#are the reasons for that in any way her fault or even /because/ of her? NO THEY ARE NOT.

[mylastmoleculeofserotonin]

I’m convinced that people who hate Mabel have a) never watched the show and/or b) don’t have siblings. Because until they encountered Bill Cipher for the first time, there was nothing to suggest Dipper’s obsession with the journals was more important or valid than Mabel just wanted to have a normal summer with a whirlwind romance. And even after incident with the portal Dipper and Ford actively keep everything secret from Mabel and Stan so she has no idea of the stakes or what Bill is capable of. Add to that that her dreams of the future were all suddenly crumbling around her all at once, and it is perfectly reasonable if not expected that she would fall for an immortal chaos demon’s tricks.

Also, most of the stuff involving the journal that goes wrong is Dipper’s fault but he still pretends like he and Mabel are in it together. And those of you who are siblings know that Mabel takes it extremely well. Like if I had accidentally sold my body as a puppet to a demon and the only way I could ask my sibling for help was through a sock puppet, I would expect them to help, but only after they spent a good half hour laughing and making fun of me with the additional consequence would be that any time I ask them for a small favor in the future, they would remind me that they were the one to save me from my stupid mistake, so no, they won’t pass me the salt.

(Also, can we just take a moment to see the giant double standards when it comes to the romances that Dipper and Mabel’s have. When Mabel pursues a romantic people treat it as irrelevant and getting in the way of the plot even when it doesn’t. But when Dipper tries to win Wendy’s affection, people expect Mabel to drop everything, sacrifice her pet, mess with time travel to help set up a scenario which Dipper can win a carnival game as a flex.)

[joekeerys]

I find it interesting how we’ve never seen Jacaerys show any interest in women. Even in being betrothed to Baela, they act more like cousins than anything. His dance with Helaena was done almost entirely out of spite for Aegon, whom we’ve seen him show more interest in/affection toward as a child than anyone else. Then we have Cregan, whose relationship with Jacaerys in the book is…a whole other story. Jacaerys seemed quite fond of him in the short scene we got in the show too.

i’m gonna make a lot of people angry by saying this but i agree. i don’t think it’s any fault of the actors but jace and baela do not come off as a romantic couple at all. that’s entirely due to how condal & co chose to write them and their lack of scenes that would imply they’re anything other than close family. it’s unfortunate because i’d really like to see them explored more and they’ve already treated baela’s character poorly enough as it is. i highly doubt we’ll even get a kiss between them before jacaerys dies.

it’s obvious i’m a big jacegon shipper and, regardless of whether you view it as platonic/familial or not, the way they acted together as kids and the tension between them during the dinner because of that fallout is undeniable. we haven’t seen jace act the way he did with aegon with anyone else. i think some people downplay how much he looked up to aegon as a child (as they do with all of aegon’s relationships), especially considering it’s the reason why things were so tense between them after aegon very publicly betrayed him in 1x07. i’d argue that “everyone knows. just look at them.” coming from someone he admired so much is one of jace’s biggest reasons for feeling so inadequate his whole life. this got out of hand lmao but YEAH i think it’s interesting how affected jace and aegon are by each other and i do not see it as entirely platonic.

jace and cregan are a whole other story indeed. i’m not much of a jacegan shipper but cregan’s devotion to jace long after his death is interesting to say the least. i never bought into the whole sara snow thing and the absence of her in the show doesn’t bother me since it’s up in the air whether she existed at all and i take everything mushroom says with a grain of salt. i like the ship more as an idea. them seeing themselves in each other, jace finding someone he can be more comfortable with, and them finding a sort of intimacy in that. another instance where the he chemistry between them is pretty apparent and it helps that harry and tom are such good friends outside of the show.

i think there’s a reason why jace is normally written as gay in fanfics where he’s paired with a man, while the other party is usually written as bisexual. i wouldn’t go as far as to say that the showrunners write him that way intentionally because that would be giving too much credit to someone like sara hess who has called hotd “the gayest show on tv” for reasons beyond explanation.

i’ve always seen show jace at least as being more interested in men because that’s what we’ve been given. book jace is another story and harder to pin down. ultimately, i agree with you!

[jamethinks]

One thing I find very ironic about Spyxfamily is the way the Desmonds are portrayed. I understand that according to the narrative, they (namely Donovan) are the antagonists of the story, but I do find it quite tepid that so many character analysis is bonded by this very dichotomy style approach to understanding the characters (if that makes any sense).

I'm having a hard time approaching my point so bare with me if it starts to get confusing or disjointed.

