#i’m not saying don’t describe it at all
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gizdathemxel · 3 days ago
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CLARIFICATION NEEDED!!!!!
okay when i said “do not put afab/amab/tma/tma in your bio, that is cisgender society’s attempt at knowing your “real” gender” i did NOT meant to undermine the language/discussion that tme/tma was meant to provide!!! i think conversations about transmisogyny are extremely important BUT i also think that they are very very nuanced!!!!!!!!!
my issue with tma/tme is that it’s often used as a quick shortcut to see if a person is a transfem or transmasc and quickly sort the two and also that most online discourse does not rlly account for how transphobia, transmisogyny, and even transandrophobia, exomisia, intersexism, etc interact with each other !!!
@/oncelerfucker described how tme/tma is far more nuanced than a lot of people realized far better than i ever could so i rlly recommend reading their reblog.
tbh bigots do not care at ALL to be precise in their bigotry towards others; they see “person is similar to group i don’t like = i do not like person” and go off. as a member of the african diaspora (1st gen AA), i could make a MILLION posts about how black caribbeans/afrolatinos, black Europeans, etc are NOTHING like me and that i’m better than them (not true btw) and an antiblack racist will not GAF about those distinctions. they see black and their brains short circuit. There ARE distinctions, and they DO matter but they are not as clear cut as we might think! Now obviously there are finer nuances between race that is very separate from gender and sexuality but the general principle applies.
my issue is not inherently the terms tme/tma but rather how quickly they are flattened labels of ONLY identification, rather than bases of discussion. The transmisogyny a trans lesbian experiences may not be the same transmisogyny a straight trans woman experiences, but it makes neither of their transmisogynistic experiences lesser nor will a transmisogynist really bother to make that distinction. That distinction matters, but it shouldn’t be used to say “this person is more privileged than that person”.
i have seen the weird lateral violence that transfems and transmascs pit against each other as some groups say transmascs experience afab privilege (because their femininity is more easily accepted; which is not at all true) and other groups say that transfems experience male privilege/socialization (bc they grew up as male, so they would be privy to that privilege; also not at all true).
Both of these groups are noticing something accurate, but they are making incorrect assumptions about how this social dynamic works and blaming the wrong people. they incorrectly assume that the trans person on the opposite side of them is their enemy, when it’s so obviously not.
tldr (sorry i’m a ranter at heart); tme/tma are not inherently bad terminology, and discussions of transmisogyny (as well as all other forms transphobia and bigotry) function in society and how they affect certain groups of people are EXTREMELY IMPORTANT!!!!! i want to make it super obvious when i say that i am NOT trying to diminish anyone’s oppression or their voices, and im super sorry for the confusion!!! my true issues with tma/tme is how it’s utilized on the internet, rather than actually holding nuanced conversations, i see it flattened into another gender binary, where the supposed space for nuance is instead eaten up by lateral violence* of who is really the evil group of trans people holding us good trans people back from trans liberation. please please please keep having these discussions and please please please keep allowing the space for nuance in an increasingly polarized world.
(i still generally stand by not putting ur agab in ur bio bc i PROMISE u the wrong people are going to use that against u)
*when i say lateral violence, i do not mean actual physical violence but rather the term that refers to groups within similar social status attacking/othering each other. i’m saying that trans people are generally within the same social strata but sometimes we might weaponize the bigotry a certain group of trans people experiences in order to “elevate��� ourselves (sidenote: this does not and never will work)
*gripping my hands so hard on a young trans persons shoulders that their bones are about to break*
do not log on to 4chan.com. do not get involved in passing olympics. you will always lose. do not put afab/amab/tma/tme in your bio, that is cisgender society trying to know your “real” gender. you do not exist to please cisgender people. there is no ‘right’ way to be trans. learn your goddamn history, listen to your elders. listen to other disenfranchised groups. listen to intersex people and check yourself for intersexism. listen to trans poc and check yourself for racism. listen to disabled people and check yourself for ableism. be open to learning always. labels are meant to fit you, not the other way around. you are not weird or predatory for simply being attracted to others. you’re fine if you’re not a skinny white twink or a barbie doll. you’re fine if your body is ‘weird’. you’re fine if you don’t have heavy or any dysphoria. it’s okay if you actually don’t want to transition or anything like that. life is worth living at any stage, you deserve to be happy. I SWEAR THAT YOU ARE OKAY!!!!!
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threeacttragedy · 3 days ago
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Entry 17: The One About All the Hot Air
Oh, hey, hey, hey – what is that over there?
No, not that –
That!
Ah, fuck.
Is that what I think it is?
Yeah, yeah, it looks like some sort of hot air balloon.
Ugh, it’s that fucking wannabe Wizard! Get that manipulative shit-fuck outta here!
Seriously, don’t let it set foot on land. It’s not welcome on this side of Oz.
Someone release the flying monkeys! Like, now. Knock it out of the sky.
Wait, I thought the Wizard liked green. This weirdo has a red balloon.
Bitch, I didn’t say it was the Wizard; I said it was a wannabe Wizard.
Oh, no wonder it’s steering that balloon like a fucking clown.
Hell, I don’t even think we need the monkeys. That idiot is going to crash and burn itself straight into the glass walls of the Emerald Palace.
Well, you know what they say when you start throwing stones in a glass house…
It is slightly amusing (and a tad concerning) to me that children are always led to believe that the villain of “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” is that bitch of a Witch of the West when the worst character traits are actually portrayed by the Wizard himself. And, by “worst character traits,” I mean that he was a master manipulator who conned an entire city into believing he held some form of great power.
Did you know that in the original story the Emerald City wasn’t really that green? Sure, it was made from green glass and emeralds, but the Wizard required everyone to wear green-colored glasses so that everything appeared greener than it actually was. Weird, that. And, even more weird, people bought it! “Here, put these glasses on and you’ll see everything exactly the way I want you to see it.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m fully aware “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” is a work of fiction, but the idea that people can be easily manipulated – especially by someone with “power” – is not fiction.
That’s what today’s piece of “hot air” is about – fandom manipulation and the power of suggestion. And who better than to manipulate an entire fandom than the media? It’s unfortunate that I have to give the media power in this story – and even more unfortunate that I have to give it to rag-mags and social media – but the reality is information is power, regardless of whether it’s misinformation. In fact, MIT Sloan did a study in 2018 demonstrating how false information spreads through social media, namely, Twitter, six times faster than true information. Disturbing, right? I don’t even want to know what the going rate for misinformation is in 2025.
And, of course, since I opened today’s story with a visit to the Land of Oz, we may as well take a day trip over to Australia. Remember how I told you Australia deserved an entry of its own? Well, this is it. No, not really. I did say this was a day trip, not a sleep-over, so it’s not going to be chucked full of shiny bracelets or ways to “keep a good girl down.” It’s just our starting point today.
In my first entry, I briefly described what brought me into this fandom. It was something Luke said – and not really what he said, but how he said it – that left me intrigued. He was being interviewed on the Bowral red carpet by “Gretchen from the Philippines.” Yes, that’s literally how she introduced herself! Could I instead refer to the nice lady by her real name (Gretchen Fullido)? Sure, but “Gretchen from the Philippines” is far more fun. Plus, it sounds kind of whimsical. Any ways, Gretchen (from the Philippines) asked Luke if, “in real life,” he’d support friends-to-lovers. Luke’s response was, well, a bit jumbled, which was what sparked my curiosity because his previous answers that day were, for the most part, articulate: “I would – I would support friends – I feel like it’s not something that – that I have in my li – that I resonate with – that I’ve experienced. But, you know, if my – if my friends wanted to explore a relationship with one their friends, go for it. I’ll support it.”
Something in the way Luke answered that question was like suddenly being able to see the forest for the trees. At that moment, I was convinced Luke had always been in love with Nicola, and everything else that went on during that particular red-carpet event (and thereafter) simply christened the USS Lukola. However, that comment by Luke – and a subsequent one he made in New York – would result in the addition of a lot of trees to our enchanted forest.
Now – I apologize – we need to borrow a hot air balloon, preferably one that can travel through time, and jump forward to November 5, London-time. I promise, we will return to Oz momentarily.
Oh, fuck.
What now?
That ridiculous faux Wizard is right behind us. I thought I told you to send in the monkeys!
Dammit, you said we didn’t need them! I left those fuckers back in Oz.
Well, umm, I think we might need them now.
Why??
Uhh, do you see those four-legged beasts on the ground chasing our balloon?
Oh, you mean those coyote-like creatures?
Yeah, but we’re not in the Americas – and those ain’t coyotes…
Ah, here we are: November 5, Claridge’s, London. This was the evening Nicola attended the Harper’s Bazaar Women of the Year awards. We’re only stopping in real quick to steal a piece of the speech Nicola gave that evening. Okay, got it! Let’s get the fuck out of here!
