#i could never give you peace (would it be enough?)

[melliemell]

Pairing: Sigma x reader

Contents: NSFW, morning sex, penetration (reader receiving), fluff, Sigma is happy to have someone to call his own and he's gonna do his damn best to please them, we need more sappy enamoured men, Approx 1.1k words

Twenty minutes.

It’s been twenty minutes since Sigma woke up. Your sleeping form was sprawled atop his overheated body like a heavy blanket. Sigma doubted anything could wake you up now, but he still refused to move even an inch. Not when you looked so peaceful, so content. 

With him.

He’d be embarrassed to admit how long he stared at you; engraving your features into his mind. But that’s what lovers did, didn’t they? They adored their partners, their every detail; from the curve of your nose to the way you huddled closer to him whenever you moved. The feel of your breath against his neck sent shivers down his spine–he’d never think something so… small could get such a reaction from him. And yet…

And he could feel your chest moving against his too, completely at ease in his embrace. Like you trusted him to be this vulnerable.

He’d sooner die than give this up. Having someone. Like this. You were the most beautiful thing in his life and moments like those only made him all the more appreciative of you.

When you finally did wake up, groggy eyes looking up at him, a gentle smile grazing your lips a moment later–Sigma’s heart sped up. He was melting right there and then, your gaze the sole culprit behind his state.

Sigma never expected to be this enamoured, the need to have you close almost frighteningly overwhelming. 

“What ya thinkin’ about?” you asked, stifling a yawn against Sigma’s chest. 

Adorable.

Sigma smiled. Your hair looked a mess; he loved it. “Just you.”

You hummed, resting your chin on folded hands atop Sigma’s chest. “Creepy.”

Sigma blinked. “I’m not creepy. Why would that be creepy?” He hesitated. He wasn’t… was he? 

Of course not, that’s absurd.

You observed him before you snorted. This pushed away Sigma’s doubts as he levelled you with an unimpressed look. 

“Aw, come on. You can be the creepiest creepy-o and I’d still go for you, don’t worry,” you said, more amused than taking him seriously.

You were always like that–carefree to the brim. It was almost maddening at times, but it also managed to get Sigma more… at ease. Rigid was a good way to describe his life before meeting you. Always perfectly planned, the need for control so overwhelming it almost brought him to sickness at times. 

But now…

Now he could melt into your embrace with ease. You’ve taught him how to go with the flow of life, to experience it when the opportunities arise. 

And to kiss your lips when they waited for him, ready and right there. To let himself fall deeper into your warmth as you engulfed him fully. Your scent, your touch, your taste. Sigma was a lucky man. Even luckier as you held onto his shoulders, coaxing him to take the lead as you pulled him atop you. Sigma nestled perfectly between your spread thighs, his cock already aching for you.

The friction of clothes felt divine, Sigma’s mind foggy as his senses sharpened to your every touch. Every move against him.

You had him in your grasp so easily; you needed only look at him once and he was done for. You needn’t even ask–his ability was skilful enough to read through your desires.

But then you pulled at his hair, coaxed him higher as your other hand worked his pants loose. Sigma’s brain froze even as he kissed you deeper. Your smile felt sharp against his lips.

“Since when are we morning people?” you breathed at last, and Sigma’s head fell on your shoulder witha groan as you wrapped your hand around his cock. 

You stroked him once, twice. Almost teasing him with your slow movements. Sigma swallowed hard. “I can be your morning person. Definitely.”

He moved his hips as he sought more. You could only comply, swallowing his grunts of pleasure as your hand worked him steadily.

Sigma tried to not be impatient, he really did. You’d get him off just fine like this. Hell, he only needed your lips on his and he’d get the job done all the same. And then take care of you.

But that wasn’t the plan, no. Not when you had your clothes discarded swiftly. Then you wrapped your thighs around his hips, pussy wet and waiting for him. You locked gazes.

Sigma was a man gone by that point.

He sunk in you slowly, blinking away the fog of pleasure that threatened to cloud his better judgment. He really wanted to fuck into you right there and then. No, not like that. He looked at your face again. Seeking you. 

You cupped his face, thumb brushing his cheek with affection. You smiled then, clenching on purpose around him. 

A low groan slipped past Sigma’s lips, the sound strained. “Stop that. Just, please. I need a moment.”

You brushed his locks over his shoulder. “Sorry, I’ll behave,” you said, winking. But your chest was flushed, the pink dusting reaching your neck and cheeks too. You were just as affected as him. 

If not more.

Sigma took a deep breath, and moved. The slap of skin against skin echoed around you soon after, heated kisses shared between you as saliva trailed down your chin. But you didn’t care; you were too busy clutching onto Sigma’s shoulders, your nails sure to leave marks into his skin.

He didn’t feel any of it. Only your warmth, the tightness of your pussy as he bottomed out with every thrust until he couldn’t hold it any longer. 

His movement became sloppy, fast, hard. Sigma was holding you so close he worried for a second if you could even breath. But you were just as latched onto him, your moans stifled against his shoulder as you bit into it. He wanted you so bad, it wasn’t enough.

He held you in place, eyes closed as he focused on you. The way you unravelled before him, losing yourself in your pleasure–all because of him. 

His. You were his and he was going to do everything you asked him to, you just had to wish it.

Your orgasm was beautiful–head thrown back as you bit into your lower lip til bruising. Your thighs trembled, pussy fluttering around his cock as it spurred him closer too. Sigma didn’t hold out long, letting himself finish with a few final thrusts into your heat. He could barely stay up, the strain catching onto him completely unexpectedly.

Moving anytime soon was completely out of the question. But you were there, pulling him back against you as you hugged–still sweaty and fucked out as you could get. 

Warm. Sigma felt your hands thread through his locks, and he sighed. He could get used to being content like this.

[empressdede]

The Lyon’s family Christmas

Summary: You lie to your mom and tell her that you have a boyfriend to bring home and begs your best friend Jon to come with you to meet your family.

Word count: 2.7k

Pairing: Jimmy x Y/N

A/N: Happy New Year and Happy Holidays; I am so so so so sorry that this is so late but I literally worked the entire holidays so this was the best day for me to release. I hope you guys enjoy!

P.S. Guess who’s officially back? 🙂💙

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As often as this was a reoccurring issue, Y/N don’t know why she expected the conversation to take a different direction unlike the very worn out route her and her mother usually seemed to take.

“Do you remember Trent from church? I’ve heard the younger girls were saying he’s single now, and I was thinking about inviting him to our Christmas party. I think he makes for a nice boy, don’t you?" Her mom asked over the phone. And there it was, the same damn conversation causing Y/N to roll her eyes. Thank God her mother couldn’t see her.

Her mom never knew how to stay out of her business, always going out her way to try and set her up with damn near anybody because she thought it was the most terrifying fact that her daughter was single at 30 and have been for the last three years now.

But Y/N valued her peace more than anything, and all her past relationships have not always bought her peace, just heartache. So she wanted to be very cautious her next go round because she was being very serious when she told everyone she only had one more relationship in her. She just wished her mom understood that.

Y/N let out a sigh, "Mom, I haven’t seen Trent in forever. Do NOT invite that boy over for no foolishness. Plus, he’s really not my type." Y/N expressed which caused her mother her scoff.

"And since fuckin when was Trent not your type? I thought you were trying to get with a good man Y/N?" Her mother questioned.

Exactly.

Y/N let out a huff in annoyance, she knew way more than her mom and knew that Trent was definitely not the way go. But she didn’t know want her mom to think she was trying to push at the conversation so instead of being honest, Y/N does the first thing that comes to mind.

