#I was a hater at first but maybe i am coming around

[bybdolan]

The album is growing on me i love being a swiftie

[rxmye]

" 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — For so long, he found art in his surroundings, nature was his muse . . who would've thought that he'd be able to find another muse, within you.

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / obsessive / unhealthy themes / I guess the reader is his 'hater' / perfectionist yandere / kind of egotistic yandere / he has a praise kink frfr / maybe a bit self centered . . / kind of unedited / also might appeal to ppl with a savior complex

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: I feel like Lore takes up a good chunk of this fic, but enjoy . . also might be one of my longest fics . .

He was a calming presence, and a thoughtful friend to all he called his own. Elegance took a human form, in Xavier Wilson—A beautiful work of art indeed . . Born presenting a talent that could rival many others in the industry.

From a young age, Xavier presented himself as a man of the arts, often drawing out vivid tapestries of his dreams or memories. He would often lose himself in the pages of his notebook, scribbling away with intricate drawings and stories, his mind was his own magnum opus.

However—people was never his strong suit. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, surely if he was as magnificent as those around him expressed, he'd most certainly be able to recreate the portraits of those around him?—But no, none of his portraits could compare to his various other works.

As he got a bit older, his mother decided to enroll him in classes that could help expand his talents, which ranged from various music lessons, theater (didn't end well), art history—etc . . .

Xavier let out a breathy sigh, staring at the keys of the grand piano absentmindedly—his gloved fingers gently glide over the keys, tired would be the best way to describe him as of right now—his professor had left an hour ago, yet Xavier couldn't find it in himself to move.

Truth be told, Xavier wasn't a fan of music, he preferred quiet solitude—and though he had long since gotten used to the sound of the piano, violin, and any of the other ridiculous instruments his mother was so keen on getting him to play—he still preferred the silence over all.

Over the course of time, Xavier disinterest towards music dimmed—Alongside his distaste towards instruments . . He figured the reason he disliked it so much was due to his inability to play as perfectly as his professor . . Xavier was a perfectionist, and anything he couldn't perfect was simply 'wrong' in his eyes, and as he reached his teen years, he accepted that fact wholeheartedly.

Xavier stood still, as his mother fixed his tie for him—he could do it himself but he let her enjoy this moment, she always disliked watching her son 'grow up so fast'—"are you nervous?", she asked softly, gently holding his hands, smiling so brightly.

'Am I nervous?—' he thought, clearly not. He felt calm, neutral even. It was his first big show, yet internally he knew that things would end well for him, he could feel it. He's always been lucky, in fact his father's nickname for him as a child was quite literally 'Puer aureus' which translated to 'the golden boy' from Latin.

He clicked his tongue, a common habit of his—especially when he wasn't being exactly truthful—he paused for a moment as if to think, then he smiled at his mother, "Just a bit, but I'll be fine" he spoke calmly, gently squeezing her hand to reassure her. "Don't worry, I've prepared well for this . . Haven't I?"

Praise, he adored praise, and that day he received quite a lot of it—not just from his parents, or acquaintances . . .—but crowds of people. Honestly, it stroked his ego, quite a bit . .

By seventeen years of age, Xavier's talent was known worldwide, his rise to fame quite massive and fast . . He had to attend class, while also hosting live performances and art galleries. (such a struggle, really . . .)

University admissions were coming around, and most of his friends had chosen what schools they plan on applying to—what path they plan on going into—what school they hope to go to the most, the conversation was an eye opener and yet it all felt so bitter.

Xavier tapped his pen on the table, zoning out from the conversation his friends were having . . only to zone back in when Neva spoke, "—so Xavier, have you decided where you'll be applying too . . ? I'm sure you'll get in."

He clicked his tongue in response, closing his eyes absentmindedly as he spoke, "To be honest, not really . . probably something arts related?", Xavier was about to speak up again but stopped himself, starring down at the table, a sigh escaping his lips.

"That seems like a waste of money", he looked up, starring at Oliver with questioning eyes, and Oliver quickly explained himself, "Art school is great and all—But it won't really make much of a difference for you, in fact the rules could restrict your talent . . It could be better for you to just try something new? You're good in school a degree outside of your comfort zone may be something good for you!"

He hated that his friend was right, he hated being wrong. He prided himself for always knowing what was best for himself and his abilities, and in a spur of pettiness he found himself taking art anyway, trying to prove his friend wrong . . even though he was well aware his intentions were pure in all ways.

Xavier had done well in his courses so far, and with his fame, he was breezing through classes—and yet, when the topics of portraits came up . . he found all that floating out the window.

None of the models they had for class, felt right—none of the art he did, felt authentic . . felt like himself, when it came to art, Xavier took everyone to paradise, his art felt like peace . . his art was calm . . his music was soft, lulling almost . .

Yet now, as he stared at his canvas, covered in mixed harsh colours, a vibrant mess of paint, his brushes wrecked, paint dripping from the easel . . It felt like anything but calm.

And that's when he dropped out, a question to his perfection would wreck the fragile image of himself he had created in his mind, a man so perfect and lucky in his own right a humbling experience like that was to never see the light of day.

Xavier found himself turning to something different, just like Oliver suggested, his alternatives were selective, yet he kept many paths open, Photography, fashion, and business were his top picks and things he found himself surprisingly enjoying . . Surely if he could paint and create melodies of such wonders, then he can stitch some fabric together, solve a few equations, and take a few photo's here and there just fine . . right?

A few years had past, and Xavier was now running his very own Luxury fashion line, he still hosted art galleries here and there, and composed music on the side, but his business took up most of his time.

But on his free days he'd turn to photography, taking pictures of things he sought comfort in . . and people, he'd often take pictures of unsuspecting people, pretty ones . . people not so pretty as well, just to try and recreate the life they had on a canvas . . yet somehow always failing to do so.

The moment Xavier found himself close, he'd reach a dead end . . and that destroyed him, internally.

Over the years, he accepted the small flaws in his behavior, and tried his best to reform them, presenting himself as the perfect public figure. He did go to therapy in the past, but when things started rising up, he quit entirely.

Xavier laid back on his office chair, and scrolled through his recent posts comment section, and as expected almost all of it was praise . . some of envy, but that only fueled his ego more . . Until he found a comment that set him off, "His art is so melancholy, it feels a bit sad . . His previous works were brighter, like more happy but now it kind of feels sad . . Like the life in his work isn't there anymore."

Xavier stared at the comment dumbfounded, never had he received that kind of feedback . . portraits he drew were indeed lifeless, but his other art was always regarded as lively, and that was what he always strived for . . Curious, and in a fit of rage . . he clicked on the commenters profile, and saw you.

You, you . . You were what he was looking for, his muse. So, full of life . . He scrolled through your page, and couldn't help but feel the urge to draw you, and paint you . . and paint you he did. . Because soon his entire studio was filled with pieces inspired by you . . so full of 'life' . . .

Yet at some point, he had reached the end of your posts, and it just wasn't enough . . he needed you . . He wanted your feedback, he craved your praise . . like no other, he wanted input . . he wanted to know if his work was truly still lifeless . . he wanted you.

After all, a artist isn't complete without his muse.

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[sanaexus]

social's as chigiri's girlfriend

-liked kuniisuke, nagi.seishiro and 155.6k others

yourusername: he lets me touch his hair i win losers

tagged: chigi.who

kuniisuke: yeah but i'm the one who he kicks balls with ↳hiyori: MATE. NO. ↳yourusername: yeah and i'm the one playing with his balls ↳karasu_tabito: okay what the fuck ↳chigi.who: not true please don't trust her ↳eita.otoya: you sure ab that princess? ↳yourusername: ew don't you have enough bitches already?

nikkoki: he looks so tired of you in the second picture ↳yourusername: YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE HIM WHAT ↳nikkoki: exactly. his annoyance radiates off the picture ↳yourusername: go back to crying like a lil wuss or something

user1: i love your eyelashes ↳yourusername: i love you ↳chigi.who: no you don't ↳yourusername: i'm a free independent woman with my own free will ↳chigi.who: icecream if you shut up ↳yourusername: ok ↳karasu_tabito: so you just buy her silence? ↳chigi.who: yes ↳yourusername: HE LETS ME TOUCH HIS HAIR TOO SO HONESTLY I'M WINNING ↳karasu_tabito: valid

kenyu.yukimiya: what the fuck is he doing in the first picture? ↳chigi.who: can't you see? ↳chigi.who: oh wait no nevermind he actually can't ↳yourusername: THAT'S SO RUDE?? SAY SORRY ↳chigi.who: i'm sorry that you're blind as a bat i guess ↳kenyu.yukimiya: fuck you

mikka.kaiser: why is everyone fucking everyone in this comment section ↳alexis.ness: could be us? ↳isaichii: no one's fucking

-liked by megubachi, reo.miikage and 163.9k others

yourusername: in a world full of boys he's a gentleman (the last image is me n him)

tagged: chigi.who

chigi.who: no that is not us what the fuck. ↳yourusername: aww hyo don't be shy ↳chigi.who: you like playing w my hair right? ↳yourusername: no i'm sorry+ i love you+ don't remove my hair touching privilege + i'm js a girl + don't be a hater

megubachi: the last image is canon (i was the chair) ↳yourusername: my real one fr ↳isaichii: bavjura i didrn except tjis frmo yoi ↳rin.itoshi: what ↳yourusername: "bachira i didn't expect this from you" ↳megubachi: you're still my number one ↳isaichii: sorry guys kaiser was chasing me around like a mad maniac ↳mikka.kaiser: come to papa ↳reo.miikage: what the fuck

nikkoki: was the last picture really necessary? ↳yourusername: are you really necessary ↳isaichii: throwback to the time when someone asked chigiri if his haircare was necessary and without any hesitation he went "are you really necessary" ↳shiidoryu: dk ab that but i can throw a back ↳chigi.who: did it once and i'll do it again

user2: you should date me instead i'll let you touch my hair ↳yourusername: oh emm gee let's go on a date to the park and we'll terrorize kids tgt !! ↳user2: ofc bae ↳chigi.who: i am that kid because what the fuck . ↳yourusername: 🙁 ↳chigi.who: ew ↳yourusername: BEO YOU BETTER FUCKING SLEEP WITH A EYE OPEB I'M GONNA FUCKING CHOP OFF YOU'RE HAIR STEAL YOUR SISTER AND THAN LIKE DRAW IN YOUR FACE ↳mikka.kaiser: bro* an* open* your* then* on* ↳shiidoryu: SHUT UP CAN YOU NOT ENJOY THE DRAMA W/O BEING AN GEEK FOR 2 MINUTES ↳alexis.ness: it's a geek and don't talk to kaiser like that you good for nothing zesty butt loving horny demon ↳itoshi_sae: please help he keeps touching my butt ↳shiidoryu: you're into that bae 😘

-liked by julian.loki, oliver.aiku and 211.5k others

chigi.who: i actually act like a normal boyfriend

tagged: yourusername

julian.loki: just how broad is normal in this situation? ↳yourusername: broader than yo mom ↳julian.loki: .. ↳julian.loki: ok i kinda maybe sorta might have laughed ↳yourusername: normal can mean pushing me off a swing or fighting w a 7 year old who was rude to me btw ↳oliver.aiku: bro got bullied by a 7 year old ↳yourusername: you got cooked by a guy who does puzzles btw ↳oliver.aiku: bye

yourusername: i'm spiderman (REAL NOT CLICKBAIT 3AM CHALLENGE GONE WRONG 🙀🙀😱😱💯💯) ↳rin.itoshi: weren't you batman? ↳yourusername: shhhh that's a secret ↳megubachi: I'M BATMAN??? ↳yourusername: no but you can be hello kitty ↳megubachi: deal

nagi.seishiro: how much we betting y/n fell of the roof on her ass ↳yourusername: RUDE !! I HOPE CHOKI DIES ↳nagi.seishiro: not cool dude :x ↳chigi.who: she did in fact actually fall on her ass ↳yourusername: ihy ↳chigi.who: not what you were saying last night ↳yourusername: I'M STILL A MINORR ↳eita.otoya: TRYNA STRIKE A CORD AND IT'S PROLLY A MINORRR ↳mikka.kaiser: drake fr got cooked ↳yourusername: so did you ↳karasu_tabito: drake x kaiser

yourusername: no but i fr love you ↳chigi.who: i know you do ↳yourusername: WOULD IT KILL TO TELL ME YOU LOVE ME BACK?? ↳chigi.who: i'm js a girl ↳kuniisuke: I FUCKING CALLED IT HE WAS TOO 💅💅 TO BE A SWEATY MAN WHO KICKED BALLS ↳reo.miikage: what ↳megubachi: wajt ↳isaichii: huh ↳hiyori: the fuck ↳mikka.kaiser: why ↳alexis.ness: what ↳eita.otoya: 💀 ↳karasu_tabito: w h a t . ↳rin.itoshi: what the actual fuck ↳shiidoryu: I FUCKING KNOW RIGHT ↳itosh_sae: no ↳barou.shoei: get help and sleep because it's 2 fucking am ↳chigi.who: :p

chigi.who: you're pretty ↳yourusername: i know

wellll that was mid asf i don't know how to write chigiri exactly if you can see but it's fine

[corroded-hellfire]

hi, babes! i saw that you’re open to some AYW blurbs so i wanted to shoot my shot 🥹 i am YEARNING for jealous!eddie sooooo bad so could we pretty please with cherries on top have a lil blurb about him where a different dad hits on the reader while they’re picking up the boys from school or maybe while they’re doing some kind of errands like grocery shopping or something? it could be from when they’re already dating or from when they’re just pining over each other, it’s up to you! i just want possessive!eddie to come back lmaooo thank you in advance if you choose to do this! i love youuu and the entire AYW universe ❤️

Jealous!Eddie? Possessive!Eddie? Oh, you're definitely speaking my language. As much as I love Eddie being possessive after he and Reader get together, there's something about Eddie being a total jealousy monster while they're still just pining for one another that butters my biscuit.

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: age gap, Eddie is technically married to someone else but if you know this series you know what that's all about

[As You Wish masterlist]

The stoplight turns green, and you put pressure on the gas pedal of your gold Elantra. The car rumbles down the road as you bop your head and sing along to the radio. Everybody (Backstreet’s Back) by The Backstreet Boys is a great song, you don’t care what boy band haters say. 

It’s part of the usual routine for you to be early when arriving at Hawkins Elementary School to pick up Ryan and Luke, but since your literature class let out twenty minutes before it was supposed to, you’re extra early. You turn your car into the school’s parking lot and find a visitor spot that will allow you to easily swing into the pick-up line when the time comes. 

Car in park, you turn the volume on the radio up and tuck one leg underneath you. You’re so engrossed in the music that you have to do a double take when you see an attractive man walk past a few cars, headed toward the school.

It’s Eddie. Something is in his hand but he’s moving so briskly that it’s hard to tell what it is. Lead fills your stomach. Why is he here? What happened? Did something happen with the boys? Are they okay?

You yank the key out of the ignition mid-song and throw open the driver’s side door. 

“Hey, Eddie!” you call as you jog to catch up with him—his long legs striding further in one step than either of his sons can go in three. 

Eddie turns his head as he reaches for the handle of the door. He’s just reached the entrance, and he stops with his hand on top of the silver bar. You could almost swear his tense face eases into a smile when he sees you coming up behind him. But perhaps that’s just wishful thinking. Of course it is. What else would it be?

“What’s going on?” you ask. “Is everything okay?”

He sighs and pulls open the front door of the school, gesturing for you to step inside first. You do, and he follows in behind you. He lifts his other hand which is holding a pair of small pants.

“The school called me at work and said Luke spilled glue all over his pants, so I grabbed a pair from home for him to change into,” he explains. “I tried calling you when I got to the house, but I guess you were already on your way.”

It should probably surprise you more than it does that Luke got into such a sticky situation, but you’ve known him for long enough that this just seems par for the course.

“Oh, Luke,” you sigh as you and Eddie stride side by side down the hallway.

“He keeps life interesting,” Eddie says. He checks his watch and sees there’s less than half an hour left in the school day. He gestures toward a classroom door covered in student’s artwork. “Might as well grab Ryan from his class since it’s right here.”

You wait out in the hall as Eddie slips inside to get his oldest son.

“He did what?” you hear Ryan asking as Eddie opens the door on his way out. The little boy looks as if he’s going to say something else, but he sees you standing in the hall and immediately steps forward and wraps his arms around your waist. “Hi!”

“Hey, Ry.” You chuckle at his eagerness and ruffle his honey brown hair. “How was school?”

“Pretty good,” he says as he takes your hand. Both Munsons head down the hall, you tagging along since you don’t know the right direction to go in. “I played kickball in gym. I ran the bases so fast!”

“Nice!” You hold your free hand up for a high five, which he gladly returns.

Eddie stops in front of another classroom door and nods towards it.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” 

He slips inside and Ryan swings your joined hands between the two of you for a few moments until the door opens again and Luke waddles out in a bow-legged stance, feet slowly shuffling him along.

“What did you do?” Ryan asks with a sigh. It’s in the same exasperated tone that Luke brings out of a lot of people.

“Nothing!” his little brother defends. “The bottle was clogged so I took the lid off. Then it slipped out of my hands!”

Eddie lets out a silent chuckle as he closes the classroom door behind them. 

“I think they’re stuck to me!” Luke says.

