#i also like how i worded it like an argument when it was just us saying shit out of our ass we dont even argue ever we dont care

[thef1diary]

i love love love ghost!max, and i know you’re pretty much only writing smut about him, but i’m in my feels rn, so what if the spirit box stays on all the time now, so that you can openly communicate with max whenever you want. but one day the two of you get in a big fight about something and you turn the spirit box off on him. maybe he realizes that he’s screwed up and tries to do little things for you, like making you breakfast or cleaning something in the house, just small things he’d never done before, hoping you’d turn the box back on and give him the chance to actually apologize

pls ignore this if you’re only sticking to smut for ghost!max, i just needed to get the thought out of my head 🤍

— hi nonnie! I’m so glad you love this lil au <3 going to write some fluffier drabbles cuz I’m also in my feels lately. lil drabble below

The silence was different this time. It wasn’t the quiet comfort you had grown used to since Max became a presence in your life—it was hollow, empty. Usually, even in the stillest moments, you could feel him lingering, his energy humming softly through the air, a constant awareness that he was there, always watching, always listening. But now?

Now, the air felt cold in an uncomfortable way.

You still felt something—his presence hadn’t disappeared, but it was distant, dulled by the heavy weight of your anger. Or maybe it was his anger, too.

The argument had started over something stupid. A careless comment, a teasing remark from Max that had hit a nerve when it wasn’t supposed to. Maybe it had been a bad day, maybe you had been stressed, but the irritation had flared too quickly, your words snapping sharper than intended. And then Max—prideful, stubborn Max—hadn’t let it go. He had pushed back, and before you knew it, you were fighting over things neither of you had meant to say.

“You don’t get it, Max,” you had spat, arms crossed, voice shaking.

“Oh, because I’m dead?” he had shot back through the spirit box, static crackling through his words, his tone biting. “That’s your excuse?”

You had wanted to scream. Instead, you had reached over and shut off the only form of verbal communication you had with him.

The silence that followed was deafening.

For the first day, neither of you tried to fix it. You ignored him because you were still angry, and Max—well, he had no way of talking to you, so why would he bother? If anything, it felt like a standstill, both of you too prideful to make the first move.

But then, the ache and longing began to settle in.

Max hadn’t realized how much he needed to talk to you until he couldn’t. At first, it didn’t seem like a big deal. He told himself it didn’t matter that you couldn’t hear him. He still spoke—jokes, dry remarks, muttered comments when you cracked open yet another energy drink—but it went unheard. No reaction or responses from you. It felt wrong.

The silence stretched longer, and something in him itched with the need to break it.

But he couldn’t do so verbally. Instead, he did things.

The next morning, you woke up groggy, exhausted from a restless sleep. You dragged yourself to the kitchen only to find a steaming cup of coffee waiting for you on the counter, the sugar and cream swirled in exactly the way you liked. Your hand hovered over it for a second, heart clenching at the sight, before you scoffed to yourself and turned away.

The day after, you noticed the house was tidier than usual. The couch blanket had been folded neatly, pillows fluffed in a way you never bothered to do. The floor—was it cleaner? You weren’t sure, but something felt different. Still, you ignored it, pushing the thought away before it could settle too deeply in your chest.

Then, the kitchen.

You had left dishes in the sink from the night before, too tired to deal with them. But when you stepped into the kitchen that morning, they were gone. Clean. Dry. Put away. You gripped the edge of the counter, staring at the empty sink like it had personally offended you.

“Max,” you muttered under your breath, your voice softer than before.

That evening, you found dinner waiting for you.

It wasn’t anything fancy—a simple dish, something you would have made for yourself on an easy night—but it was warm, plated carefully, waiting on the dining table. The chair was slightly pulled out, like an unspoken invitation.

You swallowed hard, staring at it for a long time, fingers twitching at your sides.

Your resolve wavered. You had spent the days determined to ignore him, convincing yourself that turning off the spirit box was justified. When you had reached for the switch, silencing him completely, you thought you had won.

But now, standing before this quiet gesture, it didn’t feel like winning.

You sat down hesitantly, the air around you charged with the unmistakable weight of his presence. You could almost feel him watching, waiting. Each bite was a painful reminder of your argument. But you imagined the way he must have lingered in the kitchen, moving unseen, focused on preparing something just for you. It was familiar, comforting, and undeniably him.

After finishing, you pushed the plate aside and sighed, rubbing your temples. “Damn you, Max,” you muttered under your breath, knowing full well he could hear you.

But when you passed by the fridge, your resolve shattered, replacing the remnants of anger with longing.

You stopped in your tracks, stomach tightening as you took in the magnets—letters you didn’t even remember having, rearranged into something unmistakable.

Please talk to me

Your breath caught, a lump forming in your throat. You reached out, fingertips brushing over the letters like they might disappear. It was desperate. Messy. A plea.

You could almost hear him, the way he’d say it if he could, voice rough, maybe even a little strained.

Your chest ached.

With a deep breath, you turned, walked to the living room, and flicked the switch on the spirit box.

Static filled the room, a familiar hum cutting through the heavy silence. And then—his voice, distorted but clear, breaking through like a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was rough, distorted through the static, but the emotion in it was unmistakable.

Your throat tightened.

“…You really swept the floor to get my attention?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

A pause.

“Yeah. It was awful. I’m never doing that again.”

The laugh that bubbled out of you was instant, breaking the tension in your chest. You hadn’t even realized how much you missed hearing him until now. Until this moment.

You exhaled shakily, resting your hand on the couch for support. “I’m sorry,” you admitted quietly.

The static shifted, almost like a sigh before he spoke again, “please don’t do that again.”

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your thoughts—filthy or not—and I’d love to write you a little drabble <3

[luvyeni]

ALL FOR YOU 𝕼. ( 이민형 )

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 이민형 x fem!reader )   ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. idol!mark x idol!reader, unprotected sex , oral ( f ) , little bit of jealousy word count. 2.5k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

synopsis … you knew mark and you would eventually cross paths; being in the same company and all — but this , this was stressing you out.

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ this one i like , so good job to me …

you knew mark and you would eventually cross paths; being in the same company and all — but this , this was stressing you out…

“okay yn since you’re the youngest; you can pair up with jisung since he’s also the youngest.” you and the tall boy exchanged small awkward smiles. “aren’t they so cute together?” you heard yuna whisper to mark; you boy next to you clearly heard because he started to turn a deep shade of red — not cause he liked you, but because knew you were with mark.

you and mark met when you were still a trainee under sm. you’d accidentally walked into the wrong practice room, mark so happened to be in there… to say you were embarrassed was an understatement. he found it cute and endearing, watching you scramble to find the right words — but all you could manage was a small squeak.

from that day on; he tried to seek you out, finding you in the practice room, pretending to be confused. looking for you in the cafeteria where you sat with the other trainees and future group mates. he never said anything, no, he didn’t want to get you in trouble; but that didn’t stop him from looking; and falling for what he saw.

he knew what he was getting himself into when he asked you out; he was not only asking someone younger than him, but his junior at that — he was asking for trouble, but he couldn’t help it. he liked you so much and you liked him.

your debut was announced about a month after you and mark began to secretly date, he was so excited for you; that was also the first time you two had sex and it was mind blowing.

you both didn’t want anyone to found out about your relationship; but unfortunately haechan has the code to mark’s apartment and loves to show up announced sometimes — and after a awkward first meeting with haechan and you, and mark pinning him down to the floor to get him shut his mouth; he promised not to tell staff… but that didn’t stop him from telling the other dreamies.

you decided to not tell your members at all — which you are currently regretting. “mark is kinda cute don’t you think?” yuna sat next to you as you sat down for a quick break. “huh?” you said. “and he so obviously wants me, you see how low his hands went.” you followed her gaze to your boyfriend who was talking to your manager. “he wants me for sure, should i ask for his number?”

you were stunned; how do you answer that question? “um i don’t think that’s a good idea , we really aren’t supposed to be dating.” you said , how ironic. “besides he’s probably already in a relationship.” you said , hoping she’d drop it, the jealousy starting to boil inside your stomach. “so innocent yn , of course he doesn’t a guy as fine as he is , he’s probably fucking all around world he has no time to have a girl waiting for him.” she stood up ; walking away leaving you with a heavy heart and green with jealousy. “i have to use the bathroom.” you got up. “hurry back, we have to practice , this collab has to be perfect.” yuna said , nodded walking out the room.

more like slamming the door behind you in marks eyes. “what’s wrong with her?” haechan asked. “did you two fight?” the elder shook his head; in fact he just talked to you before you guys met up and you seemed excited to be working with him and his group. “her and member seemed to be having a conversation before she stormed out , maybe they’re having a argument.” jaemin said. “should i go after her?” mark asked; normally he wouldn’t ask a question like that, he’d just go, but there were a bunch of staff and cameras around he didn’t want anyone catching on. “duh , go.” chenle said. “we’ll make sure no one finds out anything.”

he nodded , standing up walking out the door. “hey mark.” yuna batted her eyelashes at the boy. “hi.” was all he said before leaving out to find you.

why were you even mad? you could’ve told her and ended it there. you just didn’t want to jeopardize your careers and ruin your groups reputation, you were still in your early parts of your career. “get it together, you’re a professional.” you said to yourself before walking out of the bathroom , only to be pushed back in.

“mark what the hell?” you shrieked. “did anyone see you?” you questioned. “what’s wrong?” mark said , looking into your eyes; his filled with worry. “nothing im fine.” you tried to walk out but he grabbed your wrist. “mark.” you frowned. “tell me what’s wrong , the way you slammed that door.” he said. “did you and your member have a fight?” he asked. “no.” you trailed off. “then what is it?”

“its stupid.” you whispered , eyes to the floor. “hey.” he grabbed your chin, lifting your head up. “nothing you feel is stupid to me.” his hand covered your cheek, caressing it softly. “so tell me what’s wrong baby.” you sighed before speaking up. “it’s yuna , she likes you.” you said. “she wants to ask for your number.”

he didn’t want to laugh, but the cute pout on your lips as you spoke, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “are you laughing at me?” you asked. “i told you it was stupid , let me go.” you pulled away from him , but he grabbed you , pulling you close to wrap his arms around you. “you’re just too cute baby , so jealous and so cute.” he said. “it’s not funny , i told her you probably have a girlfriend and you know what she said.” he smiled listening to you ramble. “she said there’s no way a guy as fine as you are isn’t fucking all around the world.”

“she said that?” he said; of course that wasn’t true. “yeah , can you believe it.” you said. “and i guess she wants to be next.” you pouted, slapping his arm. “don’t say it like it could be a possibility mark.” he winced , rubbing the spot. “baby you know it’s not a possibility, not even a 0.01% chance i would do that,” he said. “you sure?” he giggled, kissing your pouty lips. “100%.” you smiled. “now stop pouting and let’s get back to the practice room before they start to question our whereabouts.”

“wanna stay here with you.” you said , he smiled. “come over tonight , and you’ll have me all to yourself yeah?” he had you pinned against the sink. “you’d like that?” you bit your lip nodding. “yeah.” he was about to pull you into a kiss — when you both got a ping on your phones. he groaned , pulling away from you. “we have to go.” you said. “why now when im so hard,” he said. “just 5 more minutes.” your phones going off again. “i don’t think we can.” you said. “let’s go before they send a search party.”

you made your return first; coming up with a excuse to tell your leader; luckily she didn’t question it. “just get in line and get ready.” you nodded , standing next to jisung. “happy now?” he smirked , you rolled your eyes , pushing him. “look who’s back.” mark made his way back inside the room. “there were people at the vending machine,” he said. “at the vending machines and yet not a single snack or anything.” haechan said. “i ate it on the way back.” he gritted through his teeth , silently threatening the boy. “okay , okay let’s get back to practice.” the choreographer said ; mark giving you a quick glance and a wink making you smile as the music started.

“good job everybody.” the choreographer said; mark watched you begin to pack up. “here.” someone shoved a piece of paper in his face. “uh.” he looked up, yuna staring him in the face. “it’s my number.” she said. “oh , i don’t think — yuna lets go.” your leader called out for the girl. “here.” she dropped it in his hand making her way out ; you watched the whole thing. “yn.” he called out. “bye.” you gave him a tight lipped smile as you made your way out. “she’s jealous.” jeno said. “yeah no shit.” he tossed the paper in the trash.

“baby please talk to me.” you sat on his bed later that night , arms folded stubbornly against your chest. “you know what she did as soon as we got back to the dorms?” you said. “she went on and on how you couldn’t keep your eyes off of her boobs , how you were definitely into her and you taking her number solidified that.” you spat out , he laid against the headboard , his hand coming up to your thigh. “baby i told you i wasn’t , i threw the number away.” he whined. “and i wasn’t looking at her boobs , i was looking past her , looking at your boobs.”