“I didn’t wanna tell you like this but Trent ain’t my type because I have a boyfriend now Ma.”

Y/N’s POV

The silence on the phone made me more nervous, why the fuck would I just say that?

“You got a boyfriend? Since when you found a boyfriend? And why haven’t you said anything about him?” The questions were leaving her mouth like quick fire, barely giving me anytime to answer her. But I did the best I could.

“I didn’t say anything because I wanted to make sure this was something worth bringing up.”

“Mmhmm, and how long you’ve been seeing this guy?” She asked

“Five months now, but we were friends before we started dating. I’ve been trying to take it slow.”

Another beat of silence took over the phone and for a second, I thought she knew I was spewing nothing but bullshit just to get her to shut up.

“Hmm, well baby you ain’t getting no younger. Tell this man I wanna meet him, invite him to the party and I’m not taking no for an answer.” She finally replied, but her response took me aback.

“Wait- mom..”

“Great! I’ll see you guys next weekend, Love you baby.” And with a quickness, she hung up in my face.

I was left amuck, staring at the phone in disbelief because what the fuck did I just do?

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In retrospect, you didn’t really have anyone to ask but him. You weren’t comfortable asking anyone else but your best friend - who has yet to meet anyone in your family, which was perfect.

Who else would’ve agreed to do this for you?

“You want me to what?” He asked, choking on the fried rice he was eating prior.

Okay, so maybe it’s going to take a little bit of convincing.

“Please Jon, you’re the only person I can ask and I feel like we’re close enough; we could definitely pull it off.” You exclaimed, a small smile on your face; trying to be as persuasive as possible.

Jon was not amused, for all he knew this was another one of your tired ass pranks that he refused to fall for.

“So you want me to lie to your mom for Christmas?” he questioned, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Why don’t you just tell her you’re single? I’m sure it won’t be the end of the world.”

You sigh, shoulders sinking in a bit. “She wants to set me up with some guy I haven’t seen in years. You know how I get with guys Jon and she won’t stop until she sees me with someone.”

You turn to fully face him with pleading eyes. “C’mon Jon, I already told them I have a boyfriend, who else am I supposed to ask?”

Jon watched you with careful eyes, silent as if he was thinking it over. You couldn’t help but keep your gaze hopeful as you guts sat in your living room waiting for him to respond.

You knew it was a big favor to ask but you would owe him the world if he could help you get your mom off your back.

The silence that filled the room made goosebumps litter all over your skin and the anxiety that bubbled in your stomach made you want to throw up. Just when you were going to tell him to forget it, Jon cut you off.

“Fine, I’ll go. But if we do this, we need to get our story straight.”

And just like that, the planning began, and for the rest of dinner, the two of you sat and theorized on how their fake love story came into existence:

Two friends who danced around the possibility of what could be till one night Jon stepped up and asked you to dinner and you agreed and you guys have been taking it slow from that night on.

____________________________________________

Two days after that, Jon surprised Y/N with matching pajamas for this impromptu trip.

“What kind of couple would we be without matching PJs?” Jon had asked when he dropped them off.

It made Y/N more appreciative of the effort he seemed to put into it. Of course Jon would play the perfect gentleman like boyfriend, who else would’ve did this for her?

The night before they had to drive six hours to your mother‘s house, you two agreed that Jon spend the night. This instance wasn’t anything new, Jon was your best friend and he slept over before, but something within your dynamic changed.

It was as if they were falling into the role of a loving couple for each other instead of Y/N’s family.

Jon sat on the bed watching Y/N finish applying her night cream, getting ready for bed.

“Is there anyone I should expect to give me a hard time?” Jon asked and you shook your head.

“Honestly, my mom is probably going to push you to marry me.” You joked causing Jon to chuckle.

“Well, if that’s the case, you ready to be stuck with me for life babe?”

The nickname caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“Babe?” You questioned and Jon sends you a shy smile.

“You gotta start the habit now. I can’t call you that when I get over there, what if I just randomly call you princess and you get flustered?” He slightly teased, and there was those damn butterflies again.

He was right though, they needed to fall into the role of a devoted couple because how else were they going to make everyone believe they were in love?

You playfully rolled your eyes, and respond back, “what if I call you, baby boy and you get flustered?”

At that, Jonathan laughs and shakes his head at you. “I thought you said you wanted it to be believable?”

“How is that not believable?” You questioned as you walks out of the bathroom and towards him where he sat on the bed.

You cupped Jon’s cheek and talked in a baby tone, “Who wouldn’t think you’re my baby boy?” Cooing softly in a joking manner.

Jon decided he’s had enough of your antics and stood up to tower over you. Your hand falling back to your side as you stare up at him, a small smirk slowly formed on his lips as he stared down at you.

“C’mon now, you really think anyone is going to see us and think you call me anything but Daddy?” He had lowered his tone on purpose, and just like that the playfullness was sucked out of the room.

Your breath hitched at the sound of his voice, taking note of how close you guys actually were. Why did he have to do all that?

You felt your cheeks warm up and you couldn’t be more thankful than you are now that your skin had a darker hue to it - but Jon didn’t need to see it to know that you were flustered because your silence gave it away.

His smirk grows, almost tauntingly as he stared down at you. Maybe he knew what he was doing to you or maybe he didn’t and just got a kick out of this, but you did not appreciate his little game.

“Isn’t that right princess?” Even though you knew that Jon was teasing, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran up your spine.

You squinted your eyes to glare at him, “You’re not funny Jonathan.” You hissed out but he only chuckled at you and shrugged his shoulders.

It was all fun and games until it was his turn.

Just to put the icing on the cake: Jon’s hand lifted up to cup your cheeks, “Say you love being daddy’s baby.” He cooed back causing you to smack your lips and slap his hand away.

Your nerves were still a little rattled as Jon doubled over in laughter.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny; you ready for bed or what? We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow and you’re driving.” You stated, walking past him for bed.

This is going to be the longest four days weekend ever.

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The drive to your childhood home to Orlando FL, wasn’t so bad, three hours into it anyways.

When there was three more hours left to go, you became just a little restless, whining about how cramped your legs were starting to feel.

It went to show how much you really disliked long distant roadtrips.

“You don’t think you can wait another hour? We’re almost there.” Jon tried to negotiate but when he turned to face you and seen the pout on your lips, he let out a tired sigh and looked for the closest exit to stop at the nearest gas station.

You flashed him a cheeky smile, “Who knew you loved me so much?” You teased and he rolled his eyes letting you have this little moment because you guys had three more hours to kill and he’d rather you be in a good mood.

Another pro for stopping at the gas station is the opportunity to restock on snacks. After Jon filled up the tank, you both entered the gas station to look for whatever looked good enough to replenish you guys for the rest of the trip.

You both split ways to look for your favorite road trip snacks: Honey flavored chex mix, gummy worms and sunflower seeds since it was Jon’s preference.

Humming along to the Christmas song playing in the store, you went looking for Jon. Your eyes skimming through the isle looking for the tall idiot until your eyes fall on two figures: a girl laughing and holding herself up on Jon’s arm.

You raised an eyebrow at the scene, the feeling of annoyance swirled around in your stomach.

What the fuck was he doing?

You watched as the girl flash him another smile while fluttering her lashes in a flirting manner, and you couldn’t stop the scoff that left your lips. Your eyes squinted into a glare before an idea flashed in your mind.