“Okay,” Eddie says, gently taking Luke by the shoulders and leading him towards a bathroom a few doors down. “I can help get them off.”

“Can Ryan?” Luke asks, reaching for the door handle.

“Ry?” Eddie looks at his oldest son.

“Yeah, let me help.”

Ryan holds the door open and Luke crab walks his way into the single bathroom. The door clicks closed behind them and Eddie gives you an amused look. You can’t help but giggle as the two of you wait out in the hall. 

Sounds of movement come from the other side of the door, along with the murmur of Luke’s voice as he speaks to his brother. A few minutes pass before the door opens a crack and Ryan sticks his head out.

“Daddy?” he asks. “Can you get a Band-Aid from the classroom?”

“He’s bleeding?” Eddie asks, slight alarm creeping into his voice.

Ryan sighs. “Glue pulled off a scab on his knee.”

“Alright, I’ll be right back,” Eddie says. He looks at you as Ryan pulls his head back inside, and you nod, letting Eddie know you’ll be here with the boys. 

Parents begin to trickle into the hallway. It’s the kindergarten wing so it’s not unusual for guardians to be waiting right outside the classroom to pick up their kids. Luke was more capable than that, he assured when he said that he could walk to the pick-up lane outside all on his own—or sometimes with Ryan. 

“Everything okay?” a voice asks from behind you.

“Oh!” You’re slightly startled as you spin around to see a man standing near you. 

A smile quirks up on one side of his mouth when he sees he surprised you. His smile is nice, you notice. In fact, all of his face is nice. He’s around Eddie’s age and height, with short black hair and piercing green eyes. Very attractive. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you say with a wave of your hand. “Um, yeah, everything is okay. Just a glue incident.”

“Been there,” the man says with a gruff laugh. “Nail polish remover.”

“I’m sorry?” you ask.

“Nail polish remover will get the glue off of clothes,” he clarifies. “Just in case you or your husband didn’t know that.”

His words fluster you. Had he seen Eddie and just assumed he was your husband? Or was he just assuming in general? Either way, it takes a moment for you to compose yourself. 

Part of you doesn’t want to correct him. But it’s possible the boys can hear this conversation through the wood of the door. Also, what if the man says something similar after Eddie comes back? Eddie would obviously refute, and you’d be mortified all the way around. 

“Oh, uh, he’s um, he’s not my husband. He’s their dad. I’m the babysitter.”

“Ah, my mistake. Sorry.” He doesn’t look the least bit sorry though. “I should’ve guessed. You’re far too young to be their mom.”

He must’ve seen Eddie and at least Ryan, then. 

Again, you’re flustered. He’s clearly flirting with you, so why does part of you want Eddie to hurry up and come back? This man is handsome and charming and neither of you are doing anything wrong by having this conversation with one another. There’s not a ring on his finger either, you notice. 

You still haven’t responded though.

“You have a beautiful smile,” he says.

You hadn’t even realized you were smiling. 

“Thank you,” you say, your smile turning shy.  

The man takes a step closer to you and tilts his head to the side.

“Do you come by here every day? Or is it just my lucky day?”

Behind you, Eddie comes back with a Band-Aid in his hand. He hears the man’s question and immediately his hackles go up. His back straightens and his jaw sets as he purposely squeaks one of his black boots against the tile floor. 

The sound has the intended effect, and you spin around in his direction. Why do you feel as though you’ve been caught doing something wrong? An image of Brittany’s beautiful, cold face flashes in your mind and the trace of guilt disappears.

“You got it?” you ask Eddie.

“Yep,” he states curtly. 

He brandished the Band-Aid, realizing he had crumpled it in his fist in his irritation. He knocks on the bathroom door. “It’s me. Here’s the Band-Aid.”

Ryan opens it a crack and sticks his hand out. Eddie lays it in his palm as you hear a footstep right behind you.

Spinning back, you see that the handsome man is closer to you now. Eddie is not happy. But neither you nor the man notice. 

“I feel like I would’ve noticed you here before,” the man says to you.

“I’m usually in the carpool,” you explain. 

“See, I knew I would have recognized you,” he says with a bright smile. “You’re very pretty.”

Your face immediately fills with heat. So does Eddie’s, but for another reason entirely. 

“Thank you,” you say.

A fist banging on the door behind you startles you, and you spin around to see Eddie pounding on the wood.

“How’s it going?” Eddie asks loudly. 

“Good!” Luke calls back. “I’m almost all the way unstuck!” 

Eddie takes a breath and turns towards you.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to stay here through this.”

Though he didn’t consciously intend it, there’s possessiveness in the pet name. It’s not uncommon for him to call you “sweetheart,” but this time there’s a harshness in his tone that whispers he’s staking his claim on you.

This may be the only time Eddie has ever wanted you to go away from him. And it’s not because of him, but because of the flirtatious father that is not him. The father who can’t leave with you because he’s still waiting for his kid.

“Oh no, I’m fine,” you assure Eddie. “I can take the boys back home and you can go back to work.”

Eddie waves a hand dismissively.

“Nah, I already took the rest of the day off.” 

The stranger behind you opens his mouth to speak, so Eddie makes sure to beat him to it.

“What do you say we go get some food once Situation Sticky Pants is solved?” Eddie asks. “The gremlins are always hungry.”

“If I had a nickel for every time Luke climbed into my car and immediately brought up food, I’d be able to buy this school,” you say with a fond smile. 

Eddie’s responding chuckle makes your heart leap into your throat. You’re so ensnared by the man you’re so infatuated with that you almost miss his eldest son calling your name through the bathroom door.

Quickly, you shake it off and press your ear up against the smooth wood.

“Yeah, Ry?”

While your focus is on the boy talking to you from inside the bathroom, Eddie looks at the man behind you, steel in his deep brown eyes. The man doesn’t react or respond one way or the other. It irritates Eddie even further. 

“What was the name of that movie we watched yesterday?” Ryan asks you.

“Flubber?”

“That’s it!” you hear Luke say.

“Okay, thank you!” Ryan adds. 

You pull away from the door with a soft chuckle.

“I really hope whatever conversation they’re having about that movie has nothing to do with getting Luke’s pants unstuck,” Eddie says. 

You lean back against the cool, white brick wall next to the bathroom door and the man sidles up closer to you. Eddie doesn’t have the chance to intervene before he speaks this time.

“I know it’s a shot in the dark,” the man says to you, “but would you want to get dinner sometime?”

You’re stunned speechless. Sure, he had been flirting with you, but you assumed that’s all it was. Just some innocent, fun flirting. A date could also be some innocent fun, you tell yourself. And this man has been nothing but kind and respectful towards you. But…it doesn’t feel right. It’s hard to parse out if it feels wrong accepting another man’s advances in front of Eddie because of how you feel for your boss, or you just don’t want to go out with the guy, as nice as he seems. Just because he’s nice doesn’t mean you owe him anything. Regardless, you feel a sense of relief when you decide to decline his offer.

What you don’t know is that Eddie is ready to combust behind you. Waiting for you to answer the question is pure agony for him. He’s pretty sure he’ll burst into flames if you keep him in suspense any longer.

“Oh, that’s very sweet of you,” you say. 

Eddie’s heart seizes in his chest. He leans his shoulder against the wall, hoping it will help keep him propped up. 

“But…” you continue, and Eddie’s heart starts beating again, even if it’s at an erratic rhythm. 

“I actually have a boyfriend though,” you finish. 

Eddie feels sick. He half thinks he’ll have to barge in on the boys in the bathroom and empty his stomach into the toilet.

The man gives you a sad smile and nods his head.

“He’s a lucky guy.”

You offer him a small smile just as the bathroom door bangs open and the boys step out—Luke clad in his glue-free jeans.

“How we doing?” you ask them.

“Good!” Luke grins and gives you two thumbs up. His previous pair of jeans are slung over his shoulder. Eddie slips them off and rolls them up into a ball. 

“We ready to go?” Eddie asks.

Luke nods his head enthusiastically and slips his smaller hand into yours. He begins to pull you in the direction of the school’s exit. You turn your head as you’re pulled away and give the man a small smile.

“Have a nice day,” you wish him.

“You as well,” he replies. 

Once your gang makes it into the parking lot, the boys start bickering about whose car they want to ride in. They come up with Rock, Paper, Scissors as a way to decide.

While they play that, Eddie turns to you. 

“Boyfriend, huh?” he asks. It takes a Herculean amount of effort to keep bitterness from coating those words. 

Eddie knows he has no right to ask you about this and it’s completely inappropriate. Yet, he can’t stop himself from asking. 

“Hmm?” you question. As soon as his question registers in your brain, adrenaline pumps through your body, eager to let Eddie know that you’re very available—even if it doesn’t make a difference one way or the other. “Oh! No, no, I don’t have a boyfriend. My best friend taught me to use that excuse when I don’t want to accept. It’s a no, but the guy won’t get all bent out of shape or start harassing me because it doesn’t really hurt his pride.”

“Wow,” Eddie says, blowing out a breath. He’s immensely relieved that you’re single, but also annoyed that you’ve had to employ this trick for your safety. ‘I am so sorry that you have to do that. A ‘no’ should be enough.”

“Should be.” You agree with a shrug. “But it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Scissors!” Luke exclaims before he turns in your direction. “We’re riding with you!”

“Want to meet at the diner on Essex?” Eddie asks.

“Sure!”

Eddie ushers the boys into the back of your car and makes sure they’re buckled in before walking across the parking lot to his own truck. As he slips into the driver’s seat and turns the key in the ignition, Eddie replays the last fifteen minutes in his head. 

“She said no to that guy,” Eddie muses out loud to himself as he navigates through the traffic that’s collected in front of the school. “She said no to that guy because she has a boyfriend. But she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

A large sigh of relief spills from his lips. The mere thought of you having a boyfriend created a multitude of knots in Eddie’s stomach. He can’t even bear to think about how much of a hypocrite it all makes him. 

“But…” Eddie continues to himself, a new sickening thought taking root. “Oh, fuck. What if she didn’t want to date that douche because he’s older than her. My fucking age.”

The thought disheartens him even more than the idea of you having a boyfriend does. He reaches up and rubs his calloused hands over his face as he rolls up to a red light. 

“Jesus Christ, Munson,” he groans. “You’re sitting here, talking to yourself about whether or not she has a boyfriend, or if there’s a possibility she could be into someone older. You’re fucking married, douchebag. It shouldn’t matter one way or the other if she's with someone or not. Or who she might want to date or not.”

The light turns green, and Eddie lets his foot rest heavy against the gas.

Maybe none of this should matter to Eddie. But it sure as hell does.

[slxtarchive]

𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 ✦ 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. all you’ve known was that you had one hater in the world and that was sam golbach. what happens when your enemy tried to protect you against something you didn’t need help with? what argument will be held and what will be said?

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. requested here <-

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. SLIGHT ANGST ! SMUT ! enemies to lovers trope, slight violence, love confessions.

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. gosh again, i am so sorry this took forever!! college is kicking my ass but omg this trope… i will never get sick of it. thank you 🧚‍♀️

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 2.3k +

as usual, after your last class period before lunch you went to your locker to drop off the books you didn’t need anymore. you heard the familiar laugh of your best friend tara. she was walking with your other friends. “yn! hurry!” she called out skipping toward you.

you shut your locker. “why hurry?” i questioned putting my back over my shoulder.

she placed her hands on your shoulders steadying herself. “colby asked if we wanted to go out for lunch. he got an outside pass and he said ms rogers could get us all one too!”

you had a tilted frown. “uhh maybe next time. i don’t really feel like going out today. plus i was planning to leave halfway through fifth.” you shrugged. the real truth was that you didn’t feel like dealing with sam’s bullshit today.

“nooo you have to come!!” she pleaded. tara was always the one trying to involve you in plans that she and the boys made. you weren’t much of a party person but they sure were.

you shook your head. “no tara, i promise maybe next time. maybe… tomorrow after the football game?” you questioned. tara thought about it and realized she should take what she can get.

she nodded reluctantly. “okay fine. no backing out now! we’re all going! i’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked. you nodded watching as her and the girls left to go to lunch.

the day passed you by as usual. you went home, did what you needed to get done, watched some tv, and then went to bed preparing for tomorrows plans.

the next morning you woke up to more texts than you usually did.

it was a group chat that was made with you, tara, colby, jake, the sturniolo triplets, carrington, larray, quen, and of course they had to add sam golbach.

you groggily groaned at what you saw.

plans !!

colby: what is this

tara: it’s for the plans for today!!

tara: yn you’re going. no backing out

sam: let her back out please

tara: don’t start

sam: start what?

tara: you know what

quen: WHAT THE FUCK IS UP BITCHES

larray: it’s too early for this

tara: okay so plans to go to the football game then out to eat after??

quen: always down for food

larray: me too

chris: nick matt and i too

sam: i guess

yn: wtf is going on

sam: oh great.

you rolled your eyes as he responded to your message.

yn: please stfu thanks

sam: someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed

yn: aw, unfortunately, someone WOKE UP.

colby: LMAO

sam: shut up

you put your phone down and started to get ready for the day. you then got to school and saw the whole group waiting around beside your first period.

you approached them immediately making eye contact with sam. he grinned smugly causing you to roll your eyes. tara noticed and turned around. “hey yn!!” she greeted giving you a hug. “still on for plans today rightttt..” she smiled.

her contagious smile elicited one from you. “of course.”

she cheered as the bell rang. “okay well gotta get to class. see you laterrr!” she sang walking away. you then made quick eye contact with sam before glaring at him and walking inside your class.

sam grinned watching you walk inside before walking away. of course he hated you but something about you has always intrigued him. he didn’t know what. he couldn’t put a finger on it.

by the time school ended you were exhausted and really didn’t feel like staying for the game but tara texted you knowing all too well how you worked.

you groaned as she texted the words. ‘no backing out!!’ you headed toward the front of the school ready to meet up with the group. they insisted on going over to colby’s house and then riding back to school for the football game.

you finally reached them smiling tightly. “okay guys yn is here! let’s goo.” tara said. “yn you can ride with us!”

jake interrupted. “there’s not enough space. she can go with sam?” your blood boiled. “i’m pretty sure you guys can last at least ten minutes without killing each other.”

you sighed. “i just won’t talk to him.” you then headed toward where sam was waiting for him to walk to his car. to distract yourself you took our your phone mindlessly trying to look like you were doing something.

“not like i want you in my car either,” he muttered taking out his keys.

you humorlessly laughed. “like i chose this either way. you probably suck at driving so I'm putting my life at risk.” you sassily remarked.

he sucked in a short breath feeling his patience already thinning. he swung his keys around before walking to his car. he unlocked only the driver's side and got in.

you tried opening the door but he looked at you smiling refusing to unlock it. “can you open the fucking door?” you cursed, pulling the handle.

he frowned. “it’s wise to use manners when speaking to someone doing you a favor.” his fingers hovered over the unlocked symbol.

you gritted your teeth. “open the fucking door sam.”

reluctantly, he unlocked it after you said that, already enjoying the way you got heated up. you climbed in slamming the door crossing your arms.

he looked over. “seatbelt.” he said shortly. you let a breath out of your nose and pulled the belt across your body connecting it to be red receiver.

he loved teasing you. the way you despised every little thing he’d say to you. “drive.” you demanded, starting straight ahead not bothering to look anywhere else. he nodded, trying hard not to laugh.

you guys went to colby’s house and all you did was sit and listen to the conversations held around you. you didn’t feel like hopping in at any time. all you were doing honestly was replaying the moment in the car earlier in the day.

you didn’t know why sam pissed you off so bad but something just irritated you and yet you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him.

you don’t have time to think further about your feelings because tara screeched. “okay guys let’s go!! game starts in 10.” she spoke chewing on a brownie.

you nodded standing up. you huffed as the whole group exited out colby’s house before heading back to the cars. “you’re with me again.” sam shoved past you.

you glared at him before following him without complaint. you didn’t have the time or the energy to argue with him.

you both were silent on the way to the game. you parked, you walked, and you entered not saying a word. the game went by okay. you didn’t have an amazing time but the game was eventful. you could tell your school and the opposing team had tension in between them.

at the end of the game your school ended up winning by a few points. it was close and the whole school cheered as the whistle blew. your friends cheered as well as sam while you also smiled at the victory.

you guys were not exiting but came across a huddle. tara noticed a friend in the huddle and asked what was going on. that was until one of the girls from the other school spoke up. “oh now you wanna bring other bitches into this? scared as fuck.” the girl cursed.

it was looking like this huddle was a fight waiting to happen.

tara was caught off guard but still defended herself. “first of all, i just came to ask what the fuck was going on. second, don’t call me a bitch.” she sternly said, hands on her hips.

the girl snorted before speaking up. “what the fuck you gonna do about it? this shit has nothing to do with your ass anyway.” the girls' friends who were quite a lot agreed and some had kept their arguments with some other kids from your school going.

tara’s fists balled up. you didn’t want the situation to escalate so you stepped forward putting a hand on tara’s shoulder earning another laugh from the girl. “oh you brought your whole crew because of us?”

you made eye contact with her seeing the smug look on her face. “she didn’t.” you told her. you usually weren’t one to argue or to fight so tara made sure to shake her head letting you know it’s okay.