“now isn’t the time for jokes mark.” you said flatly , trying to hold back a smile. “but it got you to smile.” he pulled you back against a smile. “mark.” he kissed behind your ear. “i don’t want anyone else but you.” he whispered, knowing what it did to you. “you’re so cute when you’re jealous , huffing and puffing.” he said , hands traveling down to your side. “makes me so hard.” he turned your head around, pulling you into a heated kiss.

he slipped his tongue inside your mouth , both of you moaning into the kiss , he flipped you over so he was on top. “so fucking pretty.” he dipped inside your neck. “you don’t know what you do to me , how much i wanted to pull you away from jisung.” he groaned. “his hands were too low on you.” he growled. “se-seems like you were jealous too.” you whimpered , he bit down on your neck. “fuck mark don’t leave any marks.” he licked the spot on your neck. “fuck of course i was jealous baby , i wanted to dance with you , not her.” he gripped your waist tightly. “all i could think about is you while dancing.”

he kissed down the valley of your breast. “the way you looked.” *kiss* “the way you talked.” *kiss* “the way you smelled.” he gave you one final kiss. “fuck and the way you taste.” he pulled your leggings down your legs , spreading them open. “ma-mark i need you.” you desperately mewled. “yeah?” he smirked. “need me to lick your pretty pussy.” he kissed your clothed cunt. “mhm pl-please.” he pulled your panties to the side; his cock twitching in his sweats. “look how wet you are.” he groaned. “all this for me baby?” you nodded , he gave your clit another kiss. “mhm fuck , you taste so good.” he dove into your heat , passionately licking your folds. “ma-mark , fuck that feels good.”

he hummed against your heat , holding your legs apart as he feverishly licked your folds. “fuck , fuck keep going.” your hand tangled up into his hair as your hips bucked up involuntarily. “fuck mark im gonna cum.” he replaced his mouth with his fingers , pushed two inside. “you’re so wet , gonna cum for me?” you nodded , the knot in your belly getting tighter. “cum for me then , be a good girl and cum for me.” you gasped out , the knot finally snapping as you came all over her fingers. “good fucking girl.” his voice filled with lust. “made such a mess on my fingers.”

he pushed his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue. “so sweet.” he said. “like fucking candy baby.” he untied the string to his sweats , pulling them down just enough to free his fully erected cock. “look how hard i am for you.” he pressed his tip against your hole. “only get like this for you.” he slowly slid inside you. “fuck mark , so-so big.” you moaned , he grunted. “sh-shit baby you’re so tight.” his cock slowly filling you up , his cock kissing your cervix. “love this pussy so much.”

he pulled out , stopping at the tip; pushing himself all the way in. “so so much.” he groaned. “mark faster.” you moaned. “faster?” he said , speeding up. “yes like that.” your fingers running through his hair. “no need to be jealous baby , it’s all for you.” he groaned. “all mines.” he groaned as you tugged at his hair. “it’s yours.” he whispered in your ear. “so take what’s yours baby.”

he pulled out of you; laying back letting you climb into his lap. “ride me baby , ride your cock.” he groaned as you held the base of his cock , sinking down on him. “fuck mark.” he watched in awe as you rode him; bouncing up and down on his length. “fuck that feels good princess , ride me , ride it like you own me.” he held your waist as you worked his cock. “fuck baby im about to cum.” he moaned out. “no-not yet , almost there.” you stuttered , legs faltering. “fuck , fuck mark im about to cum.”

he held your hips , bucking up into your needy cunt. “fuck baby cum.” he groaned. “cum.” both of you moaning out as you came at the same time , your head dropping in between his neck. “b-baby don’t leave any marks , my manager will kill me.” he sighed , loving the feeling on his lips … okay maybe he can’t take the scolding.

“what were you thinking , the makeup artist is gonna kill you if that isn’t gone by the performance.” you heard his manager scolding him as your group walked into the practice room. “next time at least put it somewhere no one can see.” the older man shook his head in disappointment. “so irresponsible.” you chuckled , covering your smile. he looked at you frowning. “guess he had too good of a time last night.” your other member said. “guess yuna was wrong.” you looked at yuna who looked upset upon seeing the mark on his neck. “let’s just get this over with.” she said stomping away; your other member was chuckling. “don’t worry she’ll get over it , if not oh well.” she said. “and don’t you laughed too much.” she turned to you. “what are you talking about?”

she rolled her eyes. “you think im dumb , if you aren’t careful you’ll be getting a scolding just like he is.” she said. “at least he’s smart enough to put it somewhere no one can see.” she walked away leaving you stunned; mark looking at you curiously. “what?” he mouthed , you pointed to your member. “she knows.” you mouthed back, he shrugged. “tell them all.”

guess it’s time to tell your members the truth.

©️LUVYENI

[lunaswicked]

Sweet Spot

A/N: Sorry this one took so long, college has been kicking my black ass, but im back with a juicy Roman fic!

Paring: Roman Reigns x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: A bold ultimatum turns into an irresistible claim when you demand your place in Roman Reigns' Bloodline. What starts as a power struggle quickly turns into something far more intense as Roman asserts his dominance.

Tags: Oral, (female receiving), language, p in v, smut village, claiming, 18+, USE YOUR IMAGINATION BABE!!!

“The Tribal Chief will be back soon after his interview, Y/N. You really shouldn’t be in here—”  

Paul Heyman’s voice carried that usual mix of authority and nervousness, like he was trying to keep the peace but also lowkey freaking out. Classic Wiseman behavior. But before he could finish, you hit him with a cold, uninterested stare and cut him off.  

“I don’t care… Paul.” You dragged his name out like it tasted bitter on your tongue. Your arms crossed over your chest, your body language screaming defiance as you dropped into one of Roman’s ridiculously expensive leather chairs, making yourself comfortable. “I’m staying right here until I talk to Roman about the Bloodline.”  

Paul’s mouth opened, then shut like a fish out of water. He clearly wasn’t used to people shutting him down, especially not when it came to anything involving Roman. He adjusted his tie, the slight fidget a dead giveaway that he was scrambling for a way to handle you without setting off a nuclear-level argument.  

"Y/N," he started again, voice softer now, like he was trying to reason with a child throwing a tantrum. "I understand your frustration, but decisions like these take time. The Tribal Chief has a lot to consider—”  

You scoffed, leaning back in the chair like you owned the damn place. “Paul, don’t give me that ‘decisions take time’ speech. Roman’s been stringing me along for months. Either I’m in, or I’m out. No more waiting around while he plays mind games.”  

Paul’s lips pressed into a thin line. You could tell he wanted to say something slick, something wise and calculated, but you were past the point of caring. Your patience had been worn down to nothing. You weren’t just some random outsider begging for a spot—you had proven yourself. You had bled for this. And yet, Roman still hadn’t made the call.  

Paul sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples like you were personally giving him a migraine. “This is not how things work. You don’t just demand to see Roman. You wait for him to summon you.”  

You rolled your eyes. “Summon me? Paul, be fucking for real right now. I’m not some peasant waiting on a royal decree. If Roman wants loyalty, he needs to show me I’m not wasting my damn time.”  

Paul exhaled sharply, clearly at a loss. He checked the time on his phone like that was gonna magically make Roman appear faster. “If you just wait—”  

“No,” you cut in. “I’m done waiting.”  

Your eyes flickered to the clock on the wall. Any minute now, Roman would be walking through that door. And when he did, you were gonna make damn sure he finally gave you an answer.

You adjusted the black dress draped over your body, subtly pulling at the slit running up your thigh. The fabric clung to your curves just right—not that you planned it for Roman, but if he noticed, well… that was his problem.  

Paul gave you one last lingering look, one that screamed you’re playing a dangerous game, before he sighed and exited Roman’s private room. The door shut with a soft click, leaving you alone in the space that practically reeked of dominance and control.  

Minutes passed as you scrolled mindlessly through your phone, pretending like your heart wasn’t racing. Like you weren’t anticipating the moment he walked through that door. And then—  

Click. Thud.  

Your head snapped up at the sound, and there he was.  

Roman Reigns.  

Dressed in a sleek black suit, crisp white shirt, and a tie that somehow made him look even more powerful. His presence alone sucked the air from the room, commanding attention without a single word. And damn, did he look good. So good that heat crawled up your neck before you could stop it. For a split second, you almost forgot why you were here in the first place. Almost.  

His sharp eyes locked onto yours, dark and unreadable, before one eyebrow quirked up.  

“Y/N, sweetheart,” his voice was smooth, teasing, laced with amusement. “Who let you in here?”  

The way he said sweetheart sent a shiver down your spine, but you kept your composure, tilting your chin up as he stepped closer. He shrugged off his suit jacket and placed it on the chair beside you, the fabric brushing against your arm like a silent reminder of his presence.  

You swallowed, clearing your throat before answering. “I—I let myself in.”  

He hummed at that, walking over to the small table in the corner, pouring himself a cup of coffee like he had all the time in the world. The casual dominance, the way he moved, the sheer confidence—infuriating.  

“And where’s Paul?” he asked, lifting the cup to his lips.  

“He left.”  

That made him pause. His head turned slightly, eyebrow raising again.  

“He left?” Roman repeated, almost like he didn’t believe you. Paul never left before he was back. Ever.  

You crossed your arms, refusing to shrink under his gaze.  

“So, let me get this straight.” He took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes still locked on you. “You invite yourself in… and then run off my Wiseman?”  

You bit the inside of your cheek, pulse flickering under his intense stare.  

“I wouldn’t say run off,” you muttered, shifting slightly.  

Roman smirked, setting his coffee down with a soft clink. He took a step closer, the air between you growing heavier with every movement.  

“Mm. That so?” His voice was low, edged with something dangerously amused.  

You weren’t sure if you wanted to punch him or let that voice do dangerous things to you. Maybe both.

You straightened your back, squaring your shoulders as you met his gaze head-on. No more games. No more waiting.  

“I’m here to tell you that I’m not waiting anymore, Roman,” you said, voice firm despite the way his presence made your pulse spike. “It’s either I’m part of your Bloodline, or I’m not. I mean, it’s been months, and I—”  

You didn’t even get to finish.  

Roman lifted a hand, cutting you off without a word. The simple gesture was enough to shut you down, not because you wanted to stop talking, but because there was something about the way he did it—calm, effortless, like he already had control of the entire situation. Like you were only here because he allowed it.  

Then, before you could react, he moved.  

Two long strides, and he was right in front of you, towering over you, his scent wrapping around your senses like a noose. Clean, masculine, laced with expensive cologne and something undeniably him.  

His eyes flickered down to yours, dark and unreadable.  

“Up. Now.”  

A command. Not a request.  

Your body reacted before your brain could catch up, pushing up from the chair without hesitation.  

You stood, arms crossing over your chest as you forced yourself to hold his gaze. Even in heels, he made you feel small, like he could swallow you whole if he wanted to. The heat rolling off him, the authority dripping from every inch of his stance—it was infuriating.  

And yet, you still obeyed.

Roman moved around you with a slow, calculated pace, like a predator circling its prey. Every step was deliberate, heavy with unspoken authority. You felt his presence even when you couldn't see him, the energy in the room shifting with every move he made.  

Then, he stopped behind you.  

The heat of his body ghosted over your back, close enough that you could feel him but not close enough to touch. His fingers landed on your shoulder, featherlight but firm, sending a shiver down your spine.  

“It’s risky,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, the kind that made the air in your lungs thin. “And you’re too sweet.”  

You clenched your jaw, shaking your head immediately. “I’m not sweet,” you shot back, voice sharper than you intended.  

Behind you, Roman chuckled, the sound deep and knowing, like he was in on a joke you weren’t privy to.  

“Sweet,” he mused, his fingers trailing lightly over your shoulder before pulling away. “But not fragile.”  

You swallowed hard, refusing to let him see how much he was getting to you.  

“I can handle it,” you said, turning your head slightly but not fully facing him.  

Roman didn’t respond right away. Instead, he let the silence stretch, let the weight of his presence press into you, let the moment settle in a way that made your pulse hammer against your ribs.  

Then, he leaned in just a fraction, voice nothing but a whisper against your ear.  

“Are you sure about that, sweetheart?”

You inhaled sharply, the warmth of his breath still lingering against your skin. Roman didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he stepped away, walking toward the locker in the corner of the room, leaving you standing there, your body still buzzing from his proximity.  

You turned slightly, watching as he opened the locker with ease, rummaging through it before pulling out a black T-shirt. Bold red letters stretched across the fabric.  

Bloodline.

Your breath hitched.  

Roman turned back to you, holding the shirt in one hand as he strode forward. The look in his eyes was unreadable—calm, unreadable, but undeniably intense.  

“This is yours,” he said simply, stopping just inches from you. His voice was smooth, but there was something deeper laced within it. Something that made your stomach twist.  

He held the shirt out, his fingers brushing against yours as you reached for it.  

“Was gonna give it to you next week,” he continued, eyes flickering over you like he was assessing you all over again. “But you’re so damn bold… so here.”  

Your fingers curled around the fabric, your heart pounding in your chest.  

You stared down at the shirt in your hands, the bold red Bloodline lettering staring right back at you like it was daring you to make a choice. The room felt heavier now, charged with something unspoken, something dangerous.  

Roman took a step back, arms folding across his broad chest as he watched you. He licked his lips, the slow drag of his tongue over them making your stomach tighten.  

“How about you put it on right now?” he said, voice smooth, low, but laced with authority. Like he wasn’t really asking.  

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and the intensity in them made your breath hitch. He was testing you. Waiting.  

