not include Antonia – at least not directly. The closest he came to including Antonia was via an Instagram story – on which he did not tag her – of a black screen with a link to a Boss TikTok that included images of Luke and Antonia from the event. The TikTok did not tag Antonia either. Luke did not post Antonia’s image to his grid or his stories.
And Antonia didn’t post about the event at all.
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I wasn’t sold on a PR narrative when I started writing this entry, but my eyebrows raised when I saw Luke’s “black screen” Instagram story. This was either Luke attempting to circumvent the Lutonia narrative while throwing Antonia a bone, or it was Luke being an absolute douche of a human being. And, if it’s the latter, Mr. Newton needs to check himself into Assholes Anonymous.
I will concede that a couple of mutuals put up a few stories about the event (which disappeared after 24 hours) and Boss included (and tagged) Luke and Antonia in an Instagram and TikTok reel – without formally identifying Antonia as Luke’s girlfriend. On a side note, Luke could have reposted either of these reels – which tagged Antonia – but he did not. Luke also did not like this Boss Instagram reel with Antonia in it (and he does not have a public TikTok account), but Luke did like a separate Boss post of him and David Beckham (without Antonia). The only news outlets that called Antonia Luke’s “girlfriend” were rag-mags like the Daily Mail and Hello, both of which put an emphasis on Antonia. Digital Spy noted that Luke and Antonia “have yet to officially confirm their relationship.” So outside of some tagged reels (that weren’t reposted or acknowledged by Luke) and rag-mag speculation, what did Antonia get from this?
Dad: Publicity.
A single word but one that resonates throughout an otherwise silent wood.
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But to be honest, I’m not entirely convinced this was for publicity. I’m not saying I believe Antonia is Luke’s girlfriend either – that’s a whole cauldron of contradictions on its own. I’m simply intrigued that Antonia has her Instagram tags turned off and she has not yet allowed any Boss event tags to appear on her page. So, outside of some junky rag-mag callouts and a few TikToks, what benefit did Antonia receive? And, if Antonia didn’t truly benefit from this appearance (or, at least she doesn’t appear to be reaping the rewards from a girlfriend or PR standpoint), who did benefit?
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I mentioned at the beginning of this post that a series of events had happened one after the other over a relatively short two-week period: (1) Luke’s mum mentioning “Luke’s girlfriend…from Cyprus” in a Facebook response; (2) leaked video and photos of Luke from a funeral; (3) those utterly ridiculous pap pictures of Nicola and Jake; (4) Nicola stating she and Luke were “just friends” in an interview; and (5) the sudden summoning of Antonia after exactly six months of being MIA.
As I sat here writing out the events of the past two weeks – and considering the reappearance of Antonia – I couldn’t help but speculate as to whether each of these events was meant to have a specific purpose that didn’t get its desired result.
The comment by Luke’s mother was so far out in left field, most Lukolas chucked it up to being suspicious and dismissed it as such. The funeral pictures and video released by one of Luke’s family members was quickly scrubbed from social media; therefore, just as quickly ignored. The pap pictures of Nicola and Jake were openly mocked across social media as being staged. The “just friends” comment – after almost a year of, particularly, Nicola dodging that phrase – didn’t seem to send many Lukolas overboard. Is it possible that the fandom’s mild reaction to all these events wasn’t anticipated? Which leads me to wonder if Luke and Nicola wanted a reaction and realized the only way they were going to get it was to play the only card they had left – Antonia.  
When you look at the above referenced events individually and collectively, they appear to indicate a push to shut down the Lukola narrative. Why?
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They could have shut down the Lukolas before the World Tour even took off. They could have shut down the Lukolas during the World Tour. They could have shut down the Lukolas after Papsmear. Why wait almost a full year to draw the line in the sand? Especially after every devoted Lukola would argue that (mostly) Nicola has left a trail of Swiftie-like clues to insinuate Lukola is real, and that Luke has made a visible effort to remove Antonia from his narrative.
Whatever the reasoning may be, we must admit Antonia’s reappearance had a purpose – and one that we need to respect. I have a hard time believing Luke would voluntarily step in the same pile of dog shit he stepped in back in June without a valid and significant reason for doing so.
And this is where I will draw the line.
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I will not speculate further about why Antonia suddenly rose from the ashes of Manderley – and I will not tell you which road to take from here. That’s something you need to do on your own but, be warned that regardless of which road you choose – the one where you conclude Luke and Antonia are a couple, or the one where you decide Antonia is playing the role of PR distraction – the Lukolas are currently fighting a losing battle.
The Lukolas have become collateral damage. They’ve either been caught in the crossfire of an online war between Luke and Nicola (and their respective sidekicks) over, presumably, Antonia; or they’re the unwitting victims of some messy PR bullshit that has resulted in Lukolas being bullied across every social media platform by rabid Jakolas and Anti-Lukes.
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Amazingly, though, many Lukolas remain resilient.
When the going gets tough…
But sometimes the tough don’t get going.
Yesterday, someone wrote to me, “Why are we still here? Just when we think something good is finally going to happen we get pushed back down. I’m tired of the dumb games.”
I rarely answer “Asks,” but my response to this comment is:
“Two roads diverged in a wood…”
Two roads.
One road is quite disheartening and the other is shrouded in underbrush.
But what you've overlooked is that there is an alternate path – a third road – the one that brought you to this point.
Turn around.
That road takes you back home – and, if you’re ready to go home, go home. It’s okay. It takes an unbelievable amount of courage to admit you’ve had enough. Remember that saying – “A wise woman once said, ‘fuck this shit,’ and she lived happily ever after.”
Take your time and decide what makes the most sense to you.
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Dad: What are you thinking?
Me: Of a poem.
Dad: Oh, which one today?
Me: “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by…”
Dad: Which road is that…?
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P.S. Just for a bit of comic relief at the end of an otherwise somber post (not even Dad could make it lighthearted), I just wanted to say:
I love eating grapes.
IYKYK.
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Those links I promised:
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leona-hawthorne · 2 days ago
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۶ৎ boyfriend’s brother!mattheo eating you out while tom’s in the shower
boyfriend’s brother mattheo x fem reader warnings ; 18+ mdni, oral f!recieving, fingering, cheating boyfriend’s brother mattheo moodboard
navigation. au collection. m.list. bfb!mattheo.
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you don’t know how it got this far. or maybe you do. 
you don’t even have time to think, not when mattheo’s got you exactly where he wants you—sprawled out on tom’s bed, your thighs trembling in his grip, his mouth pressed against your cunt like it’s his last fucking meal. his tongue is relentless, messy and eager, flicking against your clit before dragging down to fuck into you, obscene sounds filling the room with every desperate, sloppy lick.
“mattheo—” your voice is a strangled whisper, your fingers pulling at his curls, like you’re not sure whether you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer.
“oh, now you remember my name?” he taunts, pulling back just enough to look up at you through dark lashes. his chin is glistening with your arousal, eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “that’s funny. thought it was ‘tom, tom, tom’ with you.”
“you’re a dick.”
“mm. but i’m the one with my tongue on your pussy, not him.” he punctuates his words with a slow, deliberate drag of his tongue, swirling it over your clit just to hear your breath hitch. “what does that say about you, sweetheart? you know my brother’s right there.”
panic flares in your chest, your head snapping toward the bathroom door. tom’s still in the shower, the sound of running water muffling everything, but not enough. not if you keep making noise like this. “mattheo, we—we can’t—”
“we already are.” his voice is thick with amusement, fingers digging into your thighs as he tilts his head, dragging his tongue in slow circles around your clit. “fuckin’ soaked, princess. all that talk about how much you love my brother, yet look at you.” he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, all mockery, all smug satisfaction. “letting me eat you out on his bed.”
your stomach tightens, shame curling through you, but not enough to stop you from rocking your hips against his mouth when he slides two fingers inside of you, curling them just right. your back arches off the mattress, a broken moan slipping past your lips before you can stop it.
mattheo tsks, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. his lips are shining with you, his chin dripping, and the way he’s looking at you makes your stomach flip. like he owns you. like he’s already won. “so fuckin’ easy,” he mutters, pumping his fingers slow, deep. his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing light, teasing circles that have your thighs shaking. “thought you’d put up more of a fight.”
“fuck you,” you hiss, but it comes out breathy, wrecked, and he grins.
“yeah, we’ll do that too.” he buries his face between your legs again, tongue flicking, fingers thrusting, and your hands fly to your mouth, desperate to muffle the moans spilling from your lips. but he’s not having it. he yanks one of your hands away, pinning it to your stomach, his other hand still gripping your thigh open. “don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he growls. “i wanna hear you. wanna hear every little sound you make.”
your head tips back against the pillows, your free hand twisting in the sheets. “mattheo—oh my god—”
“c’mon, princess. cum on my tongue,” he urges, voice thick with hunger, with something darker, something possessive. he sucks your clit between his lips, and the coil in your stomach snaps, pleasure slamming into you so hard you forget everything—where you are, who you’re supposed to be loyal to. the only thing that exists is mattheo’s mouth, his hands, the low, satisfied chuckle he lets out as he watches you fall apart beneath him.
he doesn’t stop until you’re squirming away, too sensitive, your breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. only then does he pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his dark eyes gleaming.
he leans over you, caging you in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “go clean yourself up, princess. wouldn’t want tom to see you like this, yeah?”
and just like that, he’s gone, slipping out the door like he was never there, leaving you wrecked, panting, and stained with the taste of betrayal.
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© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.
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banjo15 · 21 hours ago
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First of all
Canada is booing us
China is booing us
Mexico is booing us
They are our 3 biggest trade partners.
Our 3 biggest trade partners hate us. Is that good for the economy?
“Hey Max, can I buy that sandwich from you? “
“Hey fuck off I know you’re just gonna tax it again”
“What about you Catie, can I buy some wood from you?”
“Fuck you and your tariff tax”
“Can I buy stuff from you, Charlie?”
“Fuck off dude stop taxing us, I hate you capitalists”
What about intersex people? I’d argue they’re a minority. Non-binary, gender-fluid, everyone of the such. They no longer exist because of you. Trans people can’t even leave the country or get a passport.
Literally a high school student I’m 15 dude. I know I couldn’t pass an immigration test, how about you go try to pass one and just come back to me?
My philosophy about illegals is back in the day our grandparents came here peacefully. If they come here peacefully in search of a better life, who am I to deny them that? But if they’re a pedo or a rapist they deserve to get shot, regardless of place of origin, gender identity, sexuality, gender, sex, religion, race, etc.
Trump literally went to Epstein island 7 times. He was best friends with Epstein. Also, did Elon apologize for his actions? No. He made Nazi puns on the internet.
Mexico and Canada is pissed off because first of all, trump said he was gonna BUY Canada.
“Yeah I’m gonna buy your house, what’s your price?”
“Not for sale.”
“You liberal boy, I bet sleepy joe and Kamala told you not to sell it, all you do is just sit down and drink maple syrup. Give me your house.”
“No? Fuck off dude”
“I’m still gonna buy your house.”
*He went up to the next neighbor*
“Also your pool is mine now.”
“Huh?”
“It’s the pool of america”
“No, my pool. Pool of Mexico.”
And Mexico is LITERALLY sending us people to help with the LA fires.
