#how do i fit everyone i care about in here

[glamourscat]

hii hope you are well! I was wondering if you can do a fic about rin (from blk) first time with reader and it’s really soft and new to him if not that’s okay! Thank you byee<33

FIRSTs | RIN ITOSHI X READER

a/n: I am extremely sorry for the wait. Classes are kicking my butt. I hope you like it, I tried to give it a bit of a “twist”. | smut at the end |

Rin wasn’t even sure why he was here. Truly, he hated all of them. Okay, maybe hated was a strong word. Perhaps saying he held grudges against some, if not all of them, was a more appropriate fit.

He had never been good at expressing himself, at opening up. In fact, in his entire life, only one person had ever managed to break through that barrier and that was Sae. But then he left. And for some obscure reason, you managed to do it too. With your kindness and resilience, you never stopped showing him that you cared, putting him in his place when necessary. And that only made him more drawn to you.

But back to the main issue. Camping.

It was summer and he had just returned to Japan from his football season. Coincidentally, his ex-Blue Lock… friends? No, scratch that, nuisances, were also back in Japan and had organized this big camping trip with everyone and their respective partners.

He could hear Reo in the background huffing at Nagi, who was refusing to help set up their tent. Bachira… well, being Bachira. And the others were being loud as usual. His eyes found yours, a silent plea of Can we please make a run for it?

You chuckled quietly as you met his gaze.

“C’mon—you dragged me here to begin with. It’s going to be okay,” you teased, though your tone held gentle reassurance.

“But—” he huffed, pouting. “They’re already getting on my nerves.”

“Rin, we literally placed our tent as far away as possible from the others. We are almost in the river. It’s going to be fine. If you get a migraine, we can leave, kay?” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He mumbled a quiet okay, or at least, you thought he did. As he turned his face away, unwilling to show you the way his cheeks flushed red at the light contact of your lips.

Eventually the tent was finally set up. By the time everything was settled, it was already late. After having dinner together, everyone went their separate ways to their respective tents.

Your eyes flicked to Rin’s figure as he changed, his green eyes meeting yours with a hidden glint of amusement.

“Take a picture,” he said smugly, though he made no effort to hide the way your gaze affected him.

“I’m not staring,” you huffed, slightly flustered as you continued putting on your pajamas.

“Sure you weren’t,” he said, amused, as he settled under your shared sleeping bag.

He wasn’t exactly sure how it happened.

One moment, it was you grumbling, “You’re taking up all the space,” and him biting back, “No, I’m not.” The back and forth went on for some time until, somehow, he ended up on top of you, both of you panting after an intense tickling session. Your lips were still curled into a smile, but then the position you found yourselves in fully sank in.

It wasn’t like… you two hadn’t done anything before. But it had never gone this far. Yet here he was, straddling your lap, his messy hair falling into his eyes, his breath unsteady. And then there was the other thing. The painfully obvious erection pressing against your core.

“Oh,” you let out quietly, your eyes searching his.

“I—I’m sorry,” he gulped, trying to move away, but you stopped him.

“No—I mean… we—if—” You sighed, embarrassed. “I don’t… mind. We can… you know.”

“You sure?” he whispered, his throat suddenly dry.

“More than sure,” you whispered back with a soft smile.

Yeah, no. You hadn’t anticipated having your first time in a tent, much less on a camping trip with Rin’s so-called archenemies a few feet away. Maybe putting the tent so far away had been a sign.

His lips found yours as you both tried to stay quiet, swallowing each other’s moans. His hands cupped your cheeks, his cock rubbing along your slit, sending shivers down your spine.

“I—I… just tell me if it hurts, okay? I’ll stop—just… I want to make you feel good. I have no idea what I am doing, just— I just want to make you happy,” he murmured against your lips.

With a reassuring smile and a nod from your end, his tip slowly pushed in, parting your wet folds. A gasp left your guys lips at the unfamiliar sensation. Heavens. He was already and embarrassingly close. He looked at the top of the tent, trying and desperately failing, to think about anything else but how perfect you fit around him. He took his time, moving with slow, careful thrusts. Your tummy felt warm. As something was ready to explode. And then an involuntary moan escaped you.

“Good?” he asked, his voice huskier now, fighting back an amused smile.

“Yes—fuck. Yes,” you nodded, your hands gripping his back, pulling him closer as his movements started matching yours. Slightly faster, deeper.

The tent filled with quiet gasps, muffled moans, and the sound of skin meeting skin. It was intense in the best way. He was so soft with you, tracing his fingertips along your skin, kissing your neck, whispering how much he loved you. And you were pretty sure he was almost in tears as he finished, that’s how good it was. Not to mention the obscene moan that left his lips, such a sweet melody to your ears.

It was trust. Two souls melting into one in the most primal way. As he kept moving, pushing deeper, slower, faster. He was getting lost in the feeling of his cock in between your warm walls, struggling to keep silent. And lowkey cursing himself for waiting until now to do it, especially location wise.

He didn’t know much, but he did know he wanted this again and again. This feeling, this closeness, forever.

To be two in one. To get lost in each other.

——————————————————————————

Morning came far too quickly for Rin’s liking. But after enough convincing, you managed to drag him to breakfast with the others. He sipped his tea quietly, subtly leaning into you, until Isagi spoke.

“Did you guys hear that last night? There were some strange noises. I think some wild animals must have been near the campsite.”

“Oh, so it wasn’t just me and Nagi who heard it then,” Reo said, looking up from his phone.

Rin’s eyes locked onto yours. But before either of you could even think, Shidou’s voice cut through the open space.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry. That was just me and Sae having s—”

The sentence went unfinished as Sae grabbed him by the ear, dragging him away while Shidou yelped in protest. Laughter erupted around the group.

Well.

A wild animal had been out last night, indeed. If you could say that.

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[manwritingtales]

Jock Roommate

Note: Some pictures were too spicy for Tumblr (this post got flagged!) so I've linked to them instead

---

You know, I was happy when I first saw my roommate. Fit, handsome, and just excruciatingly sexy. You just know he had an easy life using his looks. He'd walk down the street and men and women would stop to turn and stare at him. He was that gorgeous. Too bad he was also a complete slob. He only cares about getting fit, playing sports, and getting laid. The stereotypical jock. Several shirts thrown here and there around were fine; and I honestly didn't care—I even took a sniff or two here and there, but I didn't expect him to be such a big fucking slob.

After a month of living with him, discarded bottles were all around, energy drinks, pizza boxes, and all sorts of garbage that I couldn't even decipher. It made me mad—not just by how dirty he was, but with how he could manage to eat like a pig and still look like that. Even if he didn't shower for days, instead of getting just stinky, he exuded this strong scent that I couldn't help but secretly enjoy. It was unfair seeing how much of a pig he was and still looking like that. Every other day, he'd be dragging some chick to bang all night, and the day after, I kept telling him to quiet it down, and he'd just roll his eyes and tell me to "lighten up." It was relentless. Every day, he'd be bringing a chick, sometimes two, and they'd go at it all night. The guy was a horndog. Muscles, chicks, sports, sex. That's all he cared about.

I don't know if he knew I was gay. Maybe he did. Sometimes, he'd be back from the gym, throwing his wet shirt along the pile of laundry on the floor, he'd grin at me and tell me to clean up the place. He'd take a long shower, while I stared at the soaked shirt. I would take it, feeling the warmth and moist of it, and plunge it deep in my nose. God, he reeked. It was a smell enough to drive a man wild. I wanted it closer to me, I wanted it in me.

When I heard the shower turn off, I immediately threw it away and started cleaning up. He'd stand there, looking fresh with clean skin and black hair, letting the water hit his chiseled abs, and he'd smirk at me and leave without saying a word. It went on for months until I hit my breaking point.

It was semi-finals. I was working on several projects and I got an exam the next day. Phillip—God, even his name sounded sexy on him—brought another girl home and started making out on the sofa. I heard the girl giggling in delight as they moaned. I peeked my head out and saw Phillip kissing the girl's neck. I grew angry. "Do you mind taking it in the bedroom? I got an exam tomorrow. Don't you have class too, Phillip?"

He looked at me in annoyance. "Mind your own business," he said. He turned to her. "Don't mind him. The fag's just jealous he's not you." They both laughed and started making out again.

That was it. It was too much. The pressure from college, Phillip calling me a fag, and the deep-seated feeling that he was right—I was jealous I wasn't making out with him. Things had to change.

What I didn't mention before was that I'm studying chemical engineering. The only reason I got into this prestigious university was that I was a stellar student. I was always combining compounds even before high school, and I knew I could work on something if I work hard on it enough.

I didn't sleep for three months. I dedicated day and night trying to find the perfect compound to use on Phillip. I may have barely passed my exams, earned a warning from my professors for being late or absent, but I was dead set. I used the university lab to make my own concoction, further improving upon it during the night. I barely survived the semester and I still spent the entire break perfecting my concoction.

Time passed like a blur, but I remembered every painstaking detail. Every late night of brainstorming. I didn't care. I was angry at him. I was angry at him for being such a slob, for being a jerk to everyone, and I was angry at myself for being attracted to him. In the end, I finally released the breath I'd been holding for months. I had done it. I'd found the perfect combination.

A new semester arrived. Phillip talked to me in the living room. God, I hated how my stomach felt when he was with me. He just exuded this potent musk, and the way he looks at you is enough to make your knees fall.

"Dude. You gonna pick up around here or what?" he said, glancing at the dirty apartment. I didn't point out that he made that mess. "You know I got more important stuff to do than handle all this. And it's not easy taking care of this bod, you know?" His muscles bulged as he spoke. I stared straight at his eyes. "Try not to be completely useless, for once."

This time, I didn't get mad. I smiled at him and said, "Okay."

He looked at me strangely. I didn't care. For once in my life, I didn't feel helpless against him, helpless against my attraction for him. I had the solution.

Just as scheduled, he went to the gym first thing in the morning. When he came back, he fixed himself a drink and got on the shower. Listening carefully to the running water, I let the liquid fall into his drink. I felt calm. I was so nervous thinking about it, but doing it felt so easy. I ate breakfast as I watched him drain the drink in a single gulp.

I saw him groan and enter his room. I sat on the couch, looking at the clock as minutes passed by. Finally, he opened the door, shuffling slowly to the living room, a confused look on his face.

"I… I don't feel so good…" he mumbled, collapsing to the floor.

I looked at his unconscious body. He even got a nice bubble butt. Too bad it was wasted on a straight dude. I got the vial from my room and swallowed it down. This shouldn't take too long, but for now, I looked at his body.

I turned him around. God, he's handsome. In spite of the horndog jerk, he was so pretty to look at. I let my hand roam over his skin, then gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. He smelled clean and fresh, his skin cool. I inhaled deeply, burying my face on his neck. His potent scent filled me. I could feel my dick become harder. I looked at his face, letting my fingers trace over his abs, and I kissed his lips. I let my tongue inside him, savoring his warmth, enjoying his saliva. I lifted his arms and smelled his pits. Still fresh from his shower, I gave it a lick. A shiver ran down my spine. God, I wanted more. I needed more of him.