The part of the speech I wanted to share was this: “I did a six-month press tour for Bridgerton, the show which I love, and I’m so proud of. The amount of inappropriate questions I got asked about my appearance, about my relationship…”
Hold up. Relationship? What relationship?
Did she say “relationship” or “relationships?”
Does it fucking matter?
Well, I guess not. But what does it mean?
I could tell you what I think it means… Wait a hot-air-balloon-minute – where the fuck have you taken us? I told you we needed to go back to April 21, Aussie-time. This looks like Soho in January.
Shit, sorry. Let me fix that. Here we go…
>>> 
Umm, hey, where’s that weird little red Wizard? I swear it was just behind us…
Eh, probably got stuck in Soho, hahaha. Guess it missed its exit.
Do you think that’s a good idea?
Yeah, sure. It’ll be fine…
We’ve returned to April 21, Bowral, Australia. Now, at this point in the timeline, World Tour interviews were already well underway. In fact, the first two parts of EmEdits on YouTube are entirely pre-Australia interviews, making up roughly 6 ½ hours of screen time. I’m not the least bit surprised that “Gretchen from the Philippines” asked Luke what his thoughts were on “real life” friends-to-lovers. The chemistry between Luke and Nicola was hard to ignore.
The Australian red carpet also introduced the hand holding, which – if we took another magical mystery tour over to May 9, Italy – Nicola and Luke agreed was a sign of “love.” I suppose I could buy the excuse that one or both had so much anxiety they needed the other’s hand to remain calm on the red carpet. But, nah, I wouldn’t buy that at all – for one very specific reason. When Luke and Nicola were seen leaving (I believe) the Milton Park Country House on April 23, Luke instinctively reached for Nicola’s hand as they were descending the steps. Why? This reflex by Cool Hand Luke was as natural as a pregnant woman touching her stomach. I ask again – why?
There’s only one answer.
It’s the answer that fits with the Claddagh ring. It’s the answer that fits with the side jaunt to Galway. It’s the answer that fits with their natural chemistry, the hand holding, the canned “shared experience” and “unique relationship” responses, the playful sexual innuendos. It’s the answer that fits with Luke’s “the best foundation for love is friendship” bracelet. It’s the answer that fits with Nicola’s remark about “[t]he amount of inappropriate questions I got asked…about my relationship…” It’s the only fucking answer that makes sense.
But, the real kicker is, why don’t people believe that is the answer?
Why is it so hard to believe that Luke and Nicola could be in a real-life relationship?
That’s easy – because the Man Behind the Curtain told us so.
Who is the Man Behind the Curtain? Well, that’s also easy. It’s collectively the rag-mags and the social media creators on the prowl for a following. It’s the spread of misinformation at its worst and it’s so incredibly easy to do with, say, a pair of green-colored glasses.
Like I said, “…put these glasses on and you’ll see everything exactly the way I want you to see it.”
There was one major plot twist that came out of the World Tour, and you already know what that is. The seed was planted with a New Year’s Eve kiss, fertilized with blurry pictures, a compulsory hallway hug, and copycat photos, and encouraged to grow with a bit of junk news and a lot of social media innuendo. Now, I’m not saying the video and photographic evidence that was presented was fabricated; I’m simply suggesting the narrative that came out that evidence was skewed. The media, namely, social media creators, pushed us to plant Lutonia trees while Luke’s actions (i.e., not acknowledging the existence of Lutonia) told us to “pay no attention to the Man Behind the Curtain.”
Uh, so, what you’re saying is we shouldn’t have left that wannabe Wizard in Soho?
Ah, shit! I forgot about that fucker!
The unfortunate thing about the Lutonia narrative was that it was bolstered by insinuation that Luke would never be interested in Nicola. Now, whether these remarks were deliberately planted, or they were simply seedpods carried away by a storm, they were not overlooked by Lukolas – or Nicola. In fact, Nicola herself brushed upon it in her Harper’s Bazaar speech: “The amount of inappropriate questions I got asked about my appearance…” Yes, I’m referring to the suggestion that Luke preferred “brunettes” over “blondes.” Somehow this narrative was conveniently supported by the existence of – lo and behold! – the brunette “friend of a friend” Antonia, who happened to be slender. Again, whether it was intentional or not, the push by, initially, social media creators (and later gossip rags) to link Luke to Antonia inadvertently called the blonde in our story – Nicola – fat. I refuse to dance around that word because it is exactly what this disgusting narrative implied when it chose to compare Antonia to Nicola. Regardless of whether these gossipmongers “corrected” themselves by replacing “thin” with “brunette” and “fat” with “blonde,” the implication was that Luke would never be interested in Nicola because she had thick blonde hair. This was incredibly upsetting and confusing to many Lukolas because it was contrary to Luke’s behavior towards Nicola throughout the World Tour (and in Bridgerton behind-the-scenes clips).
I decided months ago that Luke was incredibly transparent. And, by that, I mean he’s terrible at keeping secrets. Luke himself admitted his “tell” to this was pulling at his ear – now go watch the World Tour with that information in mind. It’ll give you something to do, at the very least. Luke’s sincerity is also why the blonde versus brunette nonsense just doesn’t take flight for me. Any ways, as I hinted at earlier, Luke’s comments on the Bowral red carpet and his later comments in New York City about friends-to-lovers would – again, unfortunately – give the Man Behind the Curtain ammunition to debunk any real-life relationship between Luke and Nicola. Luke was quickly labeled as being “…dismissive of something ever happening between him and Nicola…” Those are literally the words The Tab used in an article dated May 22 to explain Luke and Nicola’s differing commentary about real-life friends-to-lovers. In fact, the article is titled, “Luke Newton has revealed the reason he’d never date Bridgerton co-star Nicola Coughlan.” Oddly – but not really given the source – Luke never actually said he would never date Nicola. But that fact didn’t stop it from becoming a theme of the World Tour – Luke didn’t believe in friends-to-lovers therefore he would never date Nicola – even though, by the end of the tour, Luke’s stance on this had seemingly changed. That’s not to say the rag-mags misquoted Luke – they didn’t – but the narrative they coiled around his words attempted to shut down the idea that Luke and Nicola would ever date in real life because Luke wasn’t interested. But what Luke was saying was that he believed in love-at-first sight. “I actually don’t think friends-to-lovers is something that happens in my life. If I meet someone, I know immediately.” Now, take that statement with the fact that Luke has repeatedly stated he remembers everything about the moment he met Nicola.
The above examples of gossip and innuendo are simply par for the course. The media manipulates facts all the time – whether it be through social media chatter or rag-mags putting their own spin on ordinary commentary – but this type of manipulation is not what puts the fandom in danger of itself. In fact, most of the gossip and innuendo that took root during the World Tour would have dissipated almost immediately after it ended – if it hadn’t been for Papsmear.
Yeah. That was disastrous.
Come to think of it, it was awfully convenient, too, don’t you think?
Absolutely. And you know what else was convenient? That little wannabe Wizard was –
Oh, yeah, I heard that, too! That clown has been trying to hand out green-colored glasses ever since!
Yep. Tried to give me a pair and I told it to go fuck itself and its little glass cat, too. I mean, they weren’t even name brand glasses. Fake ass, bitch.
All jesting aside, if you haven’t noticed already, I do, on occasion, use my writing to call out the fandom, usually as a whole. I mean, we are in this together, right? Actually, no; we ceased being Collectively Delulu after a few unsavory characters were bitten by the Hunter’s Moon and followed Nicola through the streets of New York and London. There was a major – and rather unexpected – shift in the fandom when the rabid Jakolas appeared from the dark corners of our enchanted forest. And I’m sure you’ve realized at this point in my story that I have one particular – oh, shit, I just realized I don’t even know to which fandom our wannabe Wizard belongs. Ruh-roh. Regardless, that motherfucker is in my peep sight because it is a perfect example of how fandom manipulation has reached a new level of toxicity.
Typically, I don’t care what part of the fandom you’re on. My general attitude is, to each their own. If you’re a Jakola and you find yourself spending an average of 15 minutes each week reading my Lukola blog, I applaud you for peeking outside of the den hole. Best not let Alpha find out, though. It’s all in good fun, right? I often find myself getting a good laugh from Jakola stories, especially when they theorize on the Woman Behind the Curtain. Question, though – did you find her? In all seriousness, if I didn’t consider Jakola and Lutonia perspectives, I would be borderline Conscientiously Stupid, now, wouldn’t I? After all, the desire for knowledge is what ultimately gave our Scarecrow his brain.
However, what I don’t find “in good fun” is when social media creators prey on more than one side of the fandom under phony pretense, namely, that they “just want Nicola to be happy.” Oh, these Cowardly Lions may argue that they’re simply being “neutral” – and, yes, I’m sure some instances of this do exist – however, neutrality does not embrace openly ridiculing one fandom over another, especially on a platform that is touted by its owners as being a “safe space” for everyone. The problem with these so-called “neutral creators” is that they’re only here for social media engagement – the clicks and the giggles – and they defect to the other side when the going gets tough. If you, too, take issue with this kind of creator, be soothed in knowing that when you play two sides, you find yourself with two-times the number of enemies.