Canada is our friend, why the hell are we trade warring with our brother?
What the fuck even is MSM? I get all my thoughts from people I agree with, and then I think about my thoughts to see if I agree with them.
Denmark said Greenland is not for sale. We are literally pissing off our allies. We are a laughing stock. China is fucking BEATING in ai. “But deep seek is censored” so are all ais. Ask google’s ai if google has ever done anything wrong. And ChatGPT is also censored a decent bit.
As I said before, if you don’t hate so much why can’t they just up and leave? They can’t get a visa.
About abortion… You do know how dangerous pregnancy is right? And I don’t consider ending a pregnancy murder, would you let a tapeworm stay in you if it would turn into a human person?
The reason why women back in the 1950s had kids is because they were lobotomized and on a shit ton of “medication.” After that, they didn’t have many rights. Women couldn’t say “no” to their husbands untill 1993. It took us a bit to give women the right to vote. They couldn’t have a credit card at one point. A driver’s liscense. Lesbians were fucked at the time, do you vote for the Indian woman or the man who and I quote…. “Grab them by the pussy.” He literally called his daughter “volomptuous” and said “if she wasn’t my daughter I’d be dating her.”
You can fact check me on that. No, seriously, fact check me. Do it. I’m begging you.
And as for many cases, abortion is necessary. I’m not gonna go praising it but… it has to exist. What if they get raped? What if it’s incest? What if the pregnant person is underage? What if the pregnancy threatens their life? Denying them abortion doesn’t seem so “pro-life to me.”
“But that’s less than 1%”
So are trans people and people similar to you have campaigned to take their rights away.
Me personally I feel like they can be a man or a woman if they want to IF they don’t hurt anybody. If I gender-swapped you I’m quite sure you would want your original gender.
My argument for/agaisnt trans children is there are Christian children. I’d argue they shouldn’t go through a life changing procedure they likely won’t be able to un-do for the rest of their lives untill they’re 18/21. If children can be trans, why can they be Christian? Why can they participate in religion they’re supposed to be devoted to untill they die?”
Even then, what about single mothers? Do you want them to suffer through it? Childbirth is a punishment from god, yes? I read the Bible. Why should we punish these women for having sex? I feel like you shouldn’t have to labor a baby just because the boy from the dinner date thought you were hot, you thought they were hot, so you fucked. Imagine if men were in a coma for 9 months after sex. And there was a chance of that happening but instead.. after a baby pops out of them. I’d argue most men would get abortions and it would be a normal thing. And if god cares so much about abortions… why does he let miscarriages happen? That’s another pro-abortion talking point. Should they have an abortion if they know damn well the baby can’t survive out of the womb? And another thing, what if they can’t financially afford to have a child? “Adoption” not all kids get adopted. I was adopted and I wouldn’t have minded getting aborted to be honest dude. I know a lot of people would, friends, family, etc. I don’t support killing out of the womb though. And even then, if you care about children so much, are you willing to make safer gun laws to stop school shootings? Are you willing to donate to homeless children in need? You’re not willing to make insulin cheaper for diabetic people (and children), you’re not willing to fund cancer research (for adults and children), what are you willing to do for children?
And we can both agree that the world is a horrible place for kids, left or right.
Another thing… why the fuck would the FBI make the protests violent? If that’s your justification for that then why didn’t the FBI make the blm protest violent? Black Lives Matter was good in concept, but people looted local businesses to make a point. I still think Black Lives Matter, I just don’t really know if I should support the organization that says so.
There are J6ers who rejected their pardon. They agree that what they did was wrong, why can’t you? Even then, what about the J6ers who… Beat up a police officer? So many others beat up police, I thought you backed the blue? The whole movement was to “fight for your country.” Trump told you to… Fight. Fight. Not protest, not speak up, fight. Fight tooth and nail for your “freedom”. And if you don’t hate minorities why don’t you support DEI? And the plane crash wasn’t because of it it’s because trump FIRED everyone. Literally.
The Nazis called themselves socialists because at the time everyone loved socialism. Do Nazis fight for workers rights? Do Nazis fight for free healthcare? Do Nazis give a fuck about equality? Hell no. Nazis didn’t support a community where they have the means of production. He was a capitalist, if he was a socialist he couldn’t afford to make the wonder weapons that he usually made. If communism is socialism capitalism is facism. I’d argue that if I was a big ceo who makes a shit ton of money, would I vote for the people who tax the rich, who give workers rights, or enslaved everyone to work under me? I would vote for the slaves because I’d be a billionaire, but I’m not so I have basic empathy for people less fortunate than me. Do you?
I’d argue I could beat you up with the American flag.
Yo, correct me if I am wrong please, but didn't Hitler rise to power because he promised to fix the German economy and people really liked that so they looked past everything else he was doing??? Like exactly what's happening in America right now???
So many people said they voted for Trump, put a truly evil person in power, because he said he'd fix the economy, and a little voice in my head is going, "Isn't that what happened with fucking Hitler??"
But I've seen no one point that out so maybe I'm miss remembering???????
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daechwitatamic · 3 days ago
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Cinnamon || KMG {teaser} - coming Feb. 7!
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(banner by @sailorsoons)
Written for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab!
Cinnamon mingyu x fem!reader (nicknamed Sunny for Reasons), reader x male oc for a while fluff smut angst best friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, idiots to lovers all apply NSFW - minors DNI
Summary: You finally decide to try and move on after years of waiting for Mingyu to return your feelings. But when you start bringing your new boyfriend around more often, things with Mingyu get... difficult.
WC: 19k teaser wc: 900
Warnings: language, recreational drinking and overdrinking, a brief mention of throwing up from a hangover, angst and hurt feelings, not miscommunication but definitely refusal to communicate, kissing (some with mg and some with a male oc), arguments, reader and mingyu are both imperfect people who make mistakes and do things wrong... theyre not bad or toxic people but their choices can be hurtful... theyre humans who mess up have to just do better going forward, quick and prosey piv smut
teaser warnings: language, angst, drunkenness
a/n: beta'd by @sailorsoons and @eoieopda smooch smooch love yall
--
Mingyu is an avalanche. Rushing, rolling, thundering over and through you until there’s nothing left but a glinting field of ice and silence. Nothing else matters - nothing else exists - in his wake.
“You better watch out, Mingyu,” Jeonghan says from the couch, and your blood runs as cold as that field of ice, because you know he’s about to start some shit. “Sunny got flowers from her lover today. That guy’s coming for your woman.”
You’re opening your mouth to reprimand him - tell him to shut up, or something - but Mingyu beats you to it.
“Sunny’s not mine,” he says simply. 
All that ice evaporates in an instant like it was never there.
“My lover,” you echo with a frown, when you can speak again. “Don’t say it like that, you weirdo.”
“Well, isn’t he?” Jeonghan asks innocently.
You head for your bedroom with a roll of your eyes. “Goodnight, Jeonghan.”
“That means yes,” he sing-songs, and you slam your door shut.
Wonwoo’s voice floats through the door. “Who pissed off Sunshine?”
Mingyu responds with a growl, “Who do you think?”
You and Mingyu lay side by side in the grass, a late spring night unspooling with cricket song and a smattering of flickering stars above you. His arm touches yours and you can feel his chest shift as he breathes deeply.
You feel content - you feel infinite - you feel like one of those blinking stars. You feel like you could lay here next to him in silence and be happy until your light goes out, just like theirs. 
“Mingyu,” you say, turning to look at him. The grass tickles your cheek. 
He turns to look at you, too. It’s dark, here behind the university’s main hub, most of the lights on the far side of the building. Still, there’s enough light to see his eyes, steady on you, his gaze serious.
“Sunny Baby,” he responds, voice low, like he’s telling you a secret. “I love you.”
You startle awake, heart pounding, and you’re immediately furious. 
“Fuck,” you hiss, punching your mattress once. 
The pathetic truth is you dream about that night in undergrad all the time - you and Mingyu on one of the last nights before summer break, leaving a party together and laying in the grass behind the advising department building watching the constellations rotate above you. 
The pathetic truth is the dream never follows the script, always turning the scene sideways, making it something different than what it was.
The pathetic truth is that Mingyu had been blacked out, more fucked up than you’d ever seen him, and you’d laid in the grass because you physically couldn’t keep him upright any further than that and you’d had to text Wonwoo to come help you. 
You hadn’t said anything to Mingyu - at least not something meaningful. You might have said please don’t puke on me, or god, you weigh a ton, or how many jaegerbombs did you do? 
He had said he loved you - had slurred it, eyes closed. 
You had laughed, even though it had sent a dagger through your chest. “Okay, Romeo,” you’d teased, and checked your phone to see if Wonwoo was on his way to help. 
“I do,” he’d insisted, one hand patting the grass next to him like he was trying to find you. “Sunny, I love you.”
You didn’t know how he meant it - still don’t know, to this day, because you don’t think he even remembers saying it and you’d been too afraid to bring it up.
What were you supposed to say? Hey, when you were blacked out last night, you said you love me… do you mean like… platonically… or…? 
God. The idea of it is just as humiliating now, years later, as it had been in the weeks that followed that night. And though he’s said it regularly since then, he never said it like that, and you never pushed it. 
Now, awake and furious and sad at three in the morning, you grab your phone and climb out of bed. 
You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s only making this worse for you. But you make your way on light steps through the dark and silent apartment to Mingyu’s door and push it open.
Is it mithridatism, this thing you do? Microdosing on the poison so that a full dose won’t kill you? No, that isn’t right. A full dose of Mingyu won't kill you. It’s an absence of Mingyu that you need protection from.
You climb into his bed and poke at his calves with your toes until he grunts as he wakes. Then, as he gathers his senses, he rolls to look at you over his shoulder.
“Bad dream?” he asks, voice kind of breathy with sleep.
“Mhm.”
He rolls the rest of the way, lifts his arm so you can scoot a little closer. You breathe easier immediately. It makes no sense that the thing that hurts you is also the only thing that makes you feel better. 
“Won’t your lover object to you getting in bed with me?” he asks, and you can hear the edge in his voice as clear as day.
You let out a single, wry ha. He’s got a point, but Daeyoung isn’t your boyfriend, you aren’t exclusive, and what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.
“Nah,” you say easily. “I’m not his.”
--
Welcoming to the world the fic I have lovingly dubbed Cinnamingyu!!! Coming Friday, February 7th!!!
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futbolfatale · 3 days ago
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Origin Story
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Pairing: Alpha Alexia Putellas/Omega Reader, Omega Mapi León/Omega Reader, Alpha Ingred Engen/Omega Reader,
Summary: You get invited to a Barca game by an Alpha at your school who wouldn't accept.
Tags/Warnings: Dubious consent, Bathroom sex, scent marking,
Note: Only is Mapi the only one in this but there will probs be a part 2 with the rest of the pack.
The only reason I've been writing lately is @insomniakisses who definitely doesn't know I exist but I love their blog.
Something about their writing has inspired me for better or worse.
