#It’s just not what I actually want to write personally

[gloomiedyke]

Yep yep!

Will I (playfully, lovingly) be horrified and judgemental over someone's taste because I personally find the writing in most of these books horrendous? Yes.

Am I constantly irritated by the ones who are clearly just in it for the clout of Being A Reader despite not actually... being a reader? ("I only read the dialogue" / "I skim any paragraph longer than two sentences" / "I didn't like this book, there were too many words" girl WHAT) Yes.

But I am of the firm belief that there is no such a thing as a 'wrong' book to read, and it's never a bad thing to encourage reading/make reading the 'cool' thing.

If you like your junk food books, read them! Read all of them! If you like straight up porn, read it! If you like the super pretentious classics solely because they make you feel smart and worldly, great, read them all! If you only like comic books, awesome! You get writing AND cool art in one! If you can only muster the energy/focus to read a page a day, or even a page a week, great, I'm proud of you!

There's no wrong way to read so long as you're actually reading, and you're enjoying it/getting something out of it. That's it. There are no rules! Do whatever you want forever! Be entirely unashamed!

And, as OP said: GIRLS GET TO BE HORNY TOO, i may be ace but I support you horny girls!! Read your porn books and talk about them as loudly as possible to scare the men! I love you and your terrible taste! I would kiss you on the mouth, ace be damned!

seeing straight men be disgusted by booktok smut recommenders has actually radicalized me to the side of booktok smut recommenders. girls your taste may be atrocious but i will never disparage you for exposing mainstream discourse to the concept of soaking through your underwear. spent my whole life listening to men talk about penises it’s about time they get jumpscared by women talking about pussy in crude detail on social media. go forth and goon my warriors

[notlongtolove]

to be an accountant of the heart

because it’s utterly, bone-deep terrifying. to look into the eyes of the person you love most in the world and feel the weight of a possibility that you might love them more than they love you.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst-ish, fight and makeup

content: established relationship fight and makeup woof woof rookie bau reader feels insecure about how much she loves spencer, worries she's too clingy, spencer reid best bf ever

word count: 5k

note: this was haunting me in my drafts for the longest time... please be nice my heart can't take it (psa guys don't ever tell ur partners that they love you more than you love them bc 5 years down the road they'll cope by writing deranged spencer reid fics like this)

a line: You’ve always been this way—more flame than moth, more lightning than thunder. It’s one of the things he loves most about you.

and then it is hundreds of hours later, and you are still hunched over your flowcharts and abacus, trying to decide if you have gotten enough. This is the loneliest job in the world: to be an accountant of the heart. - tony hoagland

The English language draws a neat line between many and much. It divides the countable from the uncountable.

The word many is meant for things you can count. How many cups of coffee have you had? How many days will you be gone for? 

The word much belongs to what cannot be counted, what cannot be numbered. How much longer do we have in bed? How much did you miss me? How much do you love me? 

How much?

It’s an innately impossible question. Love, after all, is supposed to be infinite, unbound, unquantifiable. Any attempt to measure it—to reduce something so sacred to a number, a unit—is to taint it. And why would you want to do that? Why would anyone? There shouldn't be any need to measure something so inherently immeasurable. 

Deep down, you know there's no actual way to count love. You suppose this instinct to measure has always been there, to wonder if the love you received can be tallied like time. It’s buried deep, old as the child you once were. 

Still, the question begs itself. How much? How much more? How much less? If comparison is the thief of joy it’s only because it leaves you with the revelations nobody asked for, the truths nobody ever wants to see. 

Put love on a scale, wait and see—Will it balance or won’t it? 

“Glaring at the clock isn’t going to make time pass any faster,” Elle teases from two desks away, her eyes locked on the report she’s skimming.

You don’t bother hiding your sigh as you glance up from where your chin rests heavily in your palm, elbow propped against the desk. The pencil in your other hand twirls idly, betraying your impatience. “He said they landed an hour ago,” you grumble. Only the faintest trace of a pout slips through.

“Working hard or hardly working, ladies?” 

Your head perks up at that. Trust Derek Morgan to know how to make an entrance, arriving right on cue, grin wide and swagger intact. 

JJ, seated beside you and noticeably more amused by your restlessness than concerned, spins her chair around as she asks, “How was the convention boys?”

“It was great—more than great actually,” Spencer says, appearing from behind Morgan. He’s lugging a bag that seems twice as heavy as when you’d helped him pack it five days ago. “All the speakers were incredible. I got to talk with Lonnie Athens himself. He gave me a signed copy of his latest book.” His grin widens tenfold. “It’s not even out in stores yet.”

You’re halfway out of your seat, ready to pounce on Spencer the moment he sets his bag down. But instead, he offers a halfhug and a light squeeze to your shoulder. It’s understated, but it’s Spencer. Public displays of affection aren’t his thing, and you know better than to expect more. Still, five days without him makes you ache for just a little more.

“It was alright,” Morgan interjects with a casual shrug as he takes a seat at the edge of your table, narrowly missing your nth mug of coffee. “Great sandwiches though.”

“Yeah, you sure seemed interested in the sandwiches,” Spencer says dryly, the kind of tone that suggests sandwiches were not the main attraction.

Morgan smirks, unbothered. “New York, man,” he says with a grin. “New York.”

You turn your attention back to Spencer. “How’d you sleep?” you ask, your question aimed entirely at him.

“Surprisingly well, actually,” Spencer replies, “Despite the snoring.”

Morgan’s response is immediate—a light thwack to the back of Spencer’s head. “How’d he sleep? More like, how’d I sleep. Lover girl over here had him on the phone half the night.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” you shoot back, narrowing your eyes at him. But then your gaze drifts to Spencer, searching for confirmation. “Was I?”

Spencer hesitates, his lips pressing into a faintly sheepish line. “I did wake up late for one of the panels,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh, you think you had it bad? I’ve never seen someone go through so much coffee in a week,” JJ says, nodding in your direction, “She wiped out the entire stock.”

“Almost bashed her over the head with a cup of coffee myself when I had to settle for the instant stuff,” Elle chimes in. A collective shudder goes through the group. “No offence, Reid,” she adds.

“None taken,” Spencer replies smoothly, just in time to earn another smack on his arm, this time from you.

You’ve endured more than your fair share of teasing—it comes with the territory when you’re part of a team like this. You, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, three years his junior. Him, more comfortable rambling about the number of kernels on an average cob of corn than talking to any girl, let alone one with a smile like yours that could make his knees buckle. What had been an odd match to some, made perfect sense to others—Though Spencer would argue that Garcia just liked seeing him with any girl who could make him laugh the way you could, especially within three days of meeting him. It’s a feat nobody else has yet to achieve in the year you’ve been on the team. 

“Missed you,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear.

Spencer flushes as his lips part, maybe to respond, but Elle cuts in before he gets the chance. “Save it for later, lover girl. Some of us want to hear about those sandwiches.” 

“Oh, they really were better than last year’s,” Spencer begins, now distracted, completely oblivious to Elle’s sarcasm, “Probably because the annual reports showed an increased budget for the global initiatives.”

JJ raises an eyebrow in amused disbelief. “You read the FBI’s annual budget breakdown?”

Spencer looks genuinely surprised by the question. “You don’t?”

Chuckles echo throughout the group and though you smile faintly, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You just can’t help it as the tally marks start to stack up in your mind. One for the way his attention is just a little too distant, his excitement seemingly aimed at everyone but you. Another for every time you wait for his gaze and it doesn’t come. He’s too absorbed in recounting a discussion about deterministic causality he’d had with a keynote speaker. 

Compared to Spencer, who was often so reserved, it was easy to feel like your emotions were too big, too eager. Dragging him, wide-eyed and stammering, up the stairs to Hotch’s office six months ago had been nothing short of a test of strength and sheer determination. You’d been the one to silence him with a gentle kiss to his knuckles, promising him that everything would be okay. You were a live wire compared to him, everyone knew that. Lover girl, they teased, though never cruelly. In the field and out of it—Clingy to a fault, always wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

Lover girl through and through, you wait patiently for Spencer to look your way. 

He doesn’t. 

“Yours or mine?” Spencer asks as you stand side by side on the curb, bags in tow. 

“Think I’ll go to mine,” you reply curtly. You don’t trust yourself to say anything else right now.

“That’s fine. I’ve got an extra day’s worth of clothes with me.”

“You can go home,” you say, cutting him off. It comes off sharper than you intended. Then, softer, as if trying to backtrack, you add, “If you want.”

He looks at you, baffled. “Why would I do that?” 

It’s not a rhetorical question, he genuinely doesn’t understand. Weekends apart have never really been your thing. 

“Because—” You cut yourself off mid-sentence. What could you even say? Because you seem so perfectly fine after 120 hours apart. Because the tally marks said so. Because the scale said so. Instead, you huff an exhale and settle for, “No reason. You look tired. Thought you’d want to go home or something.”

“Again sweetheart. Why would I do that?” he repeats, incredulous. 

You fight off a resigned sigh, though you’re sure he catches it, and pull out your phone. “I’m calling a cab,” you mumble, thumbing at the screen. “Are you coming or not?”

“Yeah, I’ll come with you,” he says, still calm but clearly confused.

“Fine.”

The ride home is quiet, save for the driver’s rambling complaints about freeway traffic at this hour. Normally, you’d be the one to humour any conversations with strangers, chiming in with polite nods and oh, reallys while Spencer watched, bemused by your ability to make small talk with anyone. But today, you’re just not in the mood, leaving poor Spencer to fend for himself.  

Which to his credit, he does—By turning the conversation into a tangent about how traffic patterns correlate with certain hours and commuter behaviour, and delving into a detailed explanation of the queueing theory. He does this till eventually, even the driver goes silent, though whether it’s out of confusion or exhaustion, you’re not quite sure. 