What makes these so-called “neutral creators” – actually, let’s just call them the “Defectors” – so poisonous to the fandom is that they are made from the grease drippings found at the bottom of the barrel of the Conscientiously Stupid. The Conscientiously Stupid are one thing – they are the ones using their platforms to spread misinformation because they choose to ignore exculpatory evidence (i.e., they’re headstrong in their beliefs) – but the Defectors are typically the ones creating the misinformation and feeding it to the Conscientiously Stupid and then hanging them out to dry when the information proves to be false. The Conscientiously Stupid who refuse to “lose the battle” then resort to bullying (more so than usual) the Sincerely Ignorant of an opposing fandom. And in defense of their Sincerely Ignorant comrades (or simply because they’re sick and tired of the Conscientiously Stupid preventing anyone from having nice things), the Fact Finders – unceremoniously, I might add – have taken their own place on the battlefield (oh, yes, they are absolutely your tactical commanders). Now, the entire fandom is at war with each other – all because some wannabe Wizard – a Defector – convinced people to look through a pair of shiny, green-colored glasses. More than once.
Is it appropriate – or perhaps a bit catty – to put “ceasefire” here?
Ah, yes, well, uh, we have found ourselves a bit far from Oz at this point, haven’t we?
I suppose – but we are trying to help Dorothy find her way back home, and at least we now have an idea as to how she got lost.
Maybe one day we will get her back to Kansas.
Yeah, maybe.
Oh, silly me! I forgot to sneak in a sly reference to Dorothy’s third companion – the Tin Man! He’s perfect for the end of our story. You know, in the book, the Wizard was just an ordinary man who stumbled into his Ozian existence on a magnificent hot air balloon and took advantage of the power that Emerald citizens bestowed upon him. Yeah, yeah, yeah, the Wizard preyed on the naïve using deception and the power of suggestion and invoked fear in anyone who dared to question his authority –
Uh, where are you going with this?
Give me a minute!
Like I said – shit, where was I? – Oh, yes, the Wizard was just an ordinary man, and ordinary people are flawed. We all make mistakes. This is where our Tin Man comes in as he represents love and empathy. Yes, empathy; the ability to put yourself in someone else’s shoes, to understand and forgive, to take into consideration someone’s redeeming qualities –
You know that Wizard defected in his hot air balloon before taking Dorothy home, right?
Wait, what?
Okay, okay. It was Toto’s fault but the Wizard sure as shit didn’t come back for her!
Hmm, you’d almost think Toto knew the Wizard’s true colors all along…
“Au revoir, Wiz.”
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anonity · 3 days ago
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BETTER -- drabble
been gone for a min for a last min road trip w/ friends for new years :) happy 2025! had this in my drafts after watching the paige ep on flau’jaes podcast
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WC: ~1200 summary: paige catches you and your saved basketball edits
the amount of paige edits that popped up on your for-you-page was diabolical. especially considering she was your roommate.
you were waiting for her to return from practice, feet kicked up on the coffee table of your apartment, when the first of the day came up.
originally, you’d justified your ever-growing collection of edits as hype-videos: something you could scroll through before paige’s games to get you in the right mood. for a while, that checked out – you only saved her highlights, quick moving graphics with smooth transitions.
but then it had quickly devolved into what can only be described as an obsessive fan folder, filled with edits so thirsty you think you would actually combust if anyone saw them, let alone paige.
it was bound to happen.
you continued watching edits when the door opened, kept scrolling when it closed, and carried on even as paige leaned curiously on the kitchen counter. its not like she would know who you were watching – hell, you had juju watkins videos coming up on your page every couple days, too. 
this arrangement had worked perfectly for you for months. you got to indulge in your quietest delusions, and your best-friend-turned-roommate could continue on none the wiser. 
until her voice rang out clearly from your phone. you would’ve played it off, really, said it was an interview clip or something, had her voice not immediately been followed by the “or nah” audio. 
mortified did not even begin to describe the feeling clawing into your throat.
you scrolled impossibly fast and began praying. maybe she hadn’t been paying attention. maybe she wasn’t even in the kitchen anymore. maybe you’d imagined the entire thing and paige wasn’t even real and this was all some kind of awful dream you’d wake up from in 3, 2, 1…
“whatcha watchin’?”
you think your soul has left your body. 
paige is sauntering over and looking very smug. you’re wondering how fast you can make it from the couch to the balcony. 
“an interview,” you try anyway, despite the fact that not a single interview in the history of basketball has ever included fucking ty dolla sign.
paige smirks, leaning over the back of the couch. her breath tickles the top of your head and you shiver despite yourself, eyes trained on the tiktok now repeating on your phone – one of those orange muppet videos (pepe? is he supposed to be a shrimp?) stuck on the first slide. really, if it weren’t for the horrors of your current situation, you would find the irony funny. if you survived this event, maybe you would make one. you can see it now. “i’m watching edits of my roommate – my roommate walks in – i have to defend myself to my roommate –” i have to defend myself to my roommate.
“which interview?”
“umm,” you say, eloquently. you can’t think past your orange muppet spiral. “overwatch?”
paige laughs, a noise that distracts you long enough for her to yank your phone away. “overtime?”
shit.
you can barely get out a disdained “paige!” before you hear the audio repeating again. would a fall from the third floor kill you? is it still considered a fall if you jump?
you stop lunging for your phone – maybe you can just play it cool. who cares if theres a paige edit on your FYP? it's only weird if you make it weird. “you act like those don’t pop up on your for you page too.” 
paige shushes you, biting her cheeks in mock-seriousness. she shushes you! the nerve! if you weren’t so mortified you would argue with her! 
but you are mortified, and so you stay quiet.  the silence stretches on and on until your phone also goes silent. the apartment's heating unit is suddenly very loud, and for once you aren’t irritated at the noise – instead, you just think of how much you will actually miss your loud heating unit once paige processes the situation and kicks you out of your apartment in the dead of winter. 
you think it can’t get any worse, until another audio starts playing and a self-satisfied grin stretches across paiges face. “you have like 70 videos in here.”
somebody kill me.
the original silence is filled with mr. lover lover, and there is absolutely no way you can “it’s for the hype” your way out of this. she continues scrolling. you stare helplessly at the floor. after what you can only guess is six or seven incriminating edits, she pauses, her jaw clenching inexplicably. here it comes. 'get out of my apartment' – 'i can’t look at you the same anymore'. you’re so cooked. fried, even.
“whatchu got caitlin saved in here for?”
what?
you must’ve voiced that thought out loud, because she responds. “you got a thing for iowa players too?”
your brows furrow. this was not the direction you thought this would be going in. instead, theres an edge cutting through paige’s words that you can’t quite place. is she still pissed? you let out a nervous laugh. “relax, paige, it’s not like i’m making wedding plans with her.”
paige stiffens. “it’s enough for a save-the-date.”
“paige, it’s like a 30 to 1 ratio.”
“yeah, our points ratio is 30:1 too.”
what the hell? first of all, you watch enough basketball to know that's not true. second of all, again, what the hell? 
“i mean, it’s fine, i get it.” paige shrugs, suddenly uninterested in your phone. she tosses it on the couch and you (slowly) slip it into your pocket before she can change her mind. “i just think it’s funny you watch her when you literally live with someone better.”
“better at what?” paige splutters. “basketball.” 
suddenly, it clicks. you sit, quiet, stunned for a second. “paige, if i didn’t know any better i’d say you sound jealous.”
“it’s not jealousy! it’s.. like, respect.” paige gestures wildly, and you’d almost believe her if there wasn’t a flush creeping up her neck.  you raise a brow. “respect?” “we share a netflix account! and you’re saving edits of my competition!” “you’re totally jealous.” 
paige looks cornered, backing towards the kitchen. her gaze falls to the floor. “i just think, like, i dunno – i just think i care about you and i’m right here and you’re saving edits of caitlin freakin’ clark.”
you can’t help the laugh that escapes, the absurdity of this situation catching up to you. somewhere in the back of your mind, you see the orange muppet again. 
“what’s so funny?”
“you’re just –” you take a deep breath. “i can’t believe your jealous over a caitlin clark edit. you act like we’re together or something.”
“maybe i wanna be.”
paige freezes. you freeze. the heater kicks off. you're moving before you can think about it, standing in front of her. her eyes stay trained to the floor.
“i’m sorry. i just – you drive me crazy.”
“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”
she finally glances up, a smile cracking. “it’s not.”
“then what are you gonna do about it?”
her hand is on your jawline in an instant, and the nervousness bubbling in your chest is finally cut off with her lips on yours. when you pull away, she’s grinning.