You exhaled slowly, then—without breaking eye contact—you reached for the hem of your dress and pulled it over your head in one swift motion, leaving you in nothing but your black lace bra and matching panties. The air in the room shifted instantly.  

Roman’s jaw clenched. His eyes darkened, flickering over your body with a heat that sent shivers down your spine.  

You smirked slightly, then took your time slipping the Bloodline shirt over your head, letting it fall just below your thighs. The fabric was soft, the scent of him still lingering on it.  

Roman exhaled sharply through his nose, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.  

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath before stepping closer, his fingers grazing the hem of the shirt as he looked down at you. “Fits you good, sweetheart.”  

You tilted your chin up, your own smirk growing. “I told you I belong here.”  

Roman chuckled, low and deep. “Guess we’ll see about that.”

Your back hit the wall before you even realized he was moving. Roman was on you in an instant, his sheer presence crowding your space, making the air between you crackle with tension. 

His eyes locked onto yours, dark and unwavering, his expression unreadable—but his intent? Crystal clear. 

“Rules,” he murmured, unbuttoning the top of his shirt, his fingers slow, deliberate.  

Your breath hitched, chest rising and falling faster as you swallowed hard. “Rules?” you echoed, barely recognizing your own voice.  

Roman���s jaw clenched, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips before he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your face.  

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low, rough, possessive. “Mine. Not Jey’s. Not Jimmy’s. Not Solo’s. Mine.”  

The way he said it, like it was law—like it was already written in stone—made your stomach tighten. Your pulse hammered against your ribs as his hand lifted, fingers grazing the hem of the Bloodline shirt now hanging loosely on your frame.  

“You understand that, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice thick with something dangerous, something that sent a shiver down your spine.  

You licked your lips, your throat suddenly dry. But you didn’t back down. You wouldn’t.  

“I understand,” you whispered, your voice softer than you intended.  

Roman smirked, but it wasn’t playful. It was dark. Satisfied. Like he’d just won.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear, his fingers tracing the edge of your panties. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick with promise. “I’m gonna pull these down, taste you, then I’m gonna fuck you—hit that sweet spot over and over, just to remind you of exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into.” His words were low, dangerous, and laced with an undeniable intensity.

The heat surged through you as he slowly slid your panties down, his touch deliberate and teasing. You gasped, breath hitching, "Roman—" you whimpered, unable to hide the desire creeping into your voice. His gaze never left yours, intense and unwavering, as he slid his middle finger between your folds, making your pulse race even faster.

He set a slow, teasing rhythm, his fingers moving in a steady pace, the sound of your wetness filling the room, making the atmosphere thick with tension. "Oh god—" you moaned, your eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure coursed through you. Roman’s jaw tightened, his grip firm as he continued, his pace unrelenting, each movement deliberate, driving you closer to the edge.

"This what you wanted, sweetheart?" he groans in your ear, his pace quickening, pushing you further into a haze of pleasure. You struggle to catch your breath, "Mhm... yes..." you whimper, your body betraying your words. 

Without warning, he pulls his fingers out, his grip shifting as he hooks his arms around your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up against the wall. He raises you so high that your pussy aligns directly with his face, and the shift leaves you breathless, heart pounding.

Roman’s breath was warm as he hovered just inches from where you needed him most, his lips so close that every exhale sent a new wave of desperation coursing through you. Then, without warning, he blew a slow, teasing stream of air against your wetness, the sensation making you jolt in his grip.  

"You’re dripping, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction, with control, with possession. His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and heavy with intent, waiting—watching—as your body reacted to his every move.  

The heat between your thighs throbbed, and your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, desperate for more. But Roman? He took his time, his hold firm, ensuring you had nowhere to run from the way he was about to ruin you.

That was the moment you lost all control—the second his tongue darted out, licking a slow, deliberate stripe against your slick heat without warning. A choked gasp escaped your lips, your head falling back against the wall as a surge of pleasure shot through you like wildfire.  

“F-fuck—” you stuttered, your voice barely above a breath, but he didn’t give you a chance to gather yourself. His grip tightened on your ass, his fingers digging in possessively as he held you in place, completely at his mercy.  

Then, he latched onto that sensitive bead, sucking with just the right amount of pressure, making your entire body jerk in response. A strangled moan tore from your throat, your thighs trembling around his head as you instinctively tried to press closer, needing more—needing everything.  

He groaned against you, the vibration sending another pulse of pleasure straight through your core. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured between strokes of his tongue. “Let me hear you.”  

Your fingers curled in his hair, tugging helplessly as your legs threatened to give out—not that he’d let you fall. He had you trapped, exactly where he wanted you, and he wasn’t stopping until you were completely undone.

His dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with hunger and unrelenting dominance. The intensity in his gaze made your breath hitch, anticipation coiling in your stomach like a tightly wound spring.  

Without breaking eye contact, he shifted his hold, dropping his left hand, leaving you suspended with only one strong arm wrapped around your waist. The sheer power he possessed sent a shiver down your spine, reminding you just how effortlessly he controlled you.  

With his free hand, he worked the button of his slacks, then the zipper, his movements slow—calculated. The sound of fabric rustling filled the room as his slacks slid down his legs, pooling at his ankles, followed by the drop of his boxers. Your mouth went dry at the sight of him, thick and hard, standing tall beneath you.  

Roman smirked at your reaction, his grip tightening. “See something you like, sweetheart?” he rasped, amusement laced in his deep voice.  

You swallowed hard, unable to form words, but the need pooling between your thighs said enough.  

He didn’t give you time to dwell on it. Instead, he adjusted his stance, his large hands gripping your thighs as he guided you down, letting gravity and desire take over. Your back slid down the wall, your body trembling from the overwhelming sensation of his warmth pressing against you.  

A sharp gasp tore from your lips the moment you felt him stretching you, inch by inch, your walls molding around his thick length. Roman groaned, his head falling forward as he buried himself deep inside you, his grip bruising as he held you still.  

“Fuck—” he growled through gritted teeth, his breath ragged. “You feel even better than I thought.”  

Your nails dug into his shoulders as pleasure and pain blended into something euphoric, leaving you breathless. “please—ooHH MY GOddd” you whimpered, voice breaking in agony.  

He lifted his head, his nose grazing yours, his lips ghosting over your parted ones. “What, baby?” he taunted, rolling his hips just enough to make you whine. “This what you wanted?”  

You barely managed a nod, your body trembling in his grasp.  

He smirked, dark and wicked, his hands tightening around your thighs as he pressed you harder against the wall. “Good,” he murmured, voice dripping with authority. “’Cause I ain’t lettin’ you go now.”  

His dark hair slipped free from the messy bun, cascading over his broad shoulders as sweat glistened on his golden skin, accentuating every defined muscle and intricate tattoo under the dim lighting. His pace was relentless now, each deep thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your trembling body, pressing you harder against the wall.  

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathless moans and his low, guttural grunts. His grip on your thighs was firm, possessive, holding you in place as he drove into you with a punishing rhythm.  

Roman’s head tilted back slightly, his jaw clenched, his breath heavy. “You wanted this, didn’t you?” His voice was deep, laced with raw dominance. His piercing eyes found yours again, dark and full of hunger. “Wanted to be part of my Bloodline so bad…” He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust, making you cry out.  

You could barely think, let alone respond, but that didn’t stop him.  

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, “Then you’re mine now, sweetheart.” His teeth grazed your earlobe before he sucked it between his lips, sending a shiver down your spine.  

Your nails raked down his back, desperate for something to hold onto. “R-Roman—” you gasped, your voice breaking from the intensity.  

He chuckled, dark and amused, before pulling back just enough to meet your dazed, pleasure-drunk gaze. “From now on, every Friday night,” he murmured, rolling his hips slow and deep, making you whimper, “I’m gonna fuck you into my Bloodline.”  

A sharp cry left your lips as he picked up his pace again, pounding into you harder, making good on his promise.

With one last deep, punishing thrust, Roman buried himself to the hilt, his grip on your thighs tightening as a guttural groan ripped from his throat. Your body tensed, the overwhelming pleasure crashing over you in powerful, shuddering waves.  

“Oh my—Roman!” you gasped, your head falling back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure consumed you. Your walls clenched around him, milking every last drop of his release as his breath came out in ragged pants against your ear.  

“Fuck—” he growled, his forehead pressing against yours as he rode out both of your highs, his body trembling slightly from the force of it. His hands slowly loosened their bruising grip on your thighs, fingers grazing over your heated skin as he took deep, steadying breaths.  

Your chest heaved against his, bodies still tangled together as the aftermath of your passion settled in the air. The only sounds in the room were the mingling of your unsteady breaths, the cooling sweat on your skin making you shiver against him.  

Roman smirked, his lips barely ghosting over yours. “You good, sweetheart?” His voice was thick with satisfaction, but there was something else there too—something possessive.  

You swallowed, still dazed, nodding weakly. “Yeah…” you breathed out, your body still tingling from the intensity of it all.  

He chuckled lowly, his nose brushing against yours as he finally—slowly—slid out of you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. He kept a firm hold on your waist, ensuring you didn’t collapse the second your feet touched the ground.  

Your legs felt weak, unsteady, and Roman smirked knowingly. “That was cute,” he murmured, amusement lacing his voice as he held you up.  

You rolled your eyes, even as a small smile pulled at your lips. “Shut up,” you muttered breathlessly, swaying slightly as you leaned into his solid chest for balance.  

Roman reached for his discarded suit jacket and draped it over your shoulders, his touch surprisingly gentle as he smoothed the fabric down your arms. His fingers lingered at your waist before he pulled back slightly, tilting your chin up with a single finger.  

“You’re mine now,” he said, voice firm, leaving no room for argument. His dark eyes bore into yours, possessive and intense. “No backing out.”  

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of his words settle deep in your chest. There was no denying it—you had just crossed a line that couldn’t be undone.  

A slow, knowing smirk spread across your lips. “Guess I’m in the Bloodline now, huh?”  

Roman chuckled, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip before leaning in, his lips hovering over yours.  

“Damn right, sweetheart.”

[always1star]

the time we were together

toxic!sukuna x fem!reader (although can be read as gn?)

tags: angst, college au, cursing, arguments, use of y/n, alludes to sex (but nothing explicit, i dont write smut), cheating, yearning, closure, happiest ending i could make tbh, no part 2 im sorry

a/n: i didn't mean to write this but for some reason it just happened so enjoy my first fic lol. also this is NOT PROOFREAD

WC: 2.7k

You and Sukuna have been going out for some time now, maybe about five months. You met him at some random frat party. You had just been broken up with by your boyfriend of two years, and so you went to a party and took anything and everything anyone gave you. You were feeling super sick and all you really wanted was solace. After a while of sulking in the corner of this random disgusting frat house, you decided it was time to go home, as at this point you were high and drunk completely out of your mind. You gathered your things and attempted to stumble your way to some kind of exit. On your way out, you accidentally ran into this huge hunk of a man with bold tattoos. You started sobbing when he caught you, tears staining and fists clenching his shirt. He was absolutely bewildered and as people had begun to stare, he grudgingly took you home. After that night, you kept running into this random man you sobbed to on campus, and the rest was history. 

Although you and Sukuna have been going relatively steady for a while, you had hit a point in your relationship in which all you did was argue. And it is generally understood that after the honeymoon stage everyone often disputes with their partners, but Sukuna was terribly vicious. He often brought up how insecure you were, how it was your fault you were raised the way you were, how easily he could replace you. To say the least, Sukuna was an ass. He damaged your core like no one else could and it desperately hurt you to be with him. Still, you stayed by his side because you loved him, and hoped he felt the same way. You hoped because he would hold you as you cried, kissing away your tears, and whispering how sorry he was. You always forgave him, even if he did it time and time again. 

During the first stages of your relationship, Sukuna welcomed your presence. You two hung out often, and although not ordinary dates (he often took you to race on his motorcycle or would take you to sketchy parties), you had fun and were happy because he was there with you. Sukuna never was really into speaking reassuring or affirming words, but instead showed his affection with his actions. His hands would always be roaming your body, and you liked feeling the warmth of another person. He did things without you asking, like buying something you mentioned you liked or holding you even when you swore you were ok. While you smiled brightly and thanked him, he would just grumble “it’s whatever.” You would always laugh and giggle with him, and even though he never really laughed back himself, he entertained it. Sometimes you would catch him staring, and there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite name. There was no doubt that he held a sentiment of adoration for you, maybe he even loved you. But now? His eyes only seemed to hold disappointment, anger, and annoyance. 

You had known from the second you met him that it would not be easy to be with him. He’s got a difficult, harsh, and cruel demeanor. You had hoped that maybe he wasn’t really like that, and that maybe he just had this bad-boy delinquent front to cover his vulnerabilities. Well, you were right, to say the least. But is the Ryomen Sukuna really going to be vulnerable around you, some random girl he met a few months ago that he just likes to use as a bed warmer? Hell no. You meant absolutely nothing to him and he couldn’t seem to get that message through your head. All this time, you thought that maybe he was just being difficult but that didn’t change the fact that he still maybe held a passion for you. 