I felt a tingle in my chest. The vial was kicking in. I shucked off my clothes and let my naked body fall on him. I could feel his chest, his dick, and his arms. I felt my brain cloud. An odd sensation lingered on my feet. looked down and gasped as I saw my foot slowly merging into his body. This was it. It was happening. I kissed his chest, my hands moving over him as I felt more of my body sinking into him. I could feel his soft breath against me, and it drove me wild.

I felt my chest fall inside him, my arms fading into him, and then the darkness consumed me as my consciousness slipped away.

I blinked. I was looking at the ceiling. A sharp pain throbbed in my head, and I clutched it in pain. Everything felt weird. My eyesight was hazy. I blinked rapidly until it cleared.

"What the fuck…"

Phillip's voice came out. I gasped and touched my throat. I felt stubble on my cheek. Looking down at my legs, I noticed how much stronger and more defined they were.

"Holy shit," I said, the words coming out in Phillip's voice. I touched my abs, feeling how firm they are. I looked down at my arms. Holy shit. They were toned as hell. I stood up and gasped at my new weight—my new height. I stumbled into the bathroom and looked in a mirror. Phillip's handsome face stared back. He looked confused, and I raised my arms and saw Phillip in the reflection do the same. I reached out and touched my cheek.

"It… It really worked…" I felt his tongue, somehow the feeling of enunciating words and syllables felt different. I flexed his arms and saw Phillip in the reflection doing the same. "It fucking worked!"

I watched as Phillip's face lighten up, grinning, as I felt my new body. "God, Phillip. You were always so fucking hot."

Hearing Phillip talk this way was enough to make me hard. I looked at every inch of his chest, at every part of his arm, and I could no longer ignore the hardening length below me. I shoved his boxers down. Good God. Phillip was packing serious heat. The thing was seven inches long, and it was only half hard. "Damn, Phillip," I muttered, "no wonder you got a chick every night."

Just the mere fact that I'm looking at Phillip and listening to his voice was enough to make me hard. I let out a heavy breath as I watched his cock get harder, arching to a full ten inches. I gave it a tug and left out a groan. Phillip's voice was manly and needy.

"You're so hot, Phillip," I said, gasping as I took his dick in his hands. I closed my eyes and let the sensation overtake me. I was him. I'd finally done it. I gave my brand new dick a squeeze and I groaned, as loud as I can. I felt my knees buckle, warmth coursing through my body and directly to my dick. I opened my eyes and stared at my reflection, seeing Phillip with his mouth open, hand on his long, hard dick, groaning. I spit on his dick, the saliva mixing with his pre-cum. I grinned at his reflection, trying to emulate the original Phillip as much as I can. I flexed his arms, wiggling his eyebrows as I stuck his tongue out. Jesus Christ he was sexy.

I turned and looked at Phillip's hairy bubble butt in the mirror. He was perfect. I stroked his cock, feeling the overwhelming heat radiating from it. It was veiny and wet, pulsating in my hand. I stroked it faster while flexing his arms, sniffing his armpits and feeling his knees buckle from the sensation. I started stroking harder and harder. "Fuck, Phillip!" I groaned, the words coming out in his voice, sounding so damn sexy. I stroked harder, feeling his body get slick with sweat. "Ohhhh fuck yeah!" I groaned harder, letting his voice fill the room. I inhaled deeply, taking in his smell, sniffing his armpits as hard as I could. His scent was powerful. It'd never been this overwhelming. It was in me. This strong, musky scent was everywhere.

I stroked harder and harder. I looked at Phillip in the mirror, seeing his body jerk off, his hands slick with saliva as his mouth drooled. I felt my knees buckle and I let out a loud groan, massive amounts of cum spurting from his dick, splattering against the mirror. I let the sensation wash over me, the warmth still so overwhelming. I breathed in and out, my chest rising and falling.

I looked at his reflection again, then at my hand. It was slick with his cum. I stared at his reflection and watched Phillip lick his own cum from his hands.

---

I plopped down on his bed. Even his bed smelled like him. His room was a mess—clothes thrown everywhere, bottles, papers—but I didn't care. I stared at the ceiling, watching Phillip's chest rising and falling. I looked over his body, the birthmark, the veins, and all the little things I'd only began to notice now that I was in him.

"God, Phillip, why did you have to be such a dick?" I whispered in his voice. I breathed in and out, still not sure if this is real or a dream. I heard a notification from his phone, and grinned as it opened using facial recognition. It was a message from a random chick, asking when they were going to meet up.

"Well, that's not gonna happen," I whispered. "I'm gay as fuck."

Hearing Phillip say those words made me snort, a laugh escaping my lips. I tossed the phone aside and let myself enjoy the warmth of his bed. He feels so tight, so manly, and so good. I looked down at his dick, which was already getting hard again. A wave of intense horniness washed over me, then dove straight to my hardening cock. "Jesus, Phillip. Now I get why you're such a fucking horndog."

[therainscene]

[ST5 spoilers ahead. This theory is largely grounded in canon evidence from S1-4, but I will be referencing a couple of old S5 leaks below the cut.]

Stranger Things is a show that delights in escapist fantasy; it's packed with nostalgic references and celebrates the protagonists' love of gaming in order to remind us that we don't need to abandon our childhood interests just because we grew up.

But escapism is a double-edged sword that all too easily turns into an unhealthy coping mechanism, and boy is this show also one that delights in the horror of unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I reckon they'd be missing a trick if these opposing themes didn't crash into one another for the final season.

Vecna seems to be motivated by a desire to help the kids he targets -- he wipes away their tears, he reassures them that their suffering will be over soon -- but he also barely seems to notice or care that he's just making the suffering worse. Which is exactly the attitude you'd expect from a villain who personifies the urge to turn to shitty coping mechanisms.

Since S5 is going to focus on Will's coming-of-age, then whatever Vecna is up to must resonate with Will's worst coping mechanisms.

What better fit for Will "wants to sit in the basement playing games for the rest of his life" Byers than a fantasy world in which everyone is forced to be a carefree kid forever while their bodies rot in the Upside Down?

Think about it: Henry wants to transform the world into something beautiful, but the world he currently seems to be ruling over is nothing of the sort -- is a cold and barren facsimile of Hawkins populated with monsters really Henry's idea of beauty?

Doesn't it make more sense for the Upside Down/Mind Flayer to simply be the hardware that helps him run his simulation of something more relatable -- an idyllic vision of the childhood he wishes he had, populated with all the kids he oh-so benevolently rescued from the fate worse than death that is wake up, eat, work, sleep, reproduce, and wait for it all to be over?

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

We know for a fact that one of S5's episodes is titled Escape from Camazotz -- a reference to the misleadingly idyllic world from A Wrinkle in Time -- and leaked BTS photos from last year show Henry hanging out with a Hawkins child at a mysteriously pristine Creel house.

It's promising, but I'm not a huge fan of using leaks as evidence. They always come devoid of context, and even difficult-to-fake things like BTS photos could be staged by production to throw fans off the scent -- so what does the canon suggest?

One possible hint is that the Upside Down has consistently borrowed imagery from The Matrix throughout the seasons:

But more importantly, this theory is thematically consistent with what we currently know about Will in S1: while trapped in the Upside Down, he retreated to Castle Byers (his escapist safe space), and that's where he was caught, dragged to the library (another escapist space), and plugged into the vines that connect him directly to Vecna.

It's also subtly implied by Will's behaviour in S3 that part of him wants Vecna to succeed: he sticks with El after realizing Vecna is back, despite knowing full well that being able to spy on Vecna means Vecna can also spy on him; and he makes a suspiciously helpful-to-Vecna suggestion about how the party should go about investigating the monster of the week:

Could Will be under Vecna's control here? Perhaps. But I think this is a choice he's making of his own volition.

Consider: At one point Will destroys Castle Byers in a fit of grief that his childhood is over, and this just so happens to be the same scene in which he becomes certain that Vecna has returned.

He has to grow up and face the horrible truth that he's gay and broken and in love with a boy who can't possibly love him back and he does not want to deal with this -- wouldn't he do anything in that moment to find a way to escape back into childhood? Is this not the perfect moment for a seductive voice in his head to start whispering offers?

Bargaining is one of the five stages of grief, after all.

But then, so is acceptance. Will isn't walking the path of villainy here; he's at the temptation stage of his hero's journey.

S4 took him far away from Hawkins and allowed him to work through some of his feelings without Vecna breathing down his neck, and he comes to a very final-sounding decision about it:

He's realized that longing to sit in the basement playing silly games with his crush all day is immature and turning him (in his opinion) into a jealous asshole--

--and now that he's ripped off the band-aid with Mike he's gonna kill that underlying desire once and for all. Right?

Wrong. I mean, that's certainly what he believes at the end of S4 -- but he's still got a whole season of main character coming-of-age shit left to do in this show that delights in escapist fantasy and reminds us we don't need to abandon our childhood interests just because we grew up.

The visual similarities between the Upside Down and the Matrix aren't the only parallels between these two stories -- a theme present in both is the realization that the rules of the world you were raised in are an oppressive lie that you have the freedom to reject so long as you're brave enough to accept the truth.

Much like Neo, Will has a deeper connection to the horrors than any of its other victims (beyond Henry himself), and that connection grants him the gift of True Sight:

Stuck between the View-Master slides is how he describes it. Will can't bring himself to conform to 1980s expectations of normalcy, but he also can't bring himself to retreat into Vecna's time-frozen fantasy and hurt all of his friends.

The solution is to understand that Will's unique position doesn't mean he'll be forced to pick a side and either become a villain or sacrifice himself for the greater good: it means that like Neo he has the power to transcend the rules of false realities.

Will can defeat Vecna without castrating himself in the process, and he can play D&D in Mike's basement for the rest of his life if he wants to...

...just so long as both he and Mike are brave enough to accept the truth first.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Can you talk about a character’s physical strength and how strong they are? Isn’t Azul very strong and able to lift heavy things?

is anything mention about wizard being more physical strong or anything?

There's nothing that states that mages are stronger or more physically capable than a magicless human. However, it's important to consider that a mage's overall health and wellbeing contributes to their blot accumulation and recovery. You're recommended to eat and sleep to get rid of blot. This is why NRC has its students in P.E. class and organizes Vargas Camp: to keep the boys in shape for spellcasting.

About half of the cast are in athletic clubs. This includes Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Leona, Jack, Ruggie, Floyd, Jamil, Epel, Silver, and Sebek. I would also argue Jade counts as athletic, but his club is sort of a middle ground between athletic and cultural. The others--Cater, Trey, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Rook, Idia, Ortho, Malleus, and Lilia--are in cultural clubs. This doesn't automatically make everyone in athletic clubs stronger than those that aren't though. For example, Riddle has very low physical stamina (something which Kalim comments on in Riddle's P.E. Uniform vignette) and Rook, despite being in Science Club (ie a cultural club) is quite strong.