“oh really, then why the fuck are these unknown people here.” she gestured to your friends.

you slowly began to get more irritated. “maybe because we watched the fucking game together?” the comment pissed the girl off. you could tell. “now you can go get your dogs and leave. the games over and you lost get over it.”

the insult offended her and her friends even more causing her to walk forward. “who the fuck are you calling dogs, bitch?”

you clenched your jaw preparing yourself for what could happen. you clenched your own fists before you heard a male voice. “you guys need to chill. we were just meeting up with a friend.” colby stepped forward causing one of their guys to step forward.

colby glared at the guy but your eyes were dead set on the girl in front of you. “all i’m hearing is these bitches wanted to be nosy.”

tara stepped forward. “what the fuck is your problem?”

you stepped forward with her trying to diffuse the situation but one of her friends took that as you both trying to gang up on her so she stepped forward shoving just you back. you stumbled being caught off guard but then you quickly recovered. “don’t fucking touch me.” you cursed, moving closer.

she raised her brows. “what are you gonna do about it?” she crossed her arms.

you raised one of brows. “oh what am i gonna do about it? do you wanna find out?” your patience was wearing thin. that’s when the girl once again shoved you and tried to swing but missed as you moved back.

while that happened, tara shoved the girl who swung back causing the girl she was arguing with to grab tara by her shirt and pulling her to the side causing her to stumble and fall.

tara then got up and lunged at the girl but before you could do the same to the girl who swung at you, you felt someone’s hands in your shoulder.

the hands grabbed you and pulled you back from lunging at the girl. you didn’t register what was happening, all you wanted to do was punch the girl.

as you were being pulled away you caught a glimpse of the scene. colby trying to diffuse the fight, larry grabs quen from jumping in, jake pulls tara back, sam — no where to be seen.

you wondered where he had gone until you heard the mysterious person speak up. “calm down calm down.” sam.

he held you sternly in his arms pulling you away but not far enough because you could still shout to the girls who were also being pulled away. “that’s why you fucking missed bitch! keep trying it.” you yelled trying to fight your way out of his grasp. that was when you realized who it was holding you. you groaned. “let me go.”

he held you tighter. “no. you’re gonna get fucking expelled yn.” he said sternly his arms fully wrapped around you. “stop fighting me yn. fuck.” he complained before successfully pulling you from the situation and walking you out toward the parking lot.

you looked back seeing that the fight was separated but you didn’t see any of your friends.

you then took a deep breath, adrenaline coursing through your veins. because you were far from the fight sam loosened his grip letting you free yourself from his grasp. “the fuck is your deal?” you immediately went off, the heat of the situation still lurking.

sam immediately became irritated. “my problem? i just fucking saved your ass.”

“saved me?! i can handle myself. i didn’t need you to do shit!” you argued. “i don’t need you to fucking worry about me!”

his jaw clenched. “it’s not my fault i don’t want you to get in fucking trouble yn.” he breathed through his nose.

“since when do you give a fuck about what i do?” you crossed your arms.

“i don’t know! i didn’t fucking expect myself to care about you or want to be protective of you either, alright? i fucking despise you.” he paced around, looking unsure of the words he was spewing out.

“yeah you say that and yet you act like you’re in love with me or some shit.” you replied but as soon as you did, his irritated facial expression dropped and got replaced with one you couldn’t read.

he gulped, refusing to make more eye contact with you. he pressed his lips together, looking stuck in thought. that’s when his next words were spoken up quieter than before: " and what if I was?”

it was like a slap in the face. his words caught you extremely off guard. you didn’t know how to feel, but all you knew was that his words didn’t make you disgusted, irritated, or angry. no, his words made you feel giddy. you felt weird butterflies in your stomach as he said that.

you didn’t know what to say as he moved closer to you. getting inches and inches closer. “you fucking piss me off but somehow… i cannot stop thinking about you.” his face was centimeters away from yours. your lips fell open in awe.

you stood there allowing him to get closer with no complaint. he then whispered, “say something.” he expression made it look as if he was pleading for you to acknowledge him. his eyes desperately searching yours.

you chose your next words carefully, feeling as if you had just come to your true feelings that you buried deep within yourself forever. “i can’t stop thinking about you either.”

© slxtarchive

[soft-pine]

when i think about this scene from 15.15 it makes me want to chew glass and tear up the walls in rage.

AMARA: I wanted two things for you, Dean. I wanted you to see that your mother was just a person, that the myth you'd held onto for so long of a better life, a life where she lived, was just that, a myth. I wanted you to see that the real, complicated Mary was better than your childhood dream because she was real. That now is always better than then. That you could finally start to accept your life.

for the record i want to say i am a known amara-hater. don't like the non-con shit. don't like that she's doing what so many beings in spn do and narrativizing dean's life back at him while judging him because she drew the wrong conclusions. but i think fandom does have a tendency to take those claims at face value because that is easier than combing back through to check if it's correct or not. (see for example, rachel saying dean only calls cas when he needs him in 6.18. narrativizing, incorrectly. but i digress)

so let's talk about mary. because, through the seething rage, i think two main things about this claim. 1. dean does not have this mythos around mary and 2. mary has arguably more of that mythos around dean.

first off, we'll tackle the claim that it's a myth that if mary hadn't died, dean wouldn't have a better life. because that is absolute, utter, dogshit. OF COURSE HE'D HAVE A BETTER LIFE. while i will always maintain that clearly mary and john were far from stable before she died, her death was what speared john forward into hunting, into turning his kids into soldiers, into neglect and parentifying, and every other god forsaken thing he did. "a better life, a life where she lived, was just that, a myth" - girl, i DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE DIVINE, SHUT THE FUCK UP.

like please don't come here acting like dean grieving the future he could have had that didn't include him taking care of his younger brother alone in motel rooms for days while maybe actually being left as bait for the Kid-Eater is a character flaw on his part that he needs to learn better from.

next, amara claims dean needs to see the "real, complicated Mary."

but hasn't he? dean goes back in time and meets his mom in 4.03 and 5.13. and both times he treats her both as a competent hunter and a colleague. like to be clear, before that, i dont think he was wrong to be relying on a four-year-old's memory of what his mom was like because that's literally all he had access to. but dean actually did meet and interact with the whole, complex woman who was his mother long before amara decided to teach him a lesson with her as the homework. in both 4.03 and 5.13, dean tries to give mary advice to save her life but he doesn't belittle her experience hunting or her desire to leave and life a normal life. i don't know what more you want from him in terms of interacting with his mom as a whole, real, complex person?

this also applies wholly and completely to his interactions with her when she returns in s12. he apologizes for being nervous for her safety (AFTER SHE WAS JUST RESSURECTED) at first. mary says she wants to hunt, dean gets on board. mary says she needs space, dean asks clarifying questions to best support her request. he gets mad at her not for being who she is or needing what she needs but for lying to him for months and working with people who tortured him and sam.

in fact, s12 is what i would point to to indicate how well dean articulates and navigates the nuance of being hurt by someone's actions while still understanding and empathizing with why they did it and forgiving them. for example, he says this in 12.04

DEAN: This whole mom thing, it's... I mean, we get her back, and then she leaves. I hate it, but I get it. I do. I guess I'm just...still working through some of that crap. I'll try to be less of a dick about it.

[you're not a dick, dean, ilu]

in fact, dean's much maligned "how 'bout for once, you just try to be a mom?" isn't even about dean wanting anything particularly maternal from mary. it's about him not wanting her to ditch them to hunt alone and/or with the aforementioned torturers.

so circling back to amara's speech about expectations and myths. cause while her words do not apply to dean. amara's speech does remind me of something that happens upon mary's return in s12. these lines from 12.03:

DEAN: Mom, it's okay. All right? You're home now. MARY: No. I'm not. I miss John. I miss my boys. SAM: We're right here, mom. MARY: I know. In my head. But I'm still mourning them as I knew them. My baby Sam. My little boy Dean. Just feels like yesterday, we were together in heaven, and now...I'm her, and John is gone, and they're gone. And every moment I spend with you reminds me every moment I lost with them.

of course she has every right to grieve the time she lost with her kids. but someone in this room is having trouble really looking at the people in front of them because of their idealized memory of who they were compared to are and It Is Not Dean.

and i just think about dean's speech in 12.22. cause it wasn't dean that needed to see the real mary. it was mary, tucked away in her dream world where sam is a baby and dean is a little elementary schooler who likes pie and has never held a gun, who needed to see the real dean.

[zot3-flopped]

Sylvia Plath did not stick her head in an oven for this! When Taylor Swift took the Grammys stage last month to claim her award for Best Pop Vocal Album for Midnights, she saw that spotlight as an opportunity to announce her 11th studio album: The Tortured Poets Department. The follow-up cut to audience members—Swift’s music industry peers, mind you—told us all that we would ever need to know, and the collective disinterest across the crowd echoed through our TVs.

Folks from all walks of life took to social media to express a multitude of reactions. Swifties clamored to their beloved monarch’s forthcoming era, while others lambasted the terminally cringe title and artwork and ridiculed Swift for making a night recognizing musical achievements across an entire industry about herself—knowing perfectly well that it would send her fanbase into a surge that would, no doubt, overpower the excitement around the ceremony itself.

Quite a few people questioned whether or not that moment suggested that a critical—definitely not commercial—tide would turn against the world’s most-famous pop star. And, perhaps it has—but, to most, it will look like nothing more than a single ripple in Swift’s ocean of successes.

Swift remained relatively hush-hush about The Tortured Poets Department up until its release, leaving her fans, admirers and haters alike with nothing but an album title to ponder about. And it’s a bad title.

If you have never been in Swift’s corner, her taking the route of labeling her next “era” as “tortured” was likely catnip for your disinterest. If you are a fan—not necessarily a Swiftie, but even just a casual lover of her best and brightest work—you might be beside yourself about the first Swift album title longer than one word in 14 years.

In terms of popularity—certainly not always in terms of quality—no musician has been bigger this century than Swift, which makes it impossible to really buy into the “torture” of it all.

This is not to say that Swift being the most famous person in the world makes her immune to having multi-dimensional feelings of heartbreak, mental illness or what-have-you.

But, she has made the choice—as a 34-year-old adult—to take those complex, universal familiars and monetize them into a wardrobe she can wear for whatever portion of her Eras Tour setlist she opts to dedicate to the material.

Torture is fashion to Taylor Swift, and she wears her milieu dully. This album will surely get comparisons to Rupi Kaur’s poetry, either for its simplicity, empty language, commodification or all of the above.

And, sure, there are parallels there, especially in how The Tortured Poets Department, too, is going to set the art of poetry back another decade—as Swift’s naive call-to-arms of her own milky-white sorrow rings in like some quintessential “I am going to take pictures of a typewriter on my desk and have a Pinterest mood-board of Courier New font” iPhone fodder. 2013 called and it wants it capricious, suburban girl-who-is-taking-a-gap-year wig back!

Soaking our book reports in coffee or having our moms burn the edges with a kitchen lighter cannot come back into fashion; the cyclical notions of culture cannot make the space for such retreads.

There is nothing poetic about a billionaire—who, mind you, threatens legal action against a Twitter account for tracking her destructive private jet paths—telling stadiums of thousands of people every night that she sees and adores them.

Tavi Gevinson says it well in her Fan Fiction zine: “When 80,000 people are also crying, you become less special, too.” If Swift can return to one of her dozen beach houses across the world, kick up her feet and say “I’m a poet of struggle,” then who is to say that millions—maybe billions—of people with access to a notes app and a social media account won’t dream that dream, too?

Maybe that looks like a net-positive, but it’s inherently damning and destructive to take an art form that has long stood on the shoulders of resistance, of love and of opposition to power, systematic injustice and climate warfare and boil it down to the new defining era of your own 10-digit revenue empire. “My culture is not your costume,” yada, etc.

The Tortured Poets Department does begin with a shred of hope that, just maybe, Swift knows what she’s talking about—as she sneaks in a cheeky “all of this to say,” textbook transitional phrasing for poets, on opening track “Fortnight.”

But “Fortnight” unmasks itself quickly as a heady vat of pop nothingness, though it isn’t all Swift’s fault. “I was a functioning alcoholic, ‘til nobody noticed my new aesthetic,” she muses, attempting to bridge the gap between a behind-the-scenes life and on-stage performance—only for it to occur while propped up against the most dog-water, uninspired synth arrangement you could possibly imagine.

Between producer Jack Antonoff’s atrocious backing instrumental and the Y2K-era, teen dramedy echo chamber of a vocal harmony provided by out-of-place guest performer Post Malone, “Fortnight” chokes on the vomit of its own opaqueness.

“I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary,” Swift muses, and it sounds like satire. This is your songwriter of the century? Open the schools.

The Tortured Poets Department title-track features some of Swift’s worst lyricism to-date, including the irredeemable, relentlessly cringe “You smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate, we declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist / I scratch your head, you fall asleep like a tattooed golden retriever” lines glazed atop some synthesizers and drums that just ring in as hollow, unfascinating costuming.

Aside from the Puth nod, which I can only discern as a joke (given the fact that he is one of the 150-most streamed artists in the world and is one of the blandest pop practitioners alive—I don’t care if he can figure out the pitch of any sound you throw at him), I think Antonoff should stick to guitar-playing. Get that man away from a keyboard, I’m begging you.

Synths can be, if you use them correctly, one of the most emotional and provocative instruments in any musician’s tool-box. There’s a reason why keyboards defined the 1980s; they rebelled against the very oppressive nature existing outside of the cultural company they kept. There’s resistance in electronic music that, while they brandish an aesthetic that, to a layman’s ears, seems like technicolor hues for any infectious pop track, it’s a genre that aches to tell its own story. That is simply not the case here, and that electronica hangs Swift out to dry when she drags us through the lukewarm “I laughed in your face and said, ‘You’re not Dylan Thomas, I’m not Patti Smith’ / This ain’t the Chelsea Hotel, we’re modern idiots” lines, only to hit us with a softly sung F-bomb that sounds like a billionaire’s rendition of that one Miranda Cosgrove podcast clip.

I used to rag pretty heavily on Reputation—mostly because I thought (and still do, mostly) that it sounded like Swift had given up on making interesting, progressive pop music; that, in the wake of her (arguably) best album, 1989, it seemed like she’d lost the plot on where to go next. But as she’s put out Midnights and The Tortured Poets Department back-to-back, I find myself clamoring for the Reputation-era more than ever—at least seven years ago, Swift wrote songs like she had something to prove and even more to lose.

That was the always-obvious charm of Reputation, even despite the downsides—that she took a big swing from the echelons of her own musical immortality, that the comforts of winning every award and selling out the biggest venues in the world were no longer pillowing her aspirations. Even though that swing didn’t land, she still made it in the first place—and Swift is at her best either when she is clawing upwards (Reputation) or faced with nowhere to go but into the studio and noodle with the bare-bones of her own sensibilities (folklore).

You get something like The Tortured Poets Department when the artist making it no longer feels challenged, where she strikes out looking.

The mid-ness of The Tortured Poets Department will not be a net-loss for Swift. She will sell out arenas and get her streams until she elects to quit this business (a phrase decidedly not in her vocabulary, surely).

She will sell more merch bundles than vinyl plants have the capacity to make, and rows of variant LP copies will haunt the record aisles of Target stores just as long as Midnights has—if not longer.

Perhaps, in five or six years’ time, we will speak of this record just as we now do of Reputation. But right now, it is obvious that Swift no longer feels challenged to be good. The Tortured Poets Department is the mark of an artist now interested in seeing how much their empire can atone for the sins of mediocrity.

Can Swift win another Album of the Year Grammy simply because she released a record during the eligibility period? The Tortured Poets Department reeks of “because I can,” not “because I should.”

On “I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can),” Swift tries stepping into the shoes of the country renegades who came before her—the Tammy Wynettes and Loretta Lynns of the world. But her self-aggrandizing inflation of importance, glinting through via a seismically-bland bridge, is backed by a minimal set dressing of guitar, drum machine and keys.

“Good boy, that’s right, come close,” she sings. “I’ll show you Heaven if you’ll be an angel—all mine. Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man. No, really, I can.” On “Florida!!!,” Swift calls upon Florence + the Machine to help her sing the worst chorus of 2024: “Florida is one hell of a drug / Florida, can I use you up?”

Even Welch, who is a fantastic pop singer-songwriter in her own right, delivers a grossly watery verse: “The hurricane with my name, when it came I got drunk and I dared it to wash me away.”

Not even the typos on the Spotify promotional materials for this album could have foretold such offenses. I won’t even get into the sonics, because Antonoff just rewrites the same soulless patterns every time.

What separates The Tortured Poets Department from something like Reputation is that, on the latter, Swift made it known what was at stake and who she was making that album for—herself, in the aftermath of her greatest long-standing criticisms (“Look What You Made Me Do” triumphs exactly because of this).

On The Tortured Poets Department, there is a striking level of moral nothingness. The stakes are practically non-existent, and the album sounds like it was made by someone who believes that they had no other choice but to finish it, as if Swift fundamentally believes that her creative measures are firmly embedded in the massive monopoly her name and brand currently hold on popular music. That’s how you get meandering pop songs about hookups, wine moms, Stevie Nicks comparisons, Jehovah’s Witness suit mentions, hollowed-out, tone-deaf nods to white-collar crime in lieu of empowerment and, topically, Barbie dolls.

(Don’t even get me started on the Anthology lyrics, which feature these absolute barn-burners: “Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto” and “My friends used to play a game where / We would pick a decade / We wished we could live in instead of this / I’d say the 1830s, but without all the racists / And getting married off for the highest bid.”) This album and its hackneyed grasps at relevance exist as “Did I just hear that?” personified, but in the most derogatory sense of the notion.