Wordcount: 1.1K
When you got invited to the Barca vs Real Madrid Game by a girl at your college of course you accepted.  She was in a couple of your classes but all you knew about her is that she is an alpha and is kind of a dick. But you would be crazy not to know how expensive tickets are and surely she can’t be as bad as everyone says. But this girl surely has another motive for inviting you. It will come to light soon as you sit next to each other in the crowded stadium. Her scent is aggressive forward and fills the space around you it's almost like Lily and maybe an undertone of patchouli. Overall not the best when you're already surrounded by unfamiliar scents. 
You can’t help but grow excited as they walk out. Okay, so you may have a major crush on some of the players. By some you mean most but it makes since it’s pretty common knowledge that the different teams are packs. Which makes transfers even more devastating. Even so, everyone knows that Barca has two omegas already which is already more than most other packs. They differently don’t need another which is devastating to you but it's not like you could ever be with them anyway. It’s rare for a Futbal pack to mate with someone outside of the football world.
It’s around 20 minutes in before Maddie, whose name you’ve just learned, takes off her sweater revealing that she is wearing a Real Madrid jersey. “Are you seriously wearing that right now?” You ask incredulously. “Ya Real Madrid is going to win, I promise you. They are the superior team,” she responded as if you were stupid for thinking any different. “Barca is definitely better, they have a stacked roster.” You argue back, growing more annoyed. Most likely due to her attitude problem and overwhelming scent. “Real Madrid will win” She seems so assured of herself as if she can already see the outcome of the game. “That's never going to happen. I bet you Barca will win and If they don’t I will write your next essay for you.”. “Deal”
It's not even 10 minutes later that Hansen scores and you're left with a smile on your face. It’s a good feeling to know your rights. Maybe you’ll pick up a sweet treat on the way home. You deserve it after dealing with this idiot. But it's all worth it for free tickets. “I told you” You gloat but only a little. “They're going to pull through one goal doesn’t mean anything,” Maddie responds sharpley her scent turning sour. ���One goal can be the difference between winning and losing” You count to praud her mostly for your amusement. “ You think I don’t know that. I know football better than you.” She growls her fangs obvious in her aggressive state. So maybe you fucked with her a little too much but god it was so funny. “Sorry,” You startle as Pajor scores. You definitely made the right choice when picking a team to support.
By the end of the game, you are bursting with excitement a 5-0 win is crazy. You can feel Maddie seething beside you but it doesn’t sour your mood. As you move to stand at the barricade watching the players trade jerseys and such. Then Mapi Leon comes to your section and you're practically vibrating as she strips off her jersey. She walks closer to you her scent is so strong probably from running for so long. “ Would you like it?” She asks looking directly into your eyes. It's like a shock to your system “Yes” You take it from her gratefully and she flashes a toothy grin. “You so pretty princess” Her voice is so low. “Thank you” You can’t help but blush as she sprints off to join her team.
You gather up your things and walk out of the stadium with Maddie. You are starting to feel overheated and are growing quickly annoyed by Maddie.  Her mood has only seemed to worsen since the end of the game. The heated feeling only grows as you move through the stadium. “I’m going to run to the bathroom before we leave.” You split off from Maddie not waiting to hear her response. You have all your things if she leaves you it won’t be the end of the world. You slip into the bathroom and lock yourself in. You lean against the wall and take a deep breath of the jersey. It smells strongly of citrus and has an undertone of cinnamon. It soothes some of the heat under your skin.
You startle as the bathroom opens and someone else steps inside. It takes a moment for their scent to register. Citrus and cinnamon same as the jersey. You open the stall door and peek out to see Mapi standing by the door looking directly at you. “I thought I could smell you in here” She hurried towards you and pushed you back into the stall. “What are you doing” You ask dropping the jersey as she grabs your wrist. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You smell so good” She nuzzles her face into your neck. “Let me have you please” She whispers her accent thicker than before. “You want me but you have Ona if you want an omega” You reason. Sure you want this but you want her to think clearly. “I can and have had Ona but I want you. Once I have had you im sure they will want you as well.” she pushes you into the wall and slides a hand down your pants. Her fingers trace along your cunt through your underwear. “Say yes please I need you” She whimpers into your shoulder tonguing at your scent gland. “Yes. Yes please” you moan rolling your hips against her hand. She slides her fingers past your underwear to rub at your clit. ‘Take me please I need it too bad.”You moan grinding against her. “Shh you can have it see” she slips two fingers inside you with ease. It makes you uncomfotbly aware of how slick you are. It only last a second before shes distracting you by moving her fingers and using her other hand to rub at you clit.
You cum twice before Mapi finally lets up. As you catch you breath she is collecting your things and straightening out your clothes and hair. “ Come with me we are having dinner tonight. Please,” she asks tacting on the please almost as an afterthought. “I'll go but I've got school tomorrow and I really can’t afford to miss any more of my lectures this semester.” You explain as the two of you head out of the stall. Mapi stops to wash her hands before leading you out of the stadium.
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midnite-c6 · 1 day ago
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hear me out — nam-gyu is actually soooo icky. i don’t care what anyone tells me. he’s a icky icky man. he’s so fucking mean too. he thinks of women as possessions (he’s sooo misogynistic. you can’t convince me otherwise) like what do you mean women are their own person and can control their own lives?! no…. they are possessions!
additionally, he is sooo convincing with his words — he can get anyone to trust him quite easily (especially if they’re naive) and he’s taking full advantage of that.
honestly nam-gyu probably has anyone naive trying things they were always against. he has such a way with words when it comes to getting anyone to open up or doing what he wants them to do. he'll give them everything they need to get them to say yes even if it means making promises he doesn't even plan to keep or fulfill.
also, no one can convince me otherwise that this man doesn’t have a thing for trad wives. he definitely likes the idea of codependency and the fact that someone clings to him like a second skin (but let’s be honest, he definitely doesn’t make it out to seem like he likes it — it’s always constant degradation from him: “stupid bitch, can’t ever do anything for yourself, huh? i have to do everything for you”). also likes the idea of baby trapping, because you can’t leave him ♡ but 100% does not like kids.
i also can see him fetishizes the FUCK out of lesbians (once again… this man is ICKY) and i definitely feel like if he was the type to get into a relationship with someone who is bisexual (or closeted lesbian. specifically if he coerces them) he would exploit the shit out of it. bro definitely has a premium subscription to ph. constantly doom scrolling to find something he hasn’t watched yet (specifically lesbians or threesomes (two girls, one guy) it’s definitely one of his biggest fantasies. he is soo gross ♡)
he would probably likes giving some naive, lightweight (never done drugs before) drugs that he knows they wouldn’t be able to handle just so he they can take advantage.
I AM GOING INSANEEEE. i am clawing and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.
warnings: 18+, DARK content, dubcon, baby trapping
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bro i am so sorry i haven't let this out to the public sooner, this is so good and factual fr 💔 like this guy is an misogynistic incel honestly, idfc what anyone else says, u literally can see it in the show how he treats se-mi. he's a meanie.
THE PH SUBSCRIPTION IS SO REAL. also, forces or not, makes u watch porn with him, the disgusting ones like heavy bondage/bdsm, prolly whilst sticking a wand vibrator on ur clit in a setting that's intense BUT wont make u cum so its pure torture..
guys has anyone done se-mi x reader x nam-gyu ? like hello? hello????? ITS RIGHT THERE prolly would watch u & se-mi whilst he's cucking himself. or he's right in the middle of the action, both ur pussies rubbing on his dick.
also, i love nam-gyu corruption kink, to someone whos absolutely clean, pure, law abiding citizen, prolly doesnt even know half of the kinks or stuff u see in pornhub, BUT THAT'S WHY NAM-GYU EXISTS!! to teach you allat, to corrupt u :^
i just dont feel like hes a good person at all, in smut mindset, and in fr the character, hes those toxic bfs who's only "strong" cuz u're just a lil bit weaker than him. and if u try to leave, nuh-uh, u can't, u wanted a child to begin with right?
"fuck you mean, 'i'm leaving you'? bitch please," he scolds, pumping another load inside- straight to your womb, "you wanna be a single mom?" you shake your head immediately, you were on birth control.. but maybe not... oh no! "then don't bullshit me with saying you're 'leaving me'... you know you love me." let's just hope he'll be a good dad... (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡
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if anyone needs a fluffy lovey namgyu smut this aint the place.. jk, i would prolly post one too heheh <3 also, now i wanna make a full on incel!nam-gyu x reader smut mannn
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ssa-dado · 3 days ago
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The Ship of Theseus (prelude)
Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort (?), pining - I really do suck at tagging Summary: Never fuck your boss. Never fuck your best friend. And definitely never fuck Aaron Hotchner. But you did anyways. And now you’re left with the post-coital edition of Mr. Practical and all the messy aftermath that came with it. And a makeout too. Apparently the big scary man fell asleep right into your arms. Warnings: It's mentioned that they fucked. Whoops. IDK. In doubt - +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. No actual smut, but it's STEAMYYYYY... way too suggestive. Also, some cuss words here and there. Hotch being a softie. Word Count: 4.1k Dado's Corner: It’s a Chekhov’s gun of Ethics but without the actual gun… unless, of course, we’re talking about Aaron’s GUNSHOTS - oh, wait, there it is! The gun! Aaron’s thick, throbbing GUNSHOTS - oh shit, that’s so cool
masterlist
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If there was ever an Olympic event for post-coital efficiency, your dearest friend – and funnily enough – your boss Aaron Hotchner would be taking home the gold.
Truly, what a sight to behold.
One moment, he was wrecking you within an inch of your sanity, and the next - barely a minute later - him and his ridiculously long legs were back in your bedroom, carrying a towel in one hand, a damp washcloth in the other, like the world’s most disciplined housekeeper.
So proper, so effortlessly composed, even now.
Because of course Aaron Hotchner - former prosecutor, Unit Chief, insufferable neat freak - would handle post-coital cleanup like it was just another task on meticulously organized, color-coded to-do list.
Sex: Completed (highly successful, performance rating: exemplary)
Orgasm(s): Confirmed (3, official review pending, though “best orgasm of my life” was strongly implied)
Post-coital hydration: Pending (but water bottle is within retrieval distance)
Aftercare protocol: Initiated (warm washcloth acquired, towel deployment imminent)
Debriefing & emotional processing: Ongoing (mission parameters unclear, subject remains evasive yet sarcastic)
Sheets: Ruined (replacement required, but can be postponed in favor of further activity)
Boss/subordinate ethical violation acknowledgment: Not yet addressed, deliberately ignored
Cuddling: Proposal under review (high-risk scenario)
Exit strategy: TBD (complications may include the inability to leave this bed for the foreseeable future)
And, obviously, you could not let him get away with that.
"Look at you, being all domesticated," you teased, propping yourself up slightly as he walked over.
"Someone has to take care of you," he shot back smoothly, dropping the towel onto the bed and kneeling beside you like this was normal.
Like you weren’t both still bare, still caught in the strange, floating space that existed after.
That was the problem, wasn’t it?
The teasing - the constant, insufferable push and pull - was easy. That was your rhythm. That was safe. But this was something else entirely.
Something that left you both a little flustered, a little unsteady.
Even you - you, who could talk your way out of anything, who thrived on throwing him off - found yourself at a loss, your mouth opening, reaching for something to say, for anything that would keep this from feeling like more than what it was.
But then he touched you.