You can feel Spencer’s eyes on you in the silence, flicking toward you every now and then. The concern in his attention does nothing to soothe you. If anything, it only fans the flames of your irritation. When the car finally rolls to a stop outside your building, you hand the driver a $20 bill, wave off the change, and stride toward your door without another word. You’re out before Spencer can even pull his door open.

Inside, you drop your things on the couch resignedly and kick off your shoes without so much as a care. They land in a scattered heap that you don’t bother to fix. Spencer lingers behind you, ever patient.

“What do you want for dinner?” His voice is soft, tentative, as he bends down to pick up your discarded shoes, lining them neatly by the door. “We could order something. Chinese, maybe?”

Spencer knows you well—knows how your mood sours when you’re running on fumes. Particularly on days like this, when your only sustenance has been a cup of crappy coffee and a few stale crackers he’d coaxed you into eating earlier just before you left, bribing you with a quick kiss on the cheek—After checking that nobody else was in the break room, of course. 

Sullen as you are, you can recognise the offer for what it is. It’s sweet. A thoughtful acknowledgement of how well he knows you, how much he cares. He’s offering you a lifeline, a quiet invitation to let the storm pass without forcing you to name it, something you’re evidently trying not to do. 

But tonight, it feels almost patronising. It’s a spotlight on the hurt you can’t quite temper, like he’s trying to fix something you’re not yet ready to admit needs fixing.

“I can run down to the—”

“I’m not hungry.” 

You walk straight into your bedroom without another word, leaving him standing there in the doorway. You hear him exhale quietly, not quite a sigh but close. Probably one of resignation. Another tally mark falls on the scale. 

“Sweetheart,” he starts. You know he’s testing the waters, trying to find an opening. But you don’t look at him, don’t give him anything to work with. “Can we talk?” he asks, his fingers brushing yours as he takes a seat at the edge of your bed.

“Talk about what?” You’ve always been good at feigning ignorance, but the way you pull your hand away from his is anything but subtle. Spencer sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes briefly. He’s clearly exhausted. This is exhausting. You’re clearly exhausting. You can’t help but wonder why you always do this. 

“Was it Elle? Morgan?” he ventures cautiously. “The teasing?”

“They always tease me,” you say with a shrug, your voice dismissive. “I don’t care.”

It’s a half-truth, and you both know it.

Spencer nods slowly as he tries to piece this together. He knows you’re not usually one to let things fester. You’re never angry for long, and even when you are, you laugh it off, always quick to join in on the joke. He knows better than to profile you—it's an unspoken rule within the team and, more importantly, within your relationship. But Spencer’s anything if not desperate to understand.

He watches you slip into the bathroom with a sigh, shoulders dipping. The light flickers on, but you don’t meet your own gaze in the mirror. You’re not angry. That would be easier. There’s something quieter in your eyes. Defeat, maybe. 

“I missed you,” he offers, stepping into the doorway. His tone is softer now, pleading.

“Did you?” It’s almost sarcastic, but not quite. Irritable but undercut by something raw, as though you don’t really believe he did.

Spencer swallows. “You don’t think I missed you?”

“A little hard to tell between the fawning over Lonnie Athens,” you say, wiping mascara from under your lashes. “Or was it the in-depth analysis of sandwich platters?”

It’s a snap, all sharp edges and fire, and for a second, he forgets the minefield he’s meant to be tiptoeing through. Has to bite back a smile. You’ve always been this way—more flame than moth, more lightning than thunder. It’s one of the things he loves most about you.

“Is that what this is about?” The words slip out before he can stop them, and the second they do, he knows. Rookie mistake. Your spine straightens, your jaw sets, and he wants to take it back, rewind, try again.

“This,” you echo, turning to face him. “What exactly do you mean by this?”

Spencer reminds himself that fire is never snuffed out with ice. You douse a flame gently, carefully. So, he steps forward, quieter now, fingers grazing yours before he takes your hand in his, guiding you toward the bed. He doesn’t pull, doesn’t rush, just leads you toward the bed with the same patience he knows you need when you’re fragile and burning.

Regardless, you try to resist, to hold yourself upright. You’re fighting the urge to sink into it—His touch, the bed, all of it. 

“Sweetheart,” Spencer murmurs, taking a seat beside you. “I know you’re not angry. You’re sad. And I’d really like to know why. Tell me, please?”

Deep inside, you know you’re just clinging on to the last embers of your frustration. But it’s hard—impossible, really, when you’re a fire with no kindle left to burn, and Spencer is all soft whispers and gentle hands, featherlight and soothing. 

You hesitate, twisting the fabric of the duvet between your fingers. “I just—I—You were being mean.”

Spencer lets out a slow, quiet breath. Relief, almost. Not because he agrees—He knows himself well enough to be sure that ‘mean’ isn’t the right word. But he knows you well enough to understand what it means when you say it.

Mean is what you say when you’ve been hurt and don’t know how else to put it. 

So he follows your lead. Doesn’t fight it.

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles stroking your hand with his thumb. His touch is warm as it is gentle. 

Because it’s not about whether he was mean or not. Spencer knows that. Knows you. Knows that kindness has never been a given for you, knows that you wouldn’t recognise patience if it came knocking. And he knows you well enough to know that you think in some twisted way, that you’ve brought this hurt upon yourself, that you deserve it. 

What matters is that you were hurt. And that’s the one thing he never, ever wants to do.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Can you tell me how I did?”

“You just kept going on and on about the stupid conference. You didn’t even hug me or—And then you—” 

You don’t continue. You can’t. You feel ridiculous. Stupid, even. Mopey and small over something that shouldn’t matter this much. Over the realisation that he doesn’t need you. And why should he? It’s not Spencer’s fault. Not at all. 

His indifference is what it is and what it was. Indifference. It sits like a weight on your bones—Cold, sharp-edged, piercing. He can go 5 days without you. You can’t. The tally marks accumulate, unbidden.

“And then I…?” Spencer prompts gently, prying your fingers from the duvet and replacing the tension with his thumb, tracing slow, soothing circles into your palm instead.

“You ignored me, and I just—” Your voice wavers, frustration bubbling over. "I just felt so—so ignored!"

Wonderful vocabulary. Of course, your words would fail you now.

“And the teasing—I know, I know, I can be impossible sometimes, but I just—I just really missed you! And I get it okay? I’m clingy and you’re not and god forbid anybody else is but it’s because I love you!” You inhale sharply, your hands slipping from his to curl into fists in your lap. “And you didn’t react at all, you didn’t even care! You made me feel like—I thought that you—” 

You cut yourself off before the flurry of tears take over and drown you out. 

Spencer waits a beat, choosing his next words carefully. 

“You thought… that I don’t love you?” His voice isn’t laced with sarcasm, nor does it carry incredulity. It’s a genuine question, as though he’s retracing the moments between you, trying to understand how you could possibly come to such a conclusion.

“No, it’s not that—” you’re quick to say, desperate to correct him. You know Spencer loves you. Of course, you know that. How could you not? It’s Spencer. He loves you like it’s his life mission to show you just how much he loves you. “I know you love—I know that. I just—” 

You bury your face in your hands, fingers pressing into the hollows beneath your eyes—A feeble attempt at hiding.

Because it’s utterly, bone-deep terrifying. To look into the eyes of the person you love most in the world and feel the weight of a possibility that you might love them more than they love you.

To want to shout: Love me. Please love me, and please feel it with every fibre of your being as I do with mine. The kind of love that makes you want to scream from rooftops, to etch it into the sky, to burn the world down just to prove its enormity. 

Because then the question comes: Which would be worse?

To shout into the vast, open air and hear nothing in response? No echo of the same intensity. Or to stand amidst the smouldering ashes only to look into their eyes and find they don’t recognise you anymore? To see confusion or pity where love used to live.

You blink your watery eyes open, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you settle on the knobs of your knees, tracing their shape with your gaze. 

Anything but Spencer. Not right now. 

You take a sharp breath, steadying yourself before continuing.

“Sometimes, I feel like you don’t need me as much as I need you and that scares me. And I know it’s stupid, even I feel stupid thinking about it. I don’t even want to be codependent or whatever but I—I just can’t help but think that sometimes—” 

Your breath shudders out of you, long and uneven, “I love you more than you love me.”

To say Spencer feels his heart break would be an understatement. It’s not a clean break, not a single, shattering moment—it’s a slow, relentless unraveling. It’s a gut punch, pain and duress packed tight, failure laced in every syllable. His heart shatters, splintering into pieces so sharp they lodge in his throat, in his lungs, in every part of him that has ever loved you. 

Silently, he’s always known the teasing would hit a breaking point. You’ve worn that insecurity for as long as he’s known you—too young, too green, too desperate to prove yourself. He just didn’t think it would carve its way between you the two of you like this. He’s watched you lean into it, let the jokes land, let them chip away at you. Newbie. Rookie. Lover girl. As if laughing along might soften the edges of it all. 

You flop onto your back on the bed, boneless, the confession stealing the last of your fight. There’s a splotch of blue paint on the ceiling from last month, when you both tried to repaint the room and got distracted halfway through. It doesn’t make you smile, not even  a little.

“That’s not true.” The mattress dips under Spencer’s weight as he settles beside you, thumb tracing your hairline. His arm moves, coaxing you to toward him, gentle in the way only he knows how to be with you.

“You’re not impossible, sweetheart, you never are. And I know they tease,” he murmurs, fingers of his other hand grazing over your knuckles, “but I also know for a fact that you don’t fall apart without me when I’m gone. That would be co-dependency. And I know that’s not you. You passed your requalifications with flying colors while I was away,” he says. “Garcia sent me the records. You know you even beat Morgan’s old score?” 