“30:1 edit ratio, huh?”
your face heats, and you push your head against her chest. “not funny, paige.”
“i’ll make a new folder for you – poor decisions, filled with caitlin clark edits.”
"alright that's enough."
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lame-cameoliob · 12 hours ago
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Kallus' motivations are so interesting
I just need to get these thoughts out so I’m throwing this ramble here:
Now, this may totally just be me thinking too much (fork found in kitchen) but I feel like when it comes to how we tend to think about Kallus’ characterization, the implications of Kallus’ experience on Onderon are very overlooked. 
So he goes to Onderon with “the boys”-- which, the term “the boys” has its own set of implications about how Kallus must have really cared for those troopers under his command but I digress– and on a patrol they’re attacked, yada yada, we all know the story. 
But Kallus becomes fully paralyzed. He doesn’t describe the extent of his paralyzation but given that he had to watch as his squad was “finished off one by one” it’s pretty fair to assume that he could not move whatsoever. The fear that any person would experience in that situation is completely indescribable, that is genuinely some shit straight out of a night terror. 
He is– as we know– spared (albeit we don’t get exact details (did the merc try to kill him but reinforcements arrived before he could? Did the merc think that Kallus was already dead? Secret 3rd option?)) and he makes a full physical recovery, but there is no way in hell that he is not coming out of that encounter with some crazy PTSD. 
There’s not a whole lot of info on Imperial mental health services but I don’t think it’s a longshot to assume that they are probably close to nonexistent.
So the empire now has… an ISB agent with field experience… with untreated PTSD… where said PTSDs inciting incident pertained to a Lasat… and they’re looking to make an example out of Lasan……….. Are you picking up what I'm putting down here…...?
If you aren’t; it is BY NO MEANS a wild assumption to say that the Empire– essentially– weaponized Kallus’ PTSD, given that he would be less likely to question the moral atrocities happening on Lasan since he was already biased against Lasat as a whole. 
Now, we don’t really have a solid grasp on what Kallus’ exact role in Lasan was since he’s  kiiiiinnnd of an unreliable narrator– I mean we’re given the line in Droids in Distress where he takes credit for giving orders during the siege, but Kallus routinely just runs his mf mouth whenever he’s throwing hands so it’s like…  that could either be the truth or a crazy exaggeration, we as viewers have literally no idea what’s going on there– but it goes without saying that Kallus is obviously not excused from his participation just because of (likely) untreated mental illness, but that is literally like the whole point of his character so like we all knew that
Now, after Lasan, Kallus does something really bizarre for an imperial to do; he accepts the borifle given to him through the Boosan Keerah, and even though he doesn’t know about the cultural significance of that, he still takes it upon himself to learn how to use this weapon. I think that literally any other imperial would have tossed that shit out on sight, so I think it does kind of imply that Kallus did have a good deal of respect for Lasat culture.
Now we can all recall how Kallus is so annoying and also batshit insane whenever he fights Zeb for the first season and a half of rebels, and ME THINKS that this is because he wants to prove to himself that if he were not paralyzed on Onderon, he could have saved the members of his squad. He had to sit by and watch them die, and I think that he just wants the vindication; now you may be thinking, But Emma, he beat the Lasat who gave him his borifle, why would he still be obsessing over this– say it with me now– he is mentally ill. No victory will ever be enough to prove this to himself. Point blank period. 
To double down on that point, Kallus never actually says anything xenophobic about Zeb or the Lasat as a whole. (At least not that I can remember). He says “Lasat– never know when to give up,” but that’s not like… a crazy thing to say– in fact, in a fucked up sorta way, it almost sounds like a compliment???? Like, Kallus completely sees Zeb (and the Lasat in general) as equals, he’s not operating under the usual xenophobic imperial mindset that other species are lesser than. This weird obsession that he has in seasons 1 and 2 is just there because he wants to outwit and outfight Zeb (and the rest of the Ghost crew… but especially Zeb)
And after the Honorable Ones???? It’s literally never brought up again. He chills tf out so hard after that it is high key uncanny. And like, yes duh that is because– for writing purposes– that’s the beginning of his redemption and they want viewers to root for him as fulcrum, but it also implies that after finding common ground with Zeb, and understanding where he’s coming from and who Zeb is as a person, he realizes that he’s been CRASHING TF OUT for basically no reason. 
And he is SO QUICK to switch sides?? Like, he is fulcrum at least a decent time before the beginning of season three. The whole point is that the second he asks questions and delves deeper into what the Empires motivations are he is disgusted enough that he doesn’t just drop everything and disappear, no, he became a spy for the rebels because he wants to help. I feel like that just goes to show that, at his core, Kallus is a good person. A deeply confused, and hurt, and misguided person, but a good one. 
I dunno, this is just a really long winded way of saying that Kallus is the perfect example of an imperial pawn. Like the Empire is an incredibly effecient indoctrination machine that exploits people at every turn, especially their own soldiers, and I think that Kallus’ relationship with that indoctrination along with his own motivations is just super super interesting and I think about it literally all the time
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durge-marzio · 2 days ago
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No, I’m not done with just a reblog. I have to talk about his character design. It’s nearly perfect for what it’s trying to accomplish.
There’s scared tissue around his eyes creating permanent dark circles. He’s covered in grime from his work, showing despite his power, he still gets dirty. He has the wrinkles around his mouth, most likely caused by grimacing in anger so often—most likely a result of his childhood. But he’s also described as having a quick, easy smile. He’s good at putting on a mask and the wrinkles show that. They’re the opposite of Gale’s smile wrinkles in a sense. His eyes are almost always narrowed, his eye brows furrowed. He’s always thinking, calculating, and it shows!
And don’t get me started on his hair. There is so much to say about his hair. Did he cut it after experiencing grief? Is it bed head? Did he just not want to spend the time styling it since he works all day? Is there grease in it from his work? Did he cut it himself because it was in the way while working? He’s hardly shaved, so he either gets no sleep or hasn’t had the time. He wears his work ethic on him. It’s not because he doesn’t care about his looks, it’s to show the people that he is putting in the time to be their Archduke (whether some nobles find that gross or below class or not). This is speculative of course. He might just not care because he’s sleep deprived, and dude me too. Or did the devs just not like the way his concept art looked in 3D so they gave him final fantasy hair?
And then there’s the mystery to him that most people would be allured by! Are there scars under his gold bracers from working with devils or metals? Where did the face scars come from (they are angled to maybe have come from a blade in one swing and not two, so a narrow escape)?
His clothes display his values and interested. Demons and dragons. Words are more powerful than actions in a demons contract—charisma and intelligence. Dragons can symbolize Tiamat or the power of Baldur’s Gate with Balduran and Ansur. Karlach mentions he looks the same just with a fancy coat, so could all just be for display. He’s a working man underneath all that embroidered gold.
The only thing I have a gripe with is the collar of his coat. It creates a shadow on his face almost at all times, and it hides away his cheekbones and jawline. But then again, he probably wants that shadow. Mysterious man. I see through you. You’re silly and gay!
I probably missed other things, but this isn’t the first time I’ve gone off on this tangent. It’s just the first time I’ve typed it all out.
"gortash is ugly"
a part of me dies every time i see gortbashing and obv attractiveness is subjective but i always look back at this one screenshot i took while in dialogue and i sigh and kick my feet
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springtyme · 23 hours ago
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Hey there. I love your Spencer Reid stories and was hoping I could request something.
Just something fluffy about day to day life with Spencer and a Diabetic female reader. I imagine he does lots of research, keeps snacks and juices in his desk at work ,for her lows. How does he react when her low sugar alarms go off at night? When she's so sorry for waking him, when he already gets to bed early in the mornings and only gets a few hours to sleep. Does he first mistake her insulin for "something else", and freaks out thinking she's a user?( I Had a boyfriend think that once).
I know this is a lot of an ask and it's okay if you don't write it. But I can't find any Diabetic reader fics anywhere and it'd be super cool if you could do one.
You can message me if you need info on life with diabetes.
𝐋𝐨𝐰 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ♡
Thank you for the request, hun. I tried to do my best to do as much research as I could, so I hope this is okay. But if I have gotten something wrong, please feel free to let me know <3
Spencer Reid x f!reader || Masterlist || Spencer playlist
summary: Spencer takes care of you when you wake in the middle of the night to the sound of your glucose monitor.
word count: 2.0k
tags: Fluff. Comfort. Diabetic reader. Eating. Brief mentioning of reader being scared of feeling like a burden.
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You toss and turn in bed, the familiar feeling of dizziness creeping in as you start to come to. The soft beeping of your glucose monitor cuts through the quiet of the night, its persistent alarm pulling you from the depths of your dreams. You blink rapidly, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, but your heart sinks as you realize what the sound means.
Low blood sugar.