Here are some notable (physically) strong or muscular characters from NRC's student population!

Please note: just because I don’t list a character here doesn’t necessarily mean they are weak; a character could be fit/healthy but not be in this list because there isn’t anything in canon which indicates them as being a standout in terms of strength.

Deuce (ex-delinquent; infamous in his hometown)

Trey (he bakes (ie lifts heavy bags of flour and sugar) and used to play soccer; Magical Archives states his build is actually surprisingly thick, even moreso than Rook I think)

Leona (do I need to explain this one)

Jack (do I need to explain this one part 2)

Azul (grip strength)

Floyd (his infamous squeezing)

Jade (is able to hold his own in fights with his twin; he was also taught self-defense as a kid)

Jamil (professionally trained bodyguard)

Vil (trains with personal trainer who was an master kickboxer; he is careful not to train too much to avoid becoming overly muscular)

Rook (tells a story about how he got lost in the jungle as a kid and survived by himself until he was found; an archer, which takes considerable arm strength)

Malleus (can literally crack open coconuts with his bare hands and punch holes in cave walls to retrieve magestones)

Silver (Lilia's hellish training + he is a knight)

Sebek (same reasoning as Silver)

Lilia (an ex-war general, trained the other Diasomnia boys himself)

***Honorable mention goes to Ortho, whose physical capabilities vary depending on the Gear he is equipped with at any given moment.***

Let’s talk about Azul in more detail since he a the character named in the ask!

In the second Beanfest event, Floyd reveals that Azul actually has "crazy grip strength", even if his speed, reflexes, and stamina are lacking. This is because "Octopi are all muscle" and Floyd doubts that Azul's "crazy grip strength" would have diminished simply because he is currently in a form more suitable for land.

This is confirmed in book 6; Azul states that, "I'm confident I could take [Riddle] even without magic. My arms are quite powerful, unlike [his]." He is also confident that he can help Riddle hold up their Thunder Spear later in book 6, but it shocked by its heft. This suggests that Azul is used to having the strength to easily lift things.

Azul's arm strength persists in other events too. He is able to, for example, pry Stitch off when he was clinging on to Yuu for dear life, potentially drowning them both.

In an event yet to come out to the EN server (Tapis Rouge), Azul is able to keep pushy reporters at bay when they try to swarm Vil.

Finally, in Azul's Outdoor Wear vignette, it seems that Azul is well aware of his strength, but purposefully plays up being weak to make this situation stick out in Kalim's mind. He's being a real drama queen about helping Kalim gather firewood because he's hoping to get something out of this "kindness" later.

So yes! Azul is strong, even if he may not look it.

[rauspberries]

The Dinner | A.H

lawyer!aaron hotchner x paralegal!reader.

summary: at a party you don't fit into, you run into the one person you don't want to see. luckily, your hot boss is totally okay to play along, and take care of you afterwards. tags/warnings: afab reader, no use of y/n or description of reader [other than wearing a dress], more hidden flirting and tension, protective & dreamy aaron hotchner, slight age gap, mentions of a narcissistic ex-boyfriend and gross men, mentions of alcohol and drinking, word count: 4.2k notes: I LOVE IT HERE i actually had so much fun writing this

You don’t know why you agreed to come to this stupid thing.

Usually, you thrived at parties. You wore something that made you desirable, you floated through a room instead of walking, you held a dazzling smile and you attracted the eyes of everyone you wanted to. You enjoyed parties so much that you tended to be the host of them, or at least the person that people went to when they needed something.

But parties like this, filled with lawyers and district attorneys and firm owners, were exhausting. Lawyers, usually men, were arrogant, to the point that it was suffocating. They believed they dominated the world the same way they owned the courtroom, that they were the most convincing batch of people in the world just because they could win a case or two. Being a woman in a room full of drunk male lawyers was not your definition of a fun Friday night.

Glancing around the room, your eyes catch on the reason you were here just as you bring your vodka soda to your lips. The prosecutor you had come to enjoy the presence of was talking with one of the district attorneys, no emotions reflected on his face as he spoke, large hands wrapped around a glass. He looked delectable in a perfectly tailored dark suit, the top button of the navy blue button-up undone and no tie in sight. It was the closest you’d get to seeing him dressed down without ambushing him outside of work.

Aaron had come into your office on his way out the day before, repeating the same routine he had suddenly developed, his suit jacket draped over his arm. In the same nonchalant tone he usually kept, he had asked you if you were planning on going to the party. You had heard about it around the firm, but you had assumed it was for associates and partners only. Paralegals didn’t often get invited to parties, being the small fish in the pond of lawyers. Plus, you didn’t like conversing with lawyers longer than you needed to – unless they were Aaron, of course. 

And because you couldn’t help yourself, because you couldn’t say no to him, you smiled at him and told him you’d go. Then, you had kicked yourself mentally as soon as he had left, knowing everything you’d have to do to prepare yourself. A new outfit, a good mental peptalk to hype yourself up, and a shot before you enter the door for good luck.

You’re interrupted from shamelessly ogling your boss by a familiar booming laugh, your gaze immediately darting over to a group of men. They’re all fondling a glass of some sort of dark liquor, ranging from whiskey to scotch to bourbon. Your heart rate picks up as you glance at each of the faces, body stiffening at the sight of a familiar one.

Back when you were newly a paralegal, before you had been introduced to the rules behind the politics of being beneath lawyers in the corporate food chain, you had made a stupid mistake – you had dated one. 

Michael had been a good man, buying you gifts and taking you out on lavish dates you’d never be able to afford on your own, until you had had a chance to look back on him. Slowly, you had become more of a trophy to him rather than a loving girlfriend. He had carted you around to parties just like this, hand curled around your waist like he was afraid you’d drift away, slipping in comments about how you were just a paralegal, how you were fighting to become a lawyer, like you hadn’t been working your damn hardest to balance a new job, its workload and all of your classes as well.

Your break-up hadn’t been amicable, or even neutral. It had been a two-hour long argument, screaming until your throat hurt, each scalding insult out of his mouth piercing directly into your ego. After him, you had put your foot down about dating lawyers, especially young ones with a lot to prove. Since your break-up slash fight, you had managed to avoid him pretty well – until now. 

Immediately, you’re spinning around to aim your back towards him, only to come face-first with Aaron’s chest. Despite the heels you had purchased just for this event, he still towers over you, your chin having to tilt up to catch his eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asks, the low baritone washing over you like a wave. Despite the gentleness of the question, his face doesn’t change, oddly calm. You notice that his gaze is still sharp and focused, not as dazed as some of the other prosecutors surrounding the two of you. Glancing down, you also note that the single ice cube in his scotch had melted, and the drink was only halfway downed. He hadn’t been drinking, just socializing. That was good.

Shaking your head, you hold your drink closer to your chest. ‘Uhm, yeah. Fine.” You clear your throat before bringing your glass back up to your lips, downing what’s left of it before placing the empty glass on the table behind you. “Just don’t have much in common with people here.”

“You’re working to become a lawyer and you don’t have anything in common with other lawyers?” He questions, tone amused. You don’t miss the small tilt at the corner of his lips, or the crease at the corner of his eyes, the small little things that made up his amusement.

Huffing, you shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not men. All the men here probably see me as a glorified assistant. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of them call me sugar and ask me to get them another drink.” You can’t help the slight scorn that seeps into your tone, leaning back against the table behind you and letting your eyes land on Michael again.

Aaron notices the change in your body language, his eyes following yours to look for what’s distracting you. “Who’s he?” His head tilts towards the group of lawyers before he’s glancing back at you, sipping at the scotch in his hand.

“What?” You question, too fast for your own liking, pulling your lips into your mouth in an attempt to keep you from rambling nervously. At the slightest quirk of his brow, you’re crumbling, deciding that he’d pick apart your lie more and more the more you tried to keep it up. “My ex-boyfriend. Dated him back when I was too stupid to know better.”

He lets out a huff of a laugh, sidling up beside you and letting his arm brush against yours. “Didn’t end well, I assume?” 

One glance up at him, you try to fight the smile that threatens to cross your lips. Rather than trying to avoid confrontation, he’s doing the exact opposite of what you’d do, his dark eyes zeroing in on the young lawyer that was still somehow oblivious to the death glare currently directed towards him. With Aaron standing beside you, you feel more confident, like he’d protect you if anything happened.

Before you have the chance to respond to the prosecutor’s question, Michael’s eyes finally catch yours. You note the furrow in his brow before his eyes light up, dread pooling in your stomach as you watch him excuse himself from his current conversation, immediately making his way towards you. If you weren’t too focused on shooting daggers at him, you’d have noticed the way Aaron slowly moved closer to you, until his entire arm was pressed up against yours while his free hand set his drink down.

Michael calls your name as he gets closer, like he’s unaware of the fact that your entire attention has been focused on him for the past couple of minutes. He has the flushed look to his cheeks that tell you he’s already drunk, his hair mussed on top of his head from running his hands through it. He looks happy to see you, which couldn’t be anything but a problem.

“What are you doing here? Become a lawyer yet?” It’s meant to be demeaning, although it's masked by amusement as his hand comes up to brush against your shoulder. You tense up at the touch, causing him to immediately pull his hand back. He recovers quickly when you don’t respond, his attention turning to Aaron. “Hi. I’m Michael, but many people around here call me Mike. Nice to meet you.”

Aaron glances down at his hand, however he doesn’t make any move to shake his hand. Instead, you’re surprised by the feeling of his fingertips skirting along the small of your back, moving until his hand completely curls around your hip. The touch is light at first, testing to see how you reacted, before it finally settles like a dead weight. “Aaron Hotchner. I’m a prosecutor.” He introduces himself, still eerily calm, even if you’re sure he can hear your racing heartbeat from where he stands.

From how close you are, from how close he’s slightly pulled you from his hold on your hip, you can smell his cologne. It’s manly, spicy, like bergamot. Usually, colognes were overwhelming, suffocating. Here, in his warm touch, it’s comforting. 

Michael’s eyes flicker down to the hand on your hip before back up to his face. He’s completely ignoring you, instead attempting to suck up to the man beside you for his political benefit, even if Aaron is obviously dismissing him. You want to laugh in his face, but you decide that taking the high ground is better.

“Oh, yeah. You worked on the Williamson case recently, right? It was all over the papers, your win. Man, I’d love to hear more about it.” He’s practically slobbering as he looks up at the prosecutor, eyes wide as saucers. It makes you nauseated to think that you were every romantically interested in the man.

Aaron must’ve noticed the way your eyes glazed over in boredom, fingertips pressing into your hip bone as he gives you a soft squeeze. “You said it yourself, it was all over the papers. Feel free to read up and send an email to my paralegal if you want any information.” He glances down at you for a moment before back up at the man in front of you. “Actually, please don’t contact my paralegal, or me.”