Pressed the warm cloth to your skin with so much care, with so much intent, and whatever sarcastic remark had been forming on your tongue just evaporated.
It wasn’t fair how tender he could be, how his hands - capable of so much control, so much discipline - could be this gentle, this careful. On you.
"You don’t have to do that," you murmured, breathless and barely audible.
"I know," he said simply, his gaze flicking up just long enough to see you before returning to his task. "But I want to."
So you let him. Let him take care of you.
Let yourself watch him, tracing the way his thick brows furrowed with concentration because he wanted to get it just right, the way his jaw tensed and relaxed as he worked, annoyingly meticulous, like this was just as important as everything that had come before it.
Gentle. Steady. Intimate. Intentional.
In a way that made your chest ache.
In a way that made you terrified of what it meant - now that the lust had passed, now that you were both just... here, bare, with nothing but each other.
And especially when he started pressing slow, lazy kisses along your knee, your already-marked thigh, your hip - like he needed to, like he couldn’t help himself, like he wanted to remind you that he had been there, that you were safe with him, even now.
Every second was more devastating than the last.
When he finished, he set the towel aside and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a beat, then another, then another, until he could hear how fast your heart was pounding.
"There," he murmured, lips still brushing against your skin. "All set."
You shook your head, forcing a smile, forcing yourself back to safer ground. "So thorough, Hotchner. Truly, I’m impressed."
His mouth quirked, but apparently, he wasn’t done being insufferably tender, kissing your cheek up next. Wasn’t he just adorable?!
"I aim to please," it was so utterly him it made your stomach flip, but not even more Aaron Hotchner than when, suddenly, he was back to bossing you around in your own home.
"Now, we change the bedsheets, take a shower, and then I’ll see you back here so we-"
And then he stopped. Oh no. Cat got your tongue, bossman?
"We what?" you prompted, raising an eyebrow, watching with unholy satisfaction as the tips of his ears turned red.
He cleared his throat, hesitated in a way that was so unlike him it almost hurt to witness."We… could cuddle. If you want. Or talk. Or whatever you want to do, really. No pressure. I can leave, all you have to do is tell me."
The longer he spoke, the redder he got, his words tripping over themselves, and honestly, it was taking everything in you not to burst out laughing right in front of him.
"You’re adorable, you know that?" you said instead, leaning in to press a kiss to his flushed cheek, hopefully to calm him down – or at least that was your excuse. "Big, scary Aaron Hotchner, suggesting cuddling in the same breath as ‘no pressure.’"
You mocked him, because humbling him was your second nature, and judging by the glare he was giving you, you were winning yet another round. Still, you didn’t want him to just leave. That much was obvious.
He exhaled slowly, gaze steady. "So… what do you want?"
You pretended to think about it, dragging it out just to see that little furrow in his brow deepen.
"Well, I suppose I could settle for cuddling… " you mused, letting your fingers ghost along his shoulders, "but only if you’re the little spoon."
He scoffed, shaking his head. "Little spoon?"
Oh, wasn’t it just glorious. 2-0
"My house, my rules," you said smugly. "If you don’t like it, next time we’ll do it at your place, and you can do whatever you want."
And the second the words left your mouth, you definitely wanted to die.
Next time.
As if this was a thing. As if you had even talked about what it was, what this meant. As if you had acknowledged that what you’d just done was completely, wildly, against every rule in the protocol - and common sense as well.
Especially because he was your boss.
"I’m joking, of course," you backtracked quickly, though you felt the heat creeping up your neck.
"Of course," he echoed, but there was something in his expression, something behind his eyes that said he wasn’t entirely convinced, probably because he caught you with your hands in the cookie jar. "This was…"
Great. The talk.
"An accident," you supplied.
"Against protocol," he continued.
No shit, Sherlock.
"Because you’re my boss-"
"We work together," he chimed in, but his voice was softer now, trailing.
"Could cost us our careers," you pointed out, waiting for him to acknowledge it, to confirm the obvious.
"When there’s a pattern of offending behavior," he murmured, almost to himself, slipping into technicalities - because of course he would.
But then - he smirked. Just the slightest tilt of his lips, still – he smirked.
Oh.
And that could only mean one thing.
"A pattern," you echoed, watching him carefully.
And just like that, because he was only a man - logical, brilliant, but still just a man - he reached the same inevitable conclusion you had, just a breath later.
His fingers found yours, intertwining, and it was stupid how calming that simple gesture was.
Or maybe it wasn’t the touch itself but the truth laced between your hands.
Or maybe both.
Or maybe it was just this - how the whole conversation had shifted without either of you stopping it.
It didn’t mean you wouldn’t push and pull anymore. Didn’t mean you wouldn’t still play cat and mouse. You would. Just differently now. With your lips on the other’s skin instead of just grazing the air.
"We’re very good at patterns," he murmured, lips brushing your jaw, pressing a kiss there.
"At recognizing patterns," you corrected, your breath hitching as you tilted your head, catching the corner of his mouth with yours.
"What is a pattern, after all?" His lips moved along your cheek, his hands sliding up your spine, settling against your back.
"A repetition," you answered, barely above a whisper, pressing a kiss just beneath his ear.
"A repetition," he echoed, voice rasping, pressing one to the curve of your jaw.
"Exactly that." You murmured as your fingers traced patterns over his bare shoulders.
"Depending on a series of factors," he continued, shifting slightly, pressing another kiss to your collarbone.
"Such as…?" You exhaled against the bruise you left on his throat.
"Subjects involved," he murmured.
"Location," you supplied.
"A very important factor," he agreed, flashing his intoxicating dimples, nudging his nose against yours.
"Fundamental in analysis," you teased, smiling against his lips.
"If the location changes," he murmured, pausing just long enough to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, "the recognition of the pattern could be…"
You barely heard him, too focused on the way his breath ghosted over your skin, but still - hearing him talk like that, with his voice all low and thoughtful and dangerous, made you shiver.
"Devious," you countered, barely referring to legal theory anymore.
No, he was devious - the way his mouth was just barely touching yours, his hands skimming your sides like he wanted to devour you but was forcing himself to behave.
You've had enough. You tilted your head, catching his lips in a kiss, cutting off whatever legal analysis he thought he was about to give.
"Faulted," he corrected, the words slipping straight into your mouth, delivered onto your tongue by his, deepening the kiss without hesitation.
"You can never be sure…" your voice faltered, swallowed by the way he pulled you flush against his bare body, his fingers digging into the skin of your lower back.
"…if it’s the same pattern," he finished for you, just before his teeth caught your bottom lip, just hard enough to make you gasp.
"Or a copycat," you murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, feeling completely dizzy, straight-up autopilot - you barely even knew what you’d just said.
Judging by the way he chuckled, though, it was probably nonsense.
No, definitely ridiculous, because now he was repeating it back to you, still grinning, "…A copycat? You’re crazy."
Still, he never looked away.
Right… you definitely weren’t exactly talking about unsubs now.
"So one single act can still be admissible?" you asked, fingers idly tracing over his cheek.
"It was just a little lapse in judgment," he chuckled, but you could already feel the gears turning in that brilliant lawyer’s mind, already bending the rules in real time, looking for the inevitable loophole in the very system you both swore by.
"...At your place," he added, like that alone made all the difference. "And that’s just one location."
You smirked. "Not your apartment."
"To be precise," he murmured, his mouth brushing over yours, "it was just your bed… which means that technically-"
"Technically", you could still fuck each other everywhere else.
"Oh, I love the way your brain works…" you hummed, punctuating your words with another kiss, this time against the sharp line of his jaw. "So… not the shower."
And just like that, it became a game.
A list. A reckless, bucket list.
"The desk," he murmured, and fuck, you had to squeeze your thighs together at that one, trying so hard not to let your brain go there - not to picture which specific desk you wanted him to bend you over, not to imagine the feel of his hands gripping your hips, his voice low in your ear, telling you to keep quiet.
Definitely not the one in his office. No. That would be unethical.
"The kitchen counter," you whispered, voice already a little breathless.
"The floor," he added, lips dragging just beneath your ear, voice husky, teasing, unfair.
"Of all the rooms in this apartment…" you trailed off, tilting his chin just slightly so you could press a slow kiss right between his brows, smoothing away the tiny crease there.
"The couch," he murmured. Low blow.
You bit your lip, because that wasn’t fair, because now all you could think about was straddling his lap, sinking down onto him, rolling your hips while his hands dug into the flesh of your thighs, holding you in place, watching you come undone.
You had never wanted to ride a man so badly in your life.
"Against the front door," you suggested next
“The armchair” he added, and okay - so he really wanted you to ride him. Noted.
"The stairs," you countered, throwing something ridiculous just to regain some control.
"We don’t have stairs," he said, lips curving against your skin.
"Fine," you huffed. "The car."
"Backseat or front?" he asked, way too inclined to indulge in your proposal.
"Front if I’m driving," you mused.
He groaned at that, and you took the opportunity to press your advantage, brushing your lips over his throat, smirking against his skin as you felt something become quite… hard.
"My bed," he rasped suddenly, and damn, you knew you were done for the second those words left his mouth.
Because that - that was dangerous. The thought of being wrapped in sheets that smelled like him, tangled up in his warmth, surrounded by the scent of sex and sweat and that insufferable, frustratingly attractive man…
You would not survive it.
"The elevator," you rasped before you could stop yourself.
And that was when he froze - for half a second, you thought maybe he hadn’t heard you. And then-
"Jesus Christ."
"I don’t think that one’s possible, Hotchner.."
Still, his mouth parted, his pupils blown so wide there was barely any brown left, and for a second, you genuinely thought he was about to die right then and there. Would’ve been tragic, really - death by horny legal loopholes debate.
Explain that to Erin Strauss...
But then he groaned, deep and wrecked, dropping his face into your neck like he needed a moment to recover. Maybe he wasn’t going to die just yet.
"The elevator?" he muttered against your skin, muffled, bewildered, like he couldn’t quite believe he was having this conversation.
"The elevator," you confirmed, absolutely shameless.
"Jesus."
"I’d prefer it be just the two of us, if that’s not a problem for you," you deadpanned.
He let out a deep, suffering sigh against your neck, like he was physically restraining himself from debating elevator logistics.
"I don’t even know what to do with you," he muttered.
"I have some ideas."
He exhaled, then lifted his head just enough to look you dead in the eye. "We are never having sex in an elevator."
"That sounds like a challenge."
"That sounds like a lawsuit," he corrected, still so visibly distressed that you could not stop laughing.
"Thought you used to be a good lawyer, Hotchner," you teased, your fingers dragging lazily along his spine. "Wouldn't you know your way around a legal loophole?"
"Oh, I do," he sighed. "I also know how to avoid federal charges."
"You’re truly a prude."
"You're truly reckless," he shot back, eyes closed, mentally revisiting every questionable decision he’d made in the last hour… or maybe the last two…
Honestly, who was even keeping track at this point?
You smirked, shifting until you were draped half over his chest, resting your chin on your folded arms as you gazed at him. "Oh, c'mon, Hotchner, live a little."
His eyes opened just enough to give you a look.
You huffed. "Okay, okay, fine. No elevators. If you really wanna be lame about it."
"Thank you," he said flatly.
A pause. Then, you couldn’t help it. "The jet."