Sitting up slowly, you take a moment to gather your senses and find your bearings. You glance over to see Spencer’s silhouette beside you. He always looks so peaceful when he sleeps, wavy locks of brown hair softly tousled against the pillow, his lips slightly parted in a way that makes your heart ache with affection, but he begins to stir next to you. Guilt floods your chest for waking him, knowing he sacrifices so much of his sleep already for his work with the BAU, often staying up late thinking about cases or preparing for the next day’s challenges or having to pull all-nighters when cases demand it.
You fumble for the monitor, desperate to silence the alarm before it disturbs the tranquility of the night any further, but it’s too late. Spencer stirs more, his brow furrowing as he blinks awake, his eyes adjusting to the low light with a hint of confusion.
He murmurs your name, his voice thick with sleep, his voice laced with a groggy confusion and concern.
“I’m so sorry,” you rush out, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just—”
“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts gently, propping himself up on one elbow. His concern is palpable as he studies your face, and you can see the worry etched in the lines of his features. “How low is it?”
You glance at the screen of the monitor and wince, your heart sinking further at the number displayed. “I’m at 60. I just need a snack.”
His eyes widen slightly, and without another word, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. You can’t help but admire the way he moves, even in his sleepy state. “Stay here,” he says, his voice firm yet soft, a request that you can’t help but obey, though you do feel a slight sense of guilt for waking him up and now getting him out of bed. “I’ll get you something.”
You watch as he leaves the bedroom and pads down the hallway, the sound of his bare feet against the hardwood floor grounding you in the moment. As he disappears from view, you pull your knees to your chest, feeling an overwhelming mix of embarrassment and gratitude. You know he needs his sleep—he’s been working so hard lately—but the way he cares for you, despite the toll it takes on him, makes your heart swell with a warmth you can’t quite describe.
A moment later, he returns with a glass of juice and a granola bar, a sleepy smile lighting up his face that makes your already fast beating heart flutter. “Here you go, ” he says, holding out the glass of juice for you, his eyes sparkling with affection.
“Spencer, you didn’t have to—”
“Yes, I did. Please stop saying that,” he interrupts again, his voice a soft  plea which instantly makes you feel lighter. “And I want to, so don’t worry about it.”
You take the glass from him, your fingers brushing against his as you do, sending a small thrill through you. “Still… I’m really sorry for waking you up,” you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity. “You work so hard, and you need your rest.”
He shakes his head, his expression turning serious as he leans in closer. “You’re my priority. I’d rather be awake helping you than asleep worrying about you.”
You sip the juice, feeling the sweetness flood your system like a warm embrace, and you can’t help but smile at him, the corners of your mouth lifting despite the earlier panic. “You really are the best.”
“Just doing my job,” he replies, but the warmth in his eyes tells you how much he means it, how deeply he cares.
As you finish your juice he takes the glass from you to set it on his bedside side table before he sits himself down beside you on the bed, propping his pillow against the headboard and leaning back, his eyes still fixed on you with an unwavering concern. He reaches out, prompting you to come closer, his hand open and inviting.
You move closer, shifting to sit beside him, leaning against his side as he drapes his arm around you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. His presence is a comforting weight against your side, his fingers lingering against your skin, sending a soft shiver down your spine. “How are you feeling now?” he asks, his voice low and soothing.
“Better,” you admit, the dizziness fading as the fruit sugar kicks in, your body slowly returning to normal. “Thank you for being so amazing.”
He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with affection that makes your heart flutter. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
He pulls you closer against his side, and you nestle against him, feeling the comforting warmth of his body seep into your bones. You can’t help but close your eyes, letting the safety of his presence wash over you like a soothing balm, the gentle rhythm of his breathing lulling you further into relaxation as you wait for your blood sugar to go back to normal. 
“You can go back to sleep, if you want. You must be exhausted,” you say, though you don’t move away from his side. The warmth of his body feels too good, too safe, to leave even for a moment.
“I’m alright,” he replies, his voice a soft murmur, brushing against your ear like a gentle caress as he adjusts his hold on you, pulling you even closer. “I’d rather be here with you than trying to fall back asleep and worrying about you,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment that feels infinite. 
You smile to yourself, feeling cherished and safe in his embrace. “You really don’t have to.”
“I want to,” he insists, his voice steady and calm, unwavering in its sincerity. “I’ll always want to.”
The sincerity in his words wraps around you, warming you up from the inside. You breathe in the soothing scent of his skin, a mix of his shampoo and something uniquely him, and it brings you a sense of all encompassing peace you didn’t realize you needed. You let his words linger in the air around you for a moment before you break the silence, letting his sentiment absorb within you. 
“Spencer,” you finally whisper, the weight of the night’s events still lingering in your mind, “promise me that if I ever wake you up like this in the future, and it does bother you, you’ll tell me,” you say, a hint of vulnerability in your tone. “I don’t want to feel guilty for needing you.”
He shifts slightly, tilting your chin up with his finger so you can meet his gaze. The warmth and sincerity in his eyes make your heart flutter again, pushing the remnants of guilt away.
“I can’t promise that I won’t be a little groggy,” he says, his voice low and steady. “But I can promise you will never bother me  for needing help. That’s what I’m here for.”
You nod slowly, feeling the tension in your chest ease just a bit. “I appreciate that,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… I would hate to be a burden. ”
“But you’re not,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes you feel seen. “You’re not a burden. You’re my partner, and that means I’ll always be here for you, no matter the hour. It’s just part of loving someone.”
You let out a soft sigh, both relieved and grateful. “You make it sound so easy.”
He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through you. “But it is easy. I love you.” He says it so matter of factly that it sends a rush of warmth through your chest. The simplicity of his declaration feels monumental than than any grand gesture could ever be. 
You feel your cheeks warm at his words, the moment between you and Spencer vibrates through you, it feels all consuming in a way that leaves you momentarily breathless. “I love you too,” you reply, your voice a little shaky as you nuzzle your face into his shoulder, closing your eyes as you let yourself fully sink into the moment and let the weight of the world outside fade away for a bit.
Minutes pass in peaceful silence, the only sound being the soft hum of the night and the quiet rhythm of your breathing. You can feel Spencer’s heart beating steadily beside you, a calm and reassuring presence. You drift into a peaceful state of half slumber, your mind finding a place of ease. Every now and then, you feel Spencer’s fingers gently tracing small patterns on your arm, grounding you in the moment until his voice finally breaks through the silence. 
“I think it’s time to check your blood sugar again,” he says softly, his tone gentle but filled with care. “Make sure you’re back to normal.”
You nod slightly, still nestled against him, reluctant to break the comfort of the moment. “Yeah” you murmur, your voice thick with sleepiness.
Spencer shifts away just enough to reach for your monitor. As he checks the reading, you watch him, noting the way his brow furrows in concentration, an expression you’ve come to recognize as his deep-seated need to ensure your well-being.
He glances back at you, a slight smile breaking through the concern. “You’re at 85. Just a little lower than your target, but still good.” He takes the granola bar from the bedside table and hands it to you, his eyes still filled with warmth and encouragement. “Finish this, and I’ll feel a lot better.”
You take the granola bar, feeling a swell of appreciation for his attentiveness. “Thank you,” you say, your voice soft as you unwrap it and take a small bite. The chewy texture and nutty flavor is comforting on your tongue. As you chew, you watch him, unable to suppress the smile that spreads across your face. He’s still watching you, his gaze a mix of concern and affection, and it makes your heart race. “What?” you ask playfully, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Just admiring you,” he replies, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re really beautiful.”
You roll your eyes but can’t help the blush that creeps up your cheeks. “Spencer, it’s 3 AM, and I just woke you up because of a blood sugar emergency. I don’t think ‘beautiful’ is the first word that comes to mind.”
He just shrugs his shoulders, a sweet, almost shy smile playing on his lips. “For me it is,” he insists, his voice steady, and the earnestness in his eyes makes you melt a little inside.
You finish the granola bar, feeling a little more energized. “You really are the sweetest.”
Spencer just shrugs again, holding out his hand so you can hand over the now empty granola bar wrapper to discharge it next to the empty juice glass. As the two of you lay back down on the mattress, Spencer instinctively wraps his arm around you once more, pulling you close. The warmth of his body envelops you, and you can’t help but let out a contented sigh.
“Are you feeling better?” he asks, his voice still a soft murmur, the concern never quite leaving his tone.
“Yeah,” you reply, a smile spreading across your face. 
“Good,��� he says, his eyes sparkling with relief. 
You nod, feeling the weight of the night sink in, wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of comfort.
As your eyes flutter closed once more, Spencer kisses the top of your head gently, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Get some sleep,” he whispers, his voice a soothing balm that sends you drifting back toward dreamland. With a final squeeze of his hand, you nestle deeper into his embrace, feeling cherished and safe as you slip back into slumber.