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” features another low-point in Swift’s lyrical oeuvre, as she sings “I felt more when we played pretend than with all the Kens, ‘cause he took me out of my box”—perhaps a measure of her capitalizing on the Barbenheimer mania that none of us could escape, not even the musician who spent most of 2023 flying across the world from one country to another.

But you, us, the listener—we want to believe that Swift makes these records because she has the artistic will, drive and interest to continue giving us parts of her story in such ways that they exist as an archival of her life.

But the problem is that, on The Tortured Poets Department, Swift is packaging her life into a form that is easily consumable for the 17 or 18 years olds who pour over her music. Just because her Eras Tour film is on Disney+ doesn’t mean she has to strip her songwriting (which we know can be, and has been, phenomenal) down for the sake of it being digestible by a wide spectrum of ages.

And, sure, maybe that makes the work accessible. But on The Tortured Poets Department, Swift makes Zoomer jargon her bag—titling a song after one of the most popular video games in the world and conjuring flickers of “down bad” and “I can fix him”—and it feels like she’s cosplaying because the Fountain of Youth was out of order.

Now that Swift is in her 30s, it sounds like she is infantilizing her own audience more than ever before—that singing to them at a level that could force them to reckon with something more akin with adulthood would be some kind of kink in the coil or her consumeristic threshold, that writing lyrics that sound like they were penned by a 30-year-old would, somehow, deter the interests of the billions of people who adore her.

If making one, continuous coming-of-age album is what Swift has been doing for 15 years, folklore and evermore were hiccups in the timeline—existing as the most fully-formed renderings of Swift’s own insecurities and concerns. They mirrored our platitudes towards an uncertain future with sweet, stirring remarks about isolation and heartbreak and the unavoidable, hard-worn truth about getting older. On those records, her larger-than-life living seemed, for once, to truly feel as close to the ground as ours.

Now, though, Taylor Swift is at the top of the mountain. Far better artists have made far worse records than The Tortured Poets Department, but you can’t read between the lines of this project. There is nothing to decipher from a place of quality.

Sure, Swift’s fan base will pour over these lyrics for the rest of their lives—insisting they know, for certain, which song is about who. But you cannot place a bad album on the shoulders of lore and expect it to be rectified.

We are now left at a crossroads. Women can’t critique Swift because they’ll run the risk of being labeled a “gender traitor” for doing so. Men can’t critique her because they’ll be touted as “sexist.”

And, sure, Swift is probably too easy a punching bag in this case—and most of the time, I would argue she is undeserving of being a victim of such barbs. But, you cannot write about someone being a “tattooed golden retriever” and get away with it and still retain your title as the best songwriter of your generation. You just cannot.

Sisyphus should be glad he never got the boulder to the top of the mountain—because Taylor Swift is showing us that such immortality and success ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. And, when you’re standing on the peak alone, who else is there left to hit?

In a recent interview with The Standard, Courtney Love said that Swift is “not interesting as an artist,” and I think The Tortured Poets Department proves as much. She has nothing to fight for, no doubters left to drown.

So where does she turn? Well, to boredoms of celebrity thinly veiled as sorrow everyone and their mother can latch onto—because we’ve all had to “ditch the clowns, get the crown” at some point in our lives, right?

The billionaire is having an identity crisis, but there are no social media apps for her to buy up. So she sings like Lana Del Rey and writes meta-self-referential songs about looking like Stevie Nicks.

What’s hollow about The Tortured Poets Department is that the real torture is just how unlivable these songs really are. No one can resonate with “So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street, crash the party like a record, scratch as I scream ‘Who’s afraid of little old me?’ You should be.” And normally, that wouldn’t be an end-all-be-all for a pop record—but when your brand is built on copious levels of “I’m just like you!” as the demigod saying it to their fans does so from a multi-million-dollar production set, it’s hard to not feel nauseated by the overlording, overbearing sense of heavy-handed detritus we’re tasked with sifting through on The Tortured Poets Department.

Love’s words to Lana, her advice to “take seven years off,” should be applied to Swift. Now, that doesn’t mean that, to make a good album, you must sit on material for years and labor extensively through the sketching, shaping and recording in order for it to be transcendentally landmark. But it’s obvious now that not even Taylor Swift wants to be the head of an empire—that she, too, can’t outrun the damning fate of being plum out of ideas by hopping in her jet and skirting off to God knows where.

See you at the Grammys.

****

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 8: It's a natural progression

genre: will ever write something not angsty?

word count: 6793

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you and spencer finally give into the tension that's been growing between you, but what happens now?

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

I decided to give you all a pause from Abigail because we're now turning into an Abigail Hater Club HAHAH

This is the third time you’re saying this, but you’ll keep saying it until Spencer hears you. “I am not relocating.”

“Y/N, if she found out where you are, we need you to be somewhere else,” Spencer groans, but you have no mercy on him; not this time. Not after everything. 

His hair is pointing everywhere, surely from the way your stubbornness is making him tug at it like he needs the sting on his scalped to remind him to focus. It’s been almost thirty minutes of you two arguing, and this isn’t exactly the conversation you wanted to have when you first woke up that morning. In fact, you could have lived your entire life without having this conversation and you would probably have been a very, very happy woman. Alas, things never really seem to go your way even when they are going right. And right now, you are far, far away from things going right. 

“I am not going to relocate!” You say again, exasperation getting to you the more he insists. Now, your hands are flying around you and it’s like you two have switched places for a second– while he seems tense and immobile, you are gesticulating like crazy, trying to make a point with your entire body; you are not leaving. “I’m done relocating! I’m done being am active case that doesn’t move on! I’m done being thrown around like a doll! Maybe that’s her end game, Spence– have you thought of that?! That she gets some sort of… of… sadistic satisfaction from seeing me squirm away every single time!” You cry out, brows furrowed in frustration. Nothing is making sense to you, and your anger only grows. Why is he so okay with sending you away like it means nothing to you? Why is he not using that big, beautiful brain of his to find other solutions than just rid of you? “I can’t keep running! I can’t keep stopping my life anymore, Spence, I can’t! I–“ 

An odd sense of coldness comes down on you, like a wave crashing against the walls of your stomach, spreading through your veins, cooling down your stressed out brain. It takes you a little while, but you finally understand. You understand his hesitation, his silence, and you understand it as an answer. “I’ll go home,” You mumble, looking down at your hands. They laid lifeless on your lap, almost like they are now tired from all the talking through them. “Yeah, I– I think that’s the best idea. It’ll be relocating, right? I’ll g back home. You must be tired of me here, anyways, and–“

“Don’t.” 

The ice in his voice startles you enough to have you scoffing. “Excuse me?” 

“Don’t make this about something that it isn’t,” His voice is in that whisper-scream pitch that you’ve heard him using with other people. Never you, though. Spencer never got this aggravated with you before, not even when you kept leaving your tea bags inside your empty mugs until they were dry. This, the way he is talking right now, is beyond annoyance. This is anger. Spence is angry at you and that doesn’t make you feel any better. “I’m trying to keep you safe.” 

“The give up already,” You whisper back, slowly getting up from where you’re sitting. “Because I’m not going anywhere that is not my own apartment across the street.” 

The package is still sitting on his counter, and you hate that you can feel it burning deep in your soul. At first, he didn’t want you looking at it, trying to keep you away, but you don’t like when you Spencer keeps secrets and you just push away his hand that is reaching for you. This sounds a bit insane, now that you think back to it, but when you first see the book cover, so familiar you can quote some of its content, you laugh. It’s a daring move, but an effective one– Kill Me If You Can, by James Patterson and Marshall Karp, is all about the chase. And all about the run. “That fucking bitch,” You whisper to yourself, grabbing the book and opening it to the cover page, where her inscription would obviously be– Dear Y/N, Check-mate. What now? XOXO Cat.

You’ve never hurt a book before, but you have half a mind to rip that one to shreds with your bare hands. 

“No, no, no, you are relocating and that’s the end of it.” 

To Spencer, you are the sweetest of the sweets– sugar pours out of your lips and he had the pleasure to taste it. No way he will risk losing that now, not before he can have a chance to douse himself in them. But every time you cuss, every time you frown, he swears that sugar gets the slightest hint of bitterness, and every time he blushes because of it, every time he lets out a sharp exhale with his eyes fixated on you, he can’t help but wonder how well that bitterness would mix in with your sugar. 

Right now, though, you are about to get downright rotten. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are, Spencer Reid?” His full name sounds wrong when you feel this pissed off. “You’re not my dad!” 

“No, I’m not your dad, I’m your boyfriend, and I’m trying to keep you safe!” This time he screams; he truly, really screams, neck veins popping out and face reddening with the strength of his words. Spencer revels yet another side of himself to you. “I’ve lost enough, okay?! I’ve lost enough… First Maeve, then Gideon, and, a-and, and now you– I can’t lose you! You can’t die, you can’t die on me, and it’s like you keep trying to! You refuse to cooperate, you-you are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, and you’ll drive me insane! So please, don’t… don’t let me lose you…” 

The way his voice dies out should’ve been enough to get you to quiet down, but tensions are high and now you feel like you’ve just been hit with a brick to the face.

“You’re my what?!” 

This is news to you, though it doesn’t seem to be news to him. You’ve been dreaming of hearing that word slipping from his mouth, you won’t lie, but not like this. Not in a fight, and your first fight at that. 

Spencer seems shocked at your surprise, and you two go quiet for the first time in what feels like hours. 

“Am… Am I not?” You are still in awe of how Spencer can go from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds. A second ago, he looked like he was about to rip his hair out of his head and now he was back tohis normal bright, wide eyes and fidgeting hands. Whiplash isn’t enough to describe how you’re feeling, staring at him with your mouth hanging open, willing for words to come out but failing every single time. “Oh god, I’m not. I’m sorry, I just assumed that after last night we–“

“Wait, stop, stop, stop!” You shriek, hands going up to cover your face. “I need a second to think!”

“No, you don’t, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, just forget everything I said, I just–“

“I might not have an eidetic memory, but I don’t think I can ever forget what you just said,” You breathe out, hands shaking as you pushed your hair back and away from your face. “Spence… you thought we were dating?”

This has him paralysed. “That’s what you want to talk about? Right now? After everything I said?”

“I want to talk about everything,” You do, you really do; but you need to get this out of your chest right now. You need to start clean. “But we need to talk about this first… because I need to know how to act when we get to the rest of it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Spence, we kissed,” You whisper, hands sliding down your face with a frustrated groan. “And I thought that maybe… I don’t know, I thought we were going somewhere good, you know? Somewhere at all! But then we got to the room and you just pushed me away!” 

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything you didn’t want to!” Spencer defending himself like this feels like you’re living in an alternate reality. To be honest, even if you had had the chance to talk to him like you initially intended to, you weren’t really sure what you’d do after. It wasn’t a situation in which you could predict an outcome, not when it comes to Spencer– he is too good in hiding form the world. Too good in hiding from you. “Y/N, I swear, that’s all! I wanted more, I always want more when it comes to you but I don’t want to get greedy and scare you off.”

“What about the next morning?” If you don’t sit down, you think your legs will buckle under you. So you sink onto the couch, head on your hands trying to keep you from looking at him with hopeful eyes. Spencer doesn’t want to pressure you and you don’t want to pressure him– and just like that you two fall in a cursed, never-ending dance. In a game where both are in defence, no one wins. One of you has to either take a risk or go home crying. And you’re oh so tired of going home crying… “The next morning you didn’t kiss me or, or, or talked to me! I woke up and you weren’t even in bed!” 

“I wanted to make you breakfast in bed,” This is getting more and more ridiculous by the second. Had you really jumped the gun here? “But when I got out of the shower, you were already freaking out about Abigail!”

“What– But what about after?!”

“After we talked about Abigail, I got a call from work and you were almost pushing me out of the door yourself!” This time around, you don’t ask anymore questions, not when you can see how exasperated Spencer is getting. “You said–” 

“Now is not the time to quote me,” You say as softly as you can. Though sometimes it can sting, having your words thrown back at you, you can’t help but smile every time he does it. The secret is in knowing Spencer isn’t trying to hurt you, but simply attempting to logically solve whatever issue he has to face. What he doesn’t seem to understand though, is that sometimes, the issues of the heart, aren’t logical to begin with. 

“I’m just trying to… I don’t know what I’m trying to do, but this is all a bit misunderstanding,” He shuffles closer to you with that look in his eyes that you’ve seen before in the mirror, your own familiar desperation glaring back at you with that lost, confused glint of what will happen next? “Please, I don’t… I don’t have much experience but I– I don’t want to lose you. Y/N, please… help me.” 

“Spence, what do you mean?” 

“Help me,” He whispers again, worry sketched on his face like it belongs there. His breathing is shallow, and you notice the way his hands wrangle each other in his lap. If anything, he’s trying, and failing, to hide from you for the the first time. As gently as possible, you reach up with a small smile playing on your lips, and you press your thumb to the lines between his brows, soothing them in a back and forth motion. “Help me, I don’t know what to do.” 

The way he chuckles in that coy way he does whenever he feels like he’s out of his league is what pushes you forward, the carefulness of your actions clashing with the eagerness in your kiss. You’ve been waiting for this all day, and everything inside you melts when you feel his hands reaching up hold you close, cradling your face as if you’re the most precious thing he has ever touched. There is a slight shake to them when his lips move over yours and you can’t help but smile, laying your smaller hands over his– I got you, you want to tell him. I’ll help you. 

“Y/N…” His words hit you with a puff of air, lips brushing against each other every time he speaks. If Spencer pulls back an inch, you follow; if you try to put some distance, he follows. The wall between you two that had been shaken before was now completely shattered, bulldozed by his hands sliding down your neck, your sides, tugging on your waist until you’re as close as you can possibly be. Until you’re on his lap, surrounded his arms, overtaken by him and him only. “Don’t go home.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” You promise, laying your head on his shoulder like you’ve done many other times before. “I’m not relocating.” 

“Y/N–” 

“Who’s Maeve?” 

His body tenses underneath you horribly, and you hate that it’s all because of you. “I–“ 

“You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want to,” You say, pushing his hair away from his panicked eyes. “I just want you to know I heard you. I heard you talking about Maeve and Gideon and me, and I think if we want to start… whatever this is… we need to lay our cards down,” It’s a risky move, if anything. Not only are you asking him about his past, you will also allow him to ask about yours, and that is only fair.

“But what is this?” He asks, eyes sharp on yours while you play with his hair to try and distract yourself from the reality of it all. “What are we?” 

“I mean, you said you were my boyfriend, right?” You don’t want to be the one to make a decision this big, but then again, it shouldn’t be all him.

“Then what are you?” He mumbled, eyes threatening to shut the more your fingers run through his hair. “Are you my girl?” 

A move you don’t really expect from Spencer, but that is welcome nonetheless. The way you two look at each other, like teenagers all giggly about confessing, is equal parts pathetic and hilarious. But it’s the way you two chose to go about it and that is all that matters. Until you remember that this is reality, and you’re not a teenager anymore– there are higher stakes at play here that have to be addressed. There is heartbreak in the end. Pain. Hurt. Fear. That’s what you had before, waiting for you in the end of a very dark tunnel, and you’re scared that’s what will be waiting for you this time around, too. Not because of Spencer, but because of you.

“Joshua McMannon,” You mumble, slowly climbing out of his lap and sitting on the other side of the couch. Like a barrier, you bring your legs up, hugging your knees close to your chest in an action that Spencer will surely read right– separation, space. It happens whenever you talk about Josh, the wave of shame and embarrassment that paralyses you inside-out. The self-loathing. “He was uh, a big shot new player in the stock market, worked for some big firm I forgot the name. We met in a bar, I think. I know this sounds crazy but I blank on a lot of memories that include him, it’s– it’s hard to think back.”

“Y/N–“ 

“No Spence, I can’t ask about you your past without telling you about mine, that’s not how it works,” You say with such a tone of finality that he doesn’t even try to fight you on it. “So please, just… listen to me. The entire thing, because it makes me look dumb and foolish, I know it does, but I want to be honest with you, I don’t want this coming back later to haunt us, okay? So just… don’t judge me to harshly. Please.” 

His silence is enough to encourage you to keep on going. 

“You know a bit about it and there isn’t much more to tell, to be very honest,” There are some undertones of anxiety in your voice, and you know he hears it. You know he wants to move, pull you back to him, comfort you, anything. But he respects the shield you’ve put up and he listens, just like you asked. “He was one of those guys that love the chase, you know? Likes showing off, too, so I was always uh, well dressed and all that jazz. Josh hates when I– no. Sorry. Josh hated when I looked sloppy. He worked hard to play hard, according to him, so he wanted to show things off. Expensive restaurants every day, expensive clubs every night… expensive girlfriend all around.”

“No,” Spencer quickly blurts out one of the many words he’s surely holding in. “No, Y/N, you’re not something to show off, you’re not a thing!” 

“You’re sweet,” You chuckle. “But I was a thing to Josh. Something he owned, remember? And I fell for it, Spence. I was so, so stupid and desperate that I said nothing, I just went along and played into his fantasy until I couldn’t anymore. So I started talking back. Saying ‘no.’ You know what happens next, I guess. You know his type. I didn’t.” 