His entire body went rigid. You swore you felt his soul attempt to leave his body.
"The jet?" he repeated, voice hoarse.
You nodded sagely. "The jet."
"Oh my God."
You grinned, slow and so wicked. "Can you imagine it?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Small, enclosed space-" you started.
"Oh my God."
"-turbulence, you pinning me against the-"
"No." He cut you off.
You cackled, absolutely delighted by his suffering.
"The team is on that jet," he tried to argue.
"Not always," you countered, “sometimes Strauss is there too.”
His entire face drained of color. For a solid three seconds, he just stared at you, mouth slightly parted, horror creeping into his very being.
"Get out."
You wheezed, collapsing against his chest, “Of my bedroom?! You can’t really dismiss me here unfortunately for you.”
"I don’t ever want to hear the words sex and Strauss in the same sentence again," he grumbled.
"I believe you just said them yourself, Hotchner"
A slow blink. A deep sigh. He was so close to reconsidering every single choice that had led him to this moment.
And yet-
Instead of answering, he just exhaled, letting his weight sink into you, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder like admitting defeat.
Because you both knew exactly what this was.
A game.
A flimsy, shameless, beautiful excuse to keep doing this - to keep falling into each other, to keep breaking rules and bending logic, to keep pretending it wasn’t something more.
But neither of you said that.
Neither of you needed to.
Instead, you simply thrived in the ineffable, in the space where words didn’t need to be spoken. In the way his body melted on top of yours, drawn to you despite himself, despite the attitude, despite everything.
Because with you, he could just be.
Simply, truly, exist in his truth.
Not Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. Not the unshakable leader, not the man who carried the weight of everyone else’s burdens on his back, never allowing himself to falter.
Just Aaron.
The six-foot-two little spoon who swore he wouldn’t be, yet here he was, folded into you like he’d never belonged anywhere else, all because you’d jokingly set it as a condition for him to breathe this close to you.
At least, that’s what you told him.
But in reality a part of you wanted this.
A part of you wanted the man who always stayed close – from the victims, to the UnSubs, and everyone he cared about, always making sure he was the one who bore the weight so no one else had to - to have someone stay close for him.
To let him know what it felt like to be held.
Because the thought had been lingering at the edges of your mind for far too long now - unwelcome, unavoidable -
If he was there to protect everyone, who was there to protect him?
Not that you were volunteering. Not like that.
Actually if you said it out loud, he’d probably just laugh at you, and use that damned dry humor of his and tell you “How can you protect me if you can barely shoot?”
And you’d laugh, you’d tease him right back - and nothing would change.
But you knew the truth - you’d been his anchor for the past decade.
And so your fingers traced idle patterns along his back, thoughtlessly, feeling the tension unwind from his muscles, bit by bit, until there was nothing left but the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest against yours.
"You’re warm," he murmured after a while, rasping at the edges, making your heart ache in a way you didn’t want to think too hard about.
"You’re a bit heavy," you murmured, lips quirking slightly.
"Mhm." But he didn’t move, didn’t even try.
You smiled to yourself, dragging your fingers gently through his short hair, feeling the strands slip between them, coarse and slightly mussed.
"You don’t have to do that," he said softly against your skin.
"I know," you whispered, your hand still smoothing over his back, still holding him close, like you weren’t fooling either of you. "But I want to."
A pause. A deep breath.
Then-
"Thank you," he sighed, pressing a barely-there kiss to your shoulder, too tired to move, too tired to do anything but exist against you.
Just holding each other.
Just existing in the same space, in the same breath, with no expectations, no pressure, no future to consider beyond the feel of his heartbeat against yours.
"You know, there’s a philosophical dilemma called the Ship of Theseus-" you started, your voice a gentle hum in the quiet, earning a small huff from him in response.
"It questions whether an object remains fundamentally the same if all of its components are replaced over time. If every original part is gone, is it still the same thing? Because technically, it’s not… if identity is tied to its physical components and not something more abstract, like function or form."
You felt the slow, subtle curve of his lips against your shoulder.
"Which brings us to," you added, lips curving now too, " is this even the same bed if we just change the sheets? On some criteria, following this logic… it isn’t."
A beat.
No reply.
Just the steady, even sound of his breathing.
And - oh.
Oh.
He’d fallen asleep on you. Mid-philosophy. Unbelievable.
Great. So apparently, you were the boring one now. Perfect.
But before you could dwell too much on your bruised ego, he stirred, mumbling something barely coherent against your skin.
"Mmmh… we change the sheets… shower… come back here and-"
“’And’ what?” You sighed, your fingers still lazily running through his hair.  “Aaron, you sound like a low-battery version of yourself.” You huffed a laugh, shaking your head.
"M'practical," he slurred, as if that was a valid argument.
"You’re half-asleep."
"Still practical," he muttered.
"If you move, I’ll take care of the sheets. You go shower," you offered, voice quiet, fond.
He barely responded, just a low, unintelligible grumble against your collarbone before-
"Mm-mm… we don’t… shower together?”
You sighed. Of course that was where his sleepy brain went.
"Will we just shower?" you asked, knowing full well he wouldn’t have the energy for anything else.
A beat of silence.
Then, his voice barely above a whisper-
"What if we don’t?" he muttered, already half-asleep. "S’not against the rules…"
You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Aaron-"
"The ship… applies to your shower too…" his words trailed off lazily, completely nonsense, but you could hear the hint of a smile in them. "If you replace the soap… ‘s a different shower…"
Well, at least even in his on-the-brink-of-unconsciousness state, he was committed to following through with your logic...
"I’m saying this for your own good, Hotchner, because you really don’t have the energy for another round."
"I do," he grumbled, shifting, his arms tightening around you like you had to believe him.
"Sure," you murmured, kissing his forehead. "I’ll believe that when you make it to the bathroom without falling asleep in the doorway."
He made a low, unintelligible noise, like he wanted to argue, but his body had already betrayed him, too heavy, too settled against you.
"Go," you whispered, nudging him gently.
A deep sigh. Then-
"Fine."
He peeled himself off you with the effort of a man being dragged out of bed by force, his body moving like it was actively resisting him.
You bit back another laugh as he stumbled toward the bathroom, catching himself on the doorframe for just a second before disappearing inside.
And, of course-
When you finished your own shower and stepped quietly back into the bedroom, he was already collapsed against the bed, completely dead to the world.
Or so you thought.
Because the moment you eased yourself into bed, trying your best to be quiet, he shifted -
One sleepy, instinctive movement.
And suddenly, his arms were wrapping around you without thinking, his body curling into yours, his head tucking against the crook of your neck, snuggling.
Clingy.
"Annoying little spoon," you muttered.
You felt a muffled hum against your skin. "Next time… we switch."
You sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, letting your fingers drift through his hair one more time. "Go to sleep, Aaron."
He sighed against your skin, warm and content, the weight of him only settling deeper into you.
"Mmm. ‘M already sleepin’…" he murmured, words barely holding together.
A beat.
Then, even softer-
"You should too… two hours ‘til work."
Oh, he just could not help himself - spent a full minute reminding you, over and over, that you just fucked your boss.
Damn it, Aaron. At least he could try to pretend...
"Actually, it’s one and a half." you bit back.
A pause.
Then-
"Shit."
Shit indeed.
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Phi's Corner: BOTTOM HOTCH RIGHTS!!!!!!!! Also don't worry filthy goyals, you will be fed with some actual smut tomorrow. And probably some context too... maybe?!?! hope you enjoyed this anyways...
taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @oxforce ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24
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lucysarah-c · 2 days ago
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I'll just say, I may be here posting about Mounting Spring, asks etc... But I'm cooking... I'm cooking something everyone asked me for lol
“I like this! This 3D flower pattern is so on trend right now.”
Levi’s eyes were glued to the screen as a freshly painted nail was shown up close.
“Oh, hi! Thank you,” her voice popped up again, and like an animal in pure confusion, he tilted his head to the side.
What are those things popping up? He was completely lost.
“Isn’t it too late for coffee?” she read aloud before grabbing her cup and taking a sip from the straw. “There’s no such thing as too much black or too late for coffee. Plus, it’s girls’ night! What’s a girls’ night without iced coffee or a glass of wine?”
This feels wrong now, Levi thought, taking a sip of his own drink, lazily sprawled on his bed. But when she started showing off her pajamas, that’s when he lost it.
Holy shit... it’s the little shorts doing it for me.
“This is why kids these days have their eyes glued to this shit,” he muttered, almost offended— as if his own mouth wasn’t slightly open and his eyes weren’t stuck to the screen as she vibed to the song playing in the background.
“Have you ever tried… this one?” She winked at the camera, arm in the air, hips moving in a way that Levi quickly guessed was meant to simulate riding. Over the kitchen island.
…I’m definitely not better than a 12-year-old boy.
The chat flooded with messages about how much they loved the song.
Whose song is this?
“Oh! I love that! Ugh, my heart is divided, I want all of them to win! Birds of a Feather is so good, but Hot to Go?” she gushed, listing more names Levi didn’t recognize.
Who are those?
“And the dance?”
What trend? What song? What dance?
Levi felt lost. Completely lost.
“Oh, thank you for the donation! Here, a heart for you!”
She pressed two fingers together in the shape of a heart. Levi tilted his head again, frowning.
How the hell is that a heart?
But before he could keep questioning his entire existence—or, perhaps, his age—her expression shifted. The usual bright smile faded as she read something from the chat.
“Look, if you’ve got a problem with me, just keep scrolling, buddy. Can an admin ban him from the stream, please?”
That made Levi do the exact opposite. He scrolled up through the rapidly moving chat until he found the comment in question. Some idiot had said she owed it to him if something happened because of what she was wearing and doing on screen.
“What’s your fucking problem, dude?” Levi whispered, clicking his tongue. “If a woman has never even touched you, don’t say it so loudly.”
His fingers moved on their own, pressing the guy’s username, looking for a way to reply—until he suddenly let the phone drop onto his chest and stared at the ceiling.
“I need to calm down,” he muttered. Being in this live stream was already too much for him. Getting into an online argument was not the way to go.
How long had he been watching? He wasn’t sure. But in that time, he’d learned that ASMR meant tapping on objects with freshly done nails and whispering, that people voted on live which designs she should do next, and… a whole lot more.
“Say you can’t sleep, baby, I know. That’s me, espresso…”
She sang along to the music, and he felt hypnotized.
“…Did I just spend two hours of my life on this?”
The “Love ya!” came through the speakers as she blew a final kiss before ending the live.
“For fuck’s sake…” Levi muttered, almost offended. “You can’t be that stupidly cute.”
Maybe pop songs were popular for a reason. Maybe that’s why Levi never downloaded any apps on his phone or used it for anything beyond strictly necessary texts. Because explain to him why the hell he was humming at work.
“Since when do you know Sabrina Carpenter?”
Hange appeared out of nowhere, catching him off guard.
Levi had to come up with an excuse. Fast.
“What? Is it illegal for me to know new songs?”
“No…” Hange dragged the word out, squinting at him in suspicion. “But since when do you?”
“Give me a break. I’m not that old. I can get to know new artists,” he brushed it off while brewing himself a tea.