I always see people talking about how the Forgers (aka the fake family) are able to have a happy relationship and a genuine bond while the Desmonds (aka the real family) are distant and uncaring of one another. There's a lot of emphasis on the parallels between Damian and Anya and how the presence of their fathers impact their lives. Most of the discussion is centered around shaming Donovan for not being more involved in Damian's life but not a lot of people are acknowledging why.

The whole reason for the fake family as part of Twilight's mission is because Donovan is a closed off skeptic who avoids unnecessary social interaction. This mission is supposedly the easiest way to get to him. As the story goes on, we gain a better understanding of just how shut off Donovan is and how much he actually isolated himself, even from his own family.

But the thing is, his actions are justified. The mere existence of Operation Strix validates his fears and anxieties. The fact that Twilight a spy is trying to expoilt the relationship he has with his children in order to get closer to him is the very reason he avoids them so much. It's people like Twilight that make him such a skeptical person.

Again, people praise Twilight for being a good dad, except he isn't really a good dad. It's all a facade. He's so dedicated to his goal as a spy for the West that he's willing to fake an entire family just to find out what Donovan is planning. Everything Donovan hates and resents is embodied in Twilight.

In the end, Twilight is just as harmful to Anya as Donovan is to Damian. He grabbed a random child from an orphanage and is using her for his own personal gain with limited regard for her well-being. We are not even sure what he plans on doing with her when the mission is over. Anya is obviously able to manipulate the situation to her own advantage, but that's only because she's a telepath. Any other kid would just be playing along, assume they just got themselves a new family overnight. We do see him grow and deepen his bond with Anya, in some cases threatening the mission for her benefit, but that was never a guarantee.

In a very frustrating way, Twilight is also contributing to Damian's strained relationship with his father and family. While Donovan obviously doesn't know what Twilight is doing, he's still aware that there are people out there who might. So, he continues to be guarded and make unreasonable demands of his children. He makes Damian feel he has to earn his place in his father's life because people like Twilight push Donovan to limit the number of people that are allowed in his life. I'm not saying it's Twilight specifically who's at fault, but people like him who are very much trying to force their way into his circle.

And I'm not saying of this yo defend Donovan or put down Twilight but I would like for less black and white thinking when talking about a Manga that hinges itself on nuance and the complexity of post war society. I find it a bit tired to keep categorizing characters as good or bad because it really hinders any conversation about them.

Idk I just feel there's a lot of moral ambiguity in sxf that really is intended to make us question our own moral code so it's weird seeing people ignore the actual harm Twilight and Yor cause just to reinforce their own limited moral values.

I don't think this makes much sense honestly.

[werebutch]

My mom getting a new place is kinda making me anxious I think she thinks I’m gonna move in w her instead of my dad 😭 and I’m not sure why I don’t want to. Cuz she’s way better. But I don’t. And I feel responsible I think and plus my sisters will never favor my mom over my dad… so we’d live apart. but I’m 20 years old I can live whatever I want. But. But but but

[coquelicoq]

one important thing about work emails is that whoever you send them to can forward them to anyone else, or reply to you and copy other people. so if you're going to talk about a third party in your email, only say things you would be okay with the third party reading. because people can and will just suddenly CC brand new people on a long email chain, who will then be able to backread anything you've ever said in any of your previous responses that you were sending to only one person. word to the wise.

[dredshirtroberts]

it is not slacking off to write or create it is not slacking off to do things that are fun i am not slacking off or procrastinating right now i'm allowed to do things i enjoy doing for fun including playing games and writing and such

[redriverstyx]

turns out i have fasd (fabulous amazing silly disorder) 👍

[flippedorbit]

sure mom. get mad at me for napping most of the day

[tvrningout]

i love when songs make me think :' )) bc it occurred to me that aside from maybe her family members, chiyo's probably never?? really spoken about kojirou to anyone, and if she has, it was the bare minimum. like her relationship ended with him in high school, he moved away, and then chiyo never spoke about him again, which wouldn't be totally unusual if it wasn't for the fact that the way that relationship ended continued to impact her as she grew older.

chiyo's issue with kojirou was that while they had great chemistry and understood one another really well, chiyo was still just a kid. kojirou was just a kid. love was this big and scary concept that kojirou wasn't afraid of but wasn't ready for, and chiyo was terrified and not ready. love meant fully opening up to the possibility of getting hurt; love meant forever, in her mind; love was too much to ask of her at a time when she was still growing used to the idea of being wanted in the first place, still recovering from years of feeling unwanted and troublesome.