It barely fully registered in your mind before you found yourself walking towards the two with the fakest smile on your face, “Babe did you find us some drinks?”

Jon turned to face you, a small smirk on his face cause he had watched you walk up to him.

The jealousy that burned in your eyes was very amusing and very apparent for him to see. If he didn’t know you well enough - he would’ve pushed his limit just a bit to see how far he could take it.

But knowing that they had three hours to kill before reaching Orlando, he’d rather not be in the car with an irritated Y/N, no matter how amusing it was to him.

Little did he know it was a little too late for that.

“Uh.. No, sorry babe. But we could go get it together.” He replied, and without bidding the girl goodbye, he locked arms with you to walk you towards the refrigerated section.

The girl watched with a frown on her face, as you guys walked away from her, and you couldn’t help but turn around to flash her a quick smile - almost taunting her before returning to face Jonathan, with the meanest glare, you could muster.

“I could’ve stayed in the car if you were going to be hot and fresh chasing hoes.” You gritted out once you were out of earshot.

Jon just chuckled softly, shaking his head at you while looking for your favorite drink. “She was just being nice.”

You roll your eyes again, “I’d rather you not insult my intelligence Jon.”

The frown was prominent on your face, and Jon couldn’t help the small smile that seemed almost glued to his face. You were cute he could definitely give you that.

A small chuckle emitted from him again as he walks closer to you to pull you into a hug. “You’re absolutely right princess, Daddy’s sorry.” He cooed, causing you to tense in his arms.

“Jon.” You grit out in a warning tone but he completely disregarded you. He lifted his left hand to tilt your head up to face him, and suddenly the air shifted between the two of you like it did back at your house.

“Jon.” You whispered out this time and he still chose to ignore you, his eyes flickering to your lips instead causing your breath to hitch.

“Jonathan.” You repeated, almost pleading with him and his eyes slowly traced up your face to lock eyes with you.

“You forgive me?” He rasps out; goosebumps littered all over your skin at the deepness of his voice.

“Y/N,” He muttered and you hummed to let him know you heard him. “Do. You. Forgive. Me?”

What in the world were you mad about again?

“Yeah.” You breathed out, hoping Jon with snap out of it, but he still didn’t let go of your chin.

“Good.” Was the only thing he stated before closing the gap between you guys. His lips pressed against yours and just for a second you both forget that this was supposed to be an act.

The butterflies that erupted in both of your stomach’s made the moment even more real for you guys. Your lips locked in a slow kiss, Jon’s hand slid down from your chin to grip behind your neck to keep you in place in deepen the kiss, just a little.

Your heartbeat filled your eardrums as blood rushed to your cheeks. When Jon finally pulled away, he seen how flushed you were, despite your darker skin tone.

He flashed you a small smile, “Was that okay?”

You nodded your head to assure him that it was more than okay. After the two of you finished up buying your snacks, you got in the car with childish grins and giggles slipping through your lips, both of you now in a way better mood than you were not less than 10 minutes ago.

You couldn’t help but secretly thank your mom for the invite to your family Christmas party because you don’t think you would’ve been here otherwise; and even though you’re pretty sure there is a conversation that needs to be had, maybe there was something to finally look forward to this holiday season.

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Lmao this was lowkey eh, but I did my bestest😭🫶🏾 Thank you to those who like and read it!

As always please, like, comment and reblog if you feel like and lemme know how you feel.

Tagging the lovelies: @wrestlingprincess80 @whatdoeseverybodywant @blacst4r @paigereeder @alyyaanna @raya-hunter01 @mzv11 @trippinsorrows @partypoison00

(If you would like to be added to my official taglist please comment and I will add you, and if you want to be removed, please let me know🤍)

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 The Boy Next Door.

Spencer Reid x Neighbor!reader

series masterlist

Summary: Making friends with your neighbor is one of the best things that ever happened to you, but falling in love with him? not so much.

Words: 4,1k.

Warnings & Tags: painting!reader. lack of communication. the reader has a cat. two idiots so in love. bittersweet. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I am very excited about this, long live friends to lovers and being Spencer's neighbor (my dream).

Being a neighbor to someone like Spencer Reid had been a blessing since the first day you packed boxes of your stuff into the apartment next to his. He was kind and handsome, very much so, if you were honest. Smart but reserved, even a little shy if you looked at him too much. But most importantly, he was the kind of neighbor who would never complain about your cat, who seemed to have a particular fondness for his balcony. Whether it was knocking over his potted plants or staring curiously at his fish tank, your feline’s antics never elicited more than a gentle laugh or a patient shrug. He would simply return your wayward pet with a soft knock at your door, holding it in his arms like it was the most precious thing in the world, while you apologized profusely, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

What started as brief exchanges—usually you stammering out apologies while he reassured you it was no trouble—gradually became longer conversations. The simple, polite “Hi, this is my cat, I’m so sorry” turned into casual talks about your day or his work, which he always spoke about in vague terms. And you, feeling so guilty for the inconvenience your cat had caused, decided to bake him cookies as a peace offering. They didn’t turn out quite as you’d hoped—slightly burnt around the edges—but Spencer didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he complimented their colorful sprinkles and icing, likening them to a painting by a famous artist. His sincerity disarmed you, and before you knew it, you were chatting about your love for art while he stroked your cat, his expression soft and attentive as though he’d known you forever.

So you didn't question anything and started to think of him as a friend. His nice actions with you were enough, and it was always good to have new friends, especially when they lived so close to your home.

It turned out that being Spencer's friend was a thousand times better than just being his messy neighbor, and it gave you some new things. Like a copy of the key to his apartment so you could water his plants and feed his fish when he was away at work. Plus, full access to his library, full of books with names you could barely pronounce, whenever you wanted, along with his coffee maker, which was so much better than yours, and was the perfect complement to a lecture in his comfortable sofa.

Books on philosophy, complex sciences, and psychological theories you had never heard of in your life. Each one had a colored heart-shaped post-it that Spencer had borrowed from your collection: pink for the ones you would love, yellow for the ones that might entertain you for a few minutes, red for the ones you wouldn't like at all, and purple for the ones that were in other languages, but he could translate for you if you just mentioned it. His dedication to introducing you to the world of reading was so great that he even convinced you to paint some bookmarks for him. And you took him so seriously that you made one for each of his favorite books, with paintings inspired by their contents.

Being Spencer's neighbor and friend meant having a shoulder to lean on while he helped you pay your bills and tried to fit your tight budget to cover your expenses. It always ended with two empty coffee cups on your kitchen table, your big fake smile as you tried to hold back the urge to scream because your art wasn't giving you enough to survive, his hands caressing your back and reassuring you that everything was going to be okay, that you could count on his help and his wallet if you needed it. And somehow, the next day, one of your paintings would mysteriously sell, and a bag of food would appear for your cat, as if by magic. You never had to ask—he always seemed to know when you needed a little extra help, always appearing with a gentle smile and a quiet offer.

It was one of those days when you opened the door, your hands still covered in paint, when you saw him standing there, holding a small bag of groceries. “I know what you’re doing, and I appreciate it, but it’s really not necessary,” you said, embarrassed. You couldn’t hide the blush creeping up your neck as you set the paintbrush down and gestured to the cluttered table full of half-finished canvases. You knew what he was up to—he’d done it before, slipping in to make sure you had enough to eat and that your cat had food.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, as though trying to figure out how to explain himself without embarrassing you. “I…I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” he started, looking anywhere but directly at you, “but I bought a bunch of food, and honestly, I won’t be able to eat it all. I have to work late all week, and it’ll go bad before I have a chance to use it. I thought…maybe you could use it?” He gave a half-smile, hoping it would soften the situation.