You sniffle, startled. That had been your surprise. You’d wanted to tell him yourself. 

“She told you?” 

He shakes his head. “I asked. I always ask for updates on you when I can’t be there.”

A small “Oh,” is all you can get out. 

With every other guy you dated, you’d attempted to play it cool, dialling down your enthusiasm, biting back your texts, and pretending to care less than you did. But every relationship seemed to end the same way: you were “a lot” and they weren’t equipped to handle it. It never quite stuck though, and thank god for that. 

Because then you met Spencer.

Sweet, steady Spencer, who didn’t just tolerate your spark but cherished it. Spencer, who had let you cling to his hand during every takeoff and landing on the jet the first week on the job. He never flinched, never teased—Even when everyone else casted him sympathetic looks, the kind that silently acknowledged how your grip was probably cutting off his circulation. Spencer who has kept every scrawled doodle and note you’ve ever given for him, even the ones scribbled haphazardly on napkins or receipts. He knows carbon prints fade within months so he stores them in a shoebox tucked away in his cupboard—Just so they can last that much longer. 

Spencer didn’t just accept the parts of you others found overwhelming. He singlehandedly brought them back to life. Every bit of your spark that had been dimmed or snuffed out by someone else had found new light in his presence.

Spencer’s fingers tighten around yours, a quiet kind of reassurance that draws you back to the present. 

“Being clingy is not the same as being codependent. I know you know that. There’s a clear psychological difference in brain chemistry.” His lips twitch, the smallest hint of a smile slipping through. “You’re clingy, yes. But I love that about you. I love coming home with you. I love coming home to you. I love how hard you love me, how proudly you love me. I know I haven’t been the best at reciprocating that around the team, and I’m sorry. I hate that I made you feel like I didn’t love you, or miss you.”

He shifts closer, eyes searching yours, open and earnest. “Because I did miss you. So much. I nearly blew a month’s paycheck in the gift shop. Spent half of it stocking up on those jelly crackers you told me about.” He shakes his head, like he can’t believe himself. “Morgan said I was whipped when I paid thirty bucks for a pair of souvenir socks.”

With a raise of your eyebrow you ask tearily, “and exactly how many pairs did you buy?” 

“Got you three pairs.” A sheepish little laugh escapes him as he ducks his head. 

And just like that, you’re smiling too. Albeit a small one, but that’s progress nonetheless. “And I don’t think you quite understand how much I love you when you say you love me more.” He leans in, his voice dropping, teasing. “I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m very competitive.”

“Oh, so I’ve heard Doctor Reid,” you quip, eyes rolling. Spencer’s lips curve, just slightly. You don’t even notice the way you press closer to him, but Spencer does. He takes the opportunity to go on.

“In a way, you’re right. I don’t need you,” Spencer says. Whiplash doesn’t even begin to describe the way your head snaps toward him. Flame and lighting, no doubt. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly, his expression already twisting in regret. “I shouldn’t have phrased it like that.”

“I don’t see what other way you could possibly phrase something like that,” you snap pettily, already pushing yourself up to stand. 

“Hey, hey.” His hand reaches out, not quite grabbing yours but close enough to make you pause. “Lie back down, honey. Please.” 

Against your better judgment, you relent, sinking back into the bed. “What I meant to say was, I don’t need you,” he repeats, slower this time, deliberate.

You scoff, a bitter laugh slipping through your lips as you swipe harshly at your damp lashes. “I get it, Spencer. Clearly you don’t.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” he says, his voice unwavering. “Biologically speaking, I wouldn’t cease to exist without you. My heart would continue to beat, my lungs would continue to expand and contract, my brain would maintain its synaptic functions. I would survive.” He pauses then, eyes searching yours, “And can I tell you something?”

You don’t answer, but you don’t pull away either. He takes that as permission to go on. “You don’t need me either.” 

Your lips part, the beginnings of a protest forming, but he cuts you off gently.

“I know you said you do, but your autonomic nervous system would still regulate your breathing, your neurons would still fire, your body would persist.” He swallows, voice dipping lower. “But that’s not the point, is it? Love isn’t about biological necessity. It’s not about survival. It’s about choice.” 

The word "choice" feels almost ironic when it comes from Spencer Reid. You knew that the moment you met him. It was never really a choice, not for you. It was him, or nothing. Desperately, you'd like to think it was the same for him, too.

Your answer comes in the form of his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. He’s patient, always, even when you aren’t. Kind in a way that sinks deep—Like you deserve it. You’re all sharp edges, brittle and worn, and he’s five days off a lumpy hotel mattress, yet the only thing he cares about is brushing away the tears from your skin. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t love you because I need you. I don’t think that would be love at all. That’s survival. I love you because I choose you to,” he continues. “Because you are the strongest person I know. Because you are kind, even when the world hasn’t been kind to you. Because you give so much of yourself without hesitation, without ever expecting anything in return.” 

Spencer smiles, shaking his head. “Because you’re the only person I know who will spend thirty minutes on a call recounting every little thing everyone did in the office that you think I’d like to hear about—before you even think to tell me about your own day.”

“It was funny! Since when has Hotch ever tripped on the stairs?”

It’s unfair really, how easily his laugh breathes life back into you. Your heart stumbles over itself as his hand brushes tenderly along your jaw. 

“I’ve spent every day in awe of you since the moment I met you. And I fall in love with you more and more with each one. Even on the days I’m not with you. Even on the days I’m miles away. Even then.” Spencer presses his lips against the back of your hand as he adds, “Especially then.” 

“Really?”

You can’t help it, the quiet little thing in you that wants to hear it again. 

Your tears have dried, but their traces still shimmer faintly on your skin. Spencer presses a kiss to your forehead, his fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He’d say it again. A hundred times. He’d make that speech a thousand times over, if you needed him to. If it meant you’d never doubt it again.

“Really, my love.”

And just like that, a million tally marks fall at your feet.

A million for the way he presses another kiss to your lips, unrushed. A million more for the way his nose bumps against yours, lingering, breathing you in. Another million for the spark that creeps back into your eyes. 

It’s infinite, unbound, unquantifiable—The way he loves you, the sheer depth of it. You feel foolish for ever having questioned it. You thank your lucky stars—all of them—for Spencer Reid. For the way he’s looking at you like you strung the constellations together yourself. For the way he chooses you, again and again, even when you don’t choose him, when you shut down, when you go quiet. 

Because love to Spencer isn’t desperation, isn’t need—it’s choice. The deliberate, unwavering act of reaching out, of staying, and of saying over and over: I choose you. 

Not because he has to, but because he wants to. To be the one to put you back together again when you’re all embers and ash, to cradle you back onto earth when stare past him into the ceiling, to remind you that there’s still warmth in you left to hold.

To breathe the spark back into your eyes—It’s a choice he made the very moment he met you. It’s a spark Spencer swears he’d spend his whole life keeping alight.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: daylight by taylor swift intrapersonal by turnover

[rollingeevee]

Hello @dawn-sky-collective! I apologize, it wouldn’t let me write a reply to your ask so I took a pic and tagged you instead. Hope that’s ok ^^;

I have not answered this yet, so let’s get into it!

Shadow Milk has things all over the Spire for his darling to do. One thing he is really good at when it comes to a darling is providing them with ways to stimulate themselves. There’s all kinds of tools to engage oneself in creativity, such as art supplies to be used for various mediums; journals and writing materials, canvases and paints, sketchpads, needle and thread, sewing machines, and more. There are dolls and puppets in your room to allow for games and plays. Cards, board games, and other such manners to entertain oneself occupy your room and the spaces you’re allowed. There’s also like- a ton of books, seeing as he was formerly known as the Fount of Knowledge before his corruption. While lies are spread all throughout the non-fiction books, the fiction ones, meant more for enjoyment than education, remain untouched. There’s also the many creatures who lurk around the Spire, some of which take a liking to you, unaware that they should fear their Master’s jealousy.

Mystic Flour’s darling I can see making a hobby of gardening and possibly cooking. Taking care of a lovely array of plants around your Beast’s domain, marveling at their beauty as you cultivate them. Cloud Haetae also loves it when you join them in the kitchens to make buns and other treats. Speaking of Cloud Haetae, they love to play with you, if you allow them.

Burning Spice primarily entertains himself through destruction and fighting, so that’s unfortunately the most his darling can find to do. If you’re lucky, you might find a scroll or two for reading, but that’s about it. Your best bet is to ask the Wild Spices to spar with and help train you (something the Great Destroyer does allow).

Eternal Sugar’s darling likely occupies themself with cooking, cleaning, and, of course, napping. Your Beast loves the food you make and often insists you cook everyday for her and yourself.

Silent Salt’s darling is another incredibly lucky one when it comes to this. Their darling practically wants for naught, as the Beast offers them just about anything they ask for. If they don’t have it, they get it. Books, games, art supplies, musical instruments, you name it. If you want it, it’s provided for you.

When it comes to what darlings are allowed to keep from their previous life, most things are actually allowed. Clothing, hobbies, trinkets, memorabilia. At least… as long as it is on your person. If these things are at home and your Beast is not the jealous type, you might be lucky enough for them to send a minion to fetch the things you wish to have from your home for you. Silent Salt is the best when it comes to this, since, as stated before, their darling wants for naught. The primary thing you are no longer allowed is, of course, your freedom.