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electricneonvalkyrie · 21 hours ago
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Abby notices when you’re depressed. Let’s talk about how she handles that as your partner.
These are modern Abby headcanons. The list was much longer, but I cut it down considerably to keep it from getting too long-winded. I do have a piece written for WLF Abby. If it's something you want to see, let me know.
Thanks for reading. I'm glad you're here.
• Maybe it’s a slow descent this time… little by little, losing interest in your favourite pastimes and finding it hard to discover meaning in daily life. In the midst of trying to survive, there is suddenly no room left for indulging in your hobbies.
Abby, with every random blanket and sheet she owns, constructs a blanket fort in the living room, offering a pressure-free zone where you can do nothing but feel completely safe and loved.
Super cozy, not too busy, and mega peaceful against the demands of a world that is asking far too much of you in this moment.
Does she deep-dive Youtube tutorials on how to build epic forts that probably belong in a magazine? I mean, yeah. Give her a break, alright? Complete dedication is the way this girl operates, and I’ll die on that hill. Also, Abby is a tall, sturdy girlie, and she needs to fit inside it with you. If you’re going to live in this fort together for the foreseeable future, she needs it to be good for you.
Now, if you want an enormous blanket hanging precariously off the side of the couch with a half-dead flashlight and crinkled comics shoved underneath some pillows, date Ellie. Still cute, still the thought that counts, but she’s no Abigail it’s my mission to save you Anderson.
• Abby stocks up on all your go-to snacks because she gets that it's hard to think about the basics when you're too bone-tired to move… nevermind prioritizing measly things like providing yourself sustenance. She’s got you covered.
• She refuses to let you marinate in the feeling of being a burden. She shuts that shit down fast.
“You’re my person, okay? I’m not going anywhere. End of story.”
• Abby grew up around doctors, so she'll for sure be the one to look up therapists and leave the info pinned to the fridge beneath a small magnet that is, of course, a laminated photo of the two of you on your first date. She describes it as the most important day of her life and brings it up regularly.
“You know, I’ve seen this picture a hundred times, but every time I look at it, it hits me all over again—how much that day meant to me.” Her voice dips low as she confesses something so immensely sacred to her. “The day I realized you weren’t just someone I wanted in my life. I’d been waiting for you without even knowing it. I thought I had it all figured out before you. Fuck, was I ever wrong.”
(Just know there's no rush to decide anything big when it comes to choosing a method of healing, but it's there when you're ready.)
• On your hardest days, she stays close, but she doesn’t push. She’ll busy herself with repairs around the home or folding the mountain of laundry shoved up against the wall in your bedroom.
• Abby loves to buy those cute nightlights with little animals on them or the ones that change colours, and she scatters them around the house. When you’re lost in the darkness, right?
• She serves you warm drinks in your favourite mug and nothing else. She’ll handwash it a million times a day if she must.
• Abby's phone chirps with little alarms throughout the day, reminding her to do something special for you. This is all the time, not just when you’re depressed, to be certain.
• Weighted blankets everywhere. Vehicles included.
• I don’t care what anyone says, Abby is soft as a motherfucker, okay? Is she rough around the edges? Maybe. Yes. 100%. Fine, she’s a hot mess, but will she read you poetry aloud, until her voice is hoarse, and her lips go dry? Without a doubt. There are sticks and jars of lip ointment all over the place wherever Abby resides.
Fun fact: Abby hates when her lips feel dry, even slightly. She is constantly reaching for ChapStick and all its cousins. Whenever someone tells her she should stop using her precious lip stuff because it will improve the sensory nightmare in the long run, she’ll immediately do that pouty, nose crinkle thing at them and ignore the advice without a breath.
• Abby lets you wear all her sweaters. That’s a given. But when you’re depressed, she tends to reach for yours as well. It helps her feel close to you when she’s dealing with her own inner turmoil.
• She doesn’t fuck around when she senses you’re starting to spiral. Her routines are extremely important to her, but she will put them on pause to be there for you.
Now, does she gently, lovingly, force your ass to go on walks with her to get some fresh air somewhere you feel comfortable? Yeah, she does. This might be annoying at times when you’re really struggling, and she knows it. She’ll still encourage movement in a way that is manageable for you if leaving the house is too daunting.
If that means you’re standing on her feet, arms wrapped around her neck while she sways side to side with you, so be it.
• She'll binge-watch your favorite shows and movies with you until she drains all the power in the entire city.
• Abby won't make you feel awkward if you cry. She'll just start crying, too, even if she tries so hard not to. She gets better at keeping it to a little glossy eyed moment, but sometimes your pain is her pain, and the dam just… breaks.
• Abby is an actions over words type of human. She’s a doer. Also, timing doesn’t matter much to her. She is desperate to give you a future to believe in because she is so certain that what the two of you share is everlasting.
Abby proposes to you when your hair is a mess, and you’ve been in the same pajamas for days. Fuzzy teeth? Fear not. She isn’t afraid of the hard times. Her love is an anchor. A constant.
She wants to remind you that you’ll never have to face your dark times alone.
Shadows dance on the tapestry walls of the blanket fort, illuminated by the warm, flickering lights hanging inside. Across from you, Abby lounges with her legs stretched out and her back propped against a pile of soft pillows. She’s quiet for a moment, fiddling with something in her hands.
“You know,” she begins, her voice gentle and husky, like gravel smoothed by unrelenting water. “When I was little, I used to make forts like this with my dad. We’d sit in the middle of all the chaos and just… talk about random shit. Nothing outside could touch us.”
As she glances at you, there is a small, almost shy smile playing on her lips.
“That’s what this feels like—being with you. Even when everything else seems like it’s falling apart, you’re my safe place.”
Abby leans forward, her knees brushing yours, and you realize she’s holding a small velvet box. Her confidence wavers, revealing a hint of vulnerability you rarely see.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while. About us—what we mean to each other.” Her voice cracks a little, causing her to pause and clear her throat before she continues.
“I know you’ve been feeling lost. And I know I can’t fix it, even when it kills me—even when all I want to do is make the hurting go away. But I can promise you this...”
She opens the box, the ring glimmering in the soft light, her affectionate, earnest gaze meeting yours.
"I promise you'll always have someone by your side to help you through it. No matter how dark it gets, I’ll be right here with you. For the tough days, the good ones, everything the world throws at us. Because you’re it for me. You always have been."
With each word, her voice grows softer, filled with an unmistakable tremor of emotion.
“Let me be your person forever. Let me love you, fight for you. Let me build you giant blanket forts until we’re way too fucking old to do it by ourselves—and then let me find new ways to take care of you. Because it’s all I want in this lifetime. You’re all I see. Will you marry me?”
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al-jeanne · 3 days ago
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10 things I do to feel close to my romantic F/O!
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Hopefully, these will make you feel close to yours too♡
1. Make a Piccrew or Neka of the two of you! Dress each other up, try out different poses and backgrounds… and when you’re done, you’ll have a photo album of all the photos you took together! (Let me know if you would like a list of couples’ piccrews/Neka’s to make you and your F/O with)
2. Listen to your F/O’s voice double sing! I can’t vouch for forms of western media, but almost all Japanese seiyuus have sung something before, if you’re only willing to dig for it! Not only do a lot of IP’s include character songs, I’ve also even found cover CD’s of “popular voice actor compilations.” You can also consult my guide on how to find drama CD’s of your favorite voice actor here. I am always MORE THAN happy to help anime/Japanese game self-shippers find voice actor content; you need only ask💜
3. Snuggle their clothes! If you don’t have a shirt/jacket that belongs your F/O yet, I highly recommend getting one. If you take a trip to your local thrift store, I’m sure you’ll find something that matches their style that they left for you to find! Once you have it, I then recommend spraying it with their perfume or cologne– there are websites that let you design your own unique scents, but this is my favorite place to buy. [Bonus step: warm it up in the dryer or with a heating pad!]
4. Bring a little piece of them everywhere! I like to bring my plushie and acrylic stands out with me to photograph, but it can be anything they’d give you– a necklace, a trinket, a ring, a handkerchief– anything in your pocket that reminds you that they’re always there with you.
5. Make a “what’s in their bag” edit, and include pics all of the things they’d carry with them!
6. It’s classic, but make a playlist of songs that describe you, or the two of you together. You might even discover some new music in the process! (You can also ask some trusted friends and fandommates to make one for you!)
7. Make a list, collage, or board of their favorites things, and I mean everything! Favorite food, drink, color, season, flower, time of day, quote, gemstone, holiday, animal, movie, place…. as thorough as you’d like! Even if it’s not mentioned in canon, you know them best, right?
8. Speaking of Pinterest boards, everyone says to make them, but here are some ideas on specifically WHAT to make collages of.
•Clothes you think they’d wear (or want to see them in…)
•Decorations/design for their house (or both of yours!)