Hange let it slide, but their mind was already working, scheming. They kept talking, mostly about work. But as Levi finished his tea and was ready to leave, Hange casually dropped:
“Espresso?”
Levi frowned. “What?”
Hange repeated the question immediately, as if he hadn’t heard them the first time. But of course, he had.
“Fuck no. You know I hate coffee. Black tea,” he grumbled.
To his shock, Hange chuckled, shaking their head, biting their lip as they held back a knowing smile.
“Aww, Shortie… don’t give yourself away.”
“Huh?”
“Espresso. That’s the song you were humming.” Their grin widened. “I’m starting to think you’re not just listening to new artists—you’re watching new people.”
Levi stiffened.
And for the first time, he couldn’t hide the subtle embarrassed blush creeping up his face.
“Get off my ass,” he muttered, already walking away.
But Hange wasn’t done.
“And I think it might be Erwin’s cute little influencer friend!”
I won't say anything else, let the readers figure it out.
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swampthingking · 1 day ago
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“i’m sorry that you think i’ll never understand” keeps me up at night. nora. what do you have planned for captain sunshine.
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(this is right after jeremy, laila, and cat find out that the ravens weren’t responsible for the “hazing” injuries, and then jeremy calls kevin and finds out that riko broke his hand).
what do you mean “i’m sorry you think i’ll never understand” ???
and there’s been so many other people on here that have gathered evidence for jeremy’s backstory that i have done it much better than i can, so i think it’s obvious that we all know jeremy has been through some sort of trauma/s. but hello, this line makes me wonder about specific abuse, and to what extent. given nora’s history with horrific ml backstory reveals, i don’t have hopes that jeremy’s backstory is something…”normal” i guess? in comparison to what other aftg characters have going on. i don’t think it will be just that jeremy’s family is fucked up and they blame him for something happening at the banquet.
there’s something more happening with the mysterious missing knox sibling and the estranged relationship between jeremy and his existing siblings. jean has experienced maliciously targeted physical, sexual, and mental abuse, and the specific language of the line, “i’m sorry that you think i’ll never understand,” reveals something (at least to me) in its obstruction, which is, “i would understand better than most.”
i don’t want to immediately jump to sexual abuse—but to me, this is where it’s leading to. i don’t want to automatically mirror jeremy’s character with andrew’s, but at this point, the extent of jean’s abuse has culminated into something undeniable.
and now i’m like ok nora what the Fuck do you have planned … i’m putting 2 and 2 together and idk if it equals 4 but i’m scared that jeremy’s missing sibling isn’t in the picture because there was some sort of abuse inflicted by them onto jeremy. and jeremy reported it, and maybe the sibling was arrested at the banquet, or there was a big fight at the banquet because of it. step-grandpa is a congressman, so it was either covered up or it’s a “shame” thing that jeremy “allowed” the abuse to happen… guys idk. then there’s the exy conflict in there somehow and how shameful it is that he still plays??? anywho
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alittlegiraffe · 1 day ago
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Title: More Than Enough
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Marshall had been deep in album mode for weeks now, and you understood. You always understood. When he was in that space, nothing else existed—not time, not sleep, not food unless you physically put it in front of him.
But what you hadn’t expected was how his team would start leaning on you.
At first, it was small things—grabbing coffee, handling small errands, answering calls when Marshall was too busy. You didn’t mind helping. But then it became more.
"Hey, can you run out and grab lunch for everyone?"
"Mind handling the studio schedule? Paul’s swamped."
"Can you make sure the deliveries get sorted? We’re behind on inventory."
And it wasn’t just errands—it was the dismissive way they spoke to you, like you were supposed to do these things. Like you were just there to help them.
Like you weren’t his wife.
The first few times, you brushed it off. It wasn’t a big deal, right? Marshall was in his creative zone. You didn’t want to bother him with stupid complaints when he was making something brilliant.
But after a while, it started to weigh on you.
You weren’t just being helpful—you were being used.
And the worst part? Marshall didn’t notice.
He barely even looked at you most days, too caught up in the music, scribbling in notebooks, pacing the room while he worked through lyrics. You were just there, silent and waiting.
So you stopped going.
You didn’t make a big deal out of it—you just found excuses. Told him you had things to do at home, or that you didn’t want to get in the way. And at first, he didn’t seem to notice.
Until today.
Marshall came home earlier than usual, his hoodie slung low over his face, his hands in his pockets. He found you curled up on the couch, watching some random show you weren’t even paying attention to.
"You mad at me?"
You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
He sat down on the armrest, facing you. "You’re mad," he repeated. "You haven’t been at the studio all week."
You shrugged, looking away. "Just needed a break."
His eyes narrowed. "Bullshit."
You sighed, your fingers tightening around the blanket in your lap. "It’s nothing, Marshall."
"Obviously, it’s something." His voice was sharp now, frustration creeping in. "Talk to me."
You hesitated. "It’s just… your team. They—" You swallowed, feeling stupid for even bringing it up. "They kind of use me for shit."
His brows furrowed. "What?"
"Like, I get it, you’re busy, but they just assume I’ll do things. Errands, scheduling, handling stupid crap they don’t want to deal with. And I didn’t say anything because you were working, and I didn’t want to bother you with—"
Marshall stood up so fast the armrest shook.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
You flinched. "Marshall—"
"Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?" His voice was low and dangerous now, his fists clenching at his sides. "They’ve been using you?"
You bit your lip. "I didn’t want to be a distraction."
His head snapped toward you, eyes flashing. "You think you’re a distraction?"
You looked down. "I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it."
Marshall let out a sharp breath, running a hand over his face before crouching in front of you. He reached for your hands, prying them away from the blanket.
"You’re my wife," he said firmly. "Not their assistant. Not their goddamn secretary. Mine."
Your chest tightened. "I know, but—"
"No." His grip on your hands tightened. "No buts. You don’t hide shit like this from me, you hear me?" His voice softened, but the fire in his eyes didn’t dim. "You don’t just deal with it alone."
You swallowed, guilt creeping in. "I didn’t know how to bring it up."
He exhaled, shaking his head. "Baby, you don’t gotta know how. You just gotta say it."
You nodded slowly, and Marshall stood, pulling you up with him before wrapping his arms around you.
His chin rested on your head, and his voice rumbled against your hair.
"They’re gonna learn real fucking quick who they’re dealing with."
You smiled into his chest, feeling the weight of the past few weeks lift off your shoulders.
Marshall wasn’t just listening now—he was handling it.
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diorsdolliest · 2 days ago
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𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝟏𝟎; min ho
summary: consumed by jealousy and heartbreak after seeing min ho with his ex, y/n confronts him in a heated argument that ends with a devastating truth—she was never the one he truly wanted.
warnings: mention of alcohol
word count: 1967
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YOU WERENT SUPPOSED TO BE THAT KIND OF GIRL !
the kind who lets jealousy take over.
the kind who feels that sinking, hollow ache when she watches her boyfriend—her min ho—look at another girl in a way that makes her stomach twist in knots.
but here you are.
standing at the edge of the party, drink in hand, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest.
min ho and kitty are laughing together across the room, their heads tilted toward one another like they’re sharing an inside joke.
it shouldn’t matter.
you know their history.
min ho has told you time and time again that he’s over her.
but the way his eyes soften when he looks at her, like he’s caught in the ghost of something he hasn’t quite let go of—that look, that damn look—twists something inside you until it feels like you’re being wrung dry.
your fingers tighten around your cup, the cheap plastic bending under your grip. it doesn’t help. it doesn’t stop the weight in your chest, the nausea curling in your stomach.
so you take another shot.
and another.
and another.
each burn down your throat is supposed to numb it, supposed to make it easier to breathe. but all it does is unravel you faster. the alcohol churns in your system, amplifying everything instead of dulling it.
your heart pounds as you watch him. every second he spends looking at her feels like a slap in the face.
you know it isn’t real anymore.
you know it won’t last.
but it doesn’t change the fact that it fucking hurts.
why does it hurt so much?
your phone buzzes in your palm. you glance down.
1 missed call—min ho.
you ignore it.
instead, you reach for another drink, tipping it back like it’s water. your head is spinning, your skin too hot, but you don’t stop. because if you stop, you’ll have to feel it.
and you can’t. you won’t.
the tension in your chest coils tighter, suffocating.
he’s here with you. isn’t he?
so why does it still feel like you’re losing?
why does watching him with her feel like a knife between your ribs?
your vision blurs, whether from the alcohol or the ache in your throat, you don’t know. but before you can stop yourself, your feet are moving.
you shove through the crowd, the music pulsing in your ears, the drinks sloshing in their cups as people sway and laugh and exist in a world that isn’t crumbling around them.
lucky them.
the moment you step outside, the cold air smacks you in the face, sobering just enough for the full weight of your emotions to crash down.
your breath shudders out of you, uneven and sharp. you drag your arms around yourself, but it does nothing to ease the trembling in your fingers.
your phone buzzes again.
you know it’s him.
but you don’t want to pick up.
because if you do, if you hear his voice, you might say something you can’t take back.
you sink onto a bench in the small park across the street, staring down at your glowing screen.
min ho—2 missed calls.
your thumb hovers over the screen, indecision gnawing at your gut.
he’s not with her. right?
but the image of his eyes on kitty is burned into your skull, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t shake the feeling—
you’ll never be enough.
the phone buzzes again.
this time, you don’t ignore it.
min ho: “y/n, where are you?”
your hands shake as you type back.
y/n: “i need some time. i’ll be back later.”
you lock the screen. try to breathe.
but the buzzing doesn’t stop. it’s relentless.
your phone rings.
min ho.
you shut it off and shove it into your pocket.
the silence is deafening.
you feel like you’re suffocating, the alcohol pressing in, making everything too heavy, too real.
and then—footsteps.
rushed. determined.
you squeeze your eyes shut, already knowing who it is before he even speaks.
“y/n.”
his voice is steady, but there’s frustration laced in it.
“you have to stop running away every time something gets hard.”
you lift your head, meeting his gaze. his face is tight, unreadable, but there’s something there—something sharp and vulnerable all at once.
you look away. you have to.
“i’m not running,” you mutter, arms tightening around yourself. “i just need space.”
“you are running,” he snaps. “you always do this, shit—”
you shoot to your feet, the world spinning slightly as you shove him in the chest.
“oh, so it’s my fault now?” your voice is louder than you intended, thick with alcohol and unfiltered emotion. “what was i supposed to do, min ho? stand there while you practically fawn over her?”
min ho’s jaw clenches. his eyes flash with something unreadable.
“i wasn’t fawning over her.”
“oh, really?” you laugh, but it comes out bitter. “then what was it? because it sure as hell wasn’t nothing. you looked at her the same way you used to look at me. before i became your second choice.”
the words hit harder than you mean them to. you can see it in the way his face hardens, in the way he takes a step toward you, voice low and unsteady.
“you don’t get it, do you?” his hands clench at his sides, his frustration spilling over. “you think this is easy for me? you think it’s easy to be with someone who won’t stop running the second things get tough?”
“fuck you.” your voice is shaking now. “i’m not running from you, min ho. i’m running from this fucking mess we’re in. from you and her and whatever the hell we’ve turned into.”
min ho exhales sharply, looking away like he’s trying to hold himself together. his fists clench and unclench, his breathing uneven.