Gulping, you look down at your hands embarrassedly. Spencer would’ve clocked Josh on the dot. He would’ve known who he was and what he’d do in a second. You, on the other hand, hadn’t been so smart. Probably still aren’t. Probably never will be. It’s hard, not putting yourself down when you’re telling the smartest man you know about such idiotic mistakes.

“Y/N, don’t even think about it,” Spencer hisses and all restraint is gone. He is sliding down the couch to sit close to you, and his hands sneak under your knee and give a gentle tug. He’s trying to respect your need for your own space, but he needs to make sure you’re listening to him. “You’re not dumb. You are not stupid. You are a kind woman with a heart too big for assholes like him, and I won’t have you thinking this was your fault. Sweetheart, this is all his fault. You had nothing to do with that, you… you were just in love.” 

“I wasn’t, though,” You whisper, shaking your head slowly. “I really liked him. Like, a lot. But I didn’t love him.” 

“It doesn’t matter, sweet girl,” He gently put your legs over his, hands holding onto your calves like it’s his lifeline. “There is no scenario in which this is your fault. None. Do you hear me?” 

“I hear you,” You’re not lying– you hear him, you truly do. But believing him is a whole other thing, and you’re not sure if you’re there yet. “I’ve been hearing you, Spence. Every time you explain something new or you tell me some more fun facts, I hear you. It’s just that this time around it’s a little bit harder to process, that’s all.” 

“This is a fact like all the other facts I’ve told you,” With one more pull, you get closer and closer to his body until you can feel the press of those perfect lips against your forehead. “It’s irrefutable– none of this is your fault, angel. None of it.” 

Nodding, you relax onto his hold, head resting on his shoulder when you deliver the final blow. “Him hitting me wasn’t my fault, I know that much. I ran after that. It sounds a bit drastic, but I had never been in the position before and Josh is someone with a lot of influence back in New York. I would have never survived in there and I would’ve been scared all the time.” 

“He touched you?” The way he says it, voice sharp like a knife, makes you look up at him with squinted eyes. “Where?”

“What does it matter?”

“Where did he hurt you?” 

Chuckling, you grab his hand and lean your cheek onto it. “Right here,” You whisper, turning a little to drop a kiss on his palm.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Everything about  him screams comfort, from how his thumb gently caresses your face to the way his lips pull downwards in disscontempt. You know that by now, he’s making a mental note to run Josh’ name through Garcia, but that is something you will deal with later. Despite their good intentions, that is not a door you want to open any time soon. “I–“ 

“You will do nothing about it, Spencer Reid,” You say with as a teasing warning. You don’t know that, but Spencer wonders how can you smile while telling him about such terrible memories; how could you withstand pain so well without telling anyone about it before. “Whatever happened happened and it’s done. I just wanted to be honest and give you the full picture before… we make decisions.” 

“And what do you think this will accomplish, huh? That it will change my mind? Make me regret it?”

“I don’t know Spence,” You groan. “I’m just… trying to be honest.”

“And I appreciate that, Y/N,” This time, he kisses you on the lips, but it’s too fast and too light to satisfy the yearning inside of you. “But nothing will make me change my mind. Much less that asshole. I want you. I’ve wanted you since I met you, I–”

His pause lingers in the air with a something heavy over it. This time, you shuffle on his lap to try and get a better look of his face, legs holding you up on each side of him. It’s such an intimate position to be in, you straddling him with his hands dragging from your waist to your thighs then back up again; your hands playing with the little curls by the nape of his neck; his lips, opening and closing and opening again in what feels like failed attempt after failed attempt to tell you something. 

“I– I think I’ve wanted you since Maeve died.” 

There is a lot to unpack in this sentence, but you keep your expression clean of any reaction. He doesn’t need you gasping and fawning over him… he just needs you to listen.

“And I know it sounds messed up and weird, but like, the metaphorical you, you know? The you you are but disembodied and– and now I’m not making any sense, but I mean it.” 

“I know you meant it,” You whisper, nails gently scrapping his scalp. “It’s okay, you can not make sense, I’ll figure it out. I’m good with puzzles.” 

“You are terrible with puzzles, angel,” He chuckles and your shoulders relax a little. “I’ve seen you trying to put together that Pride and Prejudice poster puzzle… I think you’re just good with me.” 

“Hm, I think so to,” You smile. “Why don’t we start from the beginning then? Tell me your story.” 

Nodding, Spencer tugged you a bit closer and you like it– this tugging habit of his, the need to have you pressed against him winning against his need to keep the germs at bay. In a very simplistic way, it makes you feel special. 

“Maeve… I loved Maeve,” He admits, eyes looking into yours with an insecurity that is misplaced– though you are not above feeling the poke of jealousy down deep in your gut, you are mature enough to know when you are being an absolute idiot, and you smile at him. “I love Maeve, but I am no longer in love with Maeve. I mean, she’s dead, so…” Spencer clears his throat for a second, and when he’s ready– only when he’s ready– he continues. 

There is real pain in his voice as he tells you the entire thing, and there is real pain in your voice as you call him name oh so carefully. The tears in his eyes are few, but they are there, and you thumb them away as gently as you can. In your hands is the shell of the man you know, his words slowing down as his brain surely relieves memories he wishes to delete. 

“Spencer,” You call, his eyes shut so tight you think he might just hurt himself if he continues like this. “Spence, I’m so sorry that happened.” 

“It was my fault,” He whispered as if he is in a confessionary. “Diane Turner. That was the name of the girl that killed her. We were trying to negotiate with her and… and I failed.” 

“Spencer, no,” Oh how the tables have turned. “The girl was going to kill Maeve no matter what, and I’m sorry that it came to this. I’m sorry–“ You can’t even say it, confused with your anger and how it makes your hands shake. 

She blindfolded him. 

She read his letters, his fears, and she made them real. 

That is enough to have you wishing you had shot her yourself. 

“Sweetheart,” He chuckles sadly, bigger hands coming to encage yours in a futile attempt to extinguish your anger. Bringing your knuckles to his lips, he kisses each and every single one of them, and for a moment you think he knows– he knows you’d be someone you’re not, for him. Someone who hurts other people. And you think he’d hate himself if that ever happened. “It was a long time ago…” 

“But it wasn’t your fault…” You move until you embrace him, body covering his like a blanket willing to keep him from the cruel, cruel world around you two. “No matter how long ago it was.”

“I guess that’s just something we both have to learn,” His voice is muffled by your sweater, and you pull back a little. When he offers you his pinky finger, you don’t need any explanation, wrapping yours around it with a giggle. “Something we’ll help each other learn.” 

“It’s a deal,” You whisper, leaning forward and dropping a slow kiss to his lips. “Sealed with a kiss.” 

“Does this mean that now you’re actually my girlfriend?” He asks after a while and you laugh, loud enough to burst the bubble you two created. 

“If you want me to be, yes.”

“I want you to be, in case you haven’t noticed by now,” God, you love when he jokes, the casual tone of his voice making you both relax. “But I also want to be your boyfriend.”

“Hm, you want an awful lot, don’t you?” Pushing his hair back, you smile impossibly wide. “Good think I want a lot, too.” The way he kisses you makes you believe that you truly are the only girl in the world, even if just his world. “Now you have to tell all the guys that hit on you that you are taken.” 

“Spence, what guys?!” You snort, eyes wide when you try to move and sit next to him. He is quick to catch you, though, and place you back on his lap. 

“Just because you don’t notice people flirting with you doesn’t mean they don’t!” 

“Okay, wait a second, I notice–“

“I’ve been flirting with you for months!” He says in that way that makes his voice go a tone higher, his smile so wide and bright that you can’t help but laugh. 

“Maybe you’re bad at flirting?” 

“Even Garcia noticed,” Spencer points out and you groan, knowing that if you admit defeat he will forever gloat. “But that’s okay. We got there in the end.”

“We did… which is why I’m not relocating.” 

“Y/N, this is for your safety.” 

“I’m safer closer to you,” You whisper. “Spence, I won’t be safe with god knows how many strangers surrounding me in a location I have no clue how to navigate. Here, I have you and I’m in a familiar place– I know the closest subway, bus stations, taxi points. I know the owner of the cafe down the street, I know your neighbours, hell, I even have Abigail! Isolating me is not safe. Please.” 

For a moment, you wait. You’re unsure if you got through to him, his eyes looking at you so intently that it’s a little embarrassing. Everyone knows his brain works differently– it works faster, better, more precisely. Whenever Spence zones out like this, it’s not because of lack of attention, but simply because he’s thinking… and what a wonderful thing it is to see him think; to see those theories taking form in his beautiful head, to see those honey coloured eyes working out probabilities that you’d never even get close to understand. He’s a special one, and you love that about him. Because you love him.

And as much as everything between you two is new, this feeling is quite old. 

This growing warmth in your chest, expanding like rivers of gold adoration through your veins. 

It’s not surprising that you love Spencer. 

It’s only natural, considering how much he loves you. 

How you know it? 

“Yeah, okay. I’d feel more comfortable with you here with me, anyways.”

Well, it’s obvious. 

“And you’re right, you know?” He continues, speeding through his words as if he’s trying to convince you and him both. “You know this area well. Cat has managed to get through us easily, and I don’t know what I’d do if she found you and I was the one to send you all alone to strange place where you can’t ask for help…”

“That won’t happen,” You promise, shaking your head at the terrifying thought. “So does that mean I’ll stay here or go home?” 

The reason you enjoy asking Spencer obvious questions is because sometimes, times like this, you get to see his personality shinning like a beacon in a dark night. His sassiness is so refreshing that you can’t help but giggle every time he lets it out. “Don’t be ridiculous,” He mumbled, rolling his eyes like the little know-it-all he is. “You’re obviously staying here. You’re my girlfriend, you’ll stay where I can protect you. Which is also something we have to talk about.” 

“Nooo,” You are so tired of talking about things at this point. “Can’t we talk about it tomorrow? Please, I just want to spend one nice evening with my boyfriend without discussing the fact that his psychopathic stalker wants to kill me.” 

“Y/N, that is not funny!” He gasps when you chuckle. “Sweetheart, I just want you safe. I think it would be important for us to have a plan if someone ever breaks into my apartment, for example. You should know where my gun is and–“

“Woah, woah, woah, no way!” You shriek, climbing off of his lap and standing right in front of him. The though of having to use a gun makes you nauseous. “I don’t want to know where your gun is, and I don’t want to even think about the possibility of having to actually point it at someone!”

“Okay,” Spencer says softly, getting up too and coming to hug you. Despite people thinking that Spencer is not quite adept to human touch, he has gotten quite good at comforting you, knowing exactly how to hold you and how to talk you down of your rising panic. “That’s okay, it’s okay. We’ll talk about it another day, we don’t have to overwhelm you right now, it’s alright, my angel.”

For a moment, the two of you just… stand there, swaying from side to side while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. “Can we just be normal for a night and watch a movie?” You finally ask, looking up at his smile because right now, that’s the only thing that matters to you– him. 

“Yeah, let’s watch a movie.”

For a few hours, life is perfect. 

For a few hours, you get to kiss him like you’ve been meaning to. Touch him like you’ve been meaning to. You get to run your hands through his unruly hair, pushing it back and feeling its softness slip between your fingers like the finest silk that ever was. He touches you, too, albeit a bit more reservedly. His fingers find the sliver of skin on your hip, thumb caressing back and forth, sending shivers up and down your spine. His lips brushed against your cheeks, your neck, your collarbones.

For a few hours, you laugh and smile and chat. You memorise more fun facts to put on your little notebook later, now secure on the left bedside table, right next to where you lay every night. He tells you how the movie doesn’t make logical sense and how they have physics all wrong. He points at the screen and his voice gets higher and higher with his passion for correcting fiction and you can’t help but shut him up with a languid kiss. 

For a few hours, you two are just a couple. This is just a date. And this are just good.

But the higher you climb, the better it gets, the harder you’ll fall. This might just be what Cat wants– you, in perpetual anxiety, always looking over your shoulder, always scared of losing the little you were able to build in your new life. From what Spence and his team have told you about her, Cat’s main skills are all mental; manipulation, gaslighting, coercing. Is this how you’re going to end? Terrified with ever step you take, antsy at your boyfriend’s house while watching a movie, giving up on your bookshop so that strangers don’t have such an easy access to your life? 

For a few hours, you didn’t have to worry about that. 

For a few hours only… because once the second movie is done, you two are forced to pull apart thanks to the incessant knocking on Spencer’s door. “If this is Abigail again,” Spencer warns as he gets up, lips all swollen from kissing and making out. “I will arrest her.” 

“On what grounds, agent?” You hug a pillow close to you, completely ignorant to your current messy hair and blushed face. 

“Cockblocking,” It’s so rare to hear such a word coming from someone like Spence that you can’t help but burst out laughing. “JJ?”

The name has your smile slipping a little. Why is JJ here? Did something happen? The moment Spencer opens the door, she’s marching inside, her beautiful blonde hair floating in the air as if she is some sort of magical being. “Spence, what the fuck?!” She cried out, completely oblivious to your presence in the couch. “Why are you not picking up your phone? I’ve been calling– Hotch mentioned something about you not taking Y/N to a secondary location, are you insane?! You can’t take care of her all by yourself, she’ll–“

You clear your throat as loud as you can, smiling sadly at her when she turns around with a shocked expression. “Hi, JJ.”

“Y/N, I’m– I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were here…”

“She is,” Spencer suddenly sounds quiet, eyes cast down as if he’s a child who’s been caught red-handed doing something wrong. But then he raises his head, chin high and chest puffing out a little. “And she’ll stay here with me. Y/N doesn’t want to be moved to a secondary location, and considering we don’t know who Cat’s secondary is, I wouldn’t say it’s wise for us to do so. She’ll be alone in an unknown place. I… I would prefer if she’s here. With me. And officer Kaper.”

JJ’s eyes go wide and you can understand her surprise to hear her usually shy and quiet co-worker being so adamant. Hell, even you are a little bit surprised. “What you prefer?! Spence, this is not about what you prefer! This is about– oh my god, you two were making out.” 

Her observation is so dry that you almost choke on air. “What?!” His voice is a dead give away. Or maybe it’s the way you wince, looking away from her, that gives you two away. “JJ, this is none–“ 

“You are having an interpersonal relationship with a victim under our protection in an active case,” It’s the way she describes you as a victim, as if that’s the only thing you are to her, that makes you exhale harshly. “Yes, Spencer, this is my business.” 

“Uhm, technically–“

“Y/N, I’m sorry, but not now,” She speaks to you like a mother, and from what Spence has told you about her, you know that she has two wonderful boys. Two kids for her to mother. You, however, are not one of them. 

Slowly rising up from the couch, your voice is shaky when you speak, but your proud of yourself regardless– confrontation is not your best suit, some might say it’s your worst suit, but there is no escape this time around. Not if you want to stay with Spencer. “I’m sorry, JJ, but yes, now. I’m the one this is all happening to. I’m not a passive participant in all of this and I do get to make choices, even if those choices are against your recommendation. I chose to stay here. Not Spence.”

“Why here? Why not–“

“I know the area!” You basically squeak, frowning deeply at her. The JJ you know is sweet and soft-spoken. This JJ is… well, not that. This JJ is someone who gets the job done. This JJ sees you as a job. And that hurts. “Cat knows you guys, she has shown us again and again that she is one step ahead– look at what happened to Officer Kaper. He has a family! His wife and kids were there and– fuck, JJ, if something happens here, I know where to go! I know where to run to, I know the back alleys, I know the people… I can’t handle you guys taking me away from everything I know again. I can’t, I’m sorry, I just can’t, I–“

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re not going anywhere,” In a second, Spencer is by your side, arms pulling you into his chest. “You’re stay here, sweetheart.” 

“Spence–“

“JJ, do you think I’m stupid?” The question shocks the words out of both of you. “I calculated the odds, okay? I know the risks. I know the pros and cons. But do you know what else I know? I know that when we thought Maeve was safe, her stalker was in her apartment. We put her under protective custody, and Diane still got to her. She could’ve been with me, I could’ve saved her!”

JJ doesn’t speak, and neither do you. You are frozen in place. Spencer had told you about Maeve just hours ago, described the entire thing, told you all the details of what happened back then… but he never touched on the now. On how he feels now. On how he remembers the whole thing now. On how it still affected him now. You can feel the anxiety on the way his breath shudders. The anger in his words, the regret, the fucking guilt As gently as you can, you circle his waist and squeeze. There is a part of you that hates doing this in front of someone else, giving them a part of this reality in which only you and Spencer exist; but he need to know you’re still here. Next to him, where he can keep you safe. “Maeve wasn’t your fault, Spencer,” JJ whispers, and you see in her a glimpse of the woman you’ve met before. “It wasn’t your fault…” 

“But this is!” He shouts back, stopping himself from lurching forward thanks to your body glued to his. Instead, he cradles your head closer, shuts his eyes tights, and let out the most pitiful exhale you’ve ever heard. “This is my fault… Y/N wouldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for me.” 

“Spence–“ You can’t even deny it. Logically, it is his fault this is happening– Cat is after you simply because she’s after him. That is undeniable, and you lose yourself in the endless search of what to tell him, how to comfort him. This is your Spence. Your boyfriend. And you don’t want this type of phantasmagoric guilt hovering over his head over the course of your relationship. This is how things end before they begin. 