[artyphex]

Something that I try to keep in mind when I write Angel Dust centered fics and I hope the show leans into is that Angel being a sex worker/porn actor is NOT the problem, it's the fact that he's in a dangerous contract with an incredibly abusive manager, THAT'S the problem

Like, I think if Angel were able to escape Val and go freelance, he'd still make porn! And he's like it! And be REALLY GOOD at it! And that's FINE! I also don't want him to STOP if he gets into a relationship with Husk because IRL porn actors HAVE things like partners and families and still do the work they do. I'm sure not everyone would be comfortable being in a relationship with someone who does sex work, but plenty of people are, and I think Husk would be fine with it. Husk strikes me as the kind of person who would understand that Angel's job is his job and would not be jealous or insecure of the work he does, even if Angel loves his job! He'd still understand it's a job

I just really hope that's what we get, because I don't want another "Porn in general bad actually" rather than a "The exploitative, abusive nature of the porn industry is bad, but there is nothing wrong with the act of creating porn itself' narrative because the latter is just so much more needed and INTERESTING

[chrissturnsfav]

hellooo could you write something about singer!reader being very sick and rapper!chris takes care of her?

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris takes care of sick singer!reader

you feel like shit.

your head is pounding, your throat feels like sandpaper, and your whole body is weak and achy. you're buried under three blankets, curled up on chris’s couch, feeling absolutely miserable.

chris, on the other hand, is thriving.

"damn, you look rough, kid," he says, standing over you with his hands on his hips. "real zombie apocalypse type shit."

you glare at him. well, you try to. it's weak.

"fuck off," you croak, voice nearly gone.

chris grins smugly. "nah, see, that's crazy. 'cause who got you tucked in like a lil' burrito? who just went to three different stores 'cause you wanted that specific-ass lemon honey tea?"

you sniffle. "…thank you."

"yeah, that's what i thought," he mutters, plopping down next to you. "ungrateful ass," he teases.

you roll onto your side, facing the couch, ignoring him. your head is too heavy to argue, and honestly, your body feels like it's made of bricks. you hear him shift next to you. then a warm hand lands on your back.

"you took that medicine?" he asks, voice softer now.

"mhm."

“you eat yet?”

“mm…no…” you mumble, eyes falling closed.

"kid." chris looks personally offended. "why the fuck not?"

"not hungry," you mumble, voice scratchy.

"see, this is why i gotta watch your ass." he stands up, sighing all dramatic. "bet. i'm makin' you somethin'."

"you can't cook," you frown weakly, tired eyes staring up at him.

he scoffs, smirking as he chuckles, "shut yo' sick ass up."

you're too tired to argue, so you just close your eyes. ten minutes later, he's back, sitting next to you with a bowl in his hands, looking way too proud of himself.

"boom. homemade soup," he announces, sitting beside you on the couch in a manspread.

you peek at it. "chris...that's literally cup noodles."

he squints at you. "nah. that's love and care in a bowl. eat it."

you sigh but sit up just enough to take a sip. salty. kinda good, actually.

he watches you closely, a smirk growing on his lips. "fire, huh?"

"it's...fine," you mumble hoarsely, stirring the soup around with the spoon as you stare into the bowl

he smirks and scoffs, tilting his head at you. "yeah, aight. you fuckin' it up a lil' bit."

you glare weakly, but he just grins and tucks himself next to you, pulling the blankets higher. his hand finds your knee under the blankets, rubbing slow circles.

"you know, you kinda cute all sick and helpless like this," he muses. "all quiet. not even arguin' wit' me."

"i hate you," you mumble, leaning against him.

"nah, you love me." he kisses your temple, voice smug. "and i love you even more."

thank you for reading!! <3

tags 🏷️: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @sturns-mermaid , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart , @slutformatt17 , @mattsturnii , @dominicfikeenthusiast , @mattsbratt333 , @ivysturnss , @tessasturns , @coquettechris , @courta13 , @sturniolo101 , @malsmind

@chrissturnsfav ™

[iamhereforfunnzies]

I'm thinking that blind readers are developing their clicking to the point that they can ride a bike in the busy street of Gotham. And with how traffic is bad and how people don't respect the rules- haha Bruce having a heart attack.

Also think it will be cool if the Reader is in blind school and the Batfam found how the Reader acts more muter and relaxed around people who treat them like a person. It'd make them realize some things.

Also imagine if Reader and their friends made their version of Mores code, where they speak it in clicks and write it in brile.

Funny enough I imagine it was Jason who actually saw you ride your bike as he was also ridding his bike he had give you a Second look.

Like what the fuck. He snitched to Bruce and he wouldn’t have believed him if he didn’t check Gothams traffic light camera. He became even more overbearing now always personally driving you to school.

He started notice how your personality shifts every time your friends are near by. “CAN YOU NOT I WANT TO GO GET ICE CREAM IS THAT DO WRONG-“ a girl calls for you. “(NAME)! Something wrong?” Your face changed to a cute smile.”Omg hi girl just talking with my Dada” you say sweetly as Bruce cannot comprehend that you called him Dada you haven’t called him that since you were 4.

This cause him to always drag your friends everywhere just to see you behave. Since all of them are mostly blind it’s adorable to him how all of you interact and worst part. Your friends ADORE HIM. Like they see him (hahaha) as a kicked cat trailing behind you , even if he is a bit much.

Bruce see’a your friends as puppies that he hold everyone leashes to make sure no one is lost. If he could he would adopt all your friends.

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK LONG I WILL BE ANSWERING MY INBOX😭😭❤️❤️💕

[imaluvsj7]

✿ ─── BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS : 박성훈

SYNOPSIS : where sung𝒽oon wants to make his new classmate his girlfriend

PAIRING : 𝓅ark sung𝒽oon x 𝒻em reader; GENRE : fluff, 𝒽eadcanons, classmate to bestfriends to 𝓁overs ; WC : 744

───── 【 𝒾mas’ note 】 ❍ :: this was requested, anon I hope it's what you wanted if it didn't turned out good I'm sorry it's my first time writing headcanons :⁠^⁠)

WARNINGS : english is not my first language!

DISCLAIMER : This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

CLASSMATE SUNGHOON! who was awestruck when you introduced yourself as his new classmate.

CLASSMATE SUNGHOON! who wanted to befriend you but due to his shy demeanor he couldn't muster up the courage to approach you.

CLASSMATE SUNGHOON! who was envious of his friend Jay when you approached him during lunch hours but soon became flustered when you recognised him and talked to him.

CLASSMATE SUNGHOON! who made the decision to talk to you after his friends, Jay and Jake motivated him and boosted his courage — “look she knows you, idiot and even talked to you so you shouldn't miss out the chance or at least try to continue your talking stage.”

CLASSMATE SUNGHOON! who has successfully made you his friend, now feels happy and giddy everyday thinking about his interactions with you.

CLASSMATE SUNGHOON! who is no more just a classmate but your best friend after 4 months you both are getting closer to each other.

BESTFRIEND SUNGHOON! who treats you way better than anyone else among your loved ones, who makes you feel seen and visible despite the crowd.

BESTFRIEND SUNGHOON! who is observant and notices every detail about you, who makes sure to you are always eating well after knowing you love different types of foods.

BESTFRIEND SUNGHOON! who treats you like a princess and always prioritizes you — asking what you want from the mall when he is out shopping with friends, bringing you random small gifts which remind him of you.

BESTFRIEND SUNGHOON! who drops not so subtle hints about his liking towards you. Always blushing, giving small smirks, holding you close to him, finding any excuse to be with you.

BESTFRIEND SUNGHOON! who is always present during your vulnerable and anxious moments, holding you close to him and whispering soft and loving words to you.

BESTFRIEND SUNGHOON! who wipes your tears and cooks you / orders you your comfort food and cuddles you to sleep.

BESTFRIEND SUNGHOON! whom people assume is your boyfriend but you don't correct them leading him to collect hints.

BESTFRIEND SUNGHOON! who introduced you and invited you into his friend group leading you to become friends with some lovely people.

BESTFRIEND SUNGHOON! who couldn't help himself but admire you and adore you every chance he gets.

BESTFRIEND SUNGHOON! who takes you out on a dinner as a surprise date to make you his girlfriend after 8 months of waiting.

BESTFRIEND SUNGHOON! who gets shy when you accept to become his girlfriend but makes sure your first kiss of the relationship is memorable.

BESTFRIEND SUNGHOON! who is no longer just your best friend but also your boyfriend, a proud boyfriend.

BOYFRIEND SUNGHOON! who isn't much into pda but holds your hand, gives you hand and forehead pecks occasionally.

BOYFRIEND SUNGHOON! who doesn't care about other opinions about your relationship, rather looks forward to being a good boyfriend.

BOYFRIEND SUNGHOON! who makes you feel like the happiest partner through his loving gestures, actions and words.

BOYFRIEND SUNGHOON! who cannot believe how he managed to make you his girlfriend.

BOYFRIEND SUNGHOON! who invites you to his skating performances and practices because for him you're his good luck charm.

BOYFRIEND SUNGHOON! who looks up to you with bright eyes and shy grin waiting for you to praise him and tell him how good he is and how proud you're of him.

BOYFRIEND SUNGHOON! who has his own insecurities but is open to communicating with you to build a healthy relationship. Who always talks about his day to you and listens to your talks.

BOYFRIEND SUNGHOON! who cannot keep his hands to himself with you alone in his dorm, always sliding his hand down your hips or gripping your hips.

BOYFRIEND SUNGHOON! who loves when you wear his clothes because he thinks you look so stunning and beautiful and can't help but make you sit on his lap while making out with you on the couch.

BOYFRIEND SUNGHOON! who has not only impressed your friends but also your parents — who want him to be your husband too.

BOYFRIEND SUNGHOON! who blushes to the thought of being your husband but has the thoughts of making you his wife when the time comes.

BOYFRIEND SUNGHOON! who has his own flaws and makes some mistakes in your relationship but regardless always looks forward to acknowledging them and improving himself for you.