One night, a particularly bad argument came up. It started as something that was completely meaningless. Him coming home a little late, you telling him you were too busy to cook dinner and that tonight you guys should just go get takeout, him mumbling that he was too tired to go out and that it’s nothing you can’t do on your own because you were a big girl and could handle these things. You apologized but said you, too, were too tired, and therefore did not want to cook. Sukuna’s temper just kind of blew up. “Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t even do this one little thing? You aren’t fucking helpless, Y/N. I’ve spent all day studying and working for you, and how dare you still expect more shit from me? Haven’t I given you fucking enough?” He threw his hands up in irritance, shouting at you, the previous exhaustion in his voice seemingly gone. “I’m sorry, I was just busy tod-” you tried to reason, but he quickly interrupted. “Busy? You were fucking busy? How the hell do you think I feel, huh?” He was walking towards you, and you were being backed into the kitchen counter. “Are you useless? No! You can’t even do small shit like this. How unloveable can you possibly be?” He continued to ramble and yell into your face, but you stopped listening. You rapidly tried to blink your tears away and to calm your shaky hands. Did he really just say that? You’re unloveable?

Eventually, Sukuna left the apartment with nothing but his coat and his car keys, mumbling something about how this is fucking unbelieveable under his breath as he slammed the front door shut. Your ears were ringing due to the newfound silence, the only thing being heard was your staggered breathing. 

A couple of days later, Sukuna still had not returned to your apartment. You assumed he had gone back to his. Neither of you had spoken a word to each other in two days, and you were becoming restless. You had to apologize to him, whether you were at fault or not. You texted him you were on your way as you started your car. You noted that as you were on your way, he never replied to your message. You approached his front door and rummaged through your purse to find the spare key to his apartment. As you unlocked the door, you took a deep breath in and recited your apology in your head. 

When you opened the door, the apartment was relatively cleaner than it usually was, save for the clothes littering the floor. Your brows furrowed as you noted a pink camisole and bra on the floor. Those definitely weren’t yours. Your heart was rapidly thumping, the sound filling your ears. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, and stormed off to find Sukuna.

You burst through his bedroom door to see a naked Sukuna and some girl you’ve never seen before. You watched as her eyes widened and as she scrambled to find some way to cover herself. She ran out the door past you. You were still standing in the doorway, frozen in shock. You held your mouth slightly agape, unsure of what to say or do next. Unperturbed, Sukuna sighed as got up from the bed to find his shorts somewhere on the floor. He ran his hand through his sweaty, almost drenched hair. Wasn’t he being way too casual about this? You found the strength in yourself to speak up. “How could you do this to me?” you weakly spoke, sounding as fragile as your now shattered heart. Sukuna put on his shorts and looked at you without shame, an agitated look painting his face. “I don’t owe you an explanation.” He continued to find his shirt. “What? We’re dating Sukuna. You can’t just-” you stammered, and he stopped you right there. “I’m not your boyfriend and you’re not my girlfriend,” he articulated every word like it was the most obvious thing ever. Your heart dropped. “And clearly, you didn’t think that. I liked what we had, Y/N. But if you’re going to be all possessive like this, then we should end things.” What was he saying? “What? Suku-” He deeply sighed and his voice began to rise. “Get out! Don’t make me say it again.”

Ryomen Sukuna had broken your heart. Really, he stole it from your chest and smiled at you as he crushed it in his hands. The next week after the “break up” for you was absolutely terrible. You skipped all of your classes, meals, and sleep. You just wallowed in bed, wondering what could possibly make you so unloveable. To think that he never really loved you – wait, did he really never love you at all? You recalled that you never said I love you. Those three words held a heavy weight, but you were thinking about how you didn’t need to say it to prove your devotion to him. It kinda made sense now. You should have never assumed your place in a man’s heart who didn’t have room for anyone, let alone you.

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

Five months later…

Sukuna found it nice to be freely sleeping around again, finding himself at parties, clubs, bars, always having a girl on his side. Sukuna always woke up next to a new girl every morning (girls he never remembers the names of), quickly kicking her out so he didn’t have to deal with whatever she thought was between them. He would go on late night rides with his friends (that you never really liked) and would come home to drink a cold beer wearing only his boxers. Life was good to him.

But as Sukuna came home one night after a thrilling night out, he thought it just wasn’t as fun as it used to be. He plopped down on the couch and cracked open a beer and turned on his TV. Still, he felt something was missing. Maybe he missed the thrill of making it home and spewing lies to the girl in his bed. Maybe he missed the heated arguments and sorry's just to repeat the cycle. . Maybe he missed coming home to a home-cooked meal. Maybe he missed the warmth of another person. Maybe he missed hearing a certain voice. Maybe he missed waking up to a familiar face. Maybe, he missed you. Wait, what? That’s not true. He shook the thought away, thinking that he just missed having authority over someone. 

He was obviously lying to himself. Sukuna wondered what could fill this odd feeling in his heart. It was evident that the sex, drugs, and alcohol was no longer doing its part for him. He stopped going out and now spent his time in silence and solitude. He began to think about you, and he wondered what you were doing. He wondered how you would react if you saw him again. He wondered what you did after you lost contact with him. He wondered what you looked like now, if you were just as beautiful.

He needed to find you, whether it was for the closure for his flaming conscience or that needed to know if you still felt the same in his arms, he didn’t know. What was he feeling bad for now? Sukuna was never one to have genuine apologies or have feelings of guilt in shame. What was it about you that made him feel this way? Sukuna wanted – no, needed to put a label on this aching feeling, and then throw it out. 

It was a new semester, and Sukuna hadn’t seen you around campus. He realized that he still really wanted to see you, but he knew you wouldn’t react well. He didn’t care too much though, he just wanted to fix whatever was wrong with him. 

One day, Sukuna saw you on campus in the courtyard that was in front of one of your major’s buildings. You looked the happiest he had ever seen you. A smile was plastered on your face as you laughed with some friends. The same smile that he struck off your face. Sukuna used to think he liked your crying face more than anything, he thought your stupid smile was childish, but now he thought you looked so beautiful smiling. He silently watched you, something holding him back from approaching you.

Sukuna often spotted you in front of your building, and he longed to talk to you again. If he was watching you so often, of course you were going to see him too. One day, you spotted him. He tried to play it off by clearing his throat and looking away, but when he looked at you again, you smiled. You… smiled? Even after all the humiliation and suffering he put you through, you smiled at him. You seemed to wave off to your friends and began to speed walk to him. He panicked a little.

“It’s nice to see you again! I hope you’re doing well,” you greeted and waved to him. It hurt him to see that you were still kind and genuine even after all that he did to you. “Hi, um… it’s nice to see you too… How are you doing?” he awkwardly replied. Sukuna was always one to hold pride and confidence, but upon seeing you he seemed to lose all of it. “I’m really good! This semester is kind of kicking my ass but I’m still trying to stay positive, haha,” you beamed. He nodded once as a reply and a silence enveloped the both of you. He stared at you, and you really did look happy. He sighed and spoke up, “Y/N, I never really got the chance to say sorry. I know that I have done so much wrong to you, but please, can you forgive me? I feel like what I did to you is burning a hole through my heart, and I just can’t bear to think that I could do that to someone as pure as you,” Sukuna began to beg. It was odd to see a guy who never bent down to anyone, who put himself on a pedestal ranging miles higher than anyone else, beg. 

You thought for a second, taking in the unfamiliar sorrow gracing his strong features. You eventually spoke, “Sukuna, I loved you, did you know that?” His eyes slightly widened and he nodded slowly. You continued, “The whole time I was with you, I wasn’t sure if you loved me too. It hurts to be around you.” He nodded again, breaking eye contact to stare at his shoes. “I can’t quite forgive you for what you did to me, but I want you to know that if you find your happiness, then I will always be cheering you on for it. Don’t mess up next time.” Although your words held the heaviness of your feelings, you still smiled at him. Sukuna felt a throbbing in his chest. God, what did he do to you? What had he done? He desperately wanted to say, “my happiness is with you” but he felt that he didn’t have the right to. Sukuna felt tears in his eyes, all an unfamiliar feeling to him. He nodded once again to you, whispering a thank you. Not because you were offering your understanding, but because he wanted to thank you for being there for him, even when he couldn’t be there for you. Sukuna went off apologizing once again, clenching his fists to resist reaching out and hugging you. And, as if you read his mind, you quickly pulled him into your embrace. The two of you held each other, tearing brimming your eyes. The feeling of closure the two of you longed for was gained, and for a second all the resentment and pain was let go of, all that was left was love and understanding for each other. 

Sukuna watched you from afar sometimes. He had been hearing around that you were in a relationship… good for you. He hoped that whoever that weird tall white guy haired guy you were dating was, was treating you with all the love and respect that you deserve, all the love and respect that he couldn’t give you. And as he watched you laugh with some guy that wasn’t him, smiling ear to ear, he realized that happiness looked so good on you. To pay his repentance and to pay his final act of love to you, he gave a small somber smile at your radiating face for the last time, and turned around and walked away, now truly realizing the weight of his mistakes.

[fatuismooches]

(okok very self indulgent sorry!!)

imagine dottore w a chronically ill reader, who struggles with walking and movement in general. he would be so nice and soft :((( as a doctor hes seen it all. he would grab them stuff when they need it, get things set up and packed if they went out, and he would know every solution to any ache or pain :(( <33 i know hes just such a sweetheart to his favorite patient :3

Dottore is more than aware that you have trouble moving around and ensures you don't tire yourself more than you have to. His biggest solution to this was to create a method of high-speed communication - in other words, there's a button in your room that sends an alarm to the main lab (which at least one segment is always there) and then they can communicate with each other as to who will go to assist you. Of course, this is mostly used for medical reasons, however... you have used it to bring a segment over for some hugs and kisses if you need a recharge. Although you may feel guilty for calling them over so much, especially with their work, Dottore reaffirms that he'd prefer for you to do that rather than accidentally hurt yourself. Even though his words may seem gruff at times and you two have your arguments, he will never skip out on this duty to you.

Also, he and the segments have also become proficient in setting up dates in the lab. Despite how he's content to remain in his lab, he's smart enough to understand that life can get bleak when you have trouble moving around and can't always access the things you want to do. Therefore Dottore makes sure to choose activities that are always comfortable for you. Zandy favors fun board games. Everyone else likes chess - maybe four in a row too. (Has he gotten tipped off by Columbina a few times about bubble baths, the latest foreign book you wanted to be imported, a meal you've been craving, a new album of Radiant Spincrystals to listen to together? Perhaps.)

In all honesty, Dottore would prefer if you just stayed in the lab so he can keep a constant eye on you, but he knows that would lead to more unhappiness - so he just makes sure a segment always accompanies you. (Said segment gets kicked out if you happen to visit Columbina though.) The scholar also tries to install things where he can, mainly in your and his rooms, such as rails near your bed and bath so it's easier to get up. If you use any sort of mobility aids, you can bet he'll add some kind of feature to it too. I wager a button that shoots blue fireballs. Although many would say his knowledge was gained unethically, he has no qualms about continuing even if it makes you feel one percent better.

[andre-and-cal]

I NEED ANDRE AND CAL HCS!

Sure thing !! Hope you like! :3

General Andre and Cal Headcanons,,

Calvin tends to “tune out” Andre’s words whenever he’s explaining instructions to him— whether it be related to their Zero Day plans, board game rules, or other related topics. He frequently goes “Huh?” or “Hmmh?” when he’s not paying attention, to which Andre has to remind him about the topic and repeat his words over again. But he knows that Calvin can’t help it, and he generally doesn’t mind reminding him about different things— like homework, tests, etc. considering he has a better memory than Cal.

Andre and Cal watch malware-infested gore videos to further desensitize themselves to death and to sort of mentally prepare for Zero Day, and for the sake of watching people die. With the lack of concern yet interest in Cal’s eyes, Andre is both a little surprised, yet mostly unsurprised that Calvin reacts so indifferently to shock videos. He’d be a hypocrite if he labeled it as unsettling, after all. Their repeated pattern of watching these sorts of torture videos— especially when Cal can find “good ones” (in his words) at least— stemmed from the discovery of a website that showcased the aftermaths of car accidents. And after doing a little digging, Cal stumbled upon the leaked cartel videos section. He introduced the videos to Andre, and the other teen found himself getting intrigued by such graphic matter. Calvin describes the grislier videos as the “good videos”.

Calvin can definitely be a bit emotionally manipulative during arguments. Whenever Andre is provoked, grows visibly enraged, and blurts something out he doesn’t mean, Cal uses this to somewhat control Andre. And when he definitely wants to win the argument, he threatens to tell Andre’s cousin, his absent brother, or his parents about what he said. Andre may or may not care, since it really depends on why they’re bickering. But usually, he does care, and even though he tries not to let Cal influence his behaviors, especially during these negatively-charged moments, he doesn’t want anyone to find out about what he said— and definitely not family. Because in his eyes, this may raise suspicion and could result in their peers finding out about Zero Day. When he does decide to grow quiet, Cal is like, “Yeah, so shut the fuck up.” But his exploitative tactics don’t always work, and they could further influence Andre’s emotions.