“I won’t let her take Y/N away from me,” When he looks at JJ again, you gasp. His eyes shine with a determination you’ve never seen before, jaw tense and hands holding you to him like he means in. This time around, you know he means is. “Not now, not ever.” 

---------------------------------------

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[kjdkive]

it's a date — mark lee.

"i know! but i think frank ocean is gonna have an amazing musical comeback." mark tells you very excited as you are scooping ice cream for this charity event you volunteered to work at.

mark is not someone you would call a friend, he's a friend of your friend and you also like him a lot but in secret. you're not trying to date johnny's friend or maybe you are. you can swear there's this tension between you but not one of you dares to make a move.

"honestly, don't you think people are hyping it too much that it may disappoint turning everyone into a hater?" you ask him.

"they could never make me hate my father frank. dude, it's like sza, how many years did she leave us to dry and when she came back it was an amazing album?"

"yeah, i guess you're ri-" you don't finish the sentence "shit."

"what?"

"the guy that has been bothering me for a while is here and i think he's coming our way." you turn your back to the counter and face mark awkwardly.

it's a funny story of how this guy started to bother you, asking you out every single time, one would dare to call him a fan but you don't want anything to do with him. not so funny anymore.

"hey, y/n! care to give me a vanilla ice cream?"

you quickly scoop the ice cream without greeting him back and hand it to him.

"aren't you gonna introduce me to your friend, y/n?" the weird guy asks.

"sup' man, i'm her boyfriend." he fully stares at him, the other guy with the ice cream getting uncomfortable.

you look at mark and then look at the guy whose name you don't remember, you try your best to not laugh and to also try to not feel a zoo in your stomach.

"oh, i-" the guy starts.

"what? you got a problem?" mark asks him, holding you by your waist and turning you to him, making you turn your back on the weird guy.

you place your palms on mark's chest and just turn around a little to see your basically stalker finally giving up on you.

"not a problem, man, just wondering. guess i'll go."

"yeah, that's better." mark says back.

you start giggling as soon as the other leaves, making mark look down at you and smile.

"i'm your girlfriend now?" you ask him.

"yeah, you're my dream come true." he's still caressing your waist and back.

"don't you think you have to ask me out for a drink first?"

"you don't like drinking, y/n." he smiles "i was thinking about taking you to that pizza place you're always recommending to everyone but me."

"are you finally asking me out on a date?" you smile too.

"i am." and he can't stop smiling and giggling "will you go out on a date with me?"

"i'd love to, mark."

[india422]

Babygirl, nothing and no one in the world can make me hate you.

With dealing with this misogynistic-ass, biased-ass, lowkey racist-ass fandom, this (unfortunately) will not be my last time saying this: leave Vaggie the fuck alone. The hatred and vitriol towards her is unwarranted, disgusting, and forced. You don't have to like her - hell, you can hate her if your heart so desires - but don't make up things/reasons to hate her. Don't character bash her because of petty hatred. Don't be hypocrites and hate her for doing one thing, then turn around and praise/hype up another character for doing the same thing. Shit, just say you hate/dislike her one (1) time and then move on, because anything after that is just showing that you're an undercover fan.

And as for her relationship with Charlie...these two women are in no way toxic to each other. Yes, they are flawed; yes, there are things they can fix within themselves individually; yes, they're not all over each other like a lot of you want, but so what? Listen, I know that a lot of your feelings are still hurt because Charlie isn't with Alastor, but get. Over. It. That is in no way, shape, or form a reason to constantly hate on Vaggie...unless you're just THAT immature. And honestly, I'm glad Vaggie's presence makes a lot of you (shippers and haters alike) bitter to the core - all it means is that Vaggie really is THAT GIRL™️. Her existence really has you all that angry? I'm impressed.

All this to say, Vaggie isn't a perfect character, but no one in this show is - and that's the point. Also, we only have the first season, so stop being so impatient with Vaggie's arc/development. It's coming. We have three more (and maybe more) seasons to get through. Just trust Viv and the writers to do right by Vaggie; besides, Chaggie's getting a sexy number and a peek into their bedroom life, so...chill out.

And let me say this before I post: I firmly believe in ship and let ship, so I apologize if it seems like I don’t. As long as no one is being abused, it’s not incest, p#do stuff, or anything like that, then ship what- and whomever you want. It is entirely possible to like a character/ship without bashing and assassinating another character or ship to do so (and don’t be hypocritical either). You don’t have to like what I like, I don’t have to like what you like. I am so tired of ship wars in this fandom - I am. Being rude and trying to tell people what they can and can’t like solves nothing at all. Just block/scroll and move on.

[spidybaby]

Okok but hear me out, it's okay if you don't wanna do it, I just keep thinking of this scenario😭 Reader helping Pedri shave even if she loves his beard and now that he's injured, he's growing it and one day she notices and it's like "Ok, let's do some shaving" and he's like "No, you like it and I'm not playing, the beard is staying"

"I hopped off the plane at LAX with a dream and my cardigan." You sing using the hair brush as a microphone. "Welcome to the land of fame excess"

"Woah" Pedri shouts as he walks into the bathroom. "Am I gonna fit in?"

He was helping you with your routine

You both laugh but continue with the singing, changing to a Quevedo song.

"Dale caele uh uh uhhhh," you point at him, he blush at the thought of the World Cup and the video of him singing this song. "Dance with me."

You play a bachata song, grabbing his hands and pulling him to be closer. One hand on your waist and the other intertwine with yours.

"Te diría que volvieras pero eso no se pide." He sings while moving his hips at the rhythm of the song.

You dance in the middle of the bathroom. Laughing and enjoying each others company, something you loved about him. Every moment was like the first time.

"Okay, let's finish here so we can see that movie you like." He kisses your cheek, breathing your smell.

"Can I help with your skin care?"

"Only if we match headbands."

You laugh, nodding your head. You open the drawer where you have some hair bands, clippers, bobbypins.

You grab two blue headbands, the same ones you got with the purpose of him using it while leaning how to do his skincare.

"Okay, come here." You place the headband on his head, making sure to place it right so his now dry hair doesn't get wet again. "Pepi, not to be a hater, you know I love your beard, but I think you need to shave."

You squish his cheeks, kissing his now ducky lips.

"Oh please, mom says it looks good." He pouts, bringing his hands to his face. "Plus, I'm not playing, so it's not like I have to forcefully shave it."

"And it does look good, you look amazing."

He notices how you want to say something else but you stopped.

"But?"

"But you're letting it grow a little too much."

He turns to the mirror, hands patting his cheeks, trying to make it less crazy.

"You don't have to if you don't want to, mi amor." You massage his shoulders, kissing the nape of his neck. "You know you look amazing with every look you pull."

But he's not convinced. Now that you mention he did, in fact, let it grow a little more than usual.

"Pedro?" You ask after he stared at himself for a good five minutes. "Sorry if I made you feel bad, I didn't mean that."

But it wasn't about that. It was about him maybe being to attach to this look. It makes him look older, and to him, that's good.

Being in a job where most of your workmates are older or with stronger looks makes him feel some type of way. Being young is good, but not when the ultras decide to comment on how of a kid he resemble.

"Do me a favor."

"Yes, whatever you need."

"Come here." He opened his arms to you, embracing you and making you turn to the counter of the double sink.

He kisses your head, getting out of the hug but not letting you go. His hands on your hips, lifting you carefully, making you take a seat on the counter.

"You, preciosa." He taps your nose. "Are going to be my barber today."

He prepares everything, taking a new razor, some shaving cream, and his after shave lotion.

You watch him move around the bathroom. Still feeling a little bad about the comment, not thinking it will make him feel some type of negative way.

"You didn't do anything wrong, stop with those puppy eyes, amor." He says, placing the things next to you.

"You really don't have to. I love your beard so much."

"A new look never fails, plus this baby will grow back in a few days, so don't worry." He leans over to kiss you. "Now, grab some shaving cream and apply it to my face."

You let him guide you through it, carefully smearing the cream on him. Laughing at him, looking weird.

"Pedro." You laugh, he kissed you and left some cream on you face. "Stop it, let's be serious."

"Okay, now pay attention." He says, tapping the back of the razor on your head. "Don't press it too hard, like when you shave. And don't worry about timing, we have all night."

You nod, nervous about the job. He wet the blades and handed you the razor. You think where to start and decide that you're using the same logic that you use when saving.

So you begin with his left cheek. Hand shaking a little, and tongue out in concentration.

"Ouch." He screams, backing off and turning his back to you.

"Joder. Pedro, I'm so sorry." You were panicking, thinking you were being gentle.

He turns back to you, laughing. You grab the hand towel you have on your lap and throw it at him.

"Not funny." You pout.

"You should have seen your face." He laughs, forehead sticked to yours. "Such an easy target."

"Quit it." You warn him with a smile. You push him by the shoulders. Opening the water and wetting the blade again.

After some time and some light jokes, you finished the job. You turned on your seat to the mirror, where he was retouching some areas you were scared of doing.

You helped him with taking every extra of cream. Adding some after shave lotion, carefully patting his skin to finish with the job.

"God, you look so fresh and handsome."

"I'll give you two days before you start asking me to let it grow."

You laugh, splashing some water from your wet hands onto his face. "I love every look."

"Thanks for the help, missis Barber." He jokes, arms around you, chin on top of your head.

"Same time next week?"

"Yeah, fuck no." He says, making you both laugh.

♡♡♡

🏷: Miss @gadriezmannsgirl 💕🤭

[watching-sam-and-dean-again]

2025 SPN Con Predctions

(“Borrowed" from Twitter)

This Twitter post (x) made predictions about what they think will happen in the upcoming SPN Con Season, and I have thoughts. This person is totally allowed to post and predict whatever they want, but as I am coming at things from a different fan perspective, I can’t help but adapt their list to make my own predictions.

My Adapted Predictions:

Jared says anything, especially canon compliant (and Jensen agrees), and haters try to make it controversial, and try to get him, and only him, cancelled.

“JenMish” end up sharing a stage, where they stand 6ft away from each other, Jensen throws jabs at Misha and Misha agressivemy hugs an unpiressed Jensen … and cockles shippers call it "gay shit"

I completely agree about the cruise prediction … if it happens, it will not have J2.

Controversy about headcanons … mostly due to some people claiming things are canon when they clearly aren’t. "Headcanons" are totally fine as long as people don’t call them canon.

A certain SPN actor will continue to out himself as a creep every time he steps on stage at a con, but his fans will defend him to the death because "it’s just a joke."

People probably will continue to be mysogenistic about J2's partners, as in they like then or don’t just because who who they are married to …. People will also mistakenly my call it "misogyny" if anyone dares to criticize a woman based on her own character.

I hope Jensen continues only tweeting the occasionally work-related tweet because AAs and hellers are creeps, and I don’t blame him for avoiding them.

I’d say there is a good chance of an airplane selfie … maybe I’ll even see one on a flight, as our locations might overlap for one con … but I’d like to think I wouldn’t bug them for a selfie.

Mark P is barely ever at CE cons anyway. And I don't care either way what happens with him.

Misha will continue to purposely sexualizes Jensen and shit on Jared to pander to his shipper fans … and others will rightfully call him out about it.

I would enjoy seeing a JA, JP or J2 selfie. We’ll see.

I too think Soldier Boy is attractive … but I hope his character really lets lose on the final season of The Boys.

My Additional Predictions:

A jerk fan will pay $200-400+ just to disrespect Jared in an photo op

Someone will ask Jensen yet an other reworded "confession scene" question in hopes that his answer of Dean seeing Cas as a brother in arms will finally change … but it will not.

A heller will make up a lie about seeing JA and MC do something intimate together during photo ops or autos.

J2 will have a scene together in The Boys, and fans will have them act it out in Ops. Bonus: J2 will act it out on stage. (This might happen next year.)

J2 will go for Pretend Kiss #3, or something equally "normal" and silly

More people will get forehead touch photo ops, and more AAs will cry about how it traumatizes both Jensen and themselves, even though J2 have chosen this pose unprompted.

J2 will act out Jensen stabbing Jared in the leg again on stage.

Jared and/or Jensen will highlight how SPN was about the brothers, particularly around the 20th anniversary date … and some "fans" will scream "Whst about Cas/Misha?"

My Totally Selfidh Predictions:

JA will bring his Baby to Boston

Boston will have some special feature being the first CE con of the 20th anniversary year.

Vancouver will have something special since it’s where they filmed the show and only a dozen days off of the exact 20th anniversary of airing.

My photo ops with the boys will turn out well 🤞

I’ll be able to make both planned cons work

Does anyone else have any 2025 SPN Convention Season predictions?

[deathmetalunicorn1]

apollo, hades and hermes reacting to his fem s/o gets transformed into her younger self (around 12 lets say) and now grown so is just epitome of sweetheart and loving person but when she was younger, she was such a hater! like even maybe hate man because of unsaid stuff and just judging everyone around and them, with that “stink” face (i hope you know what face i am talking about lol), she gets back to normal after 2 weeks so how would they react to younger version of his s/o?

-(Love’s) eyelid could only twitch, staring down at his lover, you… well you from several years ago. You had somehow reverted to twelve years old, and you had no memory of him.

-He had called around, hearing that this had happened all over Valhalla, but the good news was that you would return to normal, like the others, after a few hours.

-(Love) smiled, coming back to where he had left you on the couch, scrolling through your phone, “You’ll be back to normal in just a few hours Y/N!”

-You rolled your eyes, your lip curling up for being interrupted as you scoffed, “Whatever.”

-Comical tears appeared in his eyes, he had no idea that you had been so…salty when you were younger. It didn’t fit as you were always just a sweet and gentle person; you would sometimes cry if someone would raise their voice at you, so to see you like this was… unusual.

-He just smiled, trying to be friendly and make the best of the situation, sitting beside you but giving you your space, as you made that very clear when he first found you like this, “Won’t you be happy to be back to your normal self?”

-You looked at him over the top of your phone, a slight glare on your face, “I’ll be happy to get away from you and your stupid haircut.”

-Apollo- The back of his hand lifted to his mouth, appalled by your words as he turned pure white in horror before he fell from the couch in slow motion, landing face down on the ground where he quickly was in tears. You weren’t bothered, putting your headphones on as you played your game. Apollo could only pray that you would change back soon- he wants his sweet Y/N back! When you returned to normal you weren’t allowed to leave his lap as he covered you in kisses, wanting you to be sweet like you always were.

-Hades- Ouch- okay that hurt, and he felt his eyelid twitching at your snark. He raised three brothers; this was going to be nothing!! Two hours later Hades was at the kitchen table, his head in his hands, two empty coffee cups before him. He didn’t know how your parents were able to deal with you as you broke him. He snuggled you extra hard when you returned to normal, taking out his aggression on you in the form of cuddles.

-Hermes- Had turned to stone, completely shocked that you were so salty and mean. He just thought you were scared, that’s why you were so distant from him, but to hear you insult him, being mean- his brain short circuited. Hermes was very pouty that evening, hugging you from behind while you cooked dinner, now back to normal and you smiled warmly, “You’re awfully affectionate tonight.” He didn’t respond, hugging you tighter, glad to have you back to normal.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Orange Blossoms

Pairing: Buck x Reader

Word count: 5.2

Notes: WOW I can’t believe I have like nothing to say for notes like usually I can’t shut up here okay. Anyway I’m working on that other secret series that I’m really not sure I’m even gonna publish but I kinda want to move to marvel again who KNOWS

Chapter 2: Backpack, Backpack

Buck changes his screensaver immediately.

 Back to just a photo of all of them, because if Bobby sees that he’d probably skin him alive. He’d already all but threatened him to stay away from you. In a sweet, loving, dad-type way. 

“You go anywhere near her and I kill you” 

Okay, maybe he did threaten him. 

But it was probably just a joke, Buck would be the perfect son-in-law!

“It wasn’t a joke” 

How does Eddie always know what he’s thinking? 

“Does this mean I really have to stay away from her… because I can’t do that Eddie? I’m in love” 

They’re standing together holding a hose, it’s a pretty routine fire thank god it hasn’t gotten too big. Eddie moves over to the side and Buck follows him 

“First of all, you’re not in love, you’re infatuated. You’re not a Disney princess Buck, as much as you’d like to believe you are. It takes time to fall in love.” 

“It takes time to fall in love” Buck mocks him in a high-pitched voice, Eddie snickers knowing he’s absolutely right 

“What’s your second point, jerk.”

“Second of all, she’s Bobby’s niece. And he said to stay away from her” 

“Okay, but she's Athena’s niece!!”

“They’re married? And she calls him Uncle Bobby. Are you really getting all technical on my ass!” 

“I am giving the future Mrs. Y/N Buckley all the respect she deserves!” 

Eddie stops fully, turning to look at his delusional best friend. He doesn’t usually give em his last name. He must really be down bad for you 

“We really… need to talk about how you plan your entire life with someone after knowing them for all of six seconds” 

Buck gives him an incredulous look, like Eddie had never done that before. He kicks at him to turn back around. 

“I can hear the bells” Buck sings “well, do n'tcha hear em chime? Can't you feel my heartbeat keeping perfect time?” 

Eddie’s head falls back as he bursts out laughing, he nearly drops the hose as Buck sings the entire damn song in a silly voice, dramatically acting it out. 