You blinked, surprised at how considerate he was being. Spencer wasn’t the type to try and make you feel bad, and you knew he was trying to help without overstepping. It wasn’t about charity—it was simply his way of offering support because he cared. You couldn’t help but smile at his sincerity, even if you felt a bit embarrassed about the situation.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said gently, trying to ward off the guilt that crept up on you. But he was already shaking his head, that familiar, apologetic look in his eyes.

“I know, I know,” he said quickly. “It’s just…I hate wasting food.” He paused for a moment, as if considering something. “And if you want, I can help organize everything in your fridge. You’re probably running low on space with all the art supplies and other things. I can make room for the stuff so it doesn’t go to waste.”

You glanced over at the chaotic state of your kitchen and couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound both self-deprecating and amused. It was so true. Still, the thought of Spencer Reid—neat, meticulous Spencer—navigating your messy kitchen was both endearing and mildly mortifying.

“Okay,” you relented, wiping your hands on a towel. “That would actually be helpful. But don’t judge me for the mess, okay? It’s been…a lot lately.”

His face lit up with a small, genuine smile, his love for organization clear in the way his posture straightened. “I promise,” he said, his tone almost teasing, “no judgment.”

As he carefully unpacked the groceries, you found yourself talking without meaning to, your words spilling out like the colors on your canvas. “It’s just been hard,” you admitted, your voice faltering slightly. “I’ve been applying for jobs left and right, but nothing’s coming through. And art…well, it’s not exactly paying the bills right now. I’m barely getting by again.”

Spencer paused, a container of strawberries in his hands, and turned to look at you. His brown eyes were soft with concern and something else—something that felt like quiet reassurance. He placed your favorite fruit on the counter with care before speaking.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft but steady, “the last time we talked, you mentioned you used to babysit.” His words caught your attention, making you pause as you glanced over at him, unsure of where he was going with this. “Well, JJ—my friend at work—was just saying that she’s looking for a babysitter. She’s been trying to find someone reliable for a while, and I thought…well, maybe you’d be interested.”

You blinked, unsure whether you’d heard him right. Babysitting? It seemed like a lifetime ago since you’d done anything like that. You hesitated for a moment, running a hand through your hair. “I used to be a nanny when I was fifteen,” you said, feeling the weight of those words. “But, I’m not sure…I mean, I’m not exactly the same person I was back then, and I haven't interacted with kids in a while.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a reassuring smile, the kind that made you feel like you could take on the world if he believed in you. “I think you’d be great at it,” he said, his tone steady and confident. “And it wouldn’t have to be full-time—just a few hours here and there, whenever you have the time. Besides,” he added, his smile turning a little playful, “I’m their godfather, so I’d be around if you ever need help.”

The idea of him being there, silently supporting you as he always did, made the idea seem less daunting and even a little tender, almost familiar. You nodded before you realized what you were agreeing to.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll think about it.”

His hand rested lightly on your shoulder then, his touch warm and grounding. When you looked up at him, his eyes were filled with a quiet intensity that made your breath hitch.

The possibility of refusing anything he asked you to do, with that perfect face that often reminded you of a tender deer, was impossible, and you had learned that over time. Just like the fact that it was completely forbidden to say out loud all the things you thought when you saw him. No extra sweet words, no overly long hugs, no thinking about the kiss you wanted to give him when he started to babble. And certainly no telling him how much you loved him—not when his gentle presence in your life was already more than you could have ever hoped for.

Being in love with someone like Spencer Reid was no blessing. Especially when his door was right next to yours and it almost seemed like you lived in the same apartment. Eating breakfast together when he wasn't out on a case for work, watching him make your favorite pancakes, and putting up pink candles to pretend it was your birthday when you were feeling too sad, and even a funny tuna cake for your cat's birthday. It was all too detailed, intimate, and personal to feel absolutely nothing for so long. Watching him slowly fall asleep on the couch while you watched a ridiculously romantic movie that you chose and he accepted because he was too tired to discuss it. He looked so relaxed, every one of his features softened, forcing you to run and get your notebook to sketch him, because he was a complete work of art. The same situation happened a thousand times; you almost had a whole notebook dedicated to him. But obviously he didn't know that, because he didn't know a lot of things.

And you were okay with that, even though it felt terrible to have to deprive a genius like him of so much information his brain wasn't even expecting.

Anything was better than watching him avoid you in the hallway, or worse, with you having to move somewhere else.

You could stand the love and desire building up inside you, and you did your best not to let it go. Maybe it wasn't the best or what you expected when you imagined what it would be like to actually fall in love with someone for the first time. But at least you had moments that gave you the energy to go on living. The hug and kiss on the cheek that he gave you every time he left for work as a promise to come back, the tender good morning messages in which he wished you good luck for the rest of the day, especially when you had a lot of things to do and he was not in a state to accompany you, or waiting for you after dinner with your friends so that you could tell him in detail what had happened, every gossip and new comment that unfortunately you now had to do over the phone. Especially this time, maybe it could not be like that.

One suggestion, coming from one of your closest friends, caught you completely off guard. “You should sleep with him,” she had said so casually, as if it were the simplest solution to an incredibly complex situation.

The words hung in the air like a joke that wasn’t really a joke. You looked at her, eyes wide, unable to comprehend what she had just said. “What?” you managed, voice a little too sharp, as you quickly wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

She didn’t seem to notice your shock, leaning forward with a grin that could only be described as mischievous. “I said,” she repeated, “you should sleep with him.”

You nearly choked on your juice, coughing and sputtering as the words rang in your ears. “Are you serious?” you asked, feeling your face flush a deep shade of red. The words felt out of place, especially when the one person you were most careful about—Spencer—was the subject of this absurd suggestion. “I can’t just…sleep with him.”

“Oh, come on,” she insisted, not giving up. “You’ve been in love with him forever. You need to get it out of your system. It’ll help you move on, I promise.”

The words swirled around you, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on your chest like a tidal wave. Sleep with Spencer? Spencer? The man who had become such an intricate part of your life, the one who made every day brighter simply by being in it? You couldn’t even begin to picture it. It felt…wrong. It wasn’t just about the simmering desire or the longing that built up every time you looked at him. Spencer was more than that. He was a friend, a confidant, a constant in a world that had often felt uncertain. The thought of crossing that line—of turning everything you had into something fleeting, something physical—it made your stomach churn. It wasn’t just infatuation anymore. It was something deeper, something that had taken root and blossomed into something far more fragile. The idea of destroying that with a single reckless and hormonal decision? You couldn’t do it.

“No,” you said firmly, setting your glass down and crossing your arms as if physically rejecting the thought. “I can’t do that. It’s not like that with him.”

For a fleeting moment, your friend’s expression softened, but then the mischievous glint returned to her eyes. She leaned back, crossing her own arms in a show of exaggerated disbelief. “You’re seriously going to sit here and tell me you don’t think about him like that?” she challenged, arching a brow. “That you don’t fantasize about him? Please. You’re practically playing house at this point. Living next door, eating breakfast together, taking care of his godchildren—you’re practically married without the fun part.”