Andre rarely apologizes when he means it. He kinda just says “Sorry,” after bumping into someone out of habit. He was taught to be respectful, but 90% of the time he doesn’t care about what he did wrong. Even during arguments, when Calvin is trying to state how he fucked up, Andre will tell him to get over it. Most of the time, he does care about aspects of their dynamic that do matter. But in some moments, he won’t, and he’ll just kept doing whatever it is he’s doing. To elaborate, if Cal told him to control himself and to stop being “dramatic”, Andre wouldn’t take him into consideration and would turn the tables by criticizing him about something he cares about and Cal doesn’t.

Calvin and Andre share clothes sometimes. To Cal, seeing Andre in his clothes is quite flattering. Andre thinks rings are cool, too, so he’ll wear them occasionally. Also, he likes to wear Cal’s bracelets and necklaces to feel closer to him, on top of matching dog tags with him.

Andre is an energy drinker. His favorite is Red Bull. Cal drinks a lot of soda and prefers Coca-Cola or Mountain Dew over anything else. While Calvin does enjoy having an energy drink sometimes, often sharing a Red Bull with Andre as energy drinks contain a lot of caffeine, he doesn’t really drink them on his own time.

When Andre and Cal first started planning Zero Day, as they began to practice handling their guns and shooting, they would frequently argue about the correct order and anatomy of the firearm parts they were using. Chris had to step in a couple times to calm them down. Cal insisted that he was right, while Andre insisted that he was right. In general, they have a hard time accepting that either one of them could be right— about anything, really, with the two determined to prove the other wrong and to “get on their high horse”. However, it isn’t uncommon for both boys to end up being wrong, especially if the conflict is similar to their gun-related issues.

[lordofmelancholy]

Arcane Silent Frontiers: Isha and Jinx's Relationship

Alright! Time for something new! The (tragic) Relationship between Isha and Jinx in Silent Frontiers

Now for those who read This (if you haven't go read it), you might have notice that I put down one of the inspirations for Isha's character in SF as not only just Ellie from The Last of Us but also Joel as well.

This is because, both Isha and Jinx take the "Joel" role in this AU; which is basically a fancy way of stating that both of them have major attachment issues stemming from trauma and apparent abandonment. Because of this, both Isha and Jinx actually don't get along to each other as quickly as they do in the show. The need to Bond is there, but Isha often finds it hard to gain attachments towards people following immense heartbreak in her life, and is in many ways similar to Jinx in this notion. However what should bring them together, instead makes it hard for them to do so. There's a pull of course that neither can understand, but it's a pull that tends to lead them both at the current time to face first into a wall. They have to break that wall and it's a process. Its literally has to build up. But with every build up, there can be an explosion which with Isha and Jinx happens.

Thus then comes the Isha (ellie) and Jinx (Joel) parallel Remember This Scene, in the first TLOU

Well. . .Jinx and Isha basically go through the same thing Despite the attachment issues, throughout the story of SF, Isha does end up getting close to Jinx much like she does in the show. This however is where it gets complicated for JINX because Jinx's whole thing IS the fear of getting close to someone in a world that tends to take them away too easy.

The only one she's EVER close to is Ekko. He's been her rock since they were kids. But anyone else doesn't get as close easily and it's just how she's been for years.

She's been so stuck in her ways that It honestly scared her how quickly she got attached to Isha she got and as a result her first instinct is to push away.

To not only protect others, but herself.

Jinx's biggest breaker in this whole thing was the fact that Isha once accidentally called her mama by mistake and Jinx's first instinct was to fear the word because she never expected it to make her feel good. It was what started the OG argument (similar to the one Joel and Ellie got into in the first game) and what had caused a small rift to form between the two of them, because Isha tried to get close but Jinx pushed back and thus Isha basically "gave up"

which she was actually starting to NOT DO because of Jinx.

Jinx ends up of course beating herself up over it later on down the line because she realizes how stupid she's actually been about all this. Realizing that Ekko was right, that everyone was right and even Isha was right about a lot of stuff. But her stupidity this time caused her to go and "Jinx" it cause it's obvious that Isha is distancing herself from JINX now and it's not the other way around

When what happens with Isha happens (basically what caused the events of the fic: Alone in this Platinum Field which can be found there in the link), Jinx is distraught over it because not only could she possibly loose Isha, but she'll also loose Isha at a point in time where there's a big chance that Isha hates her.

But the issue is, is even now Isha doesn't hate Jinx. And that's the sad part. Made even more sad with the fact that She never did, nor does she think she ever could

It's just that Isha's hurt

She's hurt because in the process of pushing her away, Jinx had also said things that just got Isha the wrong way

Because as we all know when Jinx is scared, Jinx can't shut up for shit and has to put her foot in her mouth.

Jinx never really leaves her side shortly after what happened. The issue with the field was something she couldn't avoid, it sucked but she couldn't. But after that she never strays too far. She's always close by. Always within reach. But while part of it is her just being observant, there's also another reason as to why.

She keeps trying to apologize

Every once in a while, sometimes in the dead of night, while everyone is asleep or at least trying to sleep. You could often hear whispers. Hushed sounds. And it's Jinx trying to talk to her. Trying to apologize. Shes trying to apologize because the thought that Isha is going to die with the thought of Jinx not caring in her head absolutely terrifies Jinx to no end now.

So every once in a while you'd hear a hushed apology. "'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it".

And sometimes when Isha's awake, at least long enough to actually hear those words somewhat, it would often seem like she would jump at the opportunity to accept it. To put it all behind them and forget about it all. But then she would get a look in her eye, as if she was remembering what exactly got said to her.

Playing it all back in her head.

and then Jinx would notice the sullen look. As if even now Isha couldn't bring herself even to forget. Or to forgive

But Jinx keeps trying to apologize.

And that's the sad part really in all this.

But what somehow makes it even worse. If that was even possible to begin with. Is the fact, that that's not the only thing Jinx tries to do. What she always seems to try despite it never working in the end.

She thinks the others don't hear her when she say's it. But they do. They always do. And it breaks their hearts to hear how desperate she sounds when she asks Isha to call her Mama once more.

Because they know the odds are slim now that she ever will. Not after everything.

But Jinx need's to hear her say it. She wants Isha to say it. Mouth it. Sign it. Garble Anything. Now more then anything

She doesn't care how Isha says it because at least if she does. At least if this is does turn out to be the end, Jinx can at least know and hold on to the warm feeling that Isha calling her Mama made her. Can hold on to that warmth at least for a while, just a little. Just long enough to help her cope with the fact that she may never get to hear it again if this truly is the end.

She hopes its not.

God she hopes its not

Because she still needs to make up for what she did.

So she's keep trying. As long as it takes. However long both her and Isha have left.

She knows she sounds selfish. Wanting Isha to say it now when there's a chance this might all be it. To say it now after pushing her away the way that she did. She knows it sounds selfish. Sounds cruel

She knows it probably is in some way. But its not. Really its not She's not being selfish nor is she trying to be cruel. Not really anyways. She just finally has come to accept something. Just a little too late. Just a little too much at the wrong time

But

"Just once. That's all. Call me mama again. Please just say it. Just once, that's all. You can say it. I wont be mad I promise…I won't just…-"

"Please?"

____

(Also as a added bonus in pain. Imagine Isha referring to Ekko as Papa by mistake when they make it back to the compound. They get her all fixed up for the time being and her being slightly drugged up for the pain, accidentally refers to Ekko as papa when he shows up to see them. Imagine being worried that she "did it again" and that she's going to be rejected by Ekko just like she was by Jinx. Imagine her being terrified of the potential rejection. Jinx did it, what's really stopping Ekko from doing it as well)

[jealousmartini]

Reality shifting and My kind of love

Thinking about shifting and how I have too much love to give just for one life and how shifting has shown me an open door into a world of opportunities for me to show my eternal love and not just to have it overlooked. I'm a motherly lover, some would call the mother friend. So I have a craving to show my loved ones a personal kind of love that makes non-believers believe in love again.

Because all I've ever done in this life is want to show my love for my family; my loved ones, what I have to offer but never been able to its full extent because I feel too closed off, too over-looked and too misunderstood to really express all my love to them.

It's the kind that is honest, understanding, and is forgiving. It's the type of love that seeks to understand more than it does winning in an argument.

It is nurturing, it is kind, and it is selfless, but it is also vengeful, it is just, and it is unapologetic.

It is light-hearted, it is playful, and it is passionate and It is affectionate and accommodating, and it is comforting. It is that kind of love that is unfiltered and real. So it doesn't hide who they are, and it definitely doesn't try to change who you are either. It's the kind of love that lets you be you completely and naturally and quickly matches your energy. But it corrects you when you know you're in the wrong because it takes no bullshit

It is the kind of love that prioritises words of affirmation, physical affection, quality time, and acts of service. So although it has its own unique combination way of showing love it still finds ways to adjusts itself to better suit the loved one without thinking twice.

— It mentally and literally takes notes of your habits, your hobbies, your likes and dislikes, your special interests, what pisses you off and what calms you down and it immediately but subtly starts catering to your unspoken needs. It is attentive and observant so it immediately notices and remembers the smallest details about you. Subtly because it doesn't want to startle you or make you feel smothered and exposed.

— It loves to do simple gestures like sending you a good morning text, asking you about your day, did you have a goodnight sleep? If not, what was holding you up so late? It'll take pictures and buy things for you because "it reminded me of you". It loves to make your life a little easier by remembering things you most likely forgot, keeping an extra batch of essentials just for you and brings those snacks you love that you mentioned once.

— It has a habit of referring to you with cute petnames and nicknames based on what it recognises you for. It is a suckered for teasing but knows when to knock it off. It loves to spend time with you, it loves to listen to you, and it loves to just be in your presence even if you dont want to talk. Its presence is warm, inviting, and reliable; in the sense that it believes comfortable silence is so precious and important, and it knows how to make the anticapated awkward tension after a conversation between us slip. without even saying a word.

It's that type of love that leaves no room for doubt. Theres no chance for you to feel insecure and It is near impossible for you to second guess whether it means it or not. It is stubborn but it isnt petty. It doesn't go away just because you say you dont want it in the moment, but it does give you space and comes back when you need it again even if you dont want to admit it.

It's that type of love that treats you based on who you are, not who you show everyone. Because it understands you further than what the surface leads on. And it wants to know you at your core, no matter how much trauma it has.

— And as much as it wants to get ALL of you, it understands there is a line. So whenever you have a problem to share it is always ready to pay attention. And it knows when to mind it's business when you don't want to talk about it.

It's the type of love that loves to give and never expects. The type of love that never runs out. My kind of love.

[araybiaaa]

hi! can you write a story where rafe and sofia had a daughter when they were very young, but then they broke up because of how difficult their relationship has become, but still had to remain in each other’s lives because of their child. then after years they’re both all grown up and mature, so when their daughter asks rafe to spend new years with her and sofia, he can’t say no to his little girl, and sofia can’t reject her wish either. so they have to spend the night together, maybe leading rafe and sofia to get a little tipsy, get into an argument as they always did but then end up like sleeping together? they both realize that they still love each other deep down.

i don’t know if this is stupid you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to🫶 i just had a dream about this😭😭😭

❝ reconciliations, r. cameron. ❞

ooo. 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈… rafe cameron & sofia

ooo. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔… mild sexual content, angst, marriage separation, mutual pining, denial of feelings.

ooo. 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔… request!where their daughter inadvertently helps them reconcile after she asks for rafe to stay over.

ooo. 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔… i think this is my first official fic of rafia as parents?? this was so much fun to write. i kinda deviated from the ask a bit (not too much though so it’s fine lol.) also this was not a stupid request anon. i think this is probably one of my favorites asks that i’ve gotten.

she seems him before he sees her.

(which is astounding considering the fact that his towering height usually gave him the advantage of overseeing nearly everything in his path.)

he’s barely walked through the room that’s filled with rambunctious toddlers who were all running around and squealing loudly in mirth as they chased each other — probably at the precipice of a sugar high from the chocolate milk they had during snack time, he considers — when he hears iliana’s familiar clamor of “daddy!” that has him averting his eyes away from her teacher whom he greets with a haste wave and genial smile, before shifting his attention on her.

she scoots out of the chair that she was previously seated in, absentmindedly abandoning the uncapped markers and crayons she was using while coloring, and snagged the piece of paper off of the table before making her way towards him.

he smiles, that soft adoring smile that’s always on his face whenever he looks at her and met her halfway, stepping around the clutter of legos that a little boy was playing with on the mat and crouched down with extended arms. he catches her as she runs into his arms, hefting her in the air and adjusting her so that she’s hoisted high against his chest.

“hey, baby.” he greets, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against her cheek.

iliana shuffled the paper that she was carrying around, switching it to her other hand. she extends the now crumbled up paper towards him, smiling widely as she avers, “look what i did!”

with his curiosity piqued, rafe retrieved the paper from her grasp and looked at it. skewed messily across the middle written in a heavy dark pink marker was iliana valdez-cameron; the words were shakily written, contrary to the dexterous feat of a toddler but still tangible enough for him to decipher to make out the gist of it. he could tell she’d worked hard on it as there was still residue of the pink smudge from the marker on the side of her hand.

he gasps, “you did so good baby.”

iliana reveled in her father’s praises, her gapped smile widening. “i did a painting too!” she accents, pointing across the room where the kids’ artwork was still drying on the easels. he followed her directions; maneuvering through the room until he reached hers.

it was a picture of their family; her penchant for details captured his slender physique as he wore his signature suit with the blue tie with red fishes that she gifted him for father’s day, sofia was standing on the other side of him with her widened smile and big eyes, that shone brightly and made his heart flutter even through a child’s painting. and at the end, iliana painted herself, her hands intertwined with her mother’s as they all stood in front of their house, smiling.

he smiles despondently at the sight.