“i don’t know what you want from me,” he mutters, voice raw. “do you want me to just—what? stop looking at people? stop caring about anyone but you?”
“that’s not what i’m saying!” you take a step closer, shaking with frustration. “i want to be enough for you, min ho. but it feels like i never will be.”
silence.
it stretches between you, thick and suffocating.
then—
his voice drops, quiet. cold.
“maybe you’re right.”
your heart stops.
“maybe we’re not enough for each other anymore.”
the words hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath from your lungs.
“what?” it comes out small, hoarse.
min ho steps back, and this time, when he looks at you—there’s nothing left in his eyes.
“maybe i shouldn’t have come after you tonight,” he says, voice hollow. “maybe i should’ve let you leave.”
you stagger, the alcohol and heartbreak making it impossible to steady yourself. “then why the hell did you even come?” your voice breaks as you shove him again, desperate, furious, crumbling.
he doesn’t move this time. he just looks at you, something dark in his gaze.
“you want to talk about her?” his voice is sharp. “you think i wanted this? to be stuck between you and kitty? between my past and my present? between you and who i thought i could have been with?”
you freeze.
the ground tilts beneath you. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
min ho clenches his jaw.
and when he speaks again, his voice is final.
“i’m sorry, y/n.”
your stomach twists violently.
“but we’re not gonna work.”
the world stops.
your vision blurs, but you don’t look away from him.
you can’t.
because this is it.
you knew it.
you always knew it.
min ho exhales, his face unreadable.
“goodbye, y/n.”
and then—
min ho turns.
and this time—you don’t chase him.
you don’t beg.
you don’t even move.
you just stand there, frozen, watching as he disappears into the night.
his silhouette fades beneath the glow of the streetlights, his steps unhurried, his back turned to you like he’s already let go.
like you were never something he had to hold onto in the first place.
and that’s what breaks you.
your legs give out before you can stop them, and you sink back onto the bench, the alcohol and heartbreak crashing over you all at once.
your body trembles, your hands gripping your knees as a sob tears its way through your throat.
the tears come fast, hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks, dripping onto your lap. you don’t bother wiping them away.
what’s the point?
what’s the point of pretending you’re okay when you aren’t?
then, as if the universe wants to humiliate you further, the sky cracks open.
the first raindrop lands on your cheek, then another, then another, until it’s pouring.
until the cold seeps into your bones, until your clothes are drenched, until you’re shaking so hard you can barely breathe.
and still—you don’t move.
you just sit there, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around yourself as the rain washes over you, mixing with the salt of your tears.
min ho was your light.
and now—
now, you’re drowning in the dark.
eventually, your body forces you to move.
the cold settles deep in your skin, and the alcohol is wearing off just enough for exhaustion to creep in.
you stumble to your feet, wiping at your face even though it does nothing.
you make your way back to the dorms, dragging yourself through the empty halls, your footsteps sluggish and uneven.
you just need to get to your bed.
you just need to disappear under the covers, close your eyes, and pretend none of this ever happened.
but luck isn’t on your side tonight.
because the moment you turn the corner, you slam straight into him.
principal lee.
your breath catches, your stomach lurching.
you try to step back, try to get your balance, but the alcohol is still in your system, making it impossible to think straight.
he takes one long look at you—your soaked clothes, your red-rimmed eyes, the way you reek of liquor—and sighs.
“miss y/n.” his voice is stern, unimpressed.
“you’re late for dorm check-ins. and i assume i don’t have to state the obvious, but you do know there’s a zero-tolerance policy for alcohol on campus?”
you open your mouth, but nothing comes out.
what are you supposed to say?
that the boy you love just walked away from you?
that you drank to forget, but it only made everything worse?
that you don’t even care about getting detention because, right now, you feel like there’s nothing left inside you anyway?
but principal lee doesn’t wait for an answer.
“a week of detention,” he says, already turning away. “i suggest you get inside before you catch a cold.”
and just like that, you’re dismissed.
you don’t even have the energy to argue.
by the time you get to your dorm, you’re exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol.
you change into dry clothes, but the cold lingers, burrowing beneath your skin.
you crawl into bed, staring at the ceiling, but sleep doesn’t come.
because it still hurts.
min ho was your light.
and now?
now, there’s nothing left of you.
by the time morning comes, you aren’t the same person anymore.
the girl min ho once knew?
the girl who laughed too loudly, who loved with her whole heart, who fought for the things she wanted?
she’s gone.
and in her place—
a hollow shell.
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risingchaos · 22 hours ago
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I think about how there’s some people in universe that know Nightwing was the first Robin, but honestly, I don’t trust the general public or the more outskirts heroes to know.
Think of it like this. The people of Gotham barely know Batman exists, he’s sort of this urban legend that everyone’s 87% sure is real because they all know someone who knows someone who knows someone that’s been saved by or put in the hospital by Batman. There’s been random shit about this fucking kid? What the hell, Batman? And it isn’t until the Justice League is it like totally confirmed Batman exists.
Now, Robin still isn’t really out there. Depending on canon, he might’ve founded Young Justice, he might’ve founded the Teen Titans, some neither of those exist until later or not at all. If he was on a team, even if he was regularly seen, motherfucker dips at some point but Batman is still seen with a child in the same outfit, with the same shit. Maybe he got grounded. Some goons say that Robin’s kinda different, speaks sort of weird, he’s got a happier personality, but sure, if he just spent a while with friends, of course he’d be happier.
This hero pops up in Blüdhaven. Not unheard of, not unknown. Maybe he joins/founds the Titans, seems to work his way through to the top. He seems cocky and well loved. Not secretive like Batman and Robin. He’s a hero of the city, usually.
And then Robin dies. It’s known in Gotham because Joker is a bragger, and Batman’s seen without Robin. Robin isn’t on any teams. Nobody but Batman’s closest confidants (and people who are way too into superheroes *cough cough Tim Drake*) would know there was two.
But now there’s another? And then a girl for a moment? Oh the first another is back. Nevermind. Oh that one for sure is a different guy, he’s got a goddamn sword. Nightwing seems to be around on occasion, sure, but he’s literally a city over, makes sense. Batman’s paired with weirder people.
So, the extended hero universe probably thinks the first Robin’s dead, or, he’s retired. Which, yeah, totally. Understandable.
So imagine this interaction.
Random JLA member: Damn, Nightwing. Sweet moves out there. How long have you been doing this for?
Nightwing, mentally calculating: Uhhh about twenty years?
JLA member: YOU’RE FORTY??
Nightwing: ??? No?? Oh God do I look forty?? I had my twenty-eighth birthday like two months ago!
JLA member: HUH??
Nightwing: ????
Flash is laughing his fucking ass off in the background. No one’s really sure why, but Arsenal recorded the entire thing and is sending it to someone.
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theemissuniverse · 2 days ago
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“DYNAMITE” HENRY HART X ENEMY FEM!READER
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SUMMARY : You and Henry haven’t really gotten along since you’ve known each other. Henry’s put up with it for far too long. (Both 18, graduated high school. Relationship is sort of like Freddie and Sam from ICarly.)
CONTENT : suggestive content, slightly explicit
MASTERLIST
No one and I mean not a single soul anticipated you and Henry ever being a couple. From early childhood to the end of middle school, the two of you were kind of like enemies. You would ‘bully’ him and the two of you would argue constantly up until when the two of you graduated high school.
The only reason why the two of you spoke was because Charlotte was your best friend and Henry was her friend too. Henry couldn’t even understand how you could like Jasper more than him.
He was tired. Tired of the teasing, tired of the hitting, tired of you. Especially because he had actually no other reason to dislike you. He honestly thought you were really cool when you weren’t dishing out all your misery onto him.
Tonight? Tonight was the final straw.
You were so mad at him that you almost exposed he was Kid Danger at a party Jasper was throwing at the air n b. Henry immediately took you into a bedroom and closed the door before looking at you, furious.
He was even more mad was because the only reason why you were invited to the party was because he told Jasper to. Jasper was afraid of you and didn’t want you to come but Henry didn’t want you to feel left out.
That’s just the type of person Henry was.
He was never this angry at you. He was used to you but he was boiling with anger.
This was it.
“What the actual fuck is your problem?”
You were caught off guard. Henry wasn’t really the swearing type unless he was joking or being funny. You had to of done it.
Henry didn’t even let you speak. He just kept going. “Teasing me since elementary school? I can handle. Throwing me into lockers in middle school? I can handle. Making me get detention after you blamed me for everything you did through out high school? I can handle. But exposing my secret? My secret to the entire party for me merely existing is something I can not fucking handle anymore.”
You looked at Henry in sort of a guilty and sad way. “It wasn’t for nothing.”
“Oh it wasn’t?” Henry begins to sarcastically say. “Oh, then please tell me what the problem is! Enlighten me! I really wanna know what grinded Ms. Nothing is ever Perfect gears tonight?! Hmm? What was it?”
You looked down in shame, not even wanting to say why. “You were talking to Ashley.”
Henry was even more confused. Why did the thought of talking to Ashley bother you? “You almost exposed me…because I was talking to Ashley?”
“See, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”
“It is bad!” Henry scoffed at you. It’s like he couldn’t believe what and who he was seeing. “See, you’re ridiculous. I don’t even know why I wanted you here at this party in the first place.”
When Henry had said that, your eyes lit up. “You wanted me here?”
“Yeah because everyone is so afraid of you and thinks you’re a….the very not nice word that starts with a ‘B’ but I’m said ‘no, she’s just going through a lot. She’s not that bad’ but you know what? You are that bad. You’re crazy! No! Insane even. And this whole thing was crazy for me to even-“
Henry was cut off abruptly by the motion of you kissing him, directly on the lips. He stood there in complete shock. The kiss was so short, he didn’t even get to appreciate how soft your lips were. How comforting they felt.
He looked at you confused. He blinked a little, trying to process what just happened. “Um…what was that?”
You bit your lip and looked down to the ground. You couldn’t even look at him. “I know I’ve been extra…I’ve always been extra it’s just…I always thought you were cute and…I kinda liked you. Even though I gave you a wedgie four times…and ate your lunch every day….and made a dog eat your homework and when you told the teacher the excuse, you got detention but…I guess that was my way of expressing that I liked you. And when I saw Ashley flirting with you and you…enjoying it…I freaked out.”
Henry was completely stunned by your confession. Never in a million years would he ever hear from your mouth that you had a crush on him. The entire time.
And then he thought about it. How every Valentine’s Day at school he would get candy grahams but never knew who it was. How quickly you reacted to him even slightly grazing your hand. How sometimes you would just stare at him and he would have to ask you if something was on his face.
And then he thought about himself. How every Valentine’s Day he secretly hoped it was you. How he hoped you didn’t mind him purposely grazing your hand just to feel your contact. How sometimes he wanted to grab you by the hips and give you the most passionate kiss you’ve ever had by the way you looked at him.
“I’m sorry, Henry. I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch. I’m sorry I ruined everything.”
Now here’s something he’d thought he never see. You were crying. Tears. Actual tears not sweat. You had never cried in front of him before. Never.
Henry bit his lip, feeling bad. Was it still justifiable for him to be angry? Yes but he finally understood at least why you’ve been acting like this towards him.