Her words were sharp, and they stung in ways you hadn’t expected. She wasn’t wrong, not entirely. You had thought about Spencer in ways that made your pulse race and your heart ache. You couldn’t deny that you fantasized about him—about what it would feel like to hold him, kiss him, love him in ways you hadn’t allowed yourself to imagine until now. But it was more than that. It was the tenderness in his eyes when he spoke of things that mattered most and the way he held you when things felt heavy.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration, your fingers threading through the strands with a kind of restless energy. “It’s complicated,” you murmured, feeling a lump form in your throat. “He is different, okay? He’s not just some random guy I’m trying to get over. He’s Spencer.”

“Then tell him how you feel,” she shot back, her tone laced with exasperation. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by keeping it all bottled up.”

You flinched, the words hitting you harder than you’d anticipated. “I can’t do that either,” you admitted, the confession falling from your lips like a stone sinking in water. “It would ruin everything.”

Your friend’s playful demeanor faltered for a moment, her teasing grin softening into something almost compassionate. But it didn’t last long. She leaned back in her chair, tossing her hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. Don’t sleep with him. Don’t tell him how you feel. Just keep sitting around, pining, and writing bad poetry in your head. But don’t come crying to me when you’re still hopelessly in love with him a year from now.”

Her words stung, even though you knew she was right in her own blunt, infuriating way. You opened your mouth to respond but stopped when your phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up with a message from Spencer: Hope you have a good day. Something’s come up. I’ll be back late today.

You stared at the words, your heart sinking a little. He had a way of being so thoughtful in the simplest ways, even when his job pulled him away. It was one of the many things about him that made your feelings all the more complicated.

Your friend smirked, noticing the soft expression on your face as you read his text. “See? There it is,” she said, her tone equal parts teasing and affectionate. “If you’re not going to do anything about it, at least admit that you’re completely in love with him.”

Don’t come crying to me when you’re still hopelessly in love with him a year from now.

The words echoed in your mind even after you and your friend had parted ways, and even after several hours had passed, lingering in your brain like a buzzing that wouldn't go away even though everything inside you was screaming to make more noise and ignore it. It was as if he had opened a Pandora's box that you had been hiding for a long time, and it was something that made you feel small and foolish, lost in your own indecision. You tried to shake it all off, but his words kept echoing in your head, getting louder and louder. You couldn't confess. You couldn't risk ruining everything.

When you arrived at your building, your feet carrying you to his almost by inertia, you tried to distract yourself and do something nice: set the table, light some candles, and order dinner for two at a nearby restaurant you both liked. That had been your plan: a quiet evening together, the kind where you could pretend that everything was normal and there were no complexes on your mind. You knew Spencer would be home late, but at least he'd be there. You'd share a meal, talk about his crazy case, laugh, get so tired you'd fall asleep on the couch so he could carry you to his bed, sleep there barely touching, and then move on as usual. At least that's how you imagined it.

But as the hours passed, you realized something you didn't want to admit: He wasn't coming home anytime soon. At least not tonight.

The food was there, untouched. The candles flickered in the darkness, taunting you with their warm glow. The emptiness of the apartment reflected the feeling of emptiness gnawing at you. You sat on the couch and tried to distract yourself with your cell phone and grabbed a few books you didn't know from the shelf, but everything seemed strange. The clock on the wall was chiming louder than usual, each second getting longer and longer. Around two in the morning, you couldn't stay awake a second longer. Your eyes were heavy, and your mind was tired from the endless cycle of thoughts you had been wrestling with all day. Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, exhausted from the emotional toll of the day, the weight of your own feelings too much to bear when you didn't have Spencer or a canvas nearby to distract you.

You didn’t even hear him when he came through the door.

It wasn't until almost four in the morning that you awoke slightly, your body responding to the warmth and the soft sound of his footsteps approaching you. You found yourself curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, your head resting on the pillows and your neck aching. The dinner you had bought was still on the table, untouched, and the candles had long since been extinguished, taking away the warm, familiar atmosphere. The air smelled faintly of reheated food and something else, something familiar, something that smelled like him.

“Spencer…” Your voice was thick with sleep, the words barely leaving your mouth.

He smiled down at you, a gentle smile that seemed to reach all the way into your chest. “Sorry I’m so late…I didn't think you would wait for me,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Work ran later than I expected.”

You nodded, still half-dazed, barely able to focus on his words. But then you felt the warmth of his hand on your shoulder, gentle but grounding, and everything seemed to fall into place.

“Why don’t you go to bed?” he suggested softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve fallen asleep here.”

Before you could react, he picked you up and gently led you into his bedroom. The action was tender, so natural because it had happened more times than you could count. You didn't protest or move. Maybe it was tiredness, or maybe it was the way he made you feel so safe that you always wanted to fall asleep on his couch so he could hold you more, but you let him continue. You let him take care of you as he always did, even when you didn't ask him to.

As he tucked you into his bed, the soft sheets wrapped around your body like a comforting embrace, you murmured something tender and incoherent about him in your sleep, too far away to remember. The words poured out meaninglessly, fragments of meaningless thoughts: feelings, confusions, desires you had buried too deep to think you would ever say out loud. Spencer's hand brushed across your forehead, his thumb gently pushing away the strands of hair that clung to your skin and made you uncomfortable.

“Pretty boy,” you whispered, the words slipping out in your sleepy haze, a fragment of something you couldn’t quite capture.

Spencer’s soft laugh filled the space between you, the sound warm and comforting.

“I remember you said someone used to call you that; is that true?” you asked gently, a playful teasing tone in your voice. “You’re a pretty boy.”

“And you’re a sleepy girl,” he replied with a quiet smile, watching you drift in and out of consciousness.

“Pretty…” you murmured again, your voice barely audible, like a dream that was fading too quickly for you to hold onto.

“Yeah, pretty too,” he whispered, his voice low and rich with tenderness. His thumb traced your forehead one last time, lingering for just a moment before the weight of sleep claimed you entirely.

The bed shifted slightly as Spencer took off his shoes and climbed in beside you, his body warmth a comforting presence next to yours. He paused, just for a moment, to look at you with an expression so full of affection.

“Thanks for making this place a home, my pretty girl,” he whispered, his voice filled with a warmth that seemed to wrap around you like the sheets, even when you can’t listen.

Because he wouldn't have told you that if you were awake and aware, watching him with your bright eyes wide open. Not yet. Not if telling you meant facing the possibility that one day you might avoid him in the hallway or, worse, decide to move somewhere else. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you because he felt things he shouldn't have. Not you. Not his home.

Being in love with you, his neighbor and only friend outside of work, was one of the best and worst things that ever happened to him. To have someone who would wait for him with dinner even when you didn't know what time he'd be home, someone who would compliment him even in between dreams and manage to make him laugh, who would listen to him even when no one else would, and who would accidentally smear paint all over his clothes as a little reminder that you were real and not an impossible dream. He knew you were truly a miracle to someone as unlucky as he was.

Having you, even as a friend, was fantastic.

Sadly, what Spencer didn’t know—what neither of you could have known—was that this moment, this quiet tenderness and time sleeping in the same bed, would be the last time he would see you for what would feel like an eternity. At least for three more agonizing months.

[tuesday-teyz]

Spoilers to chapter 40 of Butterfly reign below

TW for talks of abuse

A couple days back I got a question from a friend on discord asking if I consider br!Wilbur to be br!Tommy's abuser, and I'd like to give my answer here as well to help you better understand Tommy's choice, as well as the narrational reasoning that went into the plotpoint of Wilbur's murder.

So, was Wilbur Tommy's abuser?

The short answer is yes, absolutely.