He’s humming it all the way back to the station, he gets weird looks from everyone but he’s in too good of a mood to care. They tease him and try to get a rise out of him but he just shakes his head 

“Nothing you say will ever dampen my spirits, you're all just haters!” He sticks his tongue out at them 

“You’re usually this happy when you’ve got a date… so who is she?”Chim asks from the front seat and Buck stalls a little 

“Uh- no! No, it’s not a date it’s just… uh”

“Buck is talking to my cousin Alicia!” Eddie shrugs, as nonchalantly as possible “Yeah Alicia, he was Insta-stalking her so I just you know told him to…go for it”

“Long distance? That doesn’t sound like you” Bobby narrows his eyes and Buck looks at Eddie frantically 

“She’s coming here! Soon! To visit!” 

“Oh, that’ll be nice!” Bobby seems happy about that and Eddie immediately gets on his phone…he needs to send a text. 

Buck hears the rumble of your engine before he sees you and he’s already sneaking out to come greet you. Eddie notices him being shady and not finishing restocking the engine, so he follows him. 

Buck looks like he’s in dreamland, he watches you park your bike and take off your helmet, shaking out your long pink hair. The sun is shining just for you today he’s sure, the rays illuminating your glowing skin. And boy are you showing quite a bit of it. Your shorts are so tiny Buck isn’t even sure you’re wearing any underneath the sweatshirt you use for riding. You pull that off too and lay it across your seat. His eyes are glued to the orange cropped tank top and how cute it looks with your light blue shorts. He wonders if it’s difficult to drive with all your shoes, the white platform sneakers give you a little extra height but he still towers over you and that’s the way he likes it. 

“Hey, wifey,” Buck says sweetly, his voice soft and breathy. Eddie’s mouth drops open as he walks up to you both and Buck snaps out of it, his eyes wide as saucers as he puts his hands up

“No, god, no I mean… uh… hey wiffle ball??” 

“What” Eddie says under his breath, looking at Buck like he’s crazy. You bite your lip and shake your head trying to control your giggles as the boys lead you inside the station 

“Hey, volleyball?” 

“That’s… that’s not even the same category,” Eddie says, his face scrunched up as he puts his hands in his pockets 

“And you can do better?” You sass him, your hands on your hips. 

“Uh yeah. Pickle ball? Cricket? Dare I say, baseball?” 

“Wait, why cricket?” Buck asks 

“Because there’s a ball and a bat are you guys actually criticizing my thinking skills” 

“I’m just saying it’s kinda out there” You poke at him 

“Yeah, what are we? British?” Buck scoffs and you giggle when Eddie kicks your shoe and flicks Bucks's arm in pure annoyance 

“Why are you even here?” He says through gritted teeth playfully and you laugh, side-bumping him.

“Athena asked me to deliver some paperwork Bobby forgot to fill out” 

“Oh doesn’t she usually do that?” Buck tilts his head and wow he looks cute when he does that. You blush a little and look at your shoes for a second 

“Yeah, but she said I might have more fun” 

“Uh I walked in on them last time” Eddie gags “I don’t think you’ll have more fun”

“I mean she could, I know a great closet” 

Buck just says it, it’s a good joke, a great joke. Your mouth falls open and Eddie slaps his hand over his mouth gleefully 

“Oh my god” 

Buck looks confused for a second “Wha…” His eyes widen and he puts his hands out “Wait no! No, I was kidding! Well, I mean if you-“ He smirks, running his hand through his hair 

“Buck!” Eddie shouts 

You’re all out laughing now as Buck turns a wonderful shade of red 

“I just- I mean it’s not off limits you know it- guys shut up!!! It was a joke!” 

“What was a joke?” Bobby comes over, confused as to why you’re here and why Buck is trying to find the nearest ax 

“Pickleball” Eddie blurts out and you nearly keel over, wheezing. His excuses were not his best today. 

“We uh we gotta go” Eddie grabs Buck, who is holding his head in his hands whining loudly, and drags him away 

“Bye Y/N! See you later!”

Bobby watches them run away, his eyebrow raised 

“You’re not talking to either of them are you?” He asks and you roll your eyes and wipe at the little tears 

“No… we’re just friends Bobby. And they’re nice! I like hanging out with them”

“You’ve gone out with them?” He crosses his arms over his chest and you blush lightly 

“Uh… yeah? J- just to hang out and get to know them. I don’t have any friends in L.A Bobby you know that”

“You have May! She’s a great girl! She can introduce you to all of her friends”

“Bobby, we barely know each other anymore. We haven’t done anything together since we were literal children. And you know, whilst she has offered to take me out next weekend and introduce me to her friends, she and I have already decided that I’m not sticking around that friend group unless it’s an occasional hangout. Those are her friends and her life. So until she and I get closer…neither of us are letting you and Athena force us together.”

Bobby looks at you, struggling for words. He puts his hands on his hips sassily

“You know. You two don’t have to make that much sense. Just- I love Buck and Eddie don’t get me wrong. They’re my kids! But promise me you’ll be careful. Because if someone asked me who I would let my kid date from the team I would absolutely say none of these people” 

You giggle and hand him the papers from Athena, standing on your toes you kiss his cheek and wave goodbye 

“I promise I’ll be careful! We’re all just friends!” 

You walk back outside, a little skip in your step as you walk up to your bike. Buck and Eddie are standing next to it 

“You wanna sit on it?” You call you and Buck fist pumps, eagerly climbing on 

“I was hoping you’d say that!” 

You strut over and stand in front of them as Buck leans forward, pretending to be driving. He makes little car noises and you laugh, your hands behind your back 

“Having fun?” You muse and he sits up 

“Uh- yes. What kind of question is that” he scoffs and you roll your eyes 

“You wanna take her for a spin?” You ask coyly and Buck’s mouth drops open 

“Wait seriously? You’d let me?” 

“Of course, I would! I trust you” 

He starts it up, groaning as it purrs for him. He pats the handlebars and you hand him your helmet 

“Hey,, Buck?” Eddie pokes at his shoulder and he looks up

“Yes, bestie”

“We’re literally in the middle of a shift” 

“I’m sorry I can’t understand your accent. It’s too Texasy” 

“I literally don’t-“

“Buck! Get off that thing! You’re at work” Bobby yells at him from the bay doors and he groans loudly, getting off and handing you back your helmet. You take it from him, giggling and shaking your head 

“Maybe some other time… like this weekend or something! Afterwards, we go bowling with Eddie!” 

Eddie looks between the two of you “We’re going bowling?” 

Bucks behind you, signaling him frantically to say no.

“Yeah! Didn’t Buck ask you?” 

Buck clasps his hands together silently begging Eddie

“Ohhh… uh.. yeah! Yeah, I just totally forgot. Um yeah, I can go bowling this weekend!” 

Buck's mouth drops open and he mimes choking Eddie, you spin around and his hands drop to his sides as he smiles at you sweetly 

“Okay cool!! Well, I’ll see you guys this weekend!” You hop on your bike and Buck helps you put your helmet on. He shyly leans in and kisses the top of it 

“Uh- drive safe! Text me when you know you get wherever you’re going. If you want to that is I mean you don’t have to… you’ll probably text like Athena or Bobby or something yeah yeah you don’t have to text me it’s cool”

He steps back from the bike and you shake your head and he knows you’re laughing at him again. You make a little heart with your hands and wave goodbye to them before driving off.

Buck watches you drive off, your sweatshirt fluttering in the wind. He watches until he can’t see you anymore with his hands in his pockets he turns to Eddie 

“I’ll give you a five-second head start”

“Buck. That’s childish can you just-“

“Five”

“Buck, let me explain! When have I never not had a plan come on!”

“Four”

“Buck you can’t be alone with her yet you-“

“Three-two-one!” He shouts and dives for Eddie. Eddie screams and runs towards the station with Buck hot on his heels. He runs around the truck and dodges Hen with a spin 

“That’s cheating and you know it!!”

“Cheating my ass!”

“What on god's green earth are the two of you doing?!” Bobby calls down from the balcony 

“Nothing!” They yell in unison as they run around the station. 

“That doesn’t look like nothing”

“It’s a new training exercise! Just working on stamina!” Eddie yells back, yelping when he feels Buck’s hand brush his belt 

“That the lamest excuse you’ve ever come up with” Hen mumbles as they run past her again 

“Don’t be a snitch” Buck pants and she puts her hands in the air, staying out of their mess

Eventually, Buck corners him, and they’re in the sleeping quarters 

“I’m-“ Buck's hands are on his knees “I’m gonna kick your ass-“ He wheezes “when I can breathe again”

Eddie slumps down in the corner, letting his head fall against the cool wall

“Not if we die first” He pants heavily, running his hands through his hair 

Okay, maybe Buck didn’t think this thing through how is he supposed to kill Eddie if he passes out from lack of oxygen? They take a good six or so minutes to breathe normally again 

“I said yes so that way she could say she was going with both of us not just one of us and then I’d cancel or show up and just say my arm or like back or whatever was hurting so I could just sit back and keep score.”

Buck is laid out on the floor, he looks over at Eddie, his nose scrunched up 

“Wait, why didn’t you just say that?”

Buck has been staring at the picture you sent him for the last 20 minutes. You’re standing in the full-length mirror at Athena’s house, a little peace sign. You texted him as soon as you got home and after that picture boy does he wish he was better friends with May, he knows she’d “invite” him over. 

He knows it’s just… a little pervy, the way he stares at your thighs in the full-length mirror. He thinks that’s his favorite physical thing about you. Your full, plush thighs, especially in those mini skirts you just love to wear. And these shorts you’re wearing are absolutely no exception. They hug your body like they were tailored to fit you. Actually, he’s pretty sure they are tailored. 

He sighs dreamily hitting the favorites button

“Is that Y/N” 

He jumps so far out of his seat that he fumbles with his phone before slamming it awkwardly into the table 

“Did you just break your phone?!” Hen stares at him 

“I sure as hell hope not! What uh what can I do for you? Need somethin? A smoothie? You want a smoothie I’m gonna make you a smoothie” he runs over to the fridge and starts pulling things out. Hen picks up his phone, looking it over, and thank god it’s not cracked. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” She says, taking his seat and holding out his phone to him. 

“Uh, what question?” He turns on the blender, miming that he can’t hear and Hen crosses her arms over her chest, giving him a look. He smiles sheepishly once it shuts off and pours her smoothie 

“Y-yeah that was her.” He unlocks his phone and hands it over with the smoothie 

“Damn”

“I know!!” Buck squeals he’d joked about proudly showing you off to his coworkers and now he’s actually doing it. 

“She’s a nice girl… Cap knows you’re texting her?” 

“No and neither do you” Buck goes over to his “secret cabinet” pulls out one of his good mini chocolate bars and hands it to Hen. She takes it from him, opens it up, and takes a bite out. She groans softly and her eyes roll back. He always keeps those fully locked up 

“Right?”

“Right.” Hen gives him a double thumbs up and grabs her smoothie

After making sure Hen is gonna stay quiet Buck goes downstairs, there’s literally nothing to do, he’s checked off his entire list and even did the end of Eddie’s. If he’s this bored… Hopefully, someone else is.

“Hello?” You answer on the third ring and he gulps and then clears his throat 

“Uh hey! Hey Y/N it’s me, Buck” 

“I know” you giggle “What’s up?” 

“Oh…nothin just wanted to see if you were busy or anything…kinda boring around here”

“Did you call me just to talk?” You ask and his cheeks flush. Because yeah but like that sounds lame he could have just texted you. 

“…Maybe?” His voice is hesitant and cracks a little. Oh my god why was that happening so freaking much 

“That’s really cute” You laugh and he hears you rustling around for a minute. “Athena is sending me back out on an errand run with May… but we can text! If you wanted” 

“Yeah no! No texting is fine! I should have probably asked if you were busy first… I’m yeah no I’m sorry we can text”

“No it’s okay, I…like hearing your voice” You mutter shyly and he can hear May snickering in the background. His cheeks flush and he bites his lip 

“You do?” 

“Y-yeah I do” 

“Well good… I like hearing yours too, like, a lot” He admits, his heart is pounding in his chest 

“I have to go but, call me back tonight okay? Like…around midnight? When um-“

“When Bobby is asleep?” He says mischievously and it’s your turn to blush 

“Yeah… will you?” He can hear the hesitancy in your voice and it makes him weak, he just wants to kiss you breathless so badly. 

“It’s a date. I’ll talk to you later doll” 

“You better text me too, Bye Evan”

He hears May teasing you as you curse at her and hang up, he holds his phone to his chest, wilting into his seat and sighing sweetly. Midnight can’t come fast enough. 

The rest of the day drags and not just because he’s waiting to get off but because there’s literally nothing to do, which is the most surprising part. Really he supposes he should be glad nothing is happening, that means people are safe… besides 

It just gives him more time to talk to you. 

And boy does he, he starts slow with his memes, you have to kinda ease people into your insanity. But the second you send an Optimus Prime thirst trap on TikTok all decency and manners fly out the window and you’re both trying to send each other the worst things you’ve ever seen 

He’s falling faster and faster for you. Just call him Princess Buck. 

“What are you laughing at?” Eddie comes over, lifting Bucks legs up and plopping on the couch with him

“Um…nothin” he mumbles, distracted as he laughs into his fist at the Nick Fox thirst trap he’s sending you “don’t worry I’ve been sending them to you too”

“I already regret being your friend. Who else did you send them to?” He toys with Buck’s pant leg 

“Um… Y/N we’re just…talking” 

Eddie hears the click of a camera and he frowns, looking at Buck who shrugs and doesn’t look away from his phone 

“We’re also snapping” 

“Snapping? You sound like a teenager” He chuckles but puts his feet up on the coffee table and scrolls through his phone too 

“Teens use Instagram nowadays, old ass man. I asked for her snap just to see pictures of her, I just- god hold on” 

He pulls up the picture from earlier and hands his phone over. Eddie lets out a low whistle and Buck wriggles on the couch 

“God I know right! I don’t care if she suffocates me, I’d die happily” He says and Eddie laughs at him, his head falling back on the couch 

“Yeah. You know a closet” 

Buck groans and slaps his hands over his face 

“I can’t believe I said that to her” 

“She thought it was funny” 

“Okay but low-key? I wish she would have like said bet or something”

“I’m pretty sure you would have passed out” 

“Oh I know I would have and she could have given me mouth to mouth”

Eddie rolls his eyes, laughing at Buck again 

“You’ve got it bad my man” 

“Oh you have no damn idea” 

It’s around 10pm when a call comes in, and Buck is always too distracted by the voice message you sent him to get his stuff on. Eddie swipes the phone from his hands and glares at him, He blushes and gets his stuff on almost faster than he ever has and snatches it back, patting Eddie on the cheek before they load into the truck 

“Apparently a bonfire in a kids backyard got a bit out of hand, everyone be ready to possibly have to cut line but there should already be another team there doing it. Be advised the house is on fire but it’s small for now”

Athena is already there, with a few drunk people in her backseat. She’s talking to someone quite animatedly, her voice is low. 

“Everything oka- May??” Bobby stops, looking between them. Athena stands back, her hands on her hips

“Where’s Y/N?” He asks immediately and May sighs loudly 

“I don’t know. I’ve tried to say it a million times I don’t know! The fire broke out and we got separated!” 

“I’ve tried contacting her but she isn’t answering” Athena looks like she’s ready to rip her hair out. Bobby puts his hands on her shoulders, his voice is full of worry as he kisses her forehead 

“Hey, we’re gonna find her okay? I promise” 

“She’s here for a couple days and I’ve already lost her.”

“You didn’t lose her mom, I did. I should have kept a better eye on her! But she said she’d be okay! And Crystal wanted to show me something and-“ She starts up and Athena sighs, hugging her

“It’s not your fault baby, Y/N is an adult. You were both right, she can take care of herself”

Bobby walks over to Eddie and Buck who are hosing down a section of the yard 

“You two have Y/N’s number right? Can you call her real quick?”

“Uh, yeah sure.” Buck shrugs and pulls out his phone, it takes a second with all his stuff on. 

Bobby takes the hose from him and stands behind Eddie

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks, looking back at him and he shrugs 

“Yeah… just uh. Just call, Buck” 

It rings six times which is the longest its ever taken you to answer 

“Hello?” Your voice is so small it takes him aback. 

“Uh hey, hey Y/N”

Bobby perks up, motioning to keep her talking 

“Where- where are you? You sound funny” He walks away a little, so he can hear you better 

“I’m-” you hesitate and Bucks anxiety skyrockets

“I’m a firefighter Y/N, you can tell me anything” He says soothingly, his voice dropping an octave 

“I’m in the house”

“Where in the house” He turns to it and starts running, the fire is slowing down but not nearly enough. He mutes his phone for a second and alerts everyone on the radios 

“It’s- it’s so stupid”

He stops, smashing the unmute button

“Y/N, please. Fuck, the house is on fire. You do realize that right?!” 

“It’s what?! I-I’m locked in a closet in the basement. N-nothings happening down here!”

“Alright, I’m coming to get you okay? I’m coming, baby” 

He doesn’t even have time to cringe at himself as he runs into the house, Hen and another couple of guys are already shutting doors and putting some of the smaller fires out but it’s definitely staying consistent 

“Where’s the basement?!” He asks you, panting slightly as he frantically looks around

“The kitchen, there’s a doorway” 

He hangs up the phone and shoves it in his pocket

“Y/N??” He yells for you, panic seeping through his veins 

“Have you found her?” Bobby radios him “do you need help?”