BOYFRIEND SUNGHOON! who loves you dearly and wants to spend all his life spoiling you.

© 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐔𝐕𝐒𝐉𝟕 2025 | DO NOT PLAGIARISE ON ANY PLATFORM

💌 ─── NOTE : please leave feedbacks and lemme know if you want to be added in my perm taglist :)

˙ . ꒷ 🍥 masterlist daily click . 𖦹˙—

[ithinkicantdie]

I'll put a little bit of text here that felt too long to put in the tags but I know it doesn't really matter that much to other people what I think so I won't force myself to make any of the words I'm putting down make sense.

First point I wanted to make in the tags I started writing out was that I don’t think "girls' girl" should be included in this list because it’s a newer variation of the term "women supporting women" which I very much prefer as a positive counterpart in order to replace others like the extremely widely used "pick me girl" or just "pick me" because I think it is more important to celebrate the solidarity rather than use shame to point out when someone’s internalized misogyny is being a little too external.

"Girl math" as a term could be replaced with a different term for the logic that people are putting behind it but most of the posts are about consumerism and spending money so any far-left leaning people who identify with communism, socialism or just anti-capitalism (ily all, keep fighting for change) likely wouldn't use terms like that anyway so there wouldn't be much of a point. I do genuinely think we can let that whole trend go with just the superficial analysis of "people are trying to justify spending money by saying they aren't actually spending as much as they could be" but we could also go further into why we are made to feel shame for buying superfluous things or why we have to use the money we need to live in order to be happy and being happy when you're trying to stay alive feels impossible but the shame of spending money on things that make you happy compounds on top of that.

I associate bimbocore with Chrissy Chlapecka the most and she is very unapologetic about the bimbo videos to my knowledge because they make a lot of anti fascist posts but there are some problems she has to deal with due to being an influencer with low self esteem and rarely posting to social media at all without a full face of makeup while not wanting to encourage other people to also be that way. I also think the general public are trying to move away from saying things like whore and slut and skank because social media is all about being aesthetically pleasing and it's not about how much of a whore you are on the inside but how much of a bimbo you look or act like on the outside. The connotations of bimbo do point out how often sensuality and intelligence are thought of as at odds with one another in women but thought of as being found together very often in men and you could make an argument that women are being strong-armed into once again giving up when it comes to trying to be respected and revered for their personal accomplishments and they are actively being told to revert back to striving for superficial beauty standards to reach any amount of success. I could dive into that for hours honestly.

"Girlfriend brain" in the contexts I've seen it in (used in posts by normal people and not the 'stay at home girlfriend' influencers who scare me) is very similar to the whole trend of having "scary dog privileges" where you’re able to walk around without fear of getting harassed because men who don’t see you as a person will see your boyfriend as a person and you will not be as debilitatingly anxious about your personal safety in a public space. These trends alone can point out a lot of problems with how we are expected to "solve" problems by temporarily making it safer for only one individual at a time and not dismantling the culture that makes men feel entitled to women as a whole.

"Girl dinner" I think is heavily related to diet culture with people either purposefully eating less food to restrict the number of calories or eating junk food in the privacy of their own home without fear of backlash or judgement but it could even be fatigue of constantly cooking for other people because you have that expectation placed on you and you find brief respite in not wanting to cook for ‘just’ yourself but all of those options are insanely depressing no matter what. The expectation to be a sexy twig that eats nothing but also cook hearty meals for those around you to enjoy at any given moment is too exhausting and people break away from that where they can but also not every person participating in a viral trend is required to be actively experiencing any of the shame that the audience could be projecting onto them from personal experiences so does it really help at all or does it just hurt more people?

I do genuinely think clean girl core and DFE are heavily associated with white supremacist shit so I will not defend those at all, I think I've even seen some people call DFE a nazi tradwife dogwhistle so I'll just put that out there for other people to think on because I do not want to touch that with a ten foot pole.

And other people understand the whole "I’m just a girl" thing just fine obviously based off of most of the notes. Thank you No Doubt for providing such a banger that is infinitely better than the way people are abusing the phrase now.

"I'm just a girl", "girl math", "girl dinner", "divine feminine energy", "bimbocore", "clean girl", "girl's girl", "girlfriend brain" SHUT UPPP!!! SHUTT THE FUCKKKK UPPPPPP !!!!

[rafedarling]

Can you write a moment of an interview with Jimmy Kimmel asks Drew one or two questions about his relationship since him and actress!y/n have confirmed that they are together on an instagram post (that they are currently this year in a relationship according to the rumor of Internet users and media) and Drew mentions actress!y/n abt how she's amazing, that he will love to work with her one day :)

since i already wrote one for drew at jimmy, i think i should put them both on the norton show. hope you like it!

𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧

pairing: drew starkey x actress!reader

summary: you and drew are invited to the graham norton show to promote your upcoming movie, set to release in april. however, the interview isn’t just about your movie, it also touches on your recently confirmed relationship, sending the audience into a frenzy.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff, playful teasing, past pining, and drew being the sweetest boyfriend ever.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @issabellec7

marie’s note: i just opened my wattpad account! from now on, you can read my fanfics on both tumblr and wattpad. however, i can’t guarantee that i’ll be very active on wattpad. a little update on my upcoming work, i’m currently working on the return of superman mini-series!

Graham grinned, waiting for the applause to settle before dramatically placing a hand over his chest.

“Alright, alright,” he said, pretending to catch his breath.

“Let me sit down first because I simply cannot stand here and do an interview with such a powerful couple.”

The audience laughed, and you shook your head in amusement. Drew leaned back, his arm resting casually behind you on the couch, a smirk playing on his lips.

“So,” Graham continued, eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Not only are you both co-stars in your new movie, but also lovers off-screen. Is it true?”

The crowd went wild again.

Drew chuckled, shaking his head at the dramatic reaction.

“Yes,” he confirmed, his Southern drawl making the words sound even more charming.

“We are lovers off-screen.”

Graham leaned forward, clearly loving every second of it.

“Since you’ve already confirmed it on Instagram, let’s dive in a little. How did this all start? Y/N, do you want to take this one?”

“Sure,” you said with a smile.

“I actually met Drew through his sister, Brooke. I was in her friend group, and she invited me over to her new place once. That was the first time we met.”

Drew nodded.

“Yeah, Y/N was one of my sister’s friends, but after that, she kind of disappeared. We didn’t see each other again for a long time, maybe a year or so.”

“Ah, so was there an instant connection? Or did it take a little while to realize, ‘Oh, that’s the person I want to know more about’?”

Graham asked, clearly invested.

Drew turned to you with a teasing smirk.

“If we’re talking about our first meeting… I didn’t have feelings for her then.”

The audience gasped dramatically, and you burst into laughter.

“Hold on, hold on before you boo me!”

Drew added quickly, grinning.

“At the time, I was crushing on someone else. But when I met Y/N again later, it hit me hard. Like — why hadn’t I asked her out before? What was I doing?”

Graham gasped, clutching his chest for comedic effect.

“Scandalous!”

“I know, right?” you joked.

“Plot twist, I actually liked him from the very beginning.”

Drew’s head snapped toward you, eyes wide.

“Wait, what?”

Graham looked like he had just struck gold.

“Oh, this is juicy. Tell us more!”

You chuckled, shrugging.

“Yeah, I had feelings for him when we first met, but I knew he had a crush on someone else, so I just… kept quiet about it. I liked him so much that I couldn’t even date other guys.”

Graham covered his face, laughing so hard he had to lean back in his chair. The audience reacted with a mix of cheers and sympathetic awws.

“Wait, wait, wait… hold on,”

Drew said, pointing at you in shock.

“You never told me this!”

“I know,” you said, giggling.

“I guess I thought it was silly.”

“Silly?” Drew looked at Graham, then back at you.

“Babe, I feel like I need to apologize to past you.”

Graham wiped away imaginary tears.

“Oh, this is the kind of romantic drama I live for!”

Drew shook his head, smiling.

“I can’t believe you were out there suffering in silence while I was being an idiot.”

“It’s fine,” you teased. “You figured it out eventually.”

The audience burst into applause, and Graham clapped his hands together.

“Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say, thank goodness you did! Now, Drew, if given the chance, would you want to work on-screen with Y/N again?”

Drew didn’t hesitate.

“Oh, absolutely. She’s amazing; such a talented actress. I’d love to work with her again.”

You turned to him, surprised and touched by his words.

“Really?”

“Of course,” he said softly.

“I mean, I get to see how incredible you are off-screen, so getting to experience that on-screen again? That’d be a dream.”

The audience erupted into cheers again, and Graham dramatically fanned himself.

“Well, if you two ever do another movie together, let’s hope it’s a rom-com, because this kind of chemistry needs to be on display!”

Drew laughed, slipping his hand into yours.

“We’ll see what happens.”

Graham then leaned forward, eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“And Drew, since we’re on the topic, what has it been like dating Y/N? Fans are dying to know how you feel about it.”

Drew’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, and for a moment, he looked at you instead of Graham. The teasing smile softened into something more sincere.

“It’s honestly the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he admitted.

The audience collectively sighed in adoration.

“I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s true. Y/N is just… she’s amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who balances me out the way she does. She’s the most patient, kind, and ridiculously talented person I know.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, heat creeping up your cheeks.

Graham pretended to wipe away tears.

“Oh, this is too sweet. Keep going!”

Drew laughed but continued.

“She makes everything feel easier. My life gets pretty crazy, you know? Between filming, traveling, press there’s a lot going on. But with her, it’s like… I always have this anchor. Someone who keeps me grounded. And the best part? She never tries to change me. She just lets me be me.”

The audience let out a chorus of “Aww!” and you squeezed his hand, feeling overwhelmed by how openly he was speaking.