In the early years, their relationship had been more of a codependent type, with generally unhealthy dynamics but not enough that it would strike most people as cause for alarm. However, a few key details and scenes demonstrate how Wilbur's treatment of Tommy became controlling over the years. Wilbur dictated who Tommy could be friends with and interceded his attempts at forming relationships he did not approve of. Those he did allow, had to be under his direct control (Tubbo) or limited in their ability to interact with him (Techno). He manipulated Tommy into feeling guilty over wanting to have his independence and used his love to bind Tommy to his side. This is the very staple of emotional abuse.

I'm not saying this to make you feel guilty if you enjoy the sweeter and healthier moments of crimeboys interaction. In fact, I added those in an attempt to show more realistic side of abusive relationships in real life. And the reality is, they can get better. People do change. And they can remain the same but be good to other people where they weren't good to you. Once someone becomes abusive, they don't suddenly turn into this caricature of a pure evil incarnated that exists in this plane of universe for the sole purpose of tormenting a specific person. To deny that they remain human is to deny the very real fact of life that any of us could turn into the same evil for someone else.

But the consequences of abuse don't suddenly go away when the abuse itself stops. It has a lasting, often scarring effect on the person as well as their relationship with their past abuser. It is my perspective that forgivenesss or acceptance can never erase that effect and it will continue to impact whatever interaction they have, or don't have, in the future. In many cases, the victim feels like they cannot find peace for as long as their abuser is alive and is capable of hurting them.

This is the peace that Tommy seeks (aside from more practical reasons we will explore later in the story) with his decision to murder Wilbur. He acknowledges that Wilbur may not mean to inflict any harm – but is still capable of doing so by the very fact of his existence. He is endlessly haunted by the knowledge that all it takes is for Wilbur to change his mind again for things to take a turn for the worse. It is exacerbated for Tommy by their past history; Wilbur knows exactly what he needs to say or do to impact him the most, and that is the kind of power he cannot anyone have over himself. So, among other things, it is a bid for control and security in his life.

[justgiulia]

Echoes of The Abyss

Orpheus!Dan Heng x Eurydice!gn reader

Summary: Dan Heng’s world shatters when you, his only solace, are lost to death. Desperate, he descends into the Abyss to bring you back.

Warnings: Major character death.

Author's notes: This is based off Orhpeus and Eurydice's myth. I hope you'll enjoy this <3

Dan Heng was a sensitive musician and poet who accompanied his verses with the sweet sound of the lyre. At his song, the beasts came out of their dens and became tame and the devastating forces of nature lost their fury. But Dan Heng did not boast: grateful, he thanked the Aeons.

When you had met Dan Heng for the first time, he was a mystery few dared to unravel. Yet, you were persistent, breaking through his carefully constructed walls with your genuine curiosity and unrelenting kindness. Where others saw a stoic enigma, you saw a man carrying the weight of his past in silence.

Over time, he began to let you in. You found solace in his presence, and he found peace in yours. He would read you fragments of ancient poems, his voice low and steady, and play melodies on his lyre that seemed to echo the sorrow etched in his soul.

Then came the day everything unraveled.

A mission gone awry, a poisoned blade and you were gone. Dan Heng had been there, holding you as your life slipped away, the light in your eyes dimming like a candle snuffed out by the wind.

"Stay with me"

He had begged, his voice breaking in a way it never had before.

He called you with all his strength, but you were dead.

The young man, as if mad, wandered aimlessly for days and days. He prayed in vain to the wild beasts to kill him. He sang his anguish to the trees, to the birds, but nothing could calm his pain.

The universe did not bargain with love.

And then, the rumors began—whispers of a place beyond the veil of death, where souls lingered, waiting for those brave or desperate enough to find them. The Path of the Abyss was treacherous, but If there was a chance to bring you back, he would take it.

The Abyss was vast. He walked for a long time and his singing moved the souls of the dead.

Dan Heng kept going, driven by the memory of your smile and the warmth you had brought into his life.

In the center of a dark hall was the throne on which sat the two Aeons Arbitrers, who determined the death and birth of common mortals: Lan and Qlipoth. Dan Heng addressed his invocation to Qlipoth.

"Oh sweet Aeon who from your face emanates the light of the universe" - he began - "have pity on my pain. Cruel fate has torn my beloved from life. I have tried to calm my despair, but in vain. Have pity on me. Hear me, I beg you, give me back Y/n or keep me here too. I would rather die than live without them".

The young man's invocation moved the Aeon to pity, who wept softly, looked for a moment at the other Aeon, and implored THEM in silence. Lan would never refuse THEM and THEY too, becoming tender, exclaimed: -

"You seek to defy the natural order," it intoned, its voice reverberating like the tolling of a bell. "To reclaim what has been taken is to invite suffering upon yourself."

"I don't care," Dan Heng said, his gaze unwavering. "I will do whatever it takes."

"Very well...your song, Dan Heng, has moved Qlipoth and me. I want to please you: Y/n will return with you to the earth. You yourself will lead them out of the Abyss. But be careful: you must neither look, touch nor speak to them until you have reached the light of the sun. If you turn around, you will lose them forever".

The poet, his face transfigured with happiness, bowed to the sovereign and headed towards the exit.

They walked for a long time, but Orpheus' thoughts were on his beloved who was following him. You walked behind him, your presence a fragile reassurance, but the silence between you was deafening. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his fear pressing down on him. With his eyes fixed in front of him, he desperately struggled with the desire to turn and look at your face.

Suddenly a terrible doubt gripped his heart: were you following him or had Qilipoth deceived him?Were you truly there? Or was this a cruel illusion of the Abyss? And just as the sunlight began to filter through the darkness, he could no longer resist. He turned around.

You were standing before him and, with your hands, took off a veil that was covering you. You were more beautiful than ever, but your eyes were sad.

It was an instant. A thick, gray fog enveloped you and you disappeared into the depths forever. Form dissolved into the darkness, your voice a fading echo.

"Dan Heng... thank you for trying."

The young man's pain was terrible; he sobbed, he begged the infernal gods once more, he drew the most heartbreaking notes from his lyre. Lan did not take pity a second time and did not grant him grace again.

He emerged into the light alone, the weight of his failure crushing him. The stars above remained indifferent, their cold light a mockery of the warmth he had lost. He wandered for months through woods and grasslands. Little by little his deep despair found comfort in music, whose notes he traced on a tree bark, but the emptiness within him remained.

In the Xianzhou Luofu there is no singer who does not know that magical music.

[moobloom-mention]

Isn't It Ironic? [Warm-Up]

Summary: Macaque can't say there aren't times in which he doesn't miss the Lady Bone Demon's presence. It was far easier to keep his joints working under her thumb, no matter how controlling she was.

It's a good thing he's found a new solution for his joint pain in the form of weed. Though, maybe he should've noticed the drug's pungent scent before he agreed to hang out with MK and Wukong.

Content Warning(s): Drug use

Word Count: 795

I couldn't help myself, I had to do a small warm-up inspired by this comic.

----------

For all intensive purposes, Macaque would say he's been coping with the Lady Bone Demon's death rather well.

Not to say he misses the witch- gods, what a fucked up world that would have to be -but going through his "second chance" on the mortal plane had sure been a hell of a lot easier when she still existed.

His joints never ached at the mere thought of standing whilst he was ensnared by her chains, nor had he ever felt something amiss with his magic's attempts to regenerate. It seemed as though somehow the witch had become an unknowing well of magic for his body to take from- a discovery that Macaque had definitely wished he'd made before her defeat.