And then, with a soft ‘excuse me,’ he tightens his hold on your hip, urging you away from Michael. Unable to resist the urge, your lips pull up into a flattering smile as you glance at your ex-boyfriend for one last time, tongue dragging over your top teeth before you step away with the prosecutor. 

Once you’re out of earshot, you murmur softly. “What was that?” You muse, glancing up at him.

“You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.” He responds nonchalantly, finally letting his hand fall and bringing it back to his side once you sidle up to the open bar. Tapping the counter, he orders you another drink, handing it over to you without a word about it. 

For a moment, you wonder if he’s flirting with you. You let the thought consume you for just a moment as you pull the drink closer, enjoying the cooling sensation of the condensation against your skin as you take a long drink, before you push it away. Aaron is distinguished, mature. He wouldn’t go for the young paralegal with nothing but silly little relationships under their belt.

After you’ve nursed the drink for a while, feeling small underneath the focused gaze of him, he stands up straight, hand finding your back again. It’s a habit of his now, you assume, to lead you around with a gentle touch. However, unlike how it had been with Michael, you didn’t feel like a trophy to him. It was a hold meant to steer you, not a hold meant to control you. You know that if you pushed him away, he’d back off without a second thought. “Come on. We’re gonna introduce you to some of the good lawyers. As a smart paralegal, not as the woman I happened to have my hand on.”

And so he did. For the next couple of hours, Aaron leads you around, introducing you as his favorite paralegal. The compliments that spew from him towards the people around you keeps your cheeks warm all night, constantly keeping your drink full to try and let yourself loosen up beneath his praise. Unfortunately, your attempt at calming yourself only gets you as drunk as the men around you, although you’re easily more controlled than they are.

By the time everyone starts leaving, you need a cab. Aaron lets you hold onto his bicep with a tight grip as he leads you outside, still the face of utmost patience and calm as he helps you down the steps in front of the building. You lean into him as the cool air brushes across your heated skin, taking a deep inhale.

“You’ve been so nice to me, all night.” You babble, letting yourself fully lean into him and enjoy the warmth of his body through his suit jacket. Almost like he senses it, he leans away from you just enough to pull it off, draping it over your shoulders before wrapping his arm around you again. “See? Like that. You’re just so nice.”

His chest rumbles against your shoulder as he leads you down the sidewalk, eyes flickering to your face before your surroundings. “I’m doing the bare minimum. If you believe this is the nicest thing someone can do for you, I’m worried.” He’s amused, you can tell by the lilt of his voice.

With a huff, you push at his chest, although his hold on you makes it so he doesn’t move far. “You know what I mean, Hotchner. You keep doing nice things for me. Like that thing with Michael. And introducing me to all of those lawyers. That could help my career, you know.” Suddenly, you gasp, stopping your feet so fast that he has to hold you up from falling on your face. “Are you trying to make me leave the firm?”

“I’m sorry?” He moves to stand in front of you, hands sliding down to grab your hips to steady you on your heels, which make you realize just how much your feet and ankles ache. 

Placing a hand on his chest, you push into him to keep yourself steady as you raise your foot, fingers digging into the heel of your shoe to pull it off. “You kept introducing me to a bunch of other prosecutors and lawyers and singing my praises. It sounds like you’re trying to pawn me off to some other attorney.” Your voice slowly trails off into a grumble as you peel off your shoe, immediately moving over to your other one.

Aaron lets out a soft sigh as he watches you remove your shoes, nose wrinkling slightly as your bare feet touch the sidewalk. Before you can speak again, he’s sliding your bag off of your shoulder, hoisting it up on his own. In one swift move, he’s crouching down, one arm sweeping beneath your legs and the other bracing your back as he lifts you up. A soft squeak leaves your lips as you’re suddenly lifted off the ground, one hand holding at the back of his neck for some type of stability. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m not letting you put your bare feet on the sidewalk. In this weather, you’ll catch a cold.” He responds easily, hands warm against the exposed skin of your lower thigh as he continues your walk. “Is it alright if I drive you home?”

Sighing, you pull your hand back towards your chest and lean your cheek against his shoulder, eyes fluttering as you fight the tiredness. “If it gets me to my bed faster, sure.” Suddenly, your eyelids pop open again, glancing up at his face. “You never answered my question. Are you trying to pawn me off to the highest bidder?”

Aaron’s quiet as he makes his way to his car, only speaking once he gets to the passenger side door. “Reach into the left pocket of my suit jacket and unlock the car, please.” He instructs, looking down at you.

“Answer my question.” You retort stubbornly, lips pulling down in a tight frown, bottom lip pushing out in a pout.

Rolling his eyes, he’s suddenly moving you in his arms, placing you down to sit on the hood of his car. One hand stays on your hip to keep you perched there while the other digs into the pocket of the jacket covering your shoulders, pulling out the keys himself as he stares directly into your eye. He unlocks the car as your pout deepens, opening the passenger side door before picking you up again.

He places you on the seat gently, laying your shoes and your bag at your feet so you didn’t lose them. Slender fingers grab your seatbelt before he’s leaning over you, cologne wafting over you again as he clicks the seatbelt into place. Rather than immediately pull back, he turns his head to look at you, face so close to yours that you can smell the remnants of his one scotch on his breath. 

“I am not trying to get you to go to a law firm, or another district attorney’s office. I would like to keep you around for as long as possible, if I can.” His hand reaches up to brush a loose strand of hair out of your face, fingertips brushing against your cheekbone and short-circuiting your drunk brain long enough for him to be able to pull his upper body out of the car.

The passenger side door shuts before you can say anything, leaving you in silence as you try to wrap your head around just exactly what’s happening. Unfortunately, you come up with nothing, especially since your last drink is just now settling in and everything is growing fuzzier by the moment.

As soon as Aaron’s in the car, he starts the engine, turning on the heat and reaching over to adjust your vents. “Let me know if you need me to roll down the window.” He murmurs, taking one last once-over of your face to make sure you were okay before turning his gaze back to his mirrors and windows.

You want to take this time to talk to him, to ask questions and enjoy the presence of him outside the office. Despite your drunkenness, you are still rational, but he doesn’t have to know that. You could say whatever you wanted, blame it on the drinks if it backfired. Unfortunately, you’re too tired to come up with anything to say, leaning your head against the car door and letting yourself drift off to sleep.

You’re awoken what feels like ages later by a warm nudge on your knee, eyelids peeling open to see Aaron’s large hand on it. Licking your lips to try and solve your drymouth, you turn your head to look at him, softening under his gentle eyes. “Hi. Are we at my home?”

He chuckles softly, thumb brushing against the side of your kneecap before he sits up, removing his hand and leaving you cold. “You fell asleep before I could ask your address, so I brought you back to my apartment. Is that okay?”

Sitting up, you run your fingers through your hair, praying that your make-up hasn’t smeared too much and you don’t look as dishelved as you feel. “As long as there’s somewhere for me to sleep and a glass of water.”

“Lucky for you, I have both.” With a flash of a smile your way, he turns off the car, immediately opening his door. In a moment, he’s at your door, opening it. Your head finds his shoulder again as he picks you up, abandoning your shoes in the floorboards as he shuts the passenger door. 

He has you inside his apartment before you can even register that you’ve moved, setting you back down on your feet and tugging down the hem of your dress to keep you covered. While he locks the door and sets down his keys in the tray next to it, you take the moment to look around, the hardwood cold against your feet. “Your apartment is very… boring.”

He snorts in amusement from behind you, gentle hands pushing your hair to the side so that he could pull his suit jacket off of your shoulders. Noticing your shiver once the cool air hits you, he tosses it to the side, running his warm hands over your exposed skin. The front of his thighs nudge you forward as his hands slide down to your hips, urging you towards the couch and directing you to sit down. “Good thing it’s not a hotel, then.”

“Zero stars.” You agree, curling into yourself as you settle down into the crook where the arm of the couch met the back of it. “It's freezing in here.” 

Grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch, he drapes it over your lap, both covering the expanse of thigh revealed by sitting down and warming you up. “I’ll grab you some clothes that’ll warm you up,” he responds briskly.. “Did you have any other complaints, princess?” He taunts, a smile pulling at his lips as he stands up straight, placing his hands on his hips..

You copy his grin, tilting your head to the side innocently. “The fact that you haven’t called me that before is quite a shame.”

He makes it apparent that he doesn’t take you seriously, his eyes rolling dramatically before he turns around, disappearing into one of the rooms off of the living room. He returns just a moment later, handing you a stack of clothes. “Shirt, sweatpants and some socks. The bathroom is just there.” He points to a shut door.

Nodding, you slowly stand up, making a show of pulling your dress down for yourself before grabbing the clothes out of his hand. You’re steadier on your feet now as you make your way towards the bathroom, giving him a brave and flirty smile as you shut the door behind you.

In the silence of the bathroom, you take the time to make yourself just a bit more presentable. Peeling off the dress you had bought just the day before and probably wouldn’t wear again, you quickly pull on the clothes that Aaron had given you, glancing at yourself in the mirror once they were on. Both items of clothing swallow you whole, the sweatpants hanging extremely low on your hips and the shirt draping down to your mid-thigh. To prevent accidentally flashing your boss, you use your hair tie to tie up the front of the sweatpants, making the waistline just tight enough to keep the sweatpants from falling.

After wetting your fingers and wiping away all of the make-up that had smeared, you finally step out of the bathroom, taking in the sight of Aaron. He’s changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants, just like you, although they obviously fit him a lot better. The shirt stretches across his shoulder blades as he drapes a blanket over the couch, the sight sending not-so-PG thoughts to your brain.

He turns around at the feeling of your eyes on him, that same amused look he had been sporting all night painting across his face as he notices the look in your eyes. Slowly, his eyes skirt along your entire appearance, softening ever-so-slightly at the corners at just how baggy everything looks. “Are you warmer?”

“Very much so.” You respond, lips parting in a large yawn. “Is this my abode for the night?” Your hand points at the small set-up he’s created on the couch, a couple of throw blankets and a decorative pillow.

Almost immediately, he shakes his head. “No, it’s mine.” Noticing your look, he quirks a brow. “You’re going to comment on how nice I am and then be surprised that I’m letting you take my bed for the night?”

Huffing, you move past him quickly, laying down on the couch before he could stop you. “Not happening, Hotchner. There is such a thing as too nice, and it’s what you’ve been tonight.” Pulling your legs closer to your chest, you lift up the blankets, sliding yourself beneath them. 

To your surprise, he leans down to tap your shoulder, adjusting the pillow behind your back once you’ve leaned forward. “Fine. But you can’t say I didn’t try.” After he’s sure you’re comfortable, he turns around, stepping away again. “Let me grab the stuff I left you in my room, then.”

While he’s gone, you settle deeper into the couch. It’s either surprisingly comfortable, or the alcohol in your system has really taken a toll on you. Or maybe it’s the fact that you’re surrounded in the smell of him, both by the clothes on your body and the blankets over your body.