“it’s dry, you guys can take it home with you if you want.” rafe turns his head at the sound of ms. goodwin’s voice approaching. she smiled at iliana before shifting her gaze over to rafe, gesturing towards the painting. “she worked hard on it. she said she wanted you to hang it up somewhere in your office.”

rafe nodded, chuckling softly. “my whole office is decorated with her artwork so that’s not surprising.”

there were drawings, pictures, gifts handmade by her, all around his office. he liked the memorabilia’s she’s made for him as every little piece held a special place in his heart. it was like that at home too — the refrigerator served as a makeshift exhibit, displaying all of the pieces she’s made for him throughout the years.

“hey, baby, can you go run over there and grab your bag and jacket so we can go?” he asks iliana who nods avidly, wriggling herself free from his grasp as he sets her down and allowed her to go over towards the cubby area.

“she’s such a sweet girl and she’s so smart for her age.” ms. goodwin compliments as they both stood there watching iliana multitask in grabbing her bag while also talking to one of her classmates.

“she definitely got that from her mother,” rafe says with a chuckle, “i barely made it through school.”

it truly was astounding how iliana’s nearly a prodigy, so naturally good at school when he was barely able to make it through school himself. if it weren’t all those tutors that his father paid for growing up, he probably would’ve had to repeat a few grades.

“she tells me that you read to her every night. that helps a lot,” she says but rafe doesn’t mention the fact that his reciting bedtime stories for her was usually done over the phone. after the separation, he moved out of the house which unfortunately split the time he got to spend with his daughter. “you’re both doing great with her,”

he hates that his and sofia’s decision affected iliana to where she’s now reduced to spending time with one parent one day and the other the next. he never envisioned co-parenting with sofia; he’d always hoped that when they finally started a family, that it would be all of them together as one but instead he was in a house all alone with nothing but torturous thoughts of regret that haunted him every night.

he was still active in his daughter’s life, but it was nowhere near the same as actually being there, and he felt the repercussions of their decision every time he comes home to a vacant house instead of returning to the one he previously shared with his wife and daughter.

rafe nodded as he looked over at her, a soft smile of adoration tugged at his lips. “thank you,” it was validation that he needed to hear because sometimes he questioned it himself.

he wasn’t always there to tuck her in at night, to kiss and hug her good morning, to comfort her whenever she had nightmares and needed someone to lay in bed with her until she fell asleep again. sure, he was present in her life, but he also felt solemnly absent and withdrawn from his family.

when she’s finally got her arms shoved through the straps of her little mermaid book bag, she hobbles back over to where he’s standing, proffering her arms up in the air in an unmistakable gesture that indicated she wanted to be held. rafe, never being able to deny her of anything she asks, reaches down and tucks his hand beneath her armpits before hefting her in the air.

she entangles her arms around his neck, nestling herself against the comfort of his chest. ms. goodwin observes the two in awe, unable to constrain the adoring smile that stretches across her features.

“tell ms. goodwin, bye.” he says, brushing a hand over her back as she peeks her head up from where it was hidden comfortably against him. suddenly feeling timid, iliana raises her hand in the air and wriggles her fingers, gesturing a small wave. she murmurs a soft and haste bye before turning her head to bury her face back in its respective perch. ms. goodwin fawns over her adorableness, resting a hand over her chest.

“bye sweetheart, i’ll see you next week!” she bids her farewell, before diverting her attention back to the remainder of her students. rafe walks over and snags her now dry painting off of the easel, bringing it along so he could hang it up at home.

…

she’s at home, stood over the stove prepping for tonight’s dinner when she hears the front door opening and iliana’s clamor of “mommy!” that has her smiling as she turned around to see her daughter running towards her in approach. sofia picks her up, wrapping her arms around her small body as she pressed a kiss against her cheek.

“hi, mi amor! did you have fun at school?”

iliana nods, “mhm. i made drawings for you and daddy today!”

“really? well, i can’t wait to see them and hang them up.” she smiles, pressing one last kiss against her cheek before steadying her to her feet. “i’m almost finished with dinner. but why don’t you can go play in your room while you wait, okay?”

“okay, mommy.” she concurs before she skips off down the hallway towards her bedroom. sofia turns around and gauges a look over at rafe who stood tentatively by the doorway with his hands slacked in his front pockets.

“thanks again for picking her up,” she says, tucking her arms across her chest as she leaned her body against the counter.

he shakes his head, dismissing her good naturedly. “you know that i don’t mind, sof. i love any extra time that i get to spend with her.”

she nods, “yeah, i know but still thanks.”

she watches as his face furrows in an indescribable expression; he looks briefly at her before hurriedly averting his gaze. the sudden shift has her curiosity piqued. she was with him long enough to be able to detect all of his tells and idiosyncrasies — she knows rafe better than she knows anyone; which is why she knows with the way he’s pursing his lips and writhing his hands inside of his pockets that something was bothering him.

and almost as if he’d read her mind, he begins to vocalize his thoughts. “so, uh, iliana told me about the trip you guys took to the aquarium last weekend...” sofia nods, albeit blanking confusedly on why he was mentioning it until the realization suddenly dawned upon her. “with uh, what’s his name again?” rafe questions, though she knows it’s rhetorical because with how detail oriented iliana is, she doubts there was anything her daughter forgot to mention while reciting the story of their outage to her father.

she sighs in deep exasperation, already knowing the direction of where this conversation was headed towards. “it wasn’t a big deal, rafe. we were already there and we happened to run into him while he was there with his son.” she clarifies, though she’s not entirely sure on why he felt like she was obligated to explain herself to him any way.

he nods, though still looking visibly abhorred. “i just find it funny how he was around while we were together and he’s still around even now that were separated,” and this time it’s sofia whose eyes narrow in offense because she did not appreciate what he was insinuating in the least.

he was deflecting, trying to blame and fault her to attempt to absolve himself from his own residual feelings of guilt that he still carried.

“what exactly are you trying to suggest? because scott is my friend! i’m allowed to have friends, rafe.”

he scoffs disbelievingly, “your friend? sofia he’s in love with you! i’ve seen how he looks at you! but you’re just too blind to see it.”

sofia’s eyes rolls at the absurdity of rafe’s accusations. but she doesn’t even have the opportunity to rebuttal against them, because their conversation is interrupted by iliana who skips into the room again. she pauses, looking between her parents with curious eyes.

“is dinner ready yet?” she asks and sofia exhales a soft sigh of relief; thankful that she didn’t inadvertently overhear their loud bickering.

the last thing she wanted was for their daughter to hear or witness their disagreement. prior to the separation, they’ve had countless whispered arguments in their bedroom, wary of iliana possibly overhearing them. though they know she doesn’t fully comprehend all of the complications behind the separation, it was still imperative for both of them to remain united in front of her. because even though they were no longer together, it was important for her to know that they were all still family regardless of her and rafe’s relationship (or lack thereof.)

sofia smiles softly as she averts her attention on her daughter. “not yet, baby. it’s just a few more minutes until everything’s done.”

“okay.”

sofia’s eyes wander waywardly towards rafe who sighs softly as he rubbed a hand over his clenched jaw. he placates a halfhearted smile on his face, masquerading his anger and softening his voice before he addresses her. “alright, baby. i have to go.” he says, walking from where he was previously posted by the doorway to now sauntering in the kitchen where they stood.

rafe crouches down in front of her so that their heights are leveled. he reaches for her hands, brushing his thumbs over her knuckles. “i’ll see you next weekend, okay?”

iliana’s eyes look at him pleadingly, her lips jut out in a petulant pout as she stumbles forward and throws her arms around his neck. “can you stay daddy? i don’t want you to go! i miss you.” she murmurs, though the sentiment is loud enough for sofia’s heart to break as she stood there listening to her daughter’s plead.

though it’s been two and a half years since their separation, they know iliana still hasn’t fully adjusted and it’s becoming more evident in how clingy she’s gotten recently. she’s always been a daddy’s girl but this past week she’s been more insistent than ever in wanting to be cemented by her father’s side. the other night, she made rafe read her three bedtime stories — trying to prolong the conversation so she wouldn’t have to say goodbye to him.

he holds her against his chest, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “i know. i miss you too, baby,” he says as he tries to assuage the conversation. though through the weariness lilting in his tone she could tell that his feelings were reciprocal of iliana’s. “but remember you and mommy live here together and i live somewhere else?”

she nods curtly against his shoulder, but doesn’t relent in her persistence. “i know, but i want you here again.” she avers, her words had yet to cease in their onslaught of breaking sofia’s heart.

sofia bites on her lower lip, contemplating. it’s after a brief moment of consideration that she concedes to her daughter’s ask. “hey, how about daddy stays over for the night?”

both iliana and rafe’s attention piques at this; their expressions aghast. iliana vocalizes her excitement with a squeal and an affectionate squeeze that she gives rafe, while he looked over her shoulder, staring at sofia with his face marred in a confused but appreciative look.

…

it’s after their bellies are full of food and iliana’s freshly bathed and tucked in that rafe and sofia find themselves alone again.

throughout the night; they remained cordial for iliana’s sake — laughing and engaging in conversation as she talked animatedly about her day. her excitement about rafe staying the night was apparent especially with how she preferred him to be the one to bathe and tuck her in bed tonight instead of sofia.

“you always tuck me in mommy! it’s daddy’s turn this time.” iliana said when sofia teasingly feigned offense over it.

she stood in the doorway, watching with a soft smile as rafe tucked her in and pressed his lips against her forehead. sofia’s smile turned despondent as she reminisced on the times where this was a nightly routine for iliana instead of a seldom one. their separation disrupted the familiarity that she’d gotten so accustomed to and it’s now that sofia realized the extent of how their decision affected her.

“okay, now it’s your turn,” iliana beseeched, retracting sofia away from her thoughts. she blinks, giving her daughter a small smile of adoration as she treks across the room until she’s stood just at her bedside.

sofia leans down and kisses her cheek, her smile widens at the sounds of iliana’s hearty giggles. “sweet dreams, mi amor.” she whispered, before leaning over to turn off the lamp that’s perched on the nightstand. her nightlight turns on; substituting for the loss of light.

rafe and sofia make their stealth departures as iliana suddenly begins to succumb to her exhaustion. she leaves the door ajar, giving her one last brief look over before eventually retreating down the hallway to the living room with rafe following in tow behind her.

“it might not be the most comfortable but these should help,” she says as she extends a pillow and blanket towards him.

he nods, “thanks and thanks letting me stay over. it really means a lot,” he says, his voice soft as he looks over at her.

after their unresolved conversation earlier and seeing him tucking iliana into bed, there was so much that sofia wanted to say to him about everything that happened between them.

things were easier when they first started dating, then somewhere done the line it got so complicated that sometimes rafe wouldn’t even come home and if he did he would sleep on the couch rather than in their bed with her.

they tried so hard to make it work, but it eventually got to the point of no return despite their efforts. of course there were times where she wondered if they gave up too easily on their relationship; but it’s been two years since it’s ended and he hasn’t made one indication of wanting to reconcile. so she conceded, pushing her feelings away until they were buried and dormant, choosing to focus solely on coparenting instead of rekindling their relationship.

it wasn’t until tonight that those feelings decided to resurface again.

“yeah, no problem. iliana really wanted you here so,” she shrugs, watching as his expression weened slightly at her insouciance. “i’m gonna go to bed. goodnight.”

rafe nods somberly as she brushes past him “yeah. night.”

…

he can’t sleep.

he’s laid wide awake, staring vacantly at the ceiling with his mind wandering on sofia. being with her and iliana tonight felt reminiscent of how it used to be when they were together as a family. despite their constant reassurances to iliana that they would always be a family regardless if he and sofia were together or not; it didn’t feel the same as actually being with them like he is tonight.

being here and being able to eat dinner with them as a family only made rafe mourn what he lost when he and sofia separated. he knows that he should’ve fought harder for her and their marriage. she was the best thing that ever happened to him and he let her slip away from him all because of his own insecurities. and now he’s carrying the brunt of his regrets.

he sighs deeply, running a hand wearily over his face. he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think with sofia being in such close proximity to him. he sits up, rubbing a hand over his neck that had began to ache from tension. “fuck,” he murmurs before clambering to his feet.

he retreats into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. as he’s standing there chugging down the drink, he’s taken aback when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching. at first, he thinks that it’s iliana — she used to sneak into their bed to sleep with them all of the time when he used to live here, but he’s pleasantly surprised when he looks up and sees that it’s sofia rounding the corner instead.

“hi,”

she jumps, startled, resting a hand over her heart. “ay dios mios you scared me!”

“sorry.” rafe says, swallowing down the remnants of his drink before turning around to set the dirtied glass into the sink. he averts his attention back on sofia. “can’t sleep either?” he questions and when she shakes her head, his mind curiously wondered if the reason for her insomnia was the same as his.