Maybe then he could've kept MK from eradicating her entirely, persuading him to keep just a small piece of her soul on the mortal plane. It wouldn't have even needed to be much. Just enough to be an anchor to draw magic from and keep his body from reverting back to how it was before his- rather sloppily performed -resurrection.

After all, bodies had no reason to move once their souls were carried to Diyu.

Macaque lets his head roll until his cheek rubs itself pleasantly against the grass, the blades tall enough to wave themselves gracefully before his gaze.

...maybe the witch's death isn't all that bad, though. He certainly wouldn't be relaxing within one of Flower Fruit Mountain's many fields of grass if she were still around.

His ears twitch, two glamoured pairs flicking mindlessly at the grass his head hadn’t completely flattened. The voices of MK and his friends echo distantly, light and airy as their words converge into nothing but gentle rumbles and laughter. That, too, likely wouldn’t occur if the Lady Bone Demon were still around. 

Days of relaxation can’t exist when there’s an ever-looming threat that skirts just over the horizon of their future. 

Macaque’s jaw clicks open just in time for a yawn to escape him. He hadn’t truly been interested in taking a trip to Flower Fruit Mountain, but MK had been a little too insistent that he join their outing today. An insistence that’d implied Wukong wouldn’t be the happiest should Macaque decide not to show up. 

Not that Macaque could care less about the implied “threat”, he just hadn’t really wanted to deal with a tantrum the size of the Heavens. Besides, napping on Flower Fruit Mountain had sounded a little too appealing, especially after having smoked a joint. 

Why bother staring at the walls of his room when he had an entire sky painted for his viewing pleasure and a sun to bask in the warmth of?

...a sun that's definitely brighter than whatever nuisance had decided to disrupt his peace by standing over him. Macaque's ear flicks. Maybe his room would've been a better choice.

His tail flicks aimlessly about the grass as he forces an eyelid open despite how heavy the lid feels. The body isn't moving, and Macaque would rather know who he's about to scold before words tumble from his mouth.

Golden irises interlock themselves together. Of course. Macaque should've known Wukong would bother him eventually.

The great nuisance of a sage's nose gives a strange twitch.

"Wha'?" Macaque asks, the words drawn out lazily. "Don't tell me you caught a cold?"

It almost looks painful the way Wukong finally tears his gaze away from Macaque, choosing instead to tilt his head toward the distant treetops. A good choice, if Macaque has anything to say about it. He’d already been interrupted from his nap once. He doesn’t need it to happen a second time. 

“You’re stinking up my field.” 

Oh isn’t that just ironic. 

Macaque can't help the way his lips twitch into a soft smile, the skin beneath his eyes creasing in his state of amusement. "Don't like the smell of shampoo? Figures." 

"A shampoo that smells like you just got into a fight with skunks?" 

A fight with skunks-? 

Macaque carefully shimmies himself into a sitting position, letting the world spin around him before he settles back onto Wukong's piercing gaze. His confusion must've been a little too obvious because Wukong's expression morphs into one of smugness.

"I knew it," the great sage sneers. "You couldn't at least have taken a bath before coming here?”

“Y’know, if anyone bathes between the two of us, we both know it isn’t you,” Macaque answers with his own twisted grin. Before the sage can provoke him any further, he lets himself fall back into the grass in a pile of uncoordinated limbs and dazed eyes. "'Sides, maybe I'll absorb the flowers' scent if I lay in 'em long enough."

"Or kill the flora within a mile radius."

"I'll take my chances."

Bros gotta lock in or Wukongs gonna beat his ass smh

[pinofdnp]

family that i chose now that i see your brother as my brother <3

[chefkids]

Peace x Sydcarmy

Links 1 2 3 4 5 6

[moustawott]

The movie’s final cut doesn’t necessarily contradict what Orion believes in the animatic imo, though maybe the writers overestimated the audience’s ability to read between the lines and their knowledge of politics and the judiciary system 😅 or maybe it was pacing/time constraints, or maybe it was corporate interference, we’ll never know

My analysis/thoughts under the cut:

Orion says a new society can’t begin with an execution and he’s right in a way: it only leads to fear and instability in the aftermath. + As many have noted, there’s this aspect of a cycle of violence: Sentinel kills the Primes and takes Megatronus’ T-Cog, D-16 does the same. If D had become leader instead of Sentinel, there’s noooooo way it would’ve gone well (and I’m not sure if Megatron would’ve ever been convinced to let anyone except him be the leader of their new society, he becomes a believer in the "might is right" philosophy after all)

Orion was also correct in believing that the peaceful solution should be prioritized: they wouldn’t have had anything to lose trying! And if using the recording didn’t work, then D-16 would’ve been justified

You also can’t have a single person be judge, jury, and executioner — that’s what D was trying to be — cuz that’s just autocracy, and Orion wanted to stop that (on top of trying to stop his best friend from completely losing himself). Sentinel was surrendering! He was all beaten up by D-16! He couldn’t actually harm anyone meaningfully at that point! The great majority of Iacon was against him now, and remember when Sentinel was trying to escape D-16? He was crawling away, he couldn’t fly or use any of his weapons!

I think there were a few writing decisions that went into cutting Orion’s lines:

Tighter pacing: the fact Orion and D don’t really have a quiet moment to unpack everything justifies D-16’s fall better. If D was given a chance to calm down, he couldn’t have been angry enough to drop Orion

Story intent: in the end, this isn’t political drama, it’s interpersonal drama. The politics of TFOne had to be put aside to focus on the drama between characters and their imperfections. I’m just glad TFOne gave us something that actually makes sense within TF lore as a whole! D-16 is sympathetic, but he’s also very wrong! He acts like a fascist; he takes advantage of societal injustice and people’s anger and directs this anger towards selfish goals! That’s how fascism rise every time! Orion Pax is naive, but he is right! He just needs to be better at choosing the right words and inspiring people! (My biggest pet peeve in the IDW continuity is Megatron having based politics, but ending up being a megalomaniac genocider. Hate that trope of justified "villains" and "good guys" maintaining the unjust system, TFOne makes it actually work by giving D-16 understandable reasons, but hella cringe politics lol)

Orion’s flaws: Orion still has room to grow. He couldn’t find the perfect words to explain everything to D-16, nor to calm him down, and that’s a mistake he’ll try to never repeat again. The cut lines are what Optimus would say, not Orion, not yet (I will still lament the loss of the most explicitly based Orion/Optimus we ever had, jakdlkajaj, gimme an MLK/Nelson Mandela-like Optimus that isn’t whitewashed to hell)

Again, we as an audience have hindsight and know the tragedy that’s coming, the characters can’t. Orion never could’ve expected D-16 becoming Megatron, how could he?? That’s his rules-following, hardworking best friend! And Orion wasn’t necessarily wrong to worry about exposing Sentinel first, they were being chased by the drones! And D-16 is a mature responsible bot, no? Orion can trust him to take care of himself

So we end up with this ambiguity in the final scene, and I’m not sure if I can call it good or bad, but it does make for some good conversation opener, especially about American attitudes towards vengeance + punishment = good justice system (cuz like, really, does the death sentence really have more benefits than restorative justice? Is the death sentence actually about long-term, concrete, societal good or actually about satisfying our personal resentment?)