Your eyes are fluttering closed as you hear his footsteps again, noting the clink of a glass on the side table and the soft rattle of pills. You can’t bring yourself to open them again, or open your mouth to thank him, but luckily he doesn’t seem to expect anything from you.

The only thing you’re able to register before you finally fall asleep is the soft brush of fingers on your forehead, pushing away a couple of stray hairs, before the soft click of a bedroom door.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

I know I feel like we've tortured Frankie enough with these latest fics but if you feel like writing some angst, here's an idea. I thought about it in the same context of the last ones where reader's parents are shit and hate Frankie. At the same time that reader knows they're toxic, she still tries to keep a polite relationship with them. That's until she gets pregnant. It wasn't planned, sure, but reader and Frankie are both over the moon with the idea of having a baby. But when they tell her parents they are far from happy, they are furious, calling her every name in the book, how she could let something like that happen, someone like him get her pregnant (I bet they're so nasty that they'll even throw some racist shit in there as if Joel is less of a person for being Latino). What happens after that is up to you, but I can see it becoming a heated argument and as mad and angry as Frankie is, he can only think about getting reader out of there and trying to calm her down even though he is fuming inside.

baby socks l Frankie Morales

a/n I see we're in the angst zone. okay, maybe that's not so bad. I hope I managed to at least somewhat touch upon your idea of ​​this story. it wasn't fun to write this, but somehow I managed. take care of yourself, sweetie. sorry for any mistakes.

warnings: angst, discrimination, mentioning pregnancy, toxic parents, lots of nasty words, allusion to abortion, lots of prejudice, tears

[my masterlist]

This wasn't how he planned it, if he could ever prepare for something like this. He wasn't your parents' favorite person in the world, and to be honest, he knew he was somewhere in last place. They probably still hoped that your paths would part, that it was just a temporary mental blackout, some strange weakness, because after all... Francisco Morales wasn't fit to be anyone's partner. And certainly not yours.

But you were sitting in your parents' house and had just handed them a small box with cute baby socks inside. Yes, you were expecting a baby and you wanted to share your joy with everyone. 

But none of the smiles you saw on Frankie's friends' faces appeared on your parents' faces. Santi, Benny, and Will hugged their friend with all their might, but they were already treating you like a porcelain vase.

In the meantime, your parents had faces as if you had put a skunk in front of them and told them it was your new pet.

"What's that supposed to mean, my dear?" your mother asked, forcing a smile.

You glanced nervously at Frankie, who was sitting next to you. His cap was at home, hair was nicely styled and he was wearing a really nice blue shirt that brought out his brown eyes.

"Ummm..." you managed to choke out "You're going to be grandparents. Surprise!"

Frankie squeezed your hand tighter and smiled uncertainly.

"Are you pregnant?" your mother's eyes widened in surprise, you nodded vigorously.

"It surprised us a bit, but... We're so happy!"

Your father, who had brought himself a cup of tea, sat down at the table and glanced at the socks his wife was holding. "Is he the father?"

"Dad!" you groaned in confusion "Of course Frankie is the father. What kind of question is that?"

The man shook his head in disbelief "Well, I thought you'd finally wise up. You let him do something like that..."

"Dad! Really? Can't you-"

Frankie, sitting next to you, cleared his throat, giving you a signal that he wanted to say something. "Sir." he started, because he wasn't given permission to address your parents differently and he respected that "Like she said, it was a surprise for us, but we're ready for this step. I can't imagine the world without your daughter, she's the most wonderful person in the world and I assure you that..."

"I understand that you've considered all the options?" your mother interrupted him and you both looked at her not understanding what she meant "You're young. Not married."

“Mom, fertility doesn’t unlock until you get married. Please be serious,” you choked out. “Besides, we’re adults. We both work, we have a home.”

"You won't be working for long." your father interjected, taking a sip of tea. "Someday the kid will count and find out that it was conceived before marriage. I wonder what you'll tell it then."

"I don't understand where this conversation is leading." Frankie spoke up. But that was a lie, he knew perfectly well. Your parents weren't thrilled with the news that they would become grandparents. He could bet that they had hoped that you would rather tell them that you and he had split up. From the beginning of your acquaintance, they had been against Frankie and now they thought he was someone who had decided to ensnare their daughter.

"You seemed much more sensible." Your mother put the socks in a box and pushed them away as if they were something disgusting. "So young, so educated, and they don't know how to protect themselves to avoid such...accidents."

You opened and closed your mouth, unable to say a word. The whole situation seemed like a nightmare to you. Frankie was still holding your hand, but you felt your whole body shaking. Tears welled up in your eyes, and something was tightly constricting your throat.

Frankie's voice brought you back to reality. He spoke calmly, although you noticed the blush on his neck.

"I understand that this is a surprise to you. But I assure you that your daughter is safe with me. I love her and I will take care of her and our baby. The most important thing is that they are both healthy and feel great."

Your father listened to him attentively, and as soon as Frankie finished, he asked, "Will you support her when she can't work soon? You don't think that when she's the size of a small elephant, she'll still..."

"You're exaggerating, sir!" Frankie interrupted him unexpectedly, and you noticed the vein on your father's temple pulsating nervously, "I can provide my family with everything that's most important."

Your mother leaned toward your father and whispered, “Soon she’ll have so many of his kids she won’t even be able to go back to work. I’ve seen families like that.”

"What families are you talking about, mom?" you hissed.

She straightened up and looked at you confidently "You know perfectly well which ones I'm talking about. I thought you were intelligent and wouldn't get involved with someone like that."

"He's sitting here with us." You squeezed his hand tighter, almost digging your nails into his skin "And he has a name."

"You should think about all this again!" your father spoke up.

"What?" The tears you were trying so hard to hold back suddenly started to flow down your cheeks "I can't believe it... I…I…”

Frankie moved, the situation was getting more and more tense and he saw what was happening to you. He didn't want this. He didn't want you to sit in this toxic and aggressive place even a minute longer.

"Hermosa..." he whispered in your ear "Come on, let's go home."

"What did he call her?" your mother's voice was a mixture of indignation and disgust "Honey, think again. This doesn't make sense. This guy..."

You stood up so abruptly that Frankie reacted only a second later. Tears were streaming down your cheeks and you were shaking like you were sick, but it was just bloody rage.

"Don't you dare call him that!" you snapped looking at the woman with fury "He has a name. Frankie is the father of my child, I love him and I will not listen to this fucking crap!"

"You can't talk to your mother like that!" Now your father stood up slamming his hand on the table, but it did not impress either of you.

"I talk to you the way you talk to us!" you reached for the box lying on the table and pressed it tightly to your chest "I will not let any of you get even an inch near us! Maybe one day you will wise up, but I doubt it."

Before either of them could answer you pulled Frankie towards the door and a loud bang announced that you were out.

"Stop the car, please."

Without hesitation he pulled over to the side of the road, before he turned off the engine you opened the door and got out. Emotions were still boiling inside you. You felt rage and helplessness, you wanted to cry and scream at the same time, your whole body ached and you couldn't catch your breath.

Finally, you leaned over, resting your hands on your knees and closed your eyes. Your parents' words kept echoing in your head. You felt disgust every time you realized what they meant, what they were suggesting to you.

"Hermosa..." a familiar hand tenderly stroked your back "Please, drink some water. You'll feel better."

"I don't know if I'll ever feel better." you mumbled, but you took the bottle from him and took a few sips. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry you had to listen to that. It was disgusting."

"Yeah, a little." Frankie scratched his chin and rested his hands on his hips "I knew your parents didn't like me, but..."

"Don't call them that." You interrupted him, he looked at you surprised "Don't call them my parents. I don't care what these people think. You and this baby are important to me." You put your hand on your stomach. Even though nothing was visible yet, this movement seemed natural to you.

"It might be hard for you without them." Frankie noticed "I don't want you to suffer, honey."

You looked at him and he understood. You had already made a decision and you weren't going to change it.

"They're the reason I'm suffering, Frankie. And you're suffering too. I can't..." you sighed quietly "I can't let that happen. I don't want that in my life."

He nodded.

"Can you hug me?" you asked and he smiled and after a moment his arms were wrapped around you and you were snuggling into his chest "Take me home, Frankie. Just take me home."

"You know I love you?" he murmured, kissing the top of your head "I love you both."

"We know, baby. We love you too."

[nanaminxs]

Hi!!

I love your writing🥹

I was wondering if you’d be willing to do a best friend!Dick Grayson x fem!reader smut where she comes over & complains to him about another bad hookup where she didn’t get to cum & he tells her he wants to make her feel good😩😩

eats her out and maybe fucks her slow & deep ,,

heavy praise😩🙏🏻

I’m such a slut for him I can’ttt . thanks for reading heh love ur blog🥹

Dick Grayson is always there for you. Has been since age 12. You go to him for everything, including every single bad hookup.

Most of the time you wouldn’t complain because at least the dick is decent, but the guy you were seeing was just too fucking focused on himself to care about your own needs.

Naturally, you sought out help from your closest friend.

“I just don’t get it,” You sulk, body slumping down into his couch wishing it would swallow you whole.

“He texts me to come over, I ride him til my legs are numb and he can’t even return the favor. I cannot count how many times he came just from a finger light touch. It was pathetic.”

Dick nods and occasionally lets out small hums in acknowledgment as he listened to you.

“Let me make you feel good then.” He blurts out, mentally face palming himself because—did he really just say that to you?

A beat of silence passes before you’re actually registering what he said to you.

“I’m..sorry?” Your head tilts to the side as it that’ll help you hear better.

“Let ME make you feel good.” He stands to his feet, cocking his head over to the hallway that stops at his room.

It’s so surreal. To him anyway—I mean he literally has the person he’s been silently inlove with for years in his bed while he ate her out like a man starved.

Your moans were like a lullaby to him, and he’d do anything he could to keep them going.

His teeth graze your clit, taking the small bud between his lips.

He lets go with a wet sound and his tongue darts out to cover your entire mound.

Your hands dug into his hair, back arching off the sheets you know you shouldn’t be on—but man does he treat you better than any prick you’ve fucked with before.

His thumbs spread your pussy lips and when you look down he’s staring right back at you with a pleading look that just screams ‘cum on my face’

You’ve probably never cum that hard in your life. Especially not from a guy.

Dick spits messily on your cunt, lips glossy and coated in the two of you.

He frees himself from his jeans and nestles right between your legs.

“I can take care of you. Better than everyone who hasn’t gotten a chance to worship you, pretty girl.”

His lips meet with yours. A mix of your slick and his spit mingling on your tongue. The head of his cock pushes into gummy walls and soon he’s burried balls deep into you.

Dick doesn’t shut up. But in that moment he found himself tongue tied—at a lost for words.

“Thereee you go. Jus’ like that. S’a nice fit, yeah?”

He pants out, eyes flickering from where u met to your face with a cheeky grin.

You scowl at him and he’s nodding in understandment.

His hips snap into yours at a slow pace, each stroke so deep his tip kissed your cervix.

“Fuck, Dick!” You moaned out, his lips found your jaw. Soft and simple.