“it really was nice being here with you guys tonight. it felt like old times,”

she nods, turning away from him as she tugged the refrigerator door open. “yeah, she was really happy to see you here again.”

rafe scoffed a bit ruefully as he shook his head. “why do you keep doing that?” he wasn’t trying to get upset, but any attempts at he made at trying to hold a conversation with her, she dismissed.

he’s aware that it was iliana’s doing that allowed him to stay over for the night but part of him foolishly hoped that maybe tonight would be the start of them reconciling. that seemed improbable now especially when she could barely look or talk to him without the subject regarding iliana.

she furrowed a confused look at him. “why do i keep doing what?”

“any time i try to talk to you, you dismiss the topic by bringing up iliana. i thank you for letting me stay, your response is that iliana wanted me here. i tell you that it felt like old times being with you guys again, you say iliana enjoyed seeing me again.”

“well what do you expect me to say?” sofia rebuttals, closing the door as she finally turns around to look at him again. she raised an expectant brow and shrugged, “last time i checked any and all conversations that we have are about her and her only. there’s not anything else that we need to talk about.”

there’s a sullenness that weighs down heavily on his chest at sofia’s disregarding behavior towards him. sure, they weren’t together any more and haven’t been for a while now, but did her feelings for him completely disappear after the separation?

“wow,” rafe surmises in disbelief. “so, that’s it?”

“what did you expect, rafe?! to come back and suddenly we’re one big happy family again? if that’s what you wanted then you shouldn’t have given up so easily!” she abhors, tears line in her pupils and despite her efforts at a callous demeanor her expression wavers the moment her lip trembles. “you gave up first. you pulled away and shut me out. then you moved out and left us,” she says and rafe feels his heart break at her accusations.

his own emotions begin to unfurl.

“i-” he shakes his head, blinking through the tears that fell from his eyes as he sputtered through an explanation. “i left because i thought that’s what you wanted. you weren’t happy anymore, sof. i saw how miserable you were being with me.” he laments, reminiscing on the trajectory of their marriage and how it started off so good but then transgressed into days with them not speaking or touching each other.

sofia nods, “i was miserable, rafe. because you were pulling away. suddenly the job seemed more important than us—”

“don’t say that! you know that’s not true.” he interjects, feeling offended that she would ever insinuate such an absurd statement. “there’s nothing in this world that’s more important than you guys. you two mean everything to me. it fucking kills me knowing that i didn’t fight hard enough to keep our family together. it’s the biggest regret that i carry with me. i love you, sof. i never stopped loving you. all i want is to come home to you guys, not just for one night but for every night for the rest of our lives. i’m sorry that i was distance and withdrawn and didn’t pay you the attention you deserved but i promise i’ll be better, baby. please just give me another chance to prove it to you,” he begs, pleadingly in his spiel.

he’s desperate for her forgiveness.

all he wanted was his family again and he was willing to do anything to ensure that happened. he knows saying i’m sorry wouldn’t even begin to absolve for everything that he’s done, but he hoped it was enough for the moment.

“sof, please. i’ll do anything, baby. please.” he whispers, his desperation is getting more palpable with each passing second that she stands there looking at him with an indiscernible expression on her face. he hoped his pleading apology was enough for her to believe in him again.

it’s after a moment’s contemplation that she’s nodding her head, murmuring a soft, “okay.” that has him releasing a sigh of relief.

he reached forward and cradled her face within his hands and leaned down, brushing his mouth tentatively against hers. “mmfh!” she murmurs against his lips, slightly aghast by the abruptness of it but slowly succumbing to the feeling of familiarity that washes over her as she indulges into the kiss.

his hands slide down her sides and grabs her by the waist, gently pressing their bodies together, before he’s leaning up and slotting his mouth over hers, swallowing away any lingering questions or trepidations.

it’s slow and suave, with rafe’s lips moving delicately against hers. he parts his lips and seeks after her tongue, sucking on the sensitive flesh. sofia moans softly, leaning into the kiss as she slowly loses herself in the feeling of him.

…

his forehead’s hot against her skin as he tucked his face in her neck. sweat’s slick all over his body, causing his hair to dampen and for the salty body fluid to stick against her body. pleasure spreads from the tip of her ears down to her toes that curl when he shifts his hips and thrusted into her without preamble.

sofia writhes beneath him. her hand glides over his ass, tugging his boxers down even further so she could feel more of him against her. she hikes her night gown over her thighs, pulling it up so that the vision of his cock thrusting inside of her cunt is in her view. he revels at the sight; seeing himself filling her with every thrust that he gives.

“fuck, sof.” he murmurs, sliding his hand underneath her thigh and lifting it up to where she’s bracketing it around his waist. this allowed for a change in pace; allowing him deeper, sharper strokes that has her back bowing as pleasure engulfs her.

she whimpers, her fingernails carve into the skin on his back as she feels his pelvis chafing against hers as he rolled his hips into her, swiftly, fluidly, unhurriedly, with such vehemence and vigor that it’s impossible to replicate.

she could feel him twitching inside of her with every pull her cunt gives. she keens and tosses her head back in pleasure.

“sofia-” he grunts again, his body trembling atop of hers. he’s already so close and isn’t positive that he can last any longer with the way she’s clenching around him.

she cums when he presses his thumb against her cunt and massaged at the swollen flesh.

she cries in pleasure, feeling her chest contract as she lulled down from her orgasm. rafe’s seconds behind her, body stuttering and spasming as he fills her with his warm.

“i love you,” he murmurs against her skin, squeezing his eyes shut.

she turns her head and smiles softly at him, leaning forward to meet his lips in another soft kiss. “i love you too,” she says, so naturally, like it’s the easiest thing in the world for her. her smile sages a bit as she sighs. “rafe?”

“yeah, baby?” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses against her skin.

she chews on her lip, shaking her head as she looked over at him. “what’s going to be different this time?” she heard his promises and reassurances earlier, but she needed to know how they were going to make this relationship work better this time.

she didn’t want them making the same past mistakes just to end up separated again.

rafe looks at her in deep consideration. “well, firstly, we’re going to communicate with each other better. i want to know everything you’re feeling and i’ll do the same. if you’re feeling like i’m not giving you or our family enough attention tell me and i’ll do better. you guys have always been my first priority and i’ll do better at showing you that.” he avows, brushing his hand over her back as he leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

“secondly, we’re not going to give up on each other again. no matter how hard shit gets, we’re not separating again. it’s been hell being without you and iliana and i don’t want to experience that kind of loneliness ever again. i’m going to prove that i’m worth being your husband again, sof.” she smiles at the vehemence behind his words, there’s a sincerity in them that has her clinging onto belief. it’s everything that she wanted to hear all those years ago and now that he’s saying them, there’s not a doubt in her mind that he won’t fulfill his promises.

she leans forward to peck a kiss against his lips, whispering a soft i love you, that has rafe’s stomach fluttering and heart swooning. she cuddles against his chest, tucking her face in the comfort of his neck as he holds her against him with his arms barred around her body like he was afraid of letting her go.

[siryouarebeingmocked]

That list.

This just sounds like a dude who's kinda feminine. I've noticed that a lot of people seem to think being gender-non-confirming is the same as being enby.

Which seems kinda sexist, actually.

Given how most of these are from non-European cultures, gotta wonder if this particular thing is related to the revived Noble Savage idea.

...Ancient Greek Mythology? Really?

This just sounds like extremist Christianity. Like conversion therapy.

Ironic that the list Tena linked to included a Christian sect.

Assigned gender at birth = bad, assigned gender at some indeterminate later point = good?

I'm sorry, isn't this what pro-trans people are supposed to be against?

If you're claiming all of those identities are valid, then you're also endorsing multiple contradicting religious beliefs. And saying mutilating people's bodies in the name of the belief their bodies are inherently wrong is inherently okay.

You're endorsing Christians so extreme they make the actual Puritans look like National Baptists.

This is not logically consistent. In fact, it's awfully close to certain stereotypes of trans supporters.

When those total strangers want society, law, and government to validate their self-identity, it becomes everyone’s business.

And those are, naturally, very important to trans people. Explicitly, for many of them. 

For obvious reasons!*

Also, I love how this is coming from someone with an entirely ideological objection to Trump’s actions, who can’t explain how this will allegedly actually affect people.

Seriously, she threw her toys out of the pram.

renardtrickster tried (archive), and he had to use someone else’s line-by-line analysis, which is clearly not the one line point Tenafly made.

And that’s putting it generously.

Tena was implying that believing in only two genders and not non-binaries is the same as being anti-trans. Which it isn't.

A detailed analysis of Trump's Executive Order is trying to motte-and-bailey the argument. And Tena's own childish tantrums.

This is not the way to make an actual argument if you want to convince people.

Irony is, it's this exact same sort of disconnect from what normal people believe - maybe even normal liberals and progressives - that helped the Dems lose.

I also like how Renard's tags imply he's "arguing with pigs", when this whole thread was started by someone who was angry and confrontational and kept engaging with blatant bait and did nothing constructive.

The meanings of words are determined by usage. And  everyone I've seen who claims gender and sex are two different things is a pro-trans progressive person. And I'm not sure it's a majority belief even among that group.

Which suggests that they formed this belief out of ideological convenience, not working from first principles.

At the very least you can't act like it's a universally accepted fact.

*This is not the first time I’ve seen people imply that LGBT stuff should just be ignored, even though there’s a great deal of effort being spent by LGBT advocates on making it part of international, everyday discourse.

Same with a lot of Diversity™ stuff. They don’t want to address the criticism, so they say you’re wrong for even caring in the first place, even though that also applies to the supporters.

Though these folks are rarely so silly as to talk about apparent anti-LGBT discrimination at the highest level of American government and then insist LGBT stuff is a private matter. 

Which makes it extra ironic when Renard’s goalpost-moving defense includes talking about lack of government support for trans people as a negative.

[lemotmo]

I have never sent you one of these before so I hope I did it correctly. I found this very helpful because I also don't always understand the nuance or subtlety of a scene. Glad to know it's not just me.

Q. I'm not sure if you can even do this but I have autism and I struggle immensely with understanding subtext, framing, sarcasm and anything else really that I'm supposed to be able to pick up on in media. The direct dialogue or action in a scene tends to be what I take as fact. I understand that's not the case and things are always there that aren't being spoken or directly stated. Can you try to explain the Buddie stuff that points to them going canon? I want it but I don't know how to spot those clues. Does this even make sense? Please feel free to ignore this if it's not something that's explainable.

A. Hi, anon. Your question makes perfect sense and I am more than willing to try and see if I can explain or offer some context into some of the scenes. I have a friend who has Asperger's and he struggles with all these things as well so we try to explain things to him as often as he needs. For the sake of length, and not wanting to make this thread too long to keep up with, I will relegate my examples to a few things from seasons 7 and 8 only. Otherwise we would be here all day. I will start with episode 7x4 because that's the episode that is most widely misinterpreted.

As everyone now knows the episode ended with Tommy kissing Buck, keep in mind that we had spent the entirety of the episode up to that point watching Buck apparently being jealous because Eddie was spending time with another guy. The direct dialogue of the scene leading up to the kiss, when Buck tells Tommy that trying to get his attention had been exhausting, is the argument people use to show that the episode was really about Tommy. But Tommy himself doesn't believe that. The audience sees Tommy surprised by that statement, because he was also aware Buck was bothered by Eddie spending time with him, but he clearly thought Buck was bothered for the same reason the audience thought Buck was bothered, because he wasn't the one Eddie was spending time with. That's why Tommy responds with a confused/surprised "Me"? The episode played very much like Buck was jealous of Tommy NOT Eddie. The most obvious example of this was the scene in the firehouse when Eddie is on the phone in the locker room and Buck is trying to get his attention while working out. The show never tells us who Eddie is actually talking too. We don't know who's on the other end of the conversation, neither does Buck. The only thing Buck sees is Eddie laughing and having a good time while ignoring him. Tommy wasn't at the firehouse so he was never going to see Buck trying to show off around the weight room and Amazon priming a basketball to himself so he could pretend he was interested in something he knew Eddie was interested in. The other interesting thing about that episode was the way Eddie was framed, in other words shot and filmed, throughout. He was consistently lit in golden/sunlight, colors associated with warmth and happiness/joy. Tim made a point of telling everyone that the episode was from Buck's perspective which means that's how Buck sees Eddie. Buck associates Eddie with happiness and warmth and joy. The joy theme is important to remember because it comes back into play during season 8. I'm not in any way suggesting that once Buck became aware of his male attraction that he didn't find Tommy attractive, he clearly did in some capacity. But it is not out of character for Buck to over correct himself in the wrong direction. Both times he asked his partners to move in with him were direct results of his belief that he needed to make up for some wrong he had done to them. He asked Taylor to move in with him after he kissed Lucy and he asked Tommy to move in with him after his reaction to the Abby news, and Josh's speech about what they owed the older queer community. Josh said many things in that speech, a speech I did not love, but he said many things and it was telling that the only part of that speech that seemed to register with Buck where Tommy was concerned was the part about what they owed to the community that came before them. It was wrong to ask on both occasions. Taylor said yes. Tommy said no. We will get back to the Tommy one shortly but those are perfect examples of Buck over correcting himself in the wrong direction in order to avoid dealing with the actual issues.