I am so fucking VINDICATED

(From the movie’s draft script, link to the full animatic at the end of the post)

I’m so upset this movie couldn’t have been just a little more obvious about Orion’s beliefs, cuz the final version does look (at first glance) like Orion is playing out the trope “nooo, we can’t kill the fascist bad guy bc killing bad”

The only reason why I picked up on the writer’s og intentions was thanks to the way D-16 was built up: it’s very, very clear that he wants to kill Sentinel only for self-satisfaction and not true justice

I think the reasons so many have misunderstood that scene were:

A. The writer not being obvious enough with Orion who’s fine with Sentinel dying, he just doesn’t want D-16 to commit murder for self-satisfaction (the movie novelization and this animatic don’t have the same problem)

B. Americans love punishment in their justice system (and online “progressive” fandoms too, I can talk about this for hours lol). A major reason why death penalty still exists in the US is because of this kind of attitude where people will seek self-satisfaction and virtue signalling above true, restorative justice. This is why people support D-16’s way of thinking so much. But Orion is right: a functional—ideal—society can’t be executing people, everyone must have a chance for redemption, because if we draw a line between those who deserve and those who don’t, the line will always move in a way to fuck over some random unlucky people eventually

C. People are projecting too much IDW Megatron unto TFOne Megatron. Like, sure, IDW Megatron is based and Coptimus is cursed, but this ain’t the case in TFOne 😭 like at all 😭 D-16 is obviously meant to reflect right-wing thinking (he joins the High “might is right” Guard for fucks sake)

Blah blah something something poor literacy and people lacking the ability to infer/interpret stuff and needing everything spelled out, especially with movies where there’s not just textual info but also visual storytelling + pre-existing tropes that taint our perception of this story

[twoaugustsago]

wow i can't believe someone leaked this real, unedited footage of me and @pacinglikeghosts deciding to cowrite a sydcarmy single dad au

[hemakeshimstrong]

"would it be enough if i could never give you peace?"

the AU inspired by the couple everybody loves to hate: taylor swift & travis kelce. harry's a successful popstar, louis is a popular football player. they connect during the world cup and everything kind of snowballs from there.

[elliehallers]

@xotherwcrldsx Even though this song is about a mother-daughter relationship, I'm thinking about it being Tara's POV when she tells Amy about Josh. 😭 Telling her what a sweet guy Josh is, so she doesn't have to worry about her. 🥹

[narumi-gens]

as he loiters stands outside of the bar where you work, osamu knows this is the last place he should be. especially today.

but when atsumu told him that the two of you would be signing and submitting your divorce paperwork at the local government office, he mentioned needing to have a morning appointment because you would be working that afternoon.

osamu's surprise at your ability to compartmentalize getting divorced and working a bar shift in the same day must have been written on his face because atsumu had grinned and assured him, "see? it didn't mean anything to her either!"

as atsumu joked about how great of a wife you were for not giving him any hassle over a divorce, osamu wished he could have punched atsumu like he used to when they were kids and would have knock-out brawls over things as small as who got the next turn on the playstation or who got the last piece of meat at dinner.

because osamu knows that your brief relationship with atsumu didn't mean nothing to you -- he knows it meant everything.

so, like the fool he is, he waits in the cold for your shift to finish. he's been waiting on the empty street for almost an hour when you finally emerge into the chilly winter night with your coat buttoned tight and your hands buried deep in your pockets.

you freeze as soon as you see him, your sad eyes wide and your lips parted slightly in shock. it's cold enough that the can see your breath on the air, the little puffs coming quickly as your breathing picks up. he imagines your fight or flight response is running haywire and there's a pang in his chest that you see him as a threat.

the silence and stillness continue to stretch between you until osamu can no longer take it. with slow and cautious movements, he carefully unwinds the scarf from around his neck and holds the bundle out to you in what he hopes you'll see as a peace offering.

it takes another long moment before you take a few steps closer and reach out a hesitant hand to take it and wrap it around your own neck until it covers the lower half of your face.

for as much as he wants to break the silence, he doesn't know what to say. you seem to take pity on him and roll your sad eyes.

"walk me to the bus stop. I don't want some creep trying to follow me home," you say, your voice muffled by his scarf and he can only follow after you as you begin to walk off.

he trails a foot or two behind you as you make your way down the street. it feels wrong to walk at your side, like he doesn't deserve such a spot. every so often, he can hear you sniffle and he respectfully pretends that it's due to the cold.

when you finally get to the bus stop, you check the time on your phone before giving a small huff over what osamu can only assume is having missed your regular bus and needing to wait in the cold (with him) for the next one. you sit down on the bench and he continues to stand awkwardly at your side before you nod to the spot next to you without looking up at him.

he sits down closer to you than he intends but you seem to appreciate his presence warmth because you scoot close enough that your arms are touching. osamu suddenly feels something cold touch his head and when he looks up, he sees the small snow flurries that have gently begun to fall. you must feel them as well, because you press even closer into his side and he has to fight the urge to lift his arm and hold you tight.

"why didn't you put up a fight?" the question leaves him before he even realizes it and he's never felt more like atsumu's twin when his mouth continues to run. "you should have taken him for every last yen."

you seem to shrink under the weight of his words and he would give anything to be able to physically snatch them back out of the air and shove them back in his mouth. he doesn't think you'll respond. he doesn't expect you to respond.

but then you softly sniffle and he can feel your frame begin to tremble beside him. he can no longer pretend it's due to the chill in the air.

"I didn't want to make things hard for him," you murmur and your voice cracks on the last word.

osamu wants to scream. he wants to shake you. he wants to break something. he wants to shout that atsumu doesn't deserve your kindness or consideration. he doesn't deserve your love. not with the way he'd been so careless with your heart.

but all of his anger disappears when you suddenly break down into tears. his self-control crumbles and he wraps his arms around you. as you bury your face in his chest and tightly grip the front of his coat in your fist, he feels helpless, able to do nothing but hold you tight and rest his chin on top of your head.

the snow gently continues to fall as your sobs fill the sounds of the otherwise silent street and the pang in osamu's chest returns, only this time much deeper.

pining!osamu who stood silently by and watched your whirlwind romance with atsumu that saw the two of you married three months into your relationship and then divorced within a month when atsumu panicked

[disillusionedjudge]

@notyourdumblonde sent: ‘It’s okay. You’re okay.’

"I'm here," Gylfie soothed as she sat beside Luciana - one hand rubbing the singer's back as the other held one of her hands. Her brow was furrowed with worry, her head tilted slightly as she studied her, and she resisted the urge to draw her close. Wanting to give her space if she needed it. She knew well the struggle of nightmares, and... knew some comfort could only cause more harm depending on the severity of them. "It's okay. You're alright, Luci. You are safe with me."

She gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and offered a small smile. Her expression ever so soft despite her concern, and the weariness that lined her eyes. "'Twas only a nightmare. Focus on me and breathe with me, alright? It's okay."

[sheila--e]

it was a small passing comment in the story but when its mentioned Sheila saw her dog get beaten to death when she was a kid and it made her feel like humankind was just like that (+ her sister's murder afterwards cementing that worldview)... augh.

[heartsfirstmoved]

𝚘𝚘𝚌  ¸  closed starter.

ever since that night , there's been a shift in their relationship. they've gotten closer, spending more time together than is strictly necessary but no one has batted an eyelid. alonso is supposed to spend time with her, he's the head of her security team. the blonde moves a loose strand of hair over her shoulder as she wraps her hands around her glass of wine, glancing over at alonso. " last week of tour, you excited to be heading home ? " madeline asks softly , taking a sip from her glass. she wishes that she was more excited for this to be over , but the come down from tour was always hard and it was even harder when she had to do it alone. / @ofginjxints !