“I know. Lemme take care of you baby—fuck! Let me be yours, let me fuck you how you deserve to be fucked.”

He’s so fixated on the way your cunt pulled him back in after he pulled out, and he’s wondering how on earth he’s managed to get your pretty ass into his bed.

“I got you—lemme feel you. M’right here.” He presses your thighs to your chest, smushed by his frame as he’s fucking into you slightly faster and with much more desperation.

He’d make you cum for the first time during a hookup, and it’s safe to say you’re stuck now because—who can resist a man who knows what he’s doing?

[veria01]

Shattered Illusions

Gojo Satoru x reader fanfic

Angst?? Arguing between couples

The moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the desolate street where the two of you stood, tension crackling like a live wire between you. Shadows twisted in the cool night air, but none held more weight than the ones cast by Gojo Satoru. His usual playful demeanor was nowhere to be found; instead, it was replaced by a storm brewing in his piercing blue eyes.

“Why can’t you just listen to me for once?” he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty buildings around you. It bounced off the walls, amplifying the hurt beneath the anger.

You crossed your arms protectively, refusing to back down. “Because I refuse to be coddled, Satoru! I won’t just sit back and let you fight my battles for me!” The defiance in your tone matched the fire in your belly. You knew how stubborn he could be, but the thought of being some pawn in his world of sorcery made your blood boil.

His expression turned incredulous, an expression you had seen countless times before. “This isn’t about coddling! This is about survival! You have no idea what’ll happen out there! You think you can just jump into a fight without consequences?”

You took a step forward, lowering your voice as if that would shield the weight of your emotions. “And you think you’re the only one who can protect everyone? I’m tired of being the one on the sidelines, watching you risk everything while I’m kept in the dark!”

The silence that followed was deafening, your breaths mingling with the sound of distant sirens. Satoru’s eyes softened for just a fraction of a moment, but then his brows knitted together, frustration boiling over again. “I’m not keeping you in the dark! I’m trying to keep you safe! I care about you!”

“Care about me?” you scoffed, your heart racing with both anger and pain. “You mean you want to control me! You want me to fit neatly into your idea of what I should be, and it’s suffocating!”

“That’s not fair!” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his voice rising. “You know how dangerous this world is! You think you can handle it on your own? You’re not invincible!”

“And you think you can just decide what I can or cannot do!” Your voice was louder now, the words pouring out like a dam breaking. “You don’t get to dictate my life! You don’t own me!”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you’d just listen! I’m trying to protect you from everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve lost!” His eyes were fierce, glimmering with unshed emotions.

“But what about me? What about what I want?” Your voice cracked, the fight in you wavering. “Do I really have to endanger myself for you to recognize that I’m not helpless?”

His silence was deafening, and the hurt on his face caused your stomach to twist painfully. “You’re not helpless,” he finally said, his tone softer, but the frustration still simmers beneath. “But you are reckless. You don’t understand that lives are on the line. Our lives.”

“Then teach me!” you pleaded, desperate for him to see the truth in your eyes. “Stop treating me like a child. I want to learn. I want to stand beside you, not behind you!”

“That’s not how this works!” he shouted, voice raw. “You don’t just get to waltz into danger because you think it’s romantic! This is real! This is life or death!”

“It’s not about romance!” you screamed back, tears blurring the edges of your vision. “It’s about respect! It’s about being seen as an equal! I won’t let you box me in like some fragile object that might break! I’m here, I’m willing to fight, and you refuse to even let me try!”

“You don’t get it!” he yelled, frustration mixing with something you couldn’t quite place—sadness, perhaps. “You think this is just about skill? It’s about losing everything—I’ve already seen it happen to people I’ve cared for. I can’t bear the thought of losing you too.”

“Then stop pushing me away!” you replied, voice trembling as the anger seeped out, leaving only vulnerability. “This isn’t the way to protect me. This only drives us apart.”

His expression softened again, the hardness in his gaze now a reflection of hurt and something deeper—fear. “You think I want this? To fight you instead of alongside you?”

“Then prove it!” you challenged, the fire reigniting within you. “If you care, then show me. Show me that you believe in me as much as I believe in you!”

He stepped closer, a flash of uncertainty crossing his features. “You want me to put you in danger? To let you fight?”

“Not in danger, Satoru—by my side,” you insisted, leaning into your conviction. “But I need you to trust me. Trust that I can handle this, too.”

For a moment, you saw the flicker of hope in his eyes, but it quickly faded, overshadowed by the weight of his doubts. “I don’t know if I can,” he admitted quietly, his voice almost breaking.

“Then you’re the one who doesn’t trust me.” The realization struck like a slap to the face, and the raw pain twisted in your chest. “I am not asking you to let me rush into the fray recklessly; I’m asking you to see me. To see that I can be strong, too.”

The silence hung between you, heavy and fraught with unspoken feelings. Your heart raced as you awaited his response.

Finally, he took a deep breath, rubbing his temples as if trying to push away the encroaching shadows. “I just… I can’t lose you,” he whispered, the quiet anguish exposing the vulnerability he rarely showed.

“And I can’t lose you either. So can we meet in the middle?”

It was a delicate proposal, but the walls surrounding his heart seemed fortified. “I just don’t know if that’s possible,” he murmured, the weight of both rejection and fear evident in his voice.

You swallowed hard, feeling the tears threaten to spill over. “If we don’t try, then we’ll only keep drifting farther apart. Is that what you really want?”

Gojo’s azure gaze locked onto yours, the tempest of emotions swirling within him. You could see the resistance grappling with something softer—something that wanted to believe.

“I… I’ll try,” he finally said, each word a hesitant step toward a compromise. “But you have to promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will,” you vowed, tears welling and spilling down your cheeks in relief. “I promise.”

Taking a step back, he scrubbed at his face in frustration, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his features. “I just…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s complicated.” You tried to lighten the mood, managing a small smile despite the tumultuous feelings swirling between you.

Gojo’s expression softened then, something warm breaking through the remnants of tension. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

“Good,” you quipped, returning to your playful self, “someone needs to keep you grounded.”

“Okay, we’ll figure this out together,” he said with a reluctant grin, the shadows slowly dissipating from his visage. “But no more sneaking around, alright? You have to promise me that.”

“Deal,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread throughout you. It was a long way from a perfect solution, but it was a start—a delicate truce amidst the chaos of your lives intertwined in a dangerous world.

As you stood together beneath the moonlit sky, the weight of your argument lingered, but for the first time in a while, there was also a glimmer of hope—a promise that you could navigate the darkness together, side by side.

[crab-people-overlord]

Ok, so I reread my last post about Stan's characterization in fanfics, and I realized I focused too much on just the Kyman community. The truth is, some of the most frustrating mischaracterizations actually pop up in Style fics (and I say this as someone who writes Style). These same issues show up in K2 and other ships too, but since Style is literally centered around Stan and Kyle's dynamic, it hits harder here. *Quick Disclaimer:* Again, this isn't calling out ANY specific creators - y'all are talented af and I respect everyone's right to interpret characters their own way. I genuinely love this community. Write whatever floats your boat! I hope to one day be a lot of ya'll, fr. The way I interpret characters isn't gonna be the gospel truth, and anyone can write characters how they want! That's literally what fandom is about. But can we talk about some patterns? Because... (*gestures vaguely at everything*)

The "Smart Kyle/Dumb Stan" Phenomenon

Look, I love a good "Stan is occasionally an idiot" moment as much as anyone (the boy has his moments, let's be real). But there's this weird trend of making him consistently intellectually inferior to Kyle and I'm just like... did we watch the same show for the past two decades??

Also, fun fact (and I fkn hate that I even have to say this): this whole "Jewish character must = intellectual first and foremost" stereotype we keep falling into? Let's maybe... not? Especially since the show gives us a Kyle who's equally good at sports and just as socially competent as Stan. Part of what draws me to this fandom is how multifaceted all these characters are! Because if you actually watch the show? Kyle is smart, sure, but he’s also athletic, socially competent, and rebellious. He’s not just the token brainiac. Characters can be multifaceted!

STAN (Pls I BEG you he's more than just his depression and alcoholism):

Stan often demonstrates critical thinking, seeing beyond surface-level problems to deeper issues. This often expresses in a more critical thinking lens (emphasis on the word 'critical' and 'cynical', as demonstrated so often in the show such as the vote or die episode or when he tries saving kyle that psychic, etc). Stan often sees through bullshit- this is literally critical thinking at it's finest. And while again, you can characterize him as you see fit - I just don't get fics that characterize him as stupid when there's so much evidence to the contrary. While luckliy I don't see these fics as often, Stan characterized primarily as dumb genuinely makes me feel like I'm reading a completely different character as we have literally over two decades of him demonstrating a high critical thinking ability.

His cynicism isn't just him being negative - it's usually him being RIGHT and REALISTIC about shit

NOT easily manipulated (unlike certain best friends we know and love)

He literally leads entire movements when he cares enough

The fact that his depression and emotional sensitivity can sometimes get twisted into him being "less than" is honestly infuriating

KYLE (not just the smart one!!):

Kyle excels at moral reasoning and debate, but can sometimes get caught up in righteous anger. Hes the most consistent at standing up for society's greater good. This is something incredibly admirable, yet at the same time, can at times reduce him to seeing moral issues on an incredibly black and white angle compared to Stan and others in the show, just like Kyle's own mom.

He should be acknowledged for his backbone in standing up for what's right (he's so morally brave), while at the same time acknowledging that at times this causes him to lose some nuance and grey in situations that call for it

He's also known for being the intelectually and grade-wise best of the class. This is partially due to his own parental expectations of doing well in class as well as his own natural ambition and intelligence.

Top of the class but also the most consistently in the show not afraid to throw hands

Complex mix of rule-following and rebellion

Gets manipulated by Cartman more than he'd admit

Both show high ability to analyze complex situations, just through different lenses. Stan through a more critical, nuanced lens, and Kyle through a more consistently yet at times missing nuance lens. Neither are more 'right' than the other, so I hate any 'realistic' claiming fics (i fkn love crack fics lmao) that try to show otherwise.

The Depression Thing (🥺)

Here's what's actually infuriating to me: when works treat Stan's depression and emotional sensitivity as proof he's "less than." Like... my dudes... my buddies and pals... (me reaching out to my Canadian friends fr)... my fellow fans... that's not how depression works??

Stan's depression and cynicism sometimes get misinterpreted as lack of intelligence - something too many folks with depression get misinterpreted as. His coping mechanisms might be unhealthy (looking at you, alcohol), but they don't negate his ability to think critically or problem-solve. Using alcohol to cope isn't a sign of weakness (it's incredibly unhealthy, not saying otherwise)— but it's a sign of someone who's overwhelmed and trying to survive.

Society often equates emotional sensitivity with weakness, especially in men, and I'm so tired of it. Stan's emotional intelligence should complement his analytical abilities, not detract from them. There's a reason he gets called a "hippie" or "pussy," but these traits should be celebrated, especially when they're often mocked in boys.