When we arrive at season 8 we get the scene of Buck hearing all the different noise and static in his head when he's trying to calm himself down while Gerard is yelling. The only voice that is clear and audible for the audience is Eddie's voice. Eddie's voice is the one used to calm and recenter Buck. It was an intentional choice to make it Eddie's voice. not his boyfriends voice but Eddie's voice. Episode 8x6 was the biggie though. The episode is titled Confessions. It was the only episode of the season so far where Buck and Eddie didn't say a single word to one another, but I'll come back to that. Eddie was the focus of that episode, it is important to note that episodes 7x4 and 8x6 were directed by the same man. It was intentional on the show's part for these two episodes to sync in some capacity. They have kept the Buck storyline and the Eddie storyline linked since the beginning of season 7. Their storylines are connected. We see Eddie at the juice bar pick up a bottle of juice and hand it to the cashier. He changes his mind though and swaps it out for a bottle of water (a good note to have here is that in the first episode when the crew is running the stairs Buck is holding a bottle of juice, not water, once they make it to the roof). Father Brian watches this interaction and decides he wants to talk to Eddie. We then see Eddie sitting outside at a table, with plenty of empty tables around him, but Father Brian asked if he could join him anyway. Father Brian attempts small talk, and Eddie, unprompted, tells him, 'sorry, I'm straight'. This is not something television has straight characters do. It's not necessary to declare your heterosexuality. In fact it is far more common for television to use dialogue like that to foreshadow a sexuality realization for that character. It is a very common beginning to a sexuality arc. Father Brian then wants to know why Eddie swapped his juice for the water. Eddie tells him he felt like water instead and Father Brian then equates Eddie denying himself the juice as a way of denying himself joy. He tells Eddie that he's punishing himself. Then they talk about why Eddie has the mustache. Eddie tells him he wanted a full beard but the LAFD doesn't allow full beards. A very interesting conversation indeed for a character who has just explicitly stated that he's straight. We all know the term 'beard' and its history within the queer community. Father Brian then tells Eddie to do one thing that brings him joy. That entire scene was written like foreshadowing. I will skip ahead now to Buck and Tommy's break up. Tommy explains to Buck that at some point he is going to figure out what it is that he really wants and even though he won't mean to, he will hurt Tommy once he figures that out. Tommy has known since 7x4 that something is there for Buck where Eddie is concerned. But he also knows Buck is not ready for that realization yet. He makes a point of telling Buck that he's his first not his last. They also made a point of having Buck say sometimes those can be the same, meaning your first can be your last. Tommy says sometimes that can be true but not most of the time. Meaning there is an exception to that rule. The right person can be your first and your last. Tommy was not the right person. Fast forward to Eddie shaving off his mustache and doing his risky business dance.

Buck goes to Eddie following the breakup. Eddie answers the door in his underwear and he and Buck do not speak. Buck holds up a beer bottle and walks in. They don't talk. They sit on the couch in silence drinking their beers. That is the final shot of the episode. An episode entitled Confessions, and the only episode of the season where Buck and Eddie don't say a single word to one another. Again the framing of that scene is also important because of what surrounds them in the scene. Buck and Eddie are on the couch. It's right it's where they belong but the timing is not right. The blurry picture of Christopher between them on the table behind them is intentional. Christopher is missing from their little unit. Then there's the picture of Texas on the wall behind Eddie. Texas, and everything it represents for Eddie, looms over them. Those are the obstacles that have to be dealt with first. They existed in that shot because Buck, and especially Eddie, cannot escape them. They have to be dealt with and fixed first. They didn't talk because they have things they need to do first.

The last shot of the mid season finale being Buck sitting alone on the Diaz couch was also foreshadowing. Eddie is going to Texas. Yes, that scene also indicated that Buck is finally at a place where he won't be able to ignore or misinterpret his feelings for Eddie any longer. Eddie isn't there yet. Texas has to be dealt with first. Therefore Eddie couldn't be physically on the couch with him in that scene because Eddie has to leave first. Eddie has to be the one person who leaves Buck and chooses to come back to Buck.

I hope this made sense, anon. It was still longer than I anticipated. Please feel free to ask me anything at any time. I am more than happy to try and explain something as best as I can, if I can. I have no idea if this was helpful but I hope you were able to get something out of it. 🩷

Thank you Nonny! This is lovely!

Such a great breakdown of the overarching Buddie storyline for Buck and Eddie. Such a great resource for people who have trouble recognising subtext and nuance in a storyline.

I am going to add my own breakdown of the entire last Buddie scene of episode 8x08. Right after it aired someone with autism contacted me with the question if I could break that specific scene down for them.

You can find it here: breakdown of 8x08 final Buddie scene

If anyone ever needs more help in this department, feel free to send an ask. Just like Ali, I'd be happy to try and explain what the viewer is meant to take away from a scene.

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[helloamhere]

I spent an hour writing fiction this morning which is the first time in a long time I've been able to do that. I think about the construction of words like I think about the construction of long and laborious mathematical arguments (which in some distal way make up a core weapon of a lot of my work, the work that is these days so opposed to fiction honestly they try to convince us it is but it isn't. It is all truth. We create truth. Again and again.). Like a reaction we haven't invented physics for. We can only witness it. Witness. Witness. Witness. Perhaps through our burning witness at some point we will find our way in to a small fraction of the mechanism. I text my wife, my brave brave brave brave wife, and I tell her that I am going to read and she says good, you need it. You need it! We need fiction because we're animals who get trapped in our limbic systems and we need the structure of stories to help us imagine something different. I wonder what stories my grandfather (I miss my grandpa, I am glad he is dead right now, I am glad he doesn't witness this, but I miss him, I miss the person who I dedicated a fanfic to FOR SOME REASON and I just told my wife this is still the best thing I've ever written, SOMEHOW, this fic which is at one and the same time just an escapism for me but then was also me trying to figure out how to think about my role in this world) would have read. I want to think about people figuring each other out, I want to write fanfic, instead I have a thousand obligations to the world, but I want to create. I want to create. I want to create. Why is it that when this hardening and this chaos in the world increases, we see a constriction of information and a constriction of the shared and collaborative and open spaces that let us create? Because we are powerful. Because we are powerful. Witness. Witness. Witness. Write. Create. Witness.

[seewetter]

Transcript from https://everydayfeminism.com/2014/12/said-something-racist

JAY SMOOTH: Race. The final frontier.

No matter what channel you watch, no matter what feed you aggregate, it seems like everybody, everywhere is talking about race right now. When everybody, everywhere is talking about race, that means sooner or later you’re going to have to tell somebody that they said something that sounded racist.

You need to be ready and have a plan in place for how to approach the inevitable “that sounded racist” conversation. I’m going to tell you how to do that.

The most important thing that you’ve got to do is remember the difference between the “what they did” conversation, and the “what they are” conversation. Those are two totally different conversations and you need to make sure that you pick the right one.

The “what they did” conversation focuses strictly on the person’s words and actions and explaining why what they did and what they said was unacceptable. This is also known as the “that thing you said was racist” conversation. That’s the conversation that you want to have.

The “what they are” conversation, on the other hand, takes things one step further and uses what they did and what they said to draw conclusions about what kind of person they are. This is also the “I think you are a racist” conversation.

This is the conversation you don’t want to have because that conversation takes us away from the facts of what they did and the speculation about their motives and intentions. Those are things you can only guess at, you can’t ever prove. That makes it way too easy for them to derail your whole argument.

That is the part that’s crucial to understand. When you say “I think he’s a racist,” that’s not a bad move because you might be wrong. That’s a bad move because you might be right. Because if that dude really is racist, you want to make sure you hold them accountable and don’t let them off easy.

Even though, intuitively, it feels like the hardest way to hit them is just to run up on them and say “I think your ass is racist,” when you handle it that way, you’re actually letting them off easy because you’re setting up a conversation that’s way too simple for him to derail and duck out of.

Just think about how this plays out every time a politician or a celebrity gets caught out there. It always starts out as a “what they did” conversation, but as soon as the celebrity and their defenders get on camera, they start doing judo flips and switching it into a “what they are” conversation.

“I have known this person for years, and I know for a fact that they are not a racist. How dare you claim to know what’s inside their soul just because they made one little joke about watermelon, tap dancing, and going back to Africa?”

Then you try and explain that we don’t need to see inside their soul to know that they shouldn’t have said all that about the watermelon. You try to focus on the facts of the situation, but by then it’s too late because the “what they are” conversation is a rhetorical Bermuda Triangle where everything drowns in a sea of empty posturing until somebody just blames it all on hip hop and we forget the whole thing ever happened.

Don’t let this happen to you.

When somebody picks my pocket, I’m not going to be chasing them down so I can figure out whether he feels like he’s a thief deep down in his heart. I’m going to be chasing him down so I can get my wallet back. I don’t care what he is, but I need to hold him accountable for what he did.

That’s how we need to approach these conversations about race. Treat them like they took your wallet and focus on the part that matters, holding each person accountable for the impact of their words and actions.

I don’t care what you are. I care about what you did.

16 year old video continues to be very relevant to modern discourse.

If anyone has a transcript of this please let me know.

Yes, I am posting this specifically for @gaytors, who does not seem to comprehend the difference between "This line of thought and action is ideologically fascist" and "You are A Fascist"

Words continue to mean things.

[princessefemmelesbian]

Transandrophobia truthers are so damn racist and white oh my fucking god y'all actually piss me the fuck off every time you tokenize Black and brown men for your stupid as fuck "mra but make it trans-inclusive" ideology created by a creepy guy with a corrective rape fetish(something I'll never let up on for as long as I live, btw). If I ever see another one of y'all say "Black and brown men face discrimination because they're seen as overly masculine and that's why masculinity in men is oppressed in this society" I will literally kill myself. Stop using Black and brown men as brownie points for your bullshit arguments about misandry being real when you don't have the slightest idea how racialized oppression works. White boys are so annoying and dumb istfg.

@punkeropercyjackson @punknicodiangelo @pinkpinkstarlet

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

with a few minutes' reflection and a second conversation with my parents I have realized that I may have overblown things and overreacted a bit and also in some ways they're correct even if I think they're also harsh about it

[peoplesrazor]

The often stated goal of people in the crit community is for Lily to lose her platform. This would result not only in her facing some consequences for her behavior, but will also make it harder for her to prey on and influence vulnerable people. While it's certainly reasonable for those personally victimized by Lily to want to see some legal consequences as well, those goals aren't going to be reached by discussing her on social media, with a few exceptions.

For instance, using social media to present and archive evidence and as a way to make others aware. If a victim is actively in the community and close to people in it, it wouldn't be unusual for them to post updates on whatever is happening on the legal front. Maybe just to vent now and then. Legal action is always long and frustrating and very often expensive. Venting about that, at least, would be reasonable.

There would be little reason for the rest of us to continue talking about Lily, I'd imagine.

People may bring up something now and then. You'll see the occasional post that says something like: Remember when Lily Orchard compared a Jewish woman to a disease and got to keep her youtube channel? That shit was wild, huh? They'll be comparisons between her and other people who are being discussed. Sometimes more accurately, sometimes not.

I know there is a pervasive idea in Lily's base and in those critical of the crit community that we're all obsessed with her and using her for content as a way to make money or get clout. That we'd actually be secretly upset if she never made another video or blog post.

I'm pretty confident in saying, for most of us, that's not true. I don't think people outside of this understand how frustrating it can actually be. In my case, at least, there are any number of videos or post that I could comment on, that have factual errors that can easily be corrected, but I don't because they don't matter as far as that ultimate goal. I will sometimes, if I feel it might be interesting to discuss, especially since it was my original goal for my blog to discuss media criticism. Usually, it's not worth it though.

Because even when I do make a post with the express purpose of calling out Lily's racism, ablism, sexism, her victimizing people, or to show a pattern of behavior, my reward is being called a transphobe, a misogynist or having my motivations for doing so questioned. I can't tell you how lovely it feels to make what I think is a well documented and easily provable argument and have it dismissed because I chose to use one of her media takes as my starting point. You think I want to do this? That I enjoy that?

I'm not sure those of us without a "real world" connection to Lily would even be able to move the goal post past de-platforming. Like how? That's the only spot that goal post can be. There's this big immovable wall just past that with the words "no admittance through social media" scrawled on it.

We can't get to the other side of that from here.

So, yeah, I see most of us moving on. @spacefrog1984 will post more frog gifs. @thetepes will discuss tea and post more cultural food videos. @agramuglia will cover other media and media critics, which he is already doing. Sai may close @purpledemonlilyposting or she may use it to argue with people like you on here.

Me? I'll make more youtube recommendations, discuss indoctrination tactics and debunk things like pseudoscience. Mostly, I'll likely go back to vanilla media discourse and talking about bad media takes that don't involve Lily, which is what I started the blog to do originally. Maybe I'll do some more in depth analysis of The Owl House.

What are you going to be doing, Starry? Still, posting about Sai and everyone whose ever had an exchange with her all day?

Does a channel termination mean everyone can move on? Or does it just mean the goalpost gets moved?