“Okay, this is getting too romantic for me,”

Graham joked, fanning himself.

“I feel like we’re intruding on a private moment!”

Drew chuckled, looking back at you with a grin.

“Well, you asked, man.”

Graham shook his head playfully.

“I did, and I’m so glad I did! You two are adorable.”

The interview wrapped up soon after, but that moment the way Drew looked at you, the way his words made your heart feel like it might burst, was already making waves across the internet. Fans were calling you the Hollywood couple of the year. And honestly? You didn’t mind one bit.

[v4mpire45]

The Things He Doesn't Know — K. Bakugo

This is a series, so other parts will be here!

☞ Link: Part 1, Part 2, Part 4.

Bakugo x Jealous female reader

Synopsis: When you realize you're in love with your childhood best friend, but force you're feeling's down for the sake of your friendship.

Author's note: Reader is on the verge of crashing out. I low-key felt like she was doing too much while writing this, so if anyone agrees, I'll tone it down. But I live for drama so 🤷🏾‍♀️.

P.S: I'm sorry if you didn't get added to the taglist. I went through my comments, and anyone who asked got added!

The sun beats down on your skin as you lounge in a chair, barely paying attention to the pool party happening around you. Class 2-A is celebrating the start of summer and the end of exams, and everyone seems to be having a great time.

Everyone except you.

You swear, if you have to watch Kimiko flirt with Bakugo one more time, you might actually start pulling your hair out.

Could she be any more desperate?

And now she’s roped Kirishima into her little plan, which is just great. Even worse? He seems excited to help.

Does he actually ship them together? Why does it feel like everyone wants them to be a couple? What’s so special about Kimiko and Bakugo being together?

Yeah, sure, they’re both fearless, confident, competitive, but hasn’t anyone heard of opposites attract? If anything, Bakugo should be with someone like—

"Y/N!"

You jolt out of your thoughts.

"What?!" you snap, snapping your head toward the voice.

"Chill, girl!" Sero raises his hands in surrender. "Iida wanted us to grab some pool equipment from the equipment shed."

You sigh, trying to calm down. Lately, you’ve been so on edge, and at this rate, you’re going to drive yourself insane.

"Couldn’t he have asked anyone else?"

"Well, you know Iida," Sero shrugs. "Now c’mon, I’m not doing it alone."

You throw one last glance toward Kimiko and Bakugo, where, of course, Kimiko is practically draped over him, laughing at something he said, before pushing yourself up and following Sero to the equipment shed.

As soon as you step inside, Sero glances at you. "You’ve been real moody lately. What’s up?"

"Nothing," you say grabbing a ball a little too aggressively.

"See what I mean?" He gestures toward you.

You let out another sigh, picking up a pool float. "I just… I—"

You hesitate. A part of you wants to spill everything, the frustration, the jealousy, the fact that you’ve been so in love with Bakugo for what feels like forever. That watching Kimiko throw herself at him is driving you insane. But instead, you force the words back down.

"Nothing. I’m just tired, y’know?"

Sero doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push.

Then, you hear it, Kimiko’s laugh.

Your body stiffens. Instinctively, you peek around the shed.

And there it is.

Kimiko is laughing, holding onto Bakugo’s shoulder like she belongs there. But that’s not what makes your stomach twist.

It’s Bakugo himself.

He’s smiling.

Not a smirk, not his usual cocky grin, an actual smile. Small, almost unnoticeable, but it’s there.

And it hurts.

You don’t even know why it hurts. It’s stupid. He’s allowed to smile. He’s allowed to like people. It’s just…

Smiling isn’t his thing.

It’s something he only does around certain people. And now Kimiko is one of them?

Is she really getting through to him?

Before you realize it, your vision blurs. A lump rises in your throat, and suddenly, tears are spilling down your cheeks.

No. No, no, no. You have no reason to be crying. This is ridiculous. You should not be reacting like this. You're acting like a child who lost their favorite toy.

But you can’t stop.

Your hands tremble, and before you can think, you drop the equipment and turn to the nearest person. You grab onto them like a lifeline, burying your face in their chest as the tears keep falling.

Sero freezes. "Whoa—Y/N?!"

He hesitates, clearly confused, but after a second, his arms wrap around you, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

The emotions you’ve been bottling up burst out of you. At first, it’s just incoherent rambling, but then Sero catches the words between your choked sobs...

"I’m so in love with him it hurts."

You grip his shirt tighter.

"In love with who?" Sero asks gently.

You squeeze your eyes shut. The words on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t stop them now.

"K-Katsuki… I’m so in love with him, and it hurts so much. I want to tell him, but I can’t, not with Kimiko everywhere!"

You pull away, horrified at yourself. God, what did you just do?

"I—I’m so sorry, Sero. I don’t know why I just laid that on you. This is so embarrassing—"

"Hey, hey, it’s alright," he reassures, motioning for you to sit down against the shed. You do, pressing your palms against your eyes, trying to suppress your tears.

Sero sits next to you with a sigh. "So… you like Bakubro, huh?"

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "Yeah… don’t tell anyone?"

"I wouldn’t dare." He leans his head back against the shed. "Mind if I admit something too?"

You glance at him. "Go ahead, I guess."

There’s a pause. Then, he mutters, "I actually like Kimiko."

Your head snaps toward him. "You like WHO?!"

Sero huffs a laugh. "Damn, girl, you were just crying, and now you’re shocked?"

You nudge him, still staring in disbelief. "You actually like Kimiko? Like, for real?"

"Don’t act so surprised. She’s funny as hell, smart, ambitious. And absolutely gorgeous, but that’s just a bonus," he says with a lopsided grin, that same lovestruck look crossing his face that Kimiko gets when she talks about Bakugo.

You shake your head. "Wow." You scoff. "Does anyone else know?"

"Nah. You’re the first I told. Does anyone know you like Bakugo?"

You shake your head, leaning back against the shed. "Nah. You're the first I told."

A moment of silence passes between you two. Then, Sero chuckles.

"Guess we’re both just a couple of lovestruck losers, huh?"

You huff out a weak laugh, staring up at the bright blue sky.

"For sure."

© 2025 v4mpire45 — All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

Tags: @pet1t3 @anon-mouse223 @tsukikoxo @nepenthes-things @hakkoyo @ita606 @raeroowrites

[captain-huggy-bear]

How does Jack ask you to be his valentine ?

Oh he's a sweetheart but also pretty conventional as well. I think he goes with your standard ideas of flowers, and chocolates, probably turning up at your door on the day itself because that's traditional and he just smirks and asks. The sort of lazy confidence in him that says he knows you're going to say yes, that it would be impossible for you to say no.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

It's still new, this thing you have with Jack, early days as it were. Not quite boyfriend and girlfriend yet, but not just two strangers who've been on a singular date either. Talking wasn't the right term and dating was maybe closer to it, figuring out whether this was going to be something long term or just a drop in the ocean. So you didn't really expect anything from him on Valentine's day, especially not when he'd said he had a game that night and wouldn't be able to take you out in the evening like he wanted to. You'd accepted that because at the end of the day you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to the very first date with him. Hockey meant things wouldn't always go as expected, not all events would be commemorated. It also wasn't a given considering the early nature of your relationship.

It's why you're not expecting it when your front door bell rings and you're certainly not expect to look through your peephole to see Jack Hughes standing on the other side in a suit and tie holding what might be the largest bouquet of pink roses you'd ever seen. So large that they'd block out his entire head and shoulders if he held them upright.

"Jack?" You open the door to him, feeling decidedly underdressed in your casual everyday clothes when compared with Jack and his suit. The black one that he's matched with a black tie like he's going to a formal event rather than standing in front of your house on the 14th February in the cold.

"Hey..." The smile he gives you is nearly a smirk, that confidence that first drew you to him, firmly in place. His hair has grown longer at the moment, nearly reaching his shoulders, tucked behind his ears.

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at the rink for morning skate...?"

"Already been, decided this was more important than my post practice nap." It makes you feel warm all over, the way he says that so easily, like it's a given that seeing you is more important than his routines and rituals, things you know hockey players hold dear to their hearts.

"Oh?"

"Here," He hands you the bouquet that takes up your entire arm space, larger than a toddler and smelling sweetly of rose. He'd picked the scented roses, ones that smell strongly too a little detail that you can't help but take note of. "I picked the pink ones, thought it'd be a little less cliché."

You can't help the soft smile you give him because it really is sweet and unexpected. More romantic than any of your past boyfriends had ever been and he's not even in a relationship with you yet.

"They're lovely, Jack...you really didn't have to..." You feel bad knowing you hadn't expected anything and so hadn't got anything for him.

"I wanted to. I can't exactly ask you to be my valentine without flowers now, can I, angel?" Your positive reception of the flowers has him relaxing further, a smile turning into a smirk, leaning closer to you, arm leaning against your door frame. The invasion of your personal space makes you nervous in the best sort of way, giddy.

"You want to be my valentine?" You can't actually remember the last time you were actually asked to be someone's valentine...it makes butterflies flutter about in your stomach.

"Sweetheart, who else would I ask?"

You shrug, pursing your lips as you look up at him from under your lashes, all of a sudden unsure and lacking confidence because neither of you ever said you were only seeing each other. That you were exclusive. While you certainly weren't seeing any other guys, it would make sense for someone like Jack, popular and famous, to have a whole roster of girls waiting on him. It wouldn't surprise you if he had other girls he was testing the waters with, figuring out who was the best fit.

He seems to sense that your thoughts have gone that way, or maybe he just has good timing.