Tropes I'm Begging Us All to Reconsider, in ALL representations of Stan and Kyle despite the ship:

Making Kyle the "rational caretaker" to Stan's "emotional mess"

Reducing Kyle to just the “smart Jew” stereotype rather than someone who equally breaks rules, etc

Both being smart in completely different chaotic ways

Stan's emotional intelligence as a strength

Their complex friendship that works BECAUSE they're equals

The classic 'sensitivity and addiction' = 'loser' and 'selfish idiot' trope that needs to die in a fire

Some things to remember:

Their friendship demonstrates equal give-and-take. This is canonical. And I would love to see more of a balance of this in fanworks as well.

kyle shouldn't just be the 'smart jew' with no flaws with stan being the 'sensitive' hippie'. they're both equally complex.

both are smart in different chaotic and different ways

Stan’s emotional intelligence being useful, not a flaw.

Kyle's moral compass spinning occasionally (because it does, just like everyone else on the show lmfao)

But seriously, write what you want! this isn't even me saying he can't even be written as an antagonist in a story just like any other SP character. Just maybe consider that Stan’s character is genuinely pretty complex (And Kyle's!). Reducing him to “the dumb/broken one” does him (and those who struggle with similar issues) a disservice. 💙

Understanding Stan Marsh: A Character Analysis and Response to Fandom Mischaracterization (Writing Depression/Addiction Responsibly):

I’m sure a similar analysis exists - but I haven’t found it so I wanted to make it. I’ve seen similar analyses about Wendy with her intelligence/tendency to serve as a villain in things like Style fics and Kenny with his own addiction as well as lower-class designations, which absolutely should exist. But I haven’t seen any about Stan in the same sense despite issues I’ve seen in fandom about his characterization and either blatantly disregarding and misunderstanding what depression is/or/trying to further their specific shipping agenda such as Kyman. And I think it’s finally time we fucking talk about it. This is due to me noticing a prolific increase in the ‘Stan Marsh is an asshole’ tag on AO3.

The Problem of Character Flanderization

Character flanderization (the tendency to focus only on a character's weaknesses) has always existed in fanworks, but the current treatment of Stan Marsh reveals a particularly troubling trend in how mental health and addiction are portrayed. This isn't about calling out specific creators - many (even most) write Stan beautifully, even in ships like Kyman. Rather, this analysis addresses a broader pattern of mischaracterization that does a disservice not only to his character but to real people struggling with similar issues.

Please note this analysis is not directed at any particular creator at all! I see SO many good characterizations of Stan, even in Kyman fics (I’d argue a lot of them do!). But I also see very unfair portrayals of him in some fics which at the end of the day show a complete disregard to addiction/depression and ignore his good traits in favor of furthering their own agenda. I’M NOT OKAY with this, and I think it’s time we talk about this as a fandom. 

 This trend often manifests in two primary ways:

Depression Mischaracterization:

Some of fandom's handling of Stan's depression reveals a profound misunderstanding of clinical depression that goes beyond simple character misinterpretation. The "You're Getting Old/Ass Burgers" arc isn't just about Stan being "negative" or "selfish" - it's one of television's most authentic portrayals of how depression manifests in young people. Stan doesn't CHOOSE to see everything as shit; his brain chemistry literally alters his perception of reality. This isn't character weakness - it's a medical condition that he fights against while still trying to maintain his relationships and sense of self.

What many fanworks miss is that depression often coexists with deep empathy and care for others. In fact, Stan's depression might partly stem from how deeply he feels things - his awareness of environmental destruction, animal cruelty, and societal hypocrisies. He continues to fight for causes he believes in and protect those he loves even while struggling to find meaning in his own life. That's not selfishness - it's remarkable resilience. The show demonstrates this complexity brilliantly: even at his very  lowest points, Stan still:

Tries to maintain his friendship with Kyle despite literally seeing him as shit

Continues to stand up for what he believes in when he realistically thinks it can make an impact

Attempts to understand and help others, even when he can barely help himself

Fights desperately to stay present in a world that has lost its color and meaning

When fanworks reduce Stan's depression to mere selfishness or use it as a convenient plot device to make him the villain, they not only mischaracterize Stan but potentially harm readers struggling with similar issues. They send the message that depression makes someone unworthy of friendship or love - exactly the opposite of what people with depression need to hear.

Alcoholism Mischaracterization:

Stan's relationship with alcohol deserves particular attention because it's portrayed with a nuance rarely seen in either animation or fanworks. The show presents a complex web of factors that contribute to Stan's relationship with alcohol:

First, there's the genetic component - Stan comes from a family with clear predisposition to addiction, particularly through Randy. But crucially, Stan never sought out alcohol on his own. He was introduced to it by adults who should have protected him, making his initial exposure a betrayal of trust rather than a character flaw.

What makes Stan's arc so powerful is how it captures the insidious nature of functional alcoholism. He discovers that alcohol makes an unbearable world bearable - it literally changes how he sees things from "shit" back to normal. STAN HAS NEVER EVER BEEN ABOUT getting drunk for fun; it's always been about self-medication to seem 'normal' to others in response to genuine mental health struggles. The show demonstrates how someone can be both struggling with addiction and highly competent - a reality many fanworks seem unable to grasp.

Even in the "bad timeline" of the Post-Covid episodes, Stan maintains his fundamental characteristics and ability to function. He becomes what's known as a "functional alcoholic" - not because this is healthy, but because it reflects a tragic reality that those who seem most adjusted often hide the deepest struggles. He learns exactly how much alcohol makes him functional versus dysfunctional, developing the kind of careful management that allows many real-life individuals with addiction to hide in plain sight.

When fanworks reduce this complex portrayal to "pathetic or asshole drunk Stan," they miss the point entirely. They ignore:

The environmental factors that led to his alcohol use

The relationship between his depression and self-medication

The reality that addiction often coexists with high functionality

And especially, and something I think a lot of you need to fucking understand - the way addiction can stem from trying to feel normal rather than trying to get high. Stan never ever tries to feel ‘high’ or even drunk. He ALWAYS is just trying to feel fucking NORMAL. 

This oversimplification doesn't just do a disservice to Stan's character - it perpetuates harmful stereotypes about addiction that make it harder for real people to seek help.

Stan's Core Character Traits

Stan consistently demonstrates practical morality alongside emotional depth. His quiet leadership often goes unnoticed - he's frequently the instigator of group plans alongside Cartman, but without the manipulation or need for credit. His relationship with Wendy shows realistic pre-teen awkwardness while maintaining genuine care and respect. These aren't the traits of a "simp" or an "asshole" - they're the complex characteristics of a well-written character dealing with real challenges.

Just rewatch the show for evidence of this - Stan at the same level of Cartman instigates things. And at the same level of Kyle, he tends to do it for the greater good of society. He’s just not as attributed to his actions because he’s naturally more quiet about it than both Kyle and Cartman are. 

TLDR- /Mental Health and Responsiblity in Writing:

The show's handling of Stan's mental health offers a masterclass in nuanced characterization that many fanworks ignore. His depression and struggles with alcohol aren't plot devices - they're part of a larger narrative about growing up in a world that often doesn't make sense. Writing Stan as a "pathetic drunk" or "selfish depressive" isn't just bad characterization - it's potentially harmful to readers who share these struggles

His depression on the actual show is shown as a legitimate struggle, not a character flaw

His relationship with alcohol is portrayed as functional and carefully managed - something maybe some of you would be surprised to learn that some of the most functional folks in your life actually are pretty good at hiding. Stan in his depression arc is ultimately meant to be shown as someone who is a ‘functional’ alcoholic rather than a ‘dysfunctional’ one. That’s not to say it’s healthier to be functional. But it’s ultimately the whole point of that goddamn arc - that even those who seem the most well-adjusted may be hiding a more sinister addiction. So I don’t really see the fucking point of writing Stan as someone who is so alcoholic to the point that it fucks up his entire life. 

The Shipping Problem

The rise of ships like Kyman often comes with an unnecessary cost: the villainization of Stan. This ignores the show's complex web of relationships - Stan's deep friendship with Kyle doesn't need to be erased or twisted to explore other relationships. The best Kyman fics prove this by maintaining Stan's character integrity while exploring new dynamics. Additionally, Stan's relationships with other characters, particularly his often-overlooked friendship with Kenny, deserve more attention and respect in fanworks.

Complex relationships can be written without villainizing other characters like Stan

Good Kyman fics prove you can write the ship while maintaining Stan's character integrity. 

Both Kyle and Stan canonically view each other as super best friends and equals- and this is because they literally ARE equals, even in a moral sense. Neither of them is better than the other. They have a deep connection to each other. Any fic written about either of them HAS to accurately represent this without making Stan to be a primarily weak selfish villain. This is so incredibly unfair to Stan’s character, and a massive representation of him. Same if it’s vice versa for a fic for Stan misrepresenting Kyle (though I’ll be honest - I far more often see Stan as misrepresented in recent works as a selfish asshole over Kyle). 

When writing Stan, consider:

His actions, even negative ones, should stem from established character traits

His struggles with mental health and substance use should be treated with nuance and care. Writing him as an asshole or complete loser (he can be a lil bit of a lovingly designated loser lol) is a slap in the face to those who do function quite well in the real world but with this particular struggle of depression and addiction. Don’t ignore Stan's many strengths, such as adjusting well to things in the moment both physically and intellectually. (He absolutely can be dumb about some things to the extent that it's humorous, but he is not actually dumb - he consistently shows some of the most complex critical thinking in the entire show, even compared to Kyle. And it makes no sense to disregard this aspect of his character.) 

His relationships with other characters should reflect their canonical complexity.

If writing him as antagonistic, ensure it serves character development rather than plot convenience.

Stan deserves better than reductive characterization. His struggles with mental health and addiction make him more relatable, not less worthy of respect. Writers who reduce him to his lowest moments not only do a disservice to a complex character but potentially harm readers who see their own battles reflected in his story. We can and should do better - both for Stan and for each other. He is literally meant to be written as the person most relatable to general society, after all.

[deadchannelradio]

i dont mean to keep talking about bernard who is a character i dont care about and have no desire to read anything about or write anything about but i do just find him too funny. the bats didnt like Mean to be rude to him when he was dating tim it was just like a silent conspiracy to very quietly exclude him wherever possible. like if they're taking a family photo and tim and barnard get in the middle everybody but tim (without having ever spoken about it) reshuffles their orders until bernard is on the very outside of it. tim complains when other people bring their friends along to family events and is like "i would have brought kon if i knew we could bring people!" and occasionally dick will go "what about bernard?" but usually people don't even mention that tim appears to have forgotten that he is the supposedly proud owner of a boyfriend. dick and duke have a longrunning joke tim doesn't know about/doesnt get because one time duke briefly forgot bernards name and called him bernie (which was very close to his credit) and dick had a laughing fit about tim robbing the old folks home to date bernie sanders and now whenever bernie sanders tweets or is on TV or something they text each other screenshots like "look what tims boyfriend had to say today" or texting each other #ThatsMyPresident whenever bernard goes on a longwinded talk at some kind of shindig where they're all present. but for the most part they just dont talk about bernard like nobody brings him up they mostly dont ask tim how he is or how the relationship is everybody knows that at some point in here soon they're going to break up and everyone will forget he exists. and theyre right.