“Buck??? Buck, I’m in here!!” You’re pounding on the door as hard as you can to get his attention 

“I’ve got her! I found her!” He calls into the radio as he runs over to the door 

“Y/N? Is there anywhere you can stand to the left or right, away from the door?” 

“I think so?!” You back up into the corner as far as you can, pressing yourself against the wall

“Alright! What now?”

Buck readies his ax, holding it in his hands

“Now I channel my inner Jack Torrance!” 

You shriek as the ax breaks through the door and he begins to create an opening for you. He breaks into the door easily…if he’s being honest he probably could have kicked it in… but this was more fun. 

“Don’t you dare” you say as soon as there’s a clear small hole

“When am I ever going to be able to say it with someone who would actually laugh about it in a completely unprofessional way!!” 

You groan and duck down more as a few wood chips fly

“…Fine!” 

Buck goes just a teeny bit crazy with the axe, most of the fire has been contained so he takes a little more time than necessary. He gleefully smashes the door down, laughing maniacally while screaming “Here’s Johnny!” 

You do laugh, because it’s stupid and it’s so Buck, and watching him enjoying himself is cute. As soon as the hole is big enough for you, you step through and he yanks you into his chest immediately, you let out a little squeak and hold onto him 

“What the hell were you doing in there? You could have died!” 

“I didn’t know! I tried calling May but she didn’t answer the phone and… and I didn’t want to call you and-“

“Wait, why didn’t you wanna call me??” Buck pushes you back a little just by your shoulders and you look down at your feet. He tilts your head up and that’s when he realizes your makeup is a bit ruined. He chalked it up to the heat…but you said there wasn’t any 

“Why didn’t you want to call me? Did something happen?” He asks a little calmer this time

“We should get out of here. The building could collapse” you quickly change the subject and try to pull away from him but he stops you. He bends down to your eye level and forces you to look him in the eyes 

“It’s structurally sound. Trust me. Y/N what happened.”  

You look down at your shoes, wringing your hands together and sighing 

“It’s… childish” 

“No it isn’t. Just tell me.” His voice is firm and he looks upset, you groan and let your head fall back before looking at him again 

“These girls asked me to go downstairs and get some extra buckets from the closet and then they pushed me in and locked the door. Apparently, I was chatting up one of their boyfriends, I didn’t know! I just- I saw his shoes and they were cool and then he told me they were custom from Etsy and I asked for the shop!! And he was so nice Buck, genuinely he was! He asked for my number just to send the link!” 

You unlock your phone and show it to him, the number isn’t even saved, just a link with a little smiley face and a “Demon Slayer shoes” and that’s it. 

“I…I tried calling May and she didn’t answer.. and I was locked in this stupid closet like I was a teenager again or something so I just…put my phone on silent and cried. And I didn’t want to call you because I would seem like such a baby. Like who still locks people in closets!” 

Buck listens to your story and he looks pissed. First of all, no one hurts his baby. Second of all… you could have died if you hadn’t picked up the phone when he called, and you almost didn’t. 

Buck does what any sensible man would do in this situation, he stands up tall, looks around for a moment 

And he kisses you. 

It’s sweet and lingering, he tilts your head up and presses his lips to yours gently. He watches the way your eyes close slowly and you kiss him back and he wishes he could just stay there forever but eventually you have to breathe and he makes you pull away, not him. 

“You want me to go find them?” He spins the ax in his hand and you snicker, shoving at his chest 

“Absolutely, let’s commit murder together!” 

“Sounds good to me sweetness” He winks and you roll your eyes, pulling away from him. He frowns a little at the loss of contact but shakes it off 

“We should probably get out of here, your family is going insane… May is really upset” 

He takes his helmet off and puts it on your head and you giggle while holding it down to tilt your head up 

“Yeah okay” 

He holds out his hand and you take it, he starts to lead you upstairs but you stop for a second, planting your feet 

“Whats wr-“

You let go of his hand and rush past him, going up a few steps and turning around to kiss him. It’s quicker this time, just a peck and he’s spiraling immediately, giggling deliriously as you jog up the stairs pulling him with you now 

The second you step out of the house, Athena is on you, frantically checking you over before crushing you in a hug, May is crying and promising she’ll never leave you alone again and you’re hugging her, trying to console her. Buck takes this time to step away and go find Eddie, you give him a little wave over May’s shoulder and he blushes, waving back. 

He nearly crashes into Eddie when he finally spots him, going running over. He’s standing in front of the truck securing the hoses 

“Eddie Eddie Eddie Eddie” His voice is high pitched and his hands are shaking. He grabs Eddie’s shoulders and starts shaking him

“Buck calm down!” He’s laughing as he pushes him back a bit, he hands him a bottle of water and Buck takes it , chugging it before tossing it into the trash 

“I can’t, oh my god I can’t, guess what?!” He squeals and Eddie snorts, shaking his head 

“What?”

“We kissed. We kissed, we kissed, we kissed!!!” He practically screams the last one and Eddie yanks him over to the other side of the truck shushing him 

“Okay- first of all, calm down. Because everyone is going to know who you kissed. What happened???”

Buck can hardly contain himself, he holds tightly onto Eddie’s arms just to keep himself from floating off into the clouds 

“Okay well she told me about these girls that bullied her and locked her in a closet. How freaking 90s teen movies is that!! And she didn’t want to call me because she thought that would make her seem like a baby but she’s not a baby Eddie she’s really not and she was starting to tear up and I couldn’t stand to see her cry so I just kissed her!!”

Buck is speaking at a million miles an hour and Eddie is nodding his head along just trying to follow his story 

“No she’s not a baby, but oh my god she could have died”

“That’s what I told her!!! And then guess what oh my god Eddie guess what”

“What?” Eddie chuckles a little at his enthusiasm, it’s endearing 

“I put my helmet on her to make her smile and it worked and I held her hand-“ His voice is becoming squeaky again “and then she let go of my hand and I was like-“ he gasps “what if I went too far??” 

“Because randomly kissing her wasn’t far but holding her hand was” Eddie says sarcastically 

“Exactly!!!” Buck points at him and he squints but goes along with it 

“She went up the stairs because you know she’s short as hell, and she kissed me again” 

Eddie’s mouth drops open and Buck literally starts jumping up and down, he does a little spin, dancing around before shaking Eddie 

“Yeah!!!!”

[bl00dline]

my take on nosferatu (2024) as someone who loves silent movies, 19th century history, and gothic horror-- a highly informal and adhd-fuelled review

i finally got around to watching nosferatu in theatres the other day, and needless to say i was VERY excited. i have many many MANY thoughts on this movie, so here's a bit of verbal vomiting as to what i thought about it! all of my thoughts surrounding major spoilers will be under the cut

so overall, WOWWOWOWOWOW. i think the original movie has ABSOLITELY been done justice. while there is something that bothers me about this adaptation (which i'll get to later), this movie was easily a 5/5 for me.

the main thing that made me love this movie is the AESTHETIC. this movie is absolutely STUNNING. the colours and sets make this movie so immersive and i swear to god i was SALIVATING over the 19th century gothic aesthetic. like if you look inside my brain it probably looks like this

now i am fucking insufferable when it comes to historical accuracy with 19th century costumes, but clearly the people involved with this movie DID THEIR RESEARCH. the silhouettes were right, the hair was perfect, the attention to detail was amazing, and what shocked me the most was the accuracy of the undergarments, especially the corset and split drawers! there were only a couple very minor errors, which i think can be forgiven considering how generally accurate the costumes were.

these genuinely make me want to sew an 1830s outfit :') but anyways yeah the costumes made the movie even more immersive.

i love how ellen was portrayed, too. i'm very likely projecting because i've loved her character for a while now, but i thought that her relationship with count orlok was a great metaphor for mental illness. her recurring visions/trances really reminded me of the recurring nature of illnesses like depression and anxiety and how inescapable it feels. her line about not feeling human was a huge mood too, and yeah as someone who's neurodivergent i could definitely see myself in her. but again, maybe i'm projecting because i think she's a great character and i dressed as her for halloween in 2019 (which, weirdly enough, is exactly when i first started having significant issues with my mental health. is this some sort of omen should i be concerned)

in spite of this, though, my favourite character wasn't even ellen-- it was professor von franz, played by the national treasure that is willem dafoe. i very well could be biased because i knew beforehand that willem loved being on set with the rats, but i thought that von franz was such a sweet character, especially with all of his cats and having cat treats in his pocket <33 (now that i think about it, that in itself is a DAMN GOOD metaphor too)

but here's the major issue i had with the movie-- count orlok himself. yes, i am another moustache hater. while i can appreciate that robert eggers wanted orlok to be more of a folk vampire by being an old romanian count, to me the vampire just wasn't count orlok. maybe i'm too attached to the original movie, but in my eyes nosferatu is a tall, lanky, ratty looking gremlin, and the more monstrous, corpse-like orlok in 2024 just isn’t nosferatu to me. while his grotesque look definitely made the movie more visceral and disturbing, i really wish he had looked more like all of the other nosferatu adaptations. having said that, though, it was definitely interesting to see a folk vampire in a movie rather than the typical byronic vampire!

anyways i have one last thing to talk about which is very spoilery so i'll put my summary here. overall this movie was just as disturbing as i had hoped, and though some parts DEFINITELY grossed me out i think it really did the original justice. this movie is absolutely not for everyone because it's undoubtedly WEIRD, but i think that if you can handle disturbing content and love gothic horror or 19th century history and aesthetics then you'd love this! i think this adaptation would have made f.w. murnau proud.

anyways, thank you to my friend @nefarious-nightjar for going to see it with me!! 🖤🖤🖤

spoiler time spoiler time spoiler time

so yeah aside from being for the gothic horror bitches and the art hoes this movie was VERY MUCH for the monster fuckers. now i love me a good byronic vampire and it would be SUCH A SHAME if one bit me, but as someone who isn't a monster fucker this nosferatu made me VERY UNCOMFORTABLE-- not in a way that made me dislike the movie, but sometimes i was like. ( ͡ಥ ͜ʖ ͡ಥ)

not complaining that i was uncomfortable though because that’s really what you want in horror! but yeah i’d be a liar if i said the movie didn’t gross me out a bit

but the big spoilery thing i wanted to talk about was the FINAL SHOT.

OUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

this is VERY death and the maiden and it reminded me so much of artistic representations i've seen of that trope. i was hoping orlok would do the dramatic ass pose and burn like he did in the original, but this final shot is just 😫😫😫😫🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

this is what i meant when i said it’s for the art hoes! i definitely think eggers took inspiration from things like this.

but anyways that’s all, i loved this movie and it really needs a rewatch. thank you for putting up with my ramble 🙏🏻

[short-black-diamond]

hey could you do some headcanons plus a little drabble about being bonten!haitani brothers little sister who's in her 3rd year of high-school??

mayhe she drops by to bonten headquarters sometimes when no one is at home and itd be so funny if she was also a raging feminist and talking back to her brothers (and maybe even the other members) if they make any sketchy comments (probably abt the prostitutes in bonten)

Aw Heck yeah I'll do this!

BUT!!! Please keep in mind that I never really watched tokyo revengers, so please bear with me. Anyways I'll try my best!!!

The feminine Haitani Feminist

---

Scenario: You are Rika Haitani, the youngest sister of the Haitani, already in your third and hopeflully last year of high-school. Since you know of your two elder brothers daily activities, you visit them at their meeting with Bonten to scold them for not eating with you.

To say that you were angry was an understatement.

You were fuming at the sight of the dusty and dirty apartment you asked your brothers to clean up before leaving for school, but they never listened. Now, as you were heating up the soup you cooked the day prior to eat with your brothers, you called Ran.

"Hello, my sweet sister-" "Do you have any idea how fucking angry I am right now?! I told you guys to clean our home and you and Rindou just up and left!"

"Okay Rika, let's talk about that a little later-" "No, I'm coming over. I know that you two didn't eat shit the moment I left the house."

And after hanging up on him saying something mid-sentence, you turned off the stove and put the soup in metall containers and locking them securely.

It took you a while to get there but you could already make out the many familiar faces of the girls and women working there, and you greeted them all with a smile, but in your head you frowned.

They were doing a dirty job for even dirtier men.

As you knocked on one of the doors you frequented where your brothers were often in meetings, you opened the door after a silent "come in".

And as you were holding the two containers, you saw your two brothers, your frown deepening and Ran giving you uneasy smiles. Rindou frowned right back at you before looking back and forth between you and his older brother. "Rika, what brings you here?", the middle sibling asked dumbfounded, making you look at him.

It seemed like you didn't even aknowledge the other members' existence, because Mikey was looking at the scene unfolding him with a poker face and even though he might have gotten more depressed over the years, he didn't loose his love for drama, even if it was sibling bickering. It was something he couldn't have anymore. So he always watched with slight fondness and longing instead of interfering.

Haruchiyo Sanzu, Mikey's right hand man as he always dreamt, was looking at you with bewilderment, you interrupted his "king", after all. But seeing the man next to him look at you with something like...fondness? on his face, so Sanzu didn't dare to say anything, fearing that he'd get an angry Mikey like the time he beat up and shaved some Mikey-haters' hairs for Mikey's birthday.

"First off, I told you guys to clean up the apartment before I left for school, and second, you BOTH promised me that you'd eat lunch with me, so why didn't you guys hold your promise?!"

Kakucho was also looking at you, but with slight annoyance. 'Why was this little girl here again? And she just has to be the younger sister of the Haitani brothers, of all people'... Still, he was watching his mouth around Mikey.

"We're sorry Rika, we really didn't want to make you feel forgotten, it's just that-" "You guys were so busy talking about 'Bonten stuff' that you even forget to eat? Tell me, when was the last time you two ate something today?", you unterrupted, looking at your two elder brothers expectingly.

While the two brothers were looking in front of them in shame and you sighing in dissapointment while opening the still hot containers, Takeomi Akashi opened his mouth and letting his inferiority complex speak. "Jeez, letting yourself get belittled by your little sister sure is humiliating, huh? Why don't you tell her to shut her trap so that we can keep going with the meeting, Mikey?", his voice asked, smirking at you smugly while he stroked his ugly beard.

But, you were smiling. "Shutting my trap you say? And who are you to tell me that? Huh?", you asked, your voice bittersweet and your smile too forced. Mikey had a ghost of a smile on his lips, making Sanzu flinch and look at you in amazement.

The pink haired man didn't understand what you did to bring a smile to Mikey's lips, but he sure as hell wouldn't omplain about your sudden visits anymore.

Rindou and Ran were fuming in the meantime. "What did you just say?!", Ran asked, already standing up and Rindou was about to put on some gloves when you snickered and took one container.

"I'm just sayin', she just nags you guys around and brings you food, she might as well become a prostitute like the other women here."

Annndddd, that was the last straw.

As you walked over to him with the containers while staring at him menacingly, takeomi felt slight unease. Why was he feeling so nervous? Were you about to give him something to eat? But there is no spoon-

"AARHRGHRGRH SHIT, Fuck, You FUCKING BITCH!", he screamed as you flung the soup at him, giving him second degree burns, but your glare was ice cold.

There was a long moment off silence, when ignoring the tall man's cry of pain. Sanzu and Kakucho were glad they didn't open their mouths, and Kokonoi was looking at you with wonder in his eyes. Takeomi was at least a whole foot taller and at least ten times stronger than you, and still you had the guts to pour soup on him. You were a brave woman.

Mikey giggled and Sanzu wanted to call the ambulance upon hearing his leader laugh like a child. sanzu also might have gotten scared by your actions, unconsciously touching the scars on the corners of his mouth. Ran laughed his ass off and gasped for air while Rindou stared with an open mouth.

Meanwhile, you were putting the now empty container on the table the men were seated around at, and stepped closer to the guy who was now holding his face. "You know, I don't really like it when people talk about women like that. And do you wanna hear the fucking truth? There wouldn't be no prositutes if no man asked for it. And looking at you, talking about how I could become a prostitute -like the other women here- really makes my blood boil, y'know? Also, aren't you embarrassed for telling that a high-schooler? Let alone the younger sister of your collegues?"

Takeomi had trouble identifying you through the thick liquid threatening to also burn his eyes but when he opened on eye, he was met with a scary grimace of yours with your fist right next to it and in the next moment, he was out cold.

You sighed out before looking at Mikey and bowing in apology. "I'm sorry, Sano Manjiro, for my rude behaviour. I will take my leave now." "Stay. I hadn't had that much fun since I could last remember, Haitani. Please, make yourself comfortable."

And at that, you sat yourself down on Takeomi's stool and he got dragged away by some nameless underlings. Your brothers were giving you and their boss uneasy glances, not sure whether they should do or say something too. The other three conscious men, Kakucho, Kokonoi and Sanzu, were holding respective space from you, also swearing to not step too close to the women working in this facility.

"I'm craving Taiyaki...can someone order food?", Mikey chirped, making you giggle while you took out your phone. "Sure thing! And you two will eat too!", making your elder brothers nod eagerly.

Ran and Rindou didn't know that you could knock somebody like Takeomi out with a single punch, let alone fight.

They'd have to convince whoever was responsible for hiring women for their sinful needs should have a talk with them.

---

HEY HEY HEY!!! I hope that was what you were looking for... I tried to make the characters fit their personalities as well but also not too long, because then it'd would have to be a longer story, and yeah. I also wanted Mikey to have a laugh in a while, poor baby. It was actually fun looking up the Bonten characters to be honest!

I hope I'll get more requests like these!

Read you in the next post!!!