•Activities you’d want to do with them
•Places you’d like to visit together
•Moody pics that fit their style/aesthetic
•Gifts you would give them, or they would give you
•Things that would make them smile or laugh
•Quotes, or something sappy/romantic/intimate!
9. Fill out a ship template or make your own! (Like this, for example)
10. The Sims. Seriously. The base game has been free for a long time, and mods make anything you could dream of possible. I have a wonderful house, marriage, and lots of cute little kids with my F/O and it’s my favorite place to be!
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Happy Selfshipping!♡
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oddly-casual · 2 days ago
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A thought I have pretty often but don’t have the brain to properly express is the fact that between the Girlymatsu’s and the regular matsu’s the only one who doesn’t share her signature color with her counter part is Osoko.
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Like obviously it’s in the back of her intro card, and it’s Osoko so we know red is supposed to be her color.
She wears red in all the added merch and bonus content too. Off the top of my head there’s the Jyushimatsu dolphin episode, Tabimatsu, and hesokuri wars. All of which she wears red unless it’s a special set or she changes back into her work uniform.
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It could really be nothing, but it always kind of threw me off. All the other girls get their signature color, why not Osoko?
Even if it’s in a subtle way they could’ve done it. Like with the pine pattern on ichiko’s dress or Jyshiko’s bright blonde hair and colored contacts.
Osoko’s makeup is more pink than it is red. So where’d her red go? I had a few thoughts on this so I’m gonna spit some shit.
1. Shes trying to blend in
In the episode she’s introduced in, she gives this big talk about how woman are supposed to be. Being independent, knowing when not to let other men pay for you, being young and approachable. She says all this but so easily snaps the next second. My only guess for why she snaps so quick is because she does that with friends.
With her friends Osoko has no problems being angry, making faces, yelling at them, etc. We don’t know how she is outside of her friend group, but from the way she describes herself it doesn’t seem like she acts the same around everyone.
Osoko is a working woman, she has to be all those things to survive the work place. Bold, but not too bold. Red is a very bold color.
Red lipstick is mature, but it also might hint at promiscuity for some older folk and people who like to talk shit. Meanwhile pink is a more cuter and toned down version of red, that’s why Osoko wears it as makeup instead. She wants to come off as light and fun and cute when that’s not who she really is.
2. She wants to seem younger
It’s brought up a couple times and the show kind of hints at it, but Osoko and Karako are supposed to be the older so believe.
They dress more mature and scold the others for being immature, and the comment jyushiko makes about them being old and unable to have children looks like it seriously pisses them off.
Osoko talks about youth a lot in her first episode, especially about how it makes her seem cuter. You’d think it would be a Todoko thing, but Osoko mentions it more than once when she talks. Meaning being cute and young (compared to her older male coworkers) instead of being headstrong or beautiful, is important to her.
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Karako wears red heals and red lipstick but I think that’s just her style. She is bold, her personality is loud and just like how Karamatsu likes wearing shades and leather jackets to seem like a cool guy, Karako probably wears red to show maturity and maybe even a bit of sensuality.
Meanwhile Osoko, who doesn’t like the fact that she’s getting older, wears a more youthful color. Being pink. Even putting it on her cheeks to add to the youthful look.
3. Identity crisis
Pretty much everyone knows about Osomatsu’s identity issues. He very obviously has no personality of his own and it shows- mainly in the fact that while everyone has their own casual outfits that show off their identity, Osomatsu still wears the family symbol on his plain red hoodie.
I don’t think the girlymatsu’s are supposed to be sisters, they call each other friends and have never been mentioned to be related. They are all very visually distinct from each other, and their personalities are on full display all the time in just how they dress.
There would be no need for the girlymatsu’s to wear distinct colors because there would be no need to differentiate them from each other.
The show does it anyway, obviously, because fuck it why not it’s cute- but again, Osoko doesn’t.
It could be because, like Osomatsu, Osoko has no idea who she truly is. She pours herself into this older sister persona to lure men in (her words), but she’s loud and crude and judgmental when separated from that.
Just like how Osomatsu makes his family his identity, I think Osoko makes work her identity. She wears her work clothes out and about, even when she’s on vacation. In season 2 when she dresses out of her wet suit she’s in her uniform again- and we know nothing about her personal life, not even in the small tidbits we get from the other characters.
I truly think identity issues is something every version of Osomatsu is faced with. Even if it’s not that, idk I just think it’s interesting. If you made it this far, kiss kiss.
Live laugh love Osoko.
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barsformars · 1 day ago
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jealousy
//
g - angst, comfort
p - seonghwa x reader
w.c - 929
t.w - reader is insecure and experiences some retroactive jealousy
a.n - it is tough, and ive been there, but insecurity really hurts both parties so! i try to keep that in mind
//
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seonghwa notices the way your gaze on him changes through the few weeks you've been together. you used to look at him in awe, adoration and love but by the next week, the adoration have dimmed and by the following week, the awe have turned into envy. and the envy turned into furrowed eyebrows and heavy eyelids. seonghwa was afraid if he looked any further down he would see the corner of your lips twitch in displeasure. do you not love him anymore? has he become ugly in your eyes already?
"love?"
"yeah?" you replied half-heartedly as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, making a mental note of every flaw you had. worse still, you secretly compared yourself to his exes. it consumed every inch of you and haunted you every waking moment, compelling you to go onto their social media pages, zooming into every detail of them. what made their eyes so beautiful that seonghwa fell in love with them? what made their nose so cute that he wanted his kids to have it too? what made their lips so captivating that he wanted to make them smile all the time?
and why then, you? anyone close to seonghwa knows he has a type. it is one thing to be the ghost of someone else, but it is another to be the complete opposite of what he loves.
seonghwa waits for you to turn around but you don't, still too preoccupied with your thoughts to even give him a second of your time.
“love,” he said it louder this time, snapping you out of your self-hating mind, “can i have your attention please?”
you turn to look at your partner who was already under the blanket, skin all glowy from his night time routine, hair perfectly framing his chiseled face. how effortless. you were so consumed by his appearance that you don’t notice how sadness was gnawing at him.
seonghwa tries hard to phrase the words correctly in his head, because he doesn't want you to start detesting his heart too. but the silence in the room becomes too unbearable and the question escapes him before he could think twice.
"why do you look at me with so much disgust nowadays?"
your eyes widened in surprise. you didn’t realise you were being that transparent.
“i’m sorry, i-i love you…it’s just,” you blurted before quickly stopping. how do you explain yourself without sounding immature and nonsensical?
dejection has completely taken over your lover’s face as he tries to comprehend what you are going through. it’s hard to feel loved when you have turned so cold but as he is, there is always a small matchstick in seonghwa’s heart to keep it warm enough for others. he beckons you over to join him in bed, his arms wide open for you.
maybe it’s the guilt or ego that has you frozen in place, eyes glued to the floor as your brain tries to scramble possible ways to say it without sounding confrontational. but as they say, birds of a feather flock together and you speak your mind as seonghwa did.
“you wish i look like your exes, don’t you?”
seonghwa’s jaw is left agape at your question.
“i know, i know you love me because i’m smart and kind and funny all that yada yada yada,” you quickly followed up with an elaboration with the adjectives he usually described you with, “but my appearance is subpar, right?” you concluded on your own.
seonghwa don’t know who planted these seeds in your head because never once has any of those thoughts crossed his mind. sure, you did look pretty different from his past partners, but that was purely coincidence.
“love, just because my exes look kind of the same does not mean i only appreciate those physical traits,” seonghwa explained.
“of course you would say that,” you retorted, “and besides, you think im way below your league, right?”
seonghwa shook his head immediately, “if i truly thought that, why would i be with you?” at this point, he was already slowly making his way towards you, his indoor slippers shuffling against the wooden floor.
“i don’t know, and i’m perpl-“ as he stood in front of you, seonghwa reached out to cup your face in his slender hands, hushing you. his heart shatters when you shun him, intentionally or not, but he catches you nevertheless. gently lifting your head up to look at you, his shattered heart crumbles even more when a teardrop rolls down your cheek.
“love,” seonghwa calls out to you firmly this time. “why do you have such thoughts? how can i make you feel more loved?” even at moments like this, when you are accusing him on hurtful things, he could let slide and shift the focus on you. and you realise how stupid your thoughts have been.
the tears start gushing down and they don’t stop. “i’m sorry, i love you seonghwa…” he pulls you into his chest and pats your head lovingly. he heaved a sigh as he tries to patch up his own heart too. it really does hurt him to see you like this.
“my love, we all know that there are plenty of very attractive people out there in the world,” seonghwa said when you cooled down a little.
“however, there is a reason why you chose to be with me, and i chose to be with you. it’s not wrong to want to look better, and i appreciate it, but don’t ever doubt my feelings towards and for you.”