"You're the only girl I'm seeing and the only one I want to see, angel...I've not gone on a date with anyone else since before our first one." He doesn't like that it's clearly shocking to you, the way you look up him like he's just given you the world. Jack thinks it should be obvious to you that he's all in, that he's completely taken with you and has been since the first date. He's only waiting to ask you to be his girlfriend because he knows you need a little more time, not because he's not ready or doesn't want to.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Why waste my time with anyone else? They wouldn't be you." It's simply really. You're perfect for him. You're kind, you're caring, pretty and smart. You're understanding of his schedule and his moods. You get along with Luke and you treat him like Jack, just Jack. Not Jack Hughes, hockey superstar. Why waste his time on girls who fawn and giggle over his title, his status but don't really like him for him?

"Jack..."

He diffuses some of the heavy tension with his next question, not wanting to make things too serious too fast, not wanting you to feel pressure to respond in kind, "You still haven't answered my question. Will you be my valentine?"

"Yes, I'll be your valentine." You smile up at him all giddy and sweet and he wants to kiss you all over your cheeks, lift you until you're giggling uncontrollably, but he controls himself. Jack has to remind himself you're not his girlfriend yet, he's trying to take this slow, easy for you, a love confession might be a bit much 3 months in.

"Good because we have a lunch date, so go get changed into something nice." Not that you don't look nice, you always look nice, but he knows you'll feel self conscious if he takes you into a nice restaurant in casual clothes while he's in a full suit and tie.

"A lunch date?"

"Well, I can't take you out for dinner because of the game, but I figured lunch would work?" Your hesitation has Jack questioning himself, starting to second guess if this was a good idea, maybe you already had plans, "Or...you don't have to, we can stay here or...or I can go?"

"No, no! Lunch sounds...it sounds perfect."

The smile you receive is enough. It's more than enough, you think you might just do anything to be on the receiving end of that smile.

[kyonite]

You're wrong about the purpose of the Hayes Code in such a fascinating way so I'm sorry if I sound like I'm dunking on you but I really do need to correct this.

You say the Hayes Code is "a codified set of rules intended for censorship" this opinion isn't wrong but it is missing an important part. The Hayes Code was a set of rules intended for self-censorship in the face of "moral" objections.

You see in the early 1920's as sound film became popular, studios had a problem. What was permissable and normal and "moral" in, say, New York wasn't permissable or normal or "moral" in a more conservative state like Kansas. They faced a rising wave of laws from individual states calling for actual censorship of film. To get around this, the film studios agreed to self-censor so they could avoid all these laws.

I think this point is important to note, because the Hayes Code isn't enforced by a legal government body, but instead by the studios themselves. They constructed the Motion Picture Association. They hired notable Republican Will H. Hayes (whose most recent gig before this was Chairman of the Republican Committee). Now Hayes wasn't the one who wrote the code, instead he provided the studios a list of "don'ts" and "be carefuls"in 1927. This wasn't enough, and in 1930 the studios agreed to a more strict "code" that was proposed by a catholic layman and a jesuit priest. I don't know about you but I personally don't know a group of people more willing to push their morality onto others than religious people, especially Catholics.

Eventually the code would be dropped (in the late 1960's) and Hollywood would adopt a rating system like we see today.

But, again, I have to specify that this was all self-censorship done by the studios themselves. I would argue that we see this time and time again in fan spaces especially when it comes to writing (livejournal and strikethrough come to mind as does Visa's anti-sex decisions as a payment processor).

Now is one specific person recreating a Hayes Code on themselves? Probably not. But, you can make an argument that Hayes Coding yourself is just self-censorship based on how people are reacting to your work.

"Neither do people owe authors to like or condone with authors make" who is saying this? do you know how to read? do you need someone to,,, hold your hand about it? also like damn bro I wish people who found my shit weird would stop making it my problem!

"Having moral objections is not the same as wanting to have your hand held." Damn I really wish we weren't living thru an unprecedented rise of fascism driven by a rise of moral puritanical thought. I wish I could stop holding y'all's dumbass hands!

now say it with me: authors/artists dont owe you moral purity. an author/artist job is not to hold you by the hand & tell you exactly what is Good™ & what is Bad™. you should be able to think for yourself

[lancestrollsgf]

# STOP LOOKING AT ME WITH THOSE EYES ! YANDERE! AXEL KOVACEVIC X READER, WRITTEN

introduction master list request list

# WARNINGS: not a good interpretation of a yandere (not intense), lowercase intended, female! reader, use of y/n, spelling/grammar errors, possible OC axel and gullible reader, established relationship, messy writing, and maybe bad descriptions. good ending!! + a cute extra scene at the end

# SUMMARY: you decided to follow your boyfriend to the torment he was participating in. due to not making many friends in highschool in croatia, being in a new environment and country could be a possibility to make new friends, but by the way axel is acting, he doesn’t seem to like that.

# AUTHOR’S NOTE: i did have to watch season 6 again to really get a good intro on axel again, i also did some research/watch interviews, hoping it is right. in this axel is 16 years old and is from croatia, balkans. meaning that axel is going to school in croatia and went to hong kong for training with sensei wolf. i know that it wasn't shown but pretend that axel and reader actually had time and would at least in someway interact with the other characters (more like just miyagi do). i apologize for this being on the short side, i’m still trying to get the hang of writing again. word count: 1100. here is the link of the song the title is named after!

# REQUESTED: YES

axel has been your boyfriend for a while now, and you've always been by his side—more voluntarily than anything, considering how hard it was for you to make friends in your high school back in croatia. it wasn’t that you were unlikable, just that people didn’t seem to care enough to get close. axel was different, though. from the moment he noticed you, it was like you were the only person in his world.

when he told you he was leaving for the tournament, you didn’t hesitate to follow. a new environment, a new country—it sounded like an opportunity, a fresh start. maybe this time, things would be different. maybe you could finally belong somewhere. but axel… he didn’t seem to like that idea.

it started small. a hand on your lower back when you tried to talk to someone new. standing just a little too close when another competitor greeted you. answering for you when someone would ask a question. his grip would tighten, his voice always calm but firm, a quiet reminder.

stay close to me.

you brushed it off at first. axel had always been protective. he said it was because he knew what people were really like— how they used and discarded others when it suited them. you didn't want to believe that.

but then came the glares. the cold, sharp eyes watching every interaction you had. the way his jaw clenched whenever someone so much as smiled at you. the way his mood soured whenever you laughed at someone else's joke.

then the words.

"we're leaving soon, don't get to close"

"they're pretending to be nice, they're trying to get to me"

"i'm the only one who understands you"

at first, you tried to ignore it. axel had always been intense— possessive, even —but he had his reasons. he didn't trust easily, and he never let his guard down. but now, that wasn't just directed at his opponents in the tournament. it was now aimed at anyone who got too close to you.

it started off small. a hand on your wrist when you lingered too long in a conversation. a sharp look when miguel or hawk cracked a joke that made you laugh. the way he always seemed to position himself between you and someone else. like an unspoken barrier.

at first, the others found it ammusing.

"man, your boyfriend's intense," hawk had said nudging miguel after axel all but dragged you away from a conversation. "you sure he let's you breathe?" miguel had given you a sympathetic glance, but he didn't push. sam, on the other hand, did.

"you know that you can talk to whoever you want, right?" she asked one afternoon when axel had stepped away for a minute, due to his sensei wanting to have a conversation with him.

"i know," you had said, but the words felt hollow. because deep down, you knew it wasn't about permission. it was about him. about the way axel saw the world— how he believed people couldn't be trusted. and more than anything, it was about his fear of losing you.

but it couldn't go on like this.

that night, after most of the competitors had gone back to their rooms, you found him outside, leaning against the railing of the balcony of your shared rooms. the bright active city lights reflected in his eyes, but his expression was unreadable.

"you're mad," he said before you could even open your mouth. "i'm frustrated," you corrected, stepping closer. "axel... you have to stop this. i want to be here with you, but i can't do that if you keep pushing everyone else away." his grip tightened on the railing. "i'm not pushing them away. i'm protecting you."

"from what?" you asked, starting to get irritated. "from people being nice to me? from me finally being able to have the chance to make friends?"

he turned to face you then, his gaze sharp but conflicted. "people lie. they act friendly, they pretend to care— but in the end, they always let you down." his voice was steady, but there was something beneath it. something raw. "not everyone," you said softly, reaching for his hand. "not me."

for a moment, he didn't move. then, slowly, his fingers curled around yours, his grip firm, but not forceful. "i don't want to lose you," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "you won't," you promised. "but you have to trust me the way I trust you."

axel exhaled sharply, looking away. you could tell it wasn't easy for him, to let go of control. but after a moment, he nodded. "...alright," he muttered. "but if they give me a reason to not trust them—"

"i know," you interrupted, a small smile tugging at your lips. "you'll be watching." a smirk ghosted across his face, and for the first time in a while. his presence didn't feel suffocating. it felt grounding.

— extra scene funny and cute!! (y/n and axel are sitting with miyagi do in this scenario and they have a good relationship with them in this scene.)

the shift in axel hadn't gone noticed. while he still had his moments—hovering nearby whenever someone got a little too friendly—he wasn’t shutting you off from the rest of the world anymore.

during a lunch with all the teams in the tournament, miguel nudged hawk and nodded toward the two of you. “dude, i think your little intervention worked.” hawk smirked, taking a bite of his food. “told you. y/n just had to remind him that she’s her own person, and won’t go anywhere.” hawk replied quietly.

demetri, who had been wary of axel ever since the tense standoff, finally realized enough to sit at the same table again. “so, we’re actually allowed to talk to you now?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

axel shot him a look, but there’s no hostility behind it. “don’t push it.” tory leaned back in her chair, smirking. “hey, progress is progress.”

even sam, who has been quietly observing, gave a small nod of approval. “it’s nice to see you with us instead of watching from a distance.”

you squeezed axel’s hand under the table, and for once, he didn’t flinch away from the attention. instead, he met your gaze, a silent understanding passing between you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

the end!!! 😄😄 if anyone from the better norris series is reading this, part three is coming soon! just trying to get through the axel requests, which i am open to more requests, before posting the third part. ( i am working on part four rn )

[lily-jaxk]

MC Twin AU

Like most cliche fanfictions, especially one dealing with the concept of reincarnation, you are MC's identical twin sister.