[anonymocha]

finally coming out as a dyke in 2023 is realizing i dont need to pretend to simp that Guy just because everyone else in my friend group does

[edge-oftheworld]

I don’t really talk about it much on here because I’m extremely lucky to be able to understand exactly what’s going on in my body, but it’s scary to live for years as someone who Gets Things Done in a way your peers don’t really understand, be putting effort into so many things you care about, and then suddenly lose the ability to do not only that but also basic tasks overnight after a deadline, and bit by bit after many. it’s scary getting really irritable sometimes to the point of violence, just when you were meant to be celebrating the rewards from your hard work, the only impact of the work you did that you can see is that you overdrafted your ability to do anything. including have a basic conversation without getting grumpy or crying. and your body is going to make you pay it back with interest, you already know that, but you don’t know how to start filling yourself back up. you’ve only ever enjoyed being on the grind, hard at work on exciting things.

I don’t know how many of you have been through the kind of burnout that’s years of needing 12hrs of sleep a night but with terrible insomnia, waking up to what feels like a hangover for weeks on end with little relief then rinse and repeat without having a single drink, feeling too sick to eat and needing to exercise to emotionally regulate but being unable to, anxiety that doesn’t come from worry but you’ll pick that up too at some point, dissociating every time you try to do mentally taxing tasks that you’re PAID for so it takes an hour of grounding yourself just to get five minutes worth of productive concentration, falling asleep the minute you feel a little safe by being in the presence of loved ones. but I suspect I’m not the only one.

I’ve had songs for the energetic and angsty times leading up to this. for the exasperated times and the brain fog and the times where all my limited energy is tied up in feeling things. that I need to, need to acknowledge, but it’s overwhelming and I live in a haze for weeks as a result of. songs telling of the kind of youth I wish I had, even when I was sold something else. songs for the months spent as a teenager trying to be there for my friends, worrying for them, distracting me from worrying for myself, trying to cling on to positivity and hope amongst it when I had to choose to make a discipline of always seeing that. I’ve had songs for healing and when healing is harder than expected and songs that have the right level of musical complexity to capture the layers of everything that’s happening in my head, making it sound good, telling me it’s gonna be okay.

I don’t know how I could ever say thank you for this. but I do know that I see parts of myself in the people behind these songs, of course I do, and I worry for them as a result and ache for them because it’s hard enough to feel this way when no one knows me or feels the need to control me or mould me into what they think I should be. I’d do anything to keep them all healthy and happy and all of their loved ones too and I don’t think it’s strange as a fan to take that seriously. I hope we can understand the need to treat them gently, and to while not questioning their privacy and the fact that they’re never going to tell us everything they go through, listen to our intuition when we catch something we relate to and treat what they’ve shared with us or hinted at with the dignity we would if someone we love told us something vulnerable. be kind in our expectations and be intentional in the fan culture we create because it does make its way back to them.

and the same goes with all of you. we’re bonding over the same things. I know a lot of this fandom is in the stage where interpersonal relationships are hard. we don’t mean to be grumpy of frustrated but we are. and I’m sending love to all of you. we can get through this together. it’s what they’ve always longed for isn’t it?

[theno1joelhater]

uhh here i go, wayne analysis. that guy is such a loser wimp but i guess this is needed to satiate the wayne tufar brainworms (get out of my head please please please).

(love letter to @4thegadiesandlentlemen. praying that my ideas are comprehensible and to your liking)

well first off, i dont think you need to be a rocket doctor to say that his pranks are all hhhorrible. not like the quality of the pranks but the things he’s doing himself. they’re horrible. very extreme. all for his channel. is that channel even successful? i’ve heard people say many things about his channel, but im personally of the opinion that he’s pretty popular (his content is mostly shock stuff. people see the video title and thumbnail and people are like “wait what? seriously?” so they watch. most of his consistent viewers are hate watchers, and the rest are kids who are too young to comprehend anything).

i don’t think he’s really in the prank business because he truly loves it, it’s clearly just some attention seeking behavior, and it’s working! he’s getting attention! some negative, but who cares! he’s in the spotlight!! attention!! yay!! but why does he want attention so badly? wait was this a-

-a segue! this guy is so…he’s very much an attention seeker. it seems less like this is just his youtube persona and more like it’s ingrained into his personality. he’s been actively trying to get attention for so long it’s a part of him, and it really shows in his career.

i’d imagine that this would begin in his childhood. neglectful parents, didn’t want to spend any time with wayne so they just handed him some device and went to go fuck off to wherever (wayne tufar ipad kid canon 🤯) (gateway to disassociating 24/7). fucked him up mentally and developmentally too (is that the same thing? i dont know). he watched tons of youtubers, really inspired him to be one later on and shaped his personality (also keeps him from thinking about the fact that his parents don’t give two fucks about him or other problems in his life). for them, the obnoxious persona is just that: a persona. unfortunately, wayne was naive and didn’t realize that (i don’t want to say dumb, he doesn’t seem dumb to me). his real life personality mimicked that of those annoying youtubers, to active detriment to those around him (obnoxious youtuber personality, but for forever).

i imagine he was also a bit of a class clown type in school. maybe one of those annoying types that no one likes besides his friend group (i’d also imagine that his behavior also manifests violently, maybe animal/bug torture or bullying other kids. who knows) and gets shit grades. teachers hate him, his friends love him (less as a person and more as a little jester they keep around to entertain them). whenever anything he does tries to get addressed, it’s mostly dismissed. talk to wayne about it, at best he gets spooked, chills out for a bit and starts again, at worst he just doesn’t listen. getting his parents involved? good luck getting ahold of them. and if they do show up, it’s not like they’ll do anything about wayne’s behavior. sure, they say they’ll discuss it with wayne, but they never do. they never do. he’s always been too difficult. no one wants to stay with him.

you do realize he only does this stuff to get attention, right? of course you do. all of his actions are attention seeking, at least to some extent. hell, he fails classes on purpose and acts out because he wants support, he wants someone to try and help him no matter how difficult he’s being. but he never got that person. he was always too difficult. no one cared enough to deal with someone as annoying as him. that only made him act out more, and people would avoid him more. cycles, amirite?

so we move on from school to his adulthood. he’s fresh out of high school, moved out and into some apartment making youtube videos. they kinda suck, he’s not doing well. plus, this is like his only job. man clearly needs help. maybe some…Divine Intervention?

yep, this is where Cameron comes into the picture. he’s set this whole story for wayne, and decided to help him along his journey. he descends from the heavens (or wherever he lives, montreal?) to help out wayne.

so, Cameron comes down and helps him out with his channel, helps him with the direction of his content, and acts as his benefactor (like…pays his rent? do you really need to pay if you’re roommates with god?). they bond, like a lot. Cam isn’t exactly as attached to wayne as wayne is to him. Cam does care for wayne, originally more to shape him into the image that he desires, but now they’re actually friends. and for wayne there’s obviously the whole thing where Cameron’s god, but also wayne seems to think of them as closer than they actually are (must be the lack of real connection growing up, so now that he actually has someone he holds on and doesn’t let go). i’m hoping the kind of relationship i’m trying to emulate with Cam and wayne is understandable, because the idea is so clear in my mind but i can’t convey it through the restraints of the english language (maybe there’s some german word for it).

now, we all know wayne’s main target for pranks is Cameron, right? yes, he’s the most available person (roommates!) but wait, there’s more! (that’s a ron popeil quote)

again, attachment. wayne is very a little attached to Cam. he’s very a bit possessive though. takes out anyone close to Cameron (grandpa, gf, dog, others probably). i mean, you get it right? wayne’s never been close to anyone really, and he can’t really handle when Cam talks to someone other than him. like “Cameron is my friend, what’s he doing with those people?”

and i wouldn’t imagine it was a conscious choice, he’s always had a fascination with these…things. violence, i guess. as stated previously, he’s done those things to animals (bugs more so than others). that creates a disconnect between him and creatures he sees as “below” him. since they’re so underneath him, hurting them wouldn’t really be bad, would it? it’s like crushing a bug, there’s not that much guilt attached (unless you like bugs). and hanging with god wouldn’t really make him more humble, would it? he sees himself as above the others, and doesn’t care for them. they’re below him. he doesn’t think about or feel any guilt for hurting them. like crushing a bug. nothing to him.

and Cam, oh Cam, what can i say about you? with all the time they (Cameron and wayne) spend together, wayne would see himself as an equal to Cameron. maybe not fully (he doesn’t have god powers…yet) but because of how close he thinks they are, he wouldn’t really think hurting him would be that terrible. like maybe a snide comment towards a close friend, they aren’t actually being sincere, and they assume you know that. after all, it’s a joke—a prank, even. but the comments do hurt, like the pranks. but wayne doesn’t realize that. his ego blinds him from understanding the harm that he causes.

so now! justin case storyline! we need to talk about this (not really, but i want to and this is my post)!

look, i don’t know about everyone, but i (and presumably others) liked watching wayne get scared and have his pranks backfire. Cam might too, and that’s why wayne was one of the people justin kidnapped! as some sort of revenge (+ it’s good content). a terrifying but humbling experience. he’s scarred for life. maybe he realizes a lot of things. the whole “everyone else is beneath me” idea starts fading. with justin case, everyone is an equal. it’s every man for themselves. he’s reduced to an animal, only thinking of his own survival. i might be going a bit tufar (HAHA) but who cares. during his stay in justin’s basement, he changes a lot. regresses. after he gets out, he’s trying to return back to normal, but the scars are still there. he’s still the same scared animal that he was before. the whole experience stays in the back of his mind, and he’s constantly feeding himself with things to distract. pranks, planning for pranks, other stuff, whatever keeps him occupied. anything to keep it away.

so. i lost steam which means this is the end. tldr? wayne exudes neglectful parents and should probably get tested for bpd, npd, and herpes. don’t ask about the herpes. also i had some long conversation about wayne before so further reading there (see: the cameron gender tag in my blog. tags on here are very !!too).

[tenwhiteandalusians]

pertaining to the idea of tenax’s band of strays i do think it’s touching that the kids are the ones who saved him and waited outside the door to make sure he’s okay. for all tenax claims to be harsh and cruel it’s a fine indicator of his character that the kids won’t rest without him and are there every time he’s in danger.

[bmpmp3]

Getting into stuff that has a lot of pre-announced release dates is really good for me like vocal synthesizer products and new love live etc franchise music releases....I'll be lying in bed at like 2 AM with ur usual 20-something's fear and existentialism over time and the future and then I'll remember a piece of singing software or a new song related to cartoon characters I like is gonna come out like next month and I'm like 😌

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️