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creepycranberry · 12 hours ago
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Big Black Car- 3
Rafe Cameron x Maybank reader
2
Warnings: slow burn, L*ke, topper is very much noncanon compliant (he’s like a mix of topper and Austin’s character in IDDI), alcohol, abuse, parental death, not proofread, kook/pogue bullshit, swearing, w*rd, let me know about anything else.
•••••••••
“Just let me get you a new one.” Topper insists and you groan.
“I don’t even swim, why do I need a swimsuit?” You argue, Tired of this conversation. Topper dragged you to a mall on the mainland after going through your wardrobe and determining that you have nothing suitable to wear to his parents wedding anniversary party.
“Because one day you might want to.” Topper says.
“I’ve gone this long without swimming, I’m sure I can make it through however long I’m staying with you.”
“Come on, I’ll teach you how to swim-“
“Topper.” You warn.
“No- no, come on. You can learn how, just for-for emergency purposes.”
“Emergency purposes.” You scoff, skimming through racks of clothing, “this one?”
“Hate the color.” He responds and you look at the dress once more and nod, “just let me get you the swimsuit and if you use it, you use it. No harm no foul, right?””
You exhale through your nose and give him a pointed look. He gives you an exaggerated pout and you concede.
“Fine.”
He pumps his fist in the air like his team just won a football game. You hold up another dress, it’s dark blue with ribbony straps, it was classic, simple.
“That one.” Topper basically decides for you, snatching it out of your hands when you go to look at the price tag.
He pays and drags you into a swimwear store, forcing you to go through the selection of bathing suits until you find a simple black two piece with enough coverage that you were confident your tits wouldn’t fall out of it.
Topper again took it from you and once again paid before you could even look at the price tag.
You liked being around him more. You haven’t really ever had an older sibling or anyone to protect you like one. JJ tried for a while but you both when to different schools and therefore your social problems felt separate. You didn’t want him to ever see you as weak. Topper was the closest thing you had to a true protector since your father died. He was your closest relationship aside from the one you had with your brother. You and JJ didn’t need to be around each other all of the time, you liked different things and people and so your lives were very separate but that didn’t make you any less close.
Topper just happened to be able to be there when you needed him and that resulted in this relationship that was very close and comfortable.
Topper had always had Rafe though. Rafe was his best friend. They knew each other in the way boys knew each other and that was that, they had an unspoken love for each other even though you would never hear them say that they loved each other.
For years Topper tried to tell you that Rafe wasn’t as bad or as rude as he came off, you obviously never believed him because why would you. Rafe had never given you any reason to believe he was anything more than he seemed.
He was an entitled prick who couldn’t care less about anyone else. He was the picture of first world problems and the apathy of the upper class.
But you found yourself second guessing that depiction of him more and more.
A few days after going shopping with Topper he’s finally managed to convince you to get into the pool so he can at least attempt to teach you how to swim. He had just managed to get you to step off of the stairs when Rafe walks through the garden gate into the backyard.
“No. I’m done, did enough for the day.” You say, moving back towards the stairs. Topper lunges after you, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you as you hit his arm repeatedly.
“You’re doing this.” Topper says, setting you down in the water so your feet touch the ground. The water is to your shoulders and you stare at Topper with a look that can only be described as pitiful wet kitten after a bath.
“No. Not with him here.” You argue, finally acknowledging Rafes presence.
“What is she not doing with me here?” Rafe asks and Topper sighs deeply, his hands holding onto the sides of your arms in case you attempt to escape again.
“She doesn’t-“
“Topper!” You exclaim but he puts a hand over your mouth.
“She doesn’t know how to swim so I’m trying to teach her.” Topper tells him. He shrieks when you bite down hard on his hand and dart away from him, aiming for the stairs.
You’re able to get up onto dry ground for one glorious second before strong arms are effortlessly catching you.
“Rafe! Put me down!”
He goes down the steps in the pool and sets you down in the shallow end, guarding the stairs. You expect him to make some smart remark about you not being able to swim when you live on in island, but instead he looks at you in total seriousness, his face solemn, “you need to know how to swim.”
“I’ve gotten this far-“
“Yeah, and you’re lucky you have.” He snaps, his voice raising and you flinch. You can feel your pulse quicken.
“I don’t need to hear anything about luck from you.” You shoot back and he rolls his eyes.
“Walk to Topper.” Rafe commands and you scoff.
“I don’t have to listen to you.”
“Walk to Topper and do things his way, or stay over here and we’ll do things my way.” He shrugs and you frown at him.
“I don’t need to do either, I can float just fine.”
“Yeah well, you live on an island, one bad storm and floating just fine will end up with you literally dead in the water.” Rafe retorts, his face morphing into surprise when your frown grows deeper and your hands start to shake.
You’re either about to punch him in the face or cry, and either outcome makes him incredibly wary. He automatically feels guilty when your eyes well up with tears and you fold your arms in front of yourself. You suddenly look so much smaller to him.
Topper stands still, watching your interaction unfold, prepared to either get the first aid kit or make Rafe go home.
“I don’t mean to be extreme or anything, I just don’t want you to end up hurt or worse because no one taught you how to swim.” Rafe says, surprising both you and Topper with his softness. It’s limited to his voice, his eyes are unreadable and his body language is stiff.
“Someone did teach me to swim.” You say resentfully, your voice sounds like you’re going to cry and for some reason that makes something in Rafes chest go tight, “I think I’m done for the day actually, I uh, I’m pretty tired.”
You walk past Rafe to get to the pool steps and this time he doesn’t stop you. Topper tries to grab your hand and you move at the last second. When he looks back to Rafe, he has his eyes trained on the pool in front of him, like you’re still standing there.
“You didn’t know, man-”
Before he can finish his sentence Rafe is halfway to the garden gate.
•••
Topper showers loudly. He hums in the shower, opens and closes the door loudly, he knocks over shampoo bottles like a bumbling idiot. You wake up most mornings to him humming repetitively or slamming the shower door.
You turn over in bed and face your door. The dress you had gotten for the anniversary party is hung up on it, still in its garment bag. It hadn’t been there when you went to sleep. Topper probably put it there to remind you it was today and that you had to get out of bed at some point.
You left the house for work and that was it. You didn’t want to speak to topper, and you definitely didn’t want to run into Rafe.
You were embarrassed by how you reacted. You hated that it happened so long ago and it could still affect you like this. You felt weak and in front of Topper is one thing but in front of Rafe?
You felt like seeing him again could kill you.
For the first time in days Topper dared to enter your room, he had something on his hands and ignored the face you made at him as he got closer.
“I know I fucked up, I get it, but your skin looks like a croissant.” He starts, kneeling onto the bed and holding his hands in front of your face as you tried to push him away, you couldn’t help but laugh a little, “I washed my hands, I promise.”
He’s laughing as he tries to wrestle the moisturizer onto your skin, “this is supposed to be relaxing!” He gasps and you lightly kick him in the side and he makes an odd sound before tumbling off the bed. You sit up to check on him and you can’t help but have a smile on your face, “I’m sorry. I mean it. I shouldn’t have pushed you, especially once Rafe got there I just- I want you to be safe.”
You know he’s being sincere. You don’t want to let him off the hook so easily but you can’t help it, he’s your best friend.
“Just- just no more pushing. Especially not around Rafe. I never want him seeing me cry ever again.”
“If I have to blind him I will.” Topper says, completely straight faced. You smile at him and reach to grab his wrists, pushing them into his face and rubbing your moisturizer into his skin, “okay, that’s fair.” He says before sticking his tongue out, “ith on my tongue”
He gags for a few minutes and you laugh as he runs to the bathroom to rinse his mouth out.
A few hours later you're in the passenger seat of this jeep, fiddling with the pleats on the fabric of your dress and staring out the window.
You had never really gone to the country club, you didn’t really have any reason to. Your dad used to take you when you were smaller, he would be there to see friends of his or do a business thing and you would be attached to his hip, listening quietly.
It didn’t look much different than you remembered.
Almost immediately upon arrival you and Topper are greeted by at least fifty people who know Topper's parents. When asked for your name you panic and Topper swoops in, he introduces you to various different people. But he tells them your fathers last name. Not yours.
Eventually you make it away from the crowd and find your names sat next to each other on place cards on the table. You both sit there and talk, pointedly avoiding making eye contact with anyone else so you don’t end up having to make any more small talk.
Topper looks at his phone periodically, deflecting when you ask what he’s doing. Eventually he gets up to go get drinks and you look at your phone for the first time since arriving.
JJ: have you seen Luke lately?
You furrow your eyebrows and you’re about to respond and tell him that you didn’t know where Luke was and that you didn’t really give a shit if he was dead or alive but Topper comes back and sits down.
“That was qui- Rafe.” Sitting in front of you is not Topper, Rafe sets a glass down in front of you and you eye it warily.
“It’s ginger ale, peaches.” Rafe assures you and you nod, taking a sip, “