You went to try and walk away but Henry wouldn’t let you. He grabbed your arm and spun you around. This time Henry’s lips landed on yours.
It was your turn to be surprised. You didn’t think after everything the two of you went through that Henry would even remotely feel the same way as you. But he did. Every bit of it.
You pulled Henry down more since he was taller than you. Henry held onto your waist as he deeply kissed you. You were melting right in his arms. Nothing felt better than his kisses.
Henry wasn’t expecting for your hands to go to the belt on his jeans. He felt you unbutton him super quick.
You slowly took the belt off this time, grazing his abdomen with your nails softly. The gesture made Henry let out a low growl that he himself had no idea where it came from.
Henry picked you up by thighs and had you up against the wall. Held you in place while you broke the kiss to kiss and suck on his neck.
“We-shit-need to talk-damn.” The sucking on his neck made him moan relentlessly.
“Talk about what?” You asked while taking off your shirt.
“Talk about-“ Henry cut himself off when he say how good your chest looked in a tightly fitted black bra. You smirked, seeing his reaction. You took his hands and placed them on your ass.
He forced himself out of his own trance. “I don’t just want to have sex with you. I like you.”
“Then have me.”
Henry looked in your eyes and then back at your lips. All before kissing you but this time, he did it lovingly. Like you were made of glass.
You were his now. In a strange way.
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bitebitekxll · 5 hours ago
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Do they purr - genshin non-humans
៚ Zhongli ✧ Xiao ✧ Wanderer ✧ Albedo ✧ Venti
Notes: Holy hell how do I have 50 followers??? THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR SUPPORTING MY SILLY MUSINGS. This literally was just my way to learn how to write smut and post self-indulgent head canons but I’m glad people are enjoying this with me :DDDD
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𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈 ᥫ᭡
Yes, 100%. He will deny it every time but lay on this man’s chest, maybe press a kiss to his jaw, and his chest is going like a fucking engine. He will insist that it’s not a purr, it’s simply a content growl— or perhaps a rumble, at most. He isn’t some measly cat, after all, he is a mighty dragon, the Prime Adeptus—
It’s definitely a purr.
Get him a cat ear hairband. He will give you the most long-suffering, unamused look while he wears them, but he will wear them. Anything for his beloved ♡~
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𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 ᥫ᭡
No, unfortunately. You have found no evidence that your stone-faced Yaksha is capable of emitting a purr, or purr-like sound (though certainly not for lacking of trying).
However… there is the matter of whether he is able to trill or coo like a bird, given that is his true nature.
He gets annoyed when you ask him, adamant that is not something he can do, and how dare you even entertain such a notion. Have you no respect for the adepti? Hmph.
…but you swear you’ve heard him chirp when you catch him off guard: kissing him without warning or praising him unabashedly.
It seems this will require further investigation.
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𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀 ᥫ᭡
Not purring, but whirring!! Got this idea from @seabirdtxt ‘s Glitch in Irminsul fic (it’s SAGAU focused on the diff vers of scara existing at the same time, go read it it’s great) and it just makes so much sense to me.
As a mechanical puppet, and an advanced one at that, Scara has tons of machinery going on inside of him. Though it usually can’t be heard, if you get especially close to his chest— a privilege only reserved for you and maybe Nahida during hugs —you can hear the whirring and clicking of his moving parts inside. It doesn’t sound the same as a purr, not exactly, but it’s pretty damn close.
Most of the time it’s pretty faint, but sometimes Scara might just make it louder— it’s got nothing to do with the way your face lights up or how you smile when you hear it, don’t be stupid.
Of course, the only way he can make the noise louder is by overworking his system, making the parts inside move faster than they’re supposed to. If he does it too much or for too long, well…
You’ll know it’s time to lecture him on taking better care of himself when he starts burning up. Overheating is the first sign he’s about to overload his system and shut down (or from everyone else’s perspective: pass out).
You’re the only one who can make him stupid enough to be willing to break his own mechanisms just to see that adorable ridiculous expression on your face. (He might come back to his senses in a petulant huff if you start calling him a cat, tho)
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𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐎 ᥫ᭡
Sadly, purring is not a feature homunculi come with. But this is Albedo we’re talking about, he can definitely figure it out.
He won’t tell you just what idea you’ve sparked with your question— you always worry when he starts self-experimenting —but it’ll be fine! He takes all the necessary precautions, limits any risk, because there’s always some risk in life, and downs a concoction or two in his quest to see if he can change the makeup of his own body. As an artificial life form, he’s less delicate than an organic one, so he doesn’t need to worry about pesky issues like rearranging his (non-existent) organs in a fatal manner.
And it works! Well, sort of. You come back home to a boyfriend that is fully capable of purring!! And also!! Has, uh, cat ears…
Albedo would consider it a success— he accomplished his goal, even if there were a few side effects. And you get a pretty catboy equipped with the cute, twitching ears and a fuzzy blonde tail; everybody wins! ♡
Of course, there’s always the chance his experiment just turns him into a cat entirely… but it wears off after a day or so, so it’s not the worst thing Albedo’s done to himself.
Either way, congratulations, he can now purr for the next 24 hours. And regardless of his cat-to-boy ratio, he will be expecting pets. Get to it~
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𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈 ᥫ᭡
He has bird vocalisations! Except he’s worse at hiding it then Xiao may or may not be. It’s not outright chirping, but it is a cooing trill in the back of his throat, too vibrational to be a regular hum.
It’s the sound he makes when he’s perfectly content, laying in a warm patch of sun on the soft grass, sat atop a roof with alcohol warming his veins, and curled up in your arms, round cheek smushed against your chest. He takes in a deep breath, filling his lungs with your scent, and then releasing it in a sigh, accompanied by the musical tones of his little trill.
He makes shorter ones when he’s pleasantly surprised; when you unexpectedly toss him an apple or pat his head. He’ll grin or lean into the touch and make that sound in his throat. Too quiet to be heard by the people around you over the din of the town, but you’ll hear it. It’s a sound just for you ♡
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futuremrscameron · 3 days ago
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What would your vision of a more mature Outer Banks show look like?
if i could link all my rants or conversations with moony i would but i’m too lazy to look for them all so i’ll give you the bullet points
morally gray pogues. let jj kill to protect his friends, the pogues closer to juvenile delinquents/ a gang that swindle tourons or steal beer from gas stations, harass kooks and tourons for seemingly no reason, the list goes on and on.
keep in the scene where jj delivers shit to rose and she pays him to sleep with her. obviously they wouldn’t show it but it would be a great way to show just what the pogues have to do to survive and really dial up how predatory kooks are not just financially but in every way possible
have one of the pogues betray the others to protect themselves or their family at one point. ties back into morally gray characters and having nuance like maybe the betrayal was to keep themselves out of prison or someone they loved was threatened or maybe it’s out of spite
acknowledge that ward is abusive and a villain. the show treats him like he’s better than luke and that he’s just misguided or just needs to be saved by the love of his children. he talks down to rafe at best, and slaps him around at worst. puts sarah on a pedestal but like most men in her life when she doesn’t match up to that version of her he has in his head lashes out (physically in s2 episode 10). and last but certainly not least he ignores wheezie, the one who primarily needs his parenting and affections. idk if the show wants us to root for his redemption or it’s just the writers favoriting the camerons but they’re squandering a perfectly good villain.
just have the show be about outer banks quit the traveling. i can excuse them going to the bahamas for the gold cause dug the cameron’s are rich white folk of course they’re gonna hide their shit on a island or in a foreign country but outside of that keep the show in obx. like moony said the island itself is a character so that’s where they should be. i thought s4 was gonna fix that when the gentrification plot was revealed but nope! more treasure. the treasure isn’t even the problem cause i loved the gold and cross plotline but el dorado? morocco? please.
explore classism. for a show about the haves and have nots they barely scratch the surface of what separates the kooks from the pogue besides “they have money and they’re cruel” like BOOOO give me more. don’t you wonder why jj is still living with his fuckass dad? why hasn’t cps taken him to the cops arrested his father? bc they know jj has no one else, no money, and would probably rather stay with his dad. john b’s running from cps arc was cool til they dropped it.
explore antiblackness. if the pates and burke have a shit about black people pope kelce and cleo would’ve gotten a lot more to work with. i don’t even think they realize rafe hate crimed pope so i can’t be surprised but goddamn this ties perfectly into the classism at play in obx. classism and antiblackness go hand in hand so it wouldn’t be that hard to have a storyline about the heywards being better off than jj or john b but still getting disrespected for being “poor” or “uppity” (antiblack) and not “knowing their place” or have pope tell the pogue’s that just cause he has a fraction more than them doesn’t mean shit and he has more at risk than any of them. he’ll have kiara talking about the micro aggressions she dealt with during her kook year (looking at rafe and crew). speaking of rafe why the fuck is kelce friends with them. is it a can’t beat ‘em join ‘em mentality or better them (pope) than me or is he genuinely a black white supremacist. WE DON’T KNOW. cleo is from the islands and while there’s no shortage of black people there colorism still exists. she’s a dark skinned girl who lived in the street til recently and had to do whatever it takes to survive gee i wonder who she could relate to. also that old white guy in s4 was being blatantly antiblack and xenophobic to her but they went nowhere with that cause of course
rafe and barry lore. now listen this is not just me fujoshing out, this is about figuring out what the fuck these two have going on. who got rafe into drugs? how did he meet barry? how long has barry been selling to rafe? recently? (no) since he was a teenager? (most likely) cause that creates some gross implications and raised eyebrows at barry, makes him look more predatory than he already is (i mean he’s a drug dealer you gotta prey on weaknesses and what not) why do these two get a long to some extent? rafe gets to crash at barry’s and i won’t say it’s cause barry likes him at most (in s1) he’s amused by him s2 on is another story but i won’t get into all that here. they’re no fezco and rue but they definitely have a bond
while we’re on the topic of rafe please diagnose that mf. “there’s always been something wrong with him.” “he’s sick.” he’s mentally ill, stop dancing around it i beg. i know he’s not canonically anything but the signs point to BPD and the people agree so get to it. also have it genetic on his mom’s side and that’s one of the reasons why ward is so scared to acknowledge it or get him help cause that makes it real and he won’t lose his son like he lost his wife. creates intrigue, nuance, drama, empathy for rafe and ward.
queer characters. they should already be in the show but alas. jj queer, kiara queer, barry queer, sarah queer but doesn’t wanna admit it, rafe queer but homophobic, give me range yk?
call out characters’ misogyny. sarah cameron is obx’s number one victim of misogyny, my sister is scared of getting close to people cause she knows when she opens up and isn’t the person they thought she was they’ll lash out (ie; all the men in her life). john b and topper switch up on sarah when she isn’t the perfect girlfriend, not the cheating, just not the devoted girlfriend that’s on their side 24/7z kiara is victim #2 of course. rafe spews nothing but vile misogynistic language to and about sarah and objectifies kiara. ward is possessive of sarah and wants her under his thumb. pope is cold to kiara after she rejects him and jj is #weird to women. (this is probably the writers not picking up on it, having “better things to worry about”, or trusting the viewers to clock it)
amazing ask by the way thank you for letting me yap about my vision
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