the fact that chiyo never talks about kojirou means that she can't move on and heal from that experience. just bc she couldn't love him doesn't mean she's incapable of loving someone else, and it doesn't mean that she's going to ruin future relationships. chiyo has a mindset of, " of course i'm the problem. i always make things difficult, " and that stems from being bullied and needing so much attention from her family and from her relationship with kojirou. she doesn't place any fault on the guy who told her he loves her right before moving away :' ) like what was even the point ko :' )

i sure am rambling asdfg but all of this is to say!! make chiyo talk about ko. make her talk about why she hasn't been in a relationship since high school. make her talk about something hard that she avoids and ignores bc that's what she'll always do unless it's pulled out of her :' )

[pureconancommentary]

"We can't do anything"? How about invite her inside your house, Agasa? She's been waiting in the snow for three hours, just standing there doing nothing else, and you just watched and thought 'oh man, that's sad. ...Anyways, shame on you Shinichi'.

I mean, there are other concerns, such as 'how did she arrive to wait for three hours and Conan seems to have only arrived'. If I were to assume, he had to talk with Megure for a little while as Shinichi for case reasons, and then slip away and return to the agency, only to find that Ran wasn't there. Though it also brings up how it'd take three whole hours, and also why Ran decided to wait in front of Shinichi's house in the cold when she'd previously just waltzed inside when she thought he might have gone home. Even now, right when the lights turn on, she just pushes the gate and front door open, so there's no reason we see for why she'd stand there for three hours. She's not even wearing pants, she's in a skirt with long socks, there is no reason to have her do that.

[kavehater]

Wow that was a very good session of haterism this is why I love this account 😻🤞✨

^^ also me cause I’d go right back to her wahoo

[batboybisexualism]

my stupid fucking doctor not only waited too long to submit my top surgery authorization but she put it down as an inpatient procedure when it's an outpatient procedure so now they have to postpone the surgery until april 23rd when it was supposed to be this fucking tuesday I'm going to fucking kill someone

[nereidprinc3ss]

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

[a-b-riddle]

Part Four

Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.

"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.

"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."

"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.

"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."

You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.

"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.

Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.

It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.

It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.

In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.

"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."

"You think it was a stunt?"

"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."

"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."

"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."

"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."

"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."

You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.

You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.

"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”

For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.

Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?

"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.

You were finally angry.

[rafesgfs]

bsf!rafe who's wrapped around your finger, who doesn't care when his friends tease him about being whipped for you. who comes to your every beck and call, looking for any way to make your life easier, because that's his only reason for existing. to make your life better.

bsf!rafe who's hopelessly in love with you, always on the verge of confessing to you but never having the courage to do so. who spoils you with anything and everything you ever wanted. who makes a fool of himself following you around in the hopes that you love him the same way but always knowing you don't.

at a party, he spots you with your friends and he gets up, habitually getting you something to drink. he stalks closer to you with your favorite drink in a solo cup, listening to your friends.

"he follows you around all the time. i don't get how you don't get annoyed of him." your friend says, laughing.

"seriously, it's like watching a puppy begging for attention." another added, giving you a look. "it's pathetic."

and all you do is laugh in response.

he can't find it in himself to get hurt because it is the truth. he craved your attention so badly that he practically preened whenever you gave him a bit of it. rafe's so wrapped up in you that he couldn't even fault you for not defending him.

he waits a few minutes before he walks over and hands you the drink, pretending as if he's heard nothing. he melts when you give him a smile and a kiss on his cheek, mind blanking as your soft, soft lips touch his skin. you thank him, dismissing him with a hand and he reluctantly makes his way back to topper and kelce.

bsf!rafe who's bored at the party and somehow ends up talking to sofia, a waitress at the country club. he doesn't look at her when she talks, observing the party from the balcony, everything she's saying going in one ear and out the other.

he doesn't even register her touching his arm, pulling away when he sees you staring at him, your eyes drifting to the hand on his arm. he excuses himself from her, needing to be in your presence before his anxiety gets to him. needing you to soothe his worries away; worries that came from being away from you.

bsf!rafe who sees you talking with sofia instead, hides behind a tree like a creepy stalker whilst he eavesdrops for the second time that night, peeking from the side of the tree to look at you.

"do you like rafe, sofia?" you ask, voice sweet, smile even sweeter. your eyes glint with something unfamiliar as sofia nods.