Fortunately for you, you weren't one of the many test subjects. Unfortunately for you, being separated from your twin and dealing with the disaster made you remember that oh shit this was an Otome Game.

Still, you enjoyed your life in Linkon. Sure, you weren't the MC. Sure, you aren't ever going to be with the love interest you fell in love with. And sure, you weren't strong like MC is, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that you were alive.

The only negative thing about this whole situation was that you looked just like MC, and were always mistaken as her.

"Miss Bodyguard? No offense sir but I can barely take care of myself. I'm definitely not the woman you're looking for."

"Appointment? Why would I. . . . Oh for heavens sake you have the wrong person. I apologize but last time I checked and I did check my heart is completely fine."

"Sorry but the thought of fighting those wanderers is honestly horrifying. I'm not cut out to be a Hunter. Sorry but you've got the wrong person."

It was a good thing one love interest lived in N-109 Zone, and one lived in Skyhaven, otherwise you would have been even more stressed.

You've run into MC once before. It was him that actually introduced you two together, something about reconnecting with one another. You had looked at her, and she had looked at you. She was beautiful, and deep down a hint of envy threatened to rise from your beating heart, but you were quick to squash it down.

Because so what if you weren't her? That was fine. You were your own person, and that's all that mattered.

So you gave your twin a smile and a hug. You exchanged numbers and started to hang out. You learnt more about each other, like how she adored plushies and how you loved playing Kitty Cards.

She tried to invite you over to her grandma's and his house, but you were quick to decline, using work as an excuse. Once, you caught sight of a familiar crow watching her, and you turned your head away for your sanity, not wanting to deal with that.

So yes, you were the twin sister of the MC. It had it's ups and it had its downs. But as long as they were all happy, then you were happy.

Just a small little idea I had. I might write more actually but I hope this is good 😊

Prologue | Caleb | Zayne | Xaiver | Rafayel | Sylus |

[baked-potatoes-rule]

Yellowjackets S3 brief thoughts.

It's clear by now that the person leaving the phone and Juice Newton's "Queen of hearts played" (I was waiting for that one, can't believe that actually did it), is most likely adult Melissa, making her the final survivor. And I am honestly content with that.

Mari fell into the pit? Is that foreshadowing or is Gen going to be pit girl? Making Mari the girl that they eat alive.

Kudos to Ben for helping Mari. I know people love to hate him but, he did good. I would've taken her with me too because she would most likely tell on him.

Natalie trying to cover up for Ben? Her tender soul continues to shine and I am so happy about it. I love how she runs the game...No cockiness or pretentious bs. She's just trying her best to make things roll smoothly.

Van smiling when her and Taissa spoke about Ben causing the fire? And him telling Mari he didn't? Kinda Sus Van.

Adult Taivan and their Breakfast at Tiffany's like moment was so wholesome, until the waiter died.

Why the fuck is Lottie making Travis drink that stuff? Why doesn't she do it? He is beyond exhausted and terrified. Akilah giving him the duck to hold? Such a precious moment. I feel so bad for him.

The adult timeline Misty scenes were fantastic. I loved every moment of her on screen.

Lottie still wants to be Shauna's kid's baby daddy.

Shauna's behaviour right now is absolutely excusable. She lost her fucking baby and they are praying for its soul to save them. What the fuck. As someone who's into woowoo shit, I would be furious too. She's traumatized, she lost two people who meant the most to her and now she has to dress up like a forest dumpling (I love their outfits) and pray? I would be slapping a bitch too if it were me.

Melissa leaving the flowers on top of the rock Shauna put after moving her baby- lovely gesture. I know we haven't seen much of her but I like her character. I really hope her and Shauna stick together for the teen timeline. And honestly about time someone is trying to approach her in a sensible way.

Not commenting on the kissing scene...I already anticipated ShaunaHat after the trailer.

Why are adult Taissa and Van lying to each other?

Callie is just like her mother and I'm not sure how to feel about it. Or do I? I love it.

Jeff needs to file divorce. He needs to get into a relationship with someone who's actually compatible with him and leave Shauna so she can find someone compatible with her. Adult Melissa I'd say. Or Lottie.

Perhaps I'll sit and dig deeper into the details and write stuff separately.

[trashratsaws]

Yes!! I love every single detail that allows the reader to understand that despite our love for Scar, HG is NOT A GOOD GUY. HE IS A COP. I wanted to add - I'm not nearly as familiar with the writing process as Lew's, BUT! Something that smacked me in the face immediately when I was reading the chapter is how similar Scar's opening line - "I'm here to help you, I'm the best option you got" - is to how REAL cops actually try to get civilians to give up information they SHOULDN'T be giving up. If you've ever been detained or arrested or even just interacted with a cop irl before you know the language they use. "We're just trying to help" "Things will go much easier if you just talk to us and answer our questions" but what they actually mean is that things will go much easier for THEM. NOT for you (sidebar if you ever get arrested or must interact with a cop, NEVER tell them ANYTHING except to demand a lawyer). That's excatly what HG means in this scene with Grian. He's trying to "help", but he's not helping Grian.

It's just such a great way to tie back to the theme of the comic in a very real way. CG always calls HG "cop" in the earlier shorts, and that's all well and good to understand "HG works for the government, while Grian does not" but on a much deeper level that means that Scar enjoys privileges and power that Grian does not. He gets better equipment, he gets celebrity status for the same traits others get discriminated for, he gets to be above the law (meanwhile, for doing exactly the same thing basically, Grian is breaking the law), etc. Grian doesn't have any of those things. Their dynamic is inherently imbalanced. And I think the key to this dynamic unraveling and leveling the playing field between them is for Scar to realize that he is also a victim of the system. If HG WASN'T employed directly by the government, he wouldn't enjoy all this power and status, he wouldn't get praised and applauded. He wouldn't get new legs. He'd be treated exactly like Grian and Jimmy and Tango are. We also see in a previous chapter Cub chastising Scar for abusing his equipment at risk to his own personal health. He also experiences the consequences of living in a world where minority groups are not treated fairly, especially by the government (the one that expects him to fit a certain "image" aka able-bodied in order to be a superhero). He just doesn't realize that those things are correlated. And I can't wait for that realization to hit him in the face like a bullet. GADAM I LOVE THIS COMIC.

hello hello ddvau fans if you do not know me i do edits for ddvau and i have Known about this chapter for weeks and have been sitting on my rage at HG the whole time. and now it is released i need the people to see he is a bitch ass mf

anyway. starting off here. the very first thing HG says to Grian when talking about what happened is a threat

"i'm here to help you. i'm the best option you got, no one else will"

when i was editing for Doody, this line was just "i'm here to help." but Doody wanted it to come across somewhere in this chapter that HG has all the power in this situation and that HG wants Grian to know that. it was decided that the best spot to include that was right here, right off the bat. HG is Grian's only option and that is as much a promise as it is a threat. no one else will help Grian, and that includes saving him from HG if he doesn't tell HG what he wants to know

and then there's this page. when Grian isnt super forthcoming w info, HG pulls out Jimmy. HG knows better than anyone that Jimmy is completely innocent and that he had nothing to do w the attack--he's a victim here, and HG knows that better than anyone. he also knows, from being Grian and Jimmy's friend as a civilian for years, that Grian cares a lot about Jimmy, and is using that against Grian

he also knows from being a civilian and Jimmy's friend that Jimmy's pro-mutant stance isnt popular, and Jimmy could be framed if HG said something bad about him. HG is trying blatantly to use anti-mutant sentiments against Grian and Jimmy so that Grian will talk, in a moment Grian is already convinced he's going to be arrested for hiding his status as a mutant

(which: note that HG says he heard "rumors" about Jimmy's stance about mutants and his protests against the university's policies--it isn't rumors, HG knows this from being Jimmy's friend and coworker as Scar)

and then here, HG is the only one who was conscious and who was fully present for and remembers what happened during the MS attack. yeah, Tango was also there, but Tango is a known mutant, adn we've already seen people do not trust Tango and think Tango is dangerous--he's certainly not as trustworthy as HG, Superhero, Emerald Soldier, face of the military. he's the one people will trust most. what he says happened is what happened

HG says that yes, Grian’s secret is safe, but only because HG is choosing to keep it. Grian is safe because HG is allowing him to be. HG told everyone that Grian gained wings from the attack, and so HG won't arrest Grian. in this narrative which HG made up, Grian did not lie to the government and he was not always a mutant. HG said it, so it's true, even if he's lying. all HG has to do is change his mind and say that Grian was always a mutant who lied and hid his status from the government, and then Grian will be arrested. HG could change his mind at any time if Grian doesn't cooperate with him. he's very blatantly blackmailing Grian

fun fact! the original version of this line didn't have the "for now," but it was added in editing when Doody said they wanted it to be explicitly clear HG is threatening Grian

what HG says here is the truth. he isn't just representing the law--HG is above the law, and he isn't shy about making sure Grian knows that. he's willing to use anything in his disposal to get the information he wants, and he's willing to use anything available to him to make sure Grian complies with him. disguising it in friendly attitude and cookies and a phone number does not hide the fact HG was incredibly ruthlessly manipulative here

anyway. incredibly fun chapter. one of my favorites. i need DDVAU HG exploded