"i mean, he's cute—"

you giggle, touching sofia's hair and for a second, he wonders if you were going to kiss her, jealously bubbling in his stomach. he hated watching you kiss other people, even if it was a pogue who didn't deserve a lick of your attention.

within a second, your smile drops and you glare at her. without a word, you brought your fist to your eye, punching it hard. sofia gasped in shock, unable to move as she watched you repeat the same motion three more times.

"help! someone help!" you call out with a saccharine smirk on your face, your tone not matching your words. you hold a hand to your reddening eye as people come.

rafe emerges from his hiding spot, concerned and shocked, taking you in his arms and examining your eye. people came, the music turned off as people rallied behind you, eyes glancing between you and sofia.

"that bitch hit me! someone call the cops!" you wailed out, burying your face against rafe's chest.

bsf!rafe who shields you with his arms, eyes narrowing at sofia as someone calls the cops. his mind is spinning, confused but mostly concerned for your wellbeing. he comforts you, kissing your eye in hopes it wouldn't bruise over, but with the big emerald ring on your finger—the one he had gotten you for your friendiversary—he knew it would turn blue by the end of the night.

bsf!rafe who holds you as you tell the cops what happened, sniffling and touching your eye. who listens as you tell them about sofia getting violent and hitting you until you called out for help.

bsf!rafe who saw the whole thing but lied, telling the officer the same thing you did, earning a soft smile from you. who watched you watch sofia getting cuffed and thrown in the police car with a small smirk on your lips and possessiveness in your eyes.

you stare up at him as soon as the police car is out of view, wrapping your arms around his neck. "thank you, rafey. for helping me."

bsf!rafe who will always look out for you, taking your side against others. who you keep on a short leash, never wanting his love but always using it to make yourself happy.

"anything for you," he replies, smiling.

[catastrophicdisasters]

apologies, i'm still angry abt TUA S4

so, if we take out all of the blatant issues with the season (character assassination, 'resolutions' that create more plotholes than they solve, rushed scenes that make no sense, side plots that go nowhere, raymond vanishing for no reason, etc etc), what are we left with? let's see:

fatphobia (multiple jokes made about 'chubby Diego', when David just looks hydrated and healthy)

SA played for jokes (it's clear that Klaus having sex while possessed is supposed to be funny, but he's being held hostage and forced to do this for money, when we already know he didn't even want his powers back??)

cheating

problematic / borderline problematic age gaps (either way you spin it, either Five is physically 20-26 while Lila is likely mid 40s, or Five is mentally 70s while Lila is mid 40s; Aidan was 19 while filming, and Ritu was 34)

waiting for the actor to come of age before introducing a romance (we already know what some fans can be like over Five/Aidan, this will not have helped; I would be horrified if I found out the show runners had planned a romance arc with a coworked 15 years older than me and then waited for me to turn legal age to execute it)

sexism (i was reluctant to call it that but i also don't know what else to call it - Lila basically had her agency stripped away to become the love interest two men fought over; Steve wanted Five to have a romance and didn't care who with - use Lila simply because she was there)

complete disregard of character trauma (Klaus being buried alive despite it having been mentioned in every prior season that he was locked in a mausoleum by Reginald, including literally being left to die)

possible overstepping of an actor's boundaries (i've not been able to verify this, but i've seen it said that robert sheehan has requested not to do sex scenes?) (still havent been able to prove this; wasn't an issue with other roles so... hesitant to leave it)

actors requests being ignored (David asked multiple times if the Lila cheating sideplot was required, but clearly it went ahead anyway)

bad cgi

that awful vomit montage

Reginald (im not quite calling it abuse forgiveness but uh. it's not far off tbh)

i don't even know what to call this, but basically told the Hargreeves the abuse they suffered was their fault because they shouldn't even exist??

what did i miss? (im sure there's something)

from the replies:

the song in the ep3 dance scene uses a slur for romani people (and is also about a man and an underage girl)

SA dismissal (it's literally never addressed that Allison SA'd Luther last season. like, at all. everything's just a-okay now!)

more sexism (Allison's arc was also reduced to serving men; there's a single line to explain that Ray left, with no mention of why (i could go OFF about this but this post isn't supposed to be about mishandling of characters); even after everything, all her bonding with Claire comes through Klaus's storyline. also, Sloane is just gone and nobody gives a shit - Luther has one line and that's it??)

so many issues with consent (all of the girls shown in the place Klaus works look drugged / Klaus doesn't want to be there and doing any of that, it's all against his wishes / they all get their powers back against their wishes - although they do tell Ben that wasn't his choice to make / Klaus gets his powers back against his will when Allison is pressured to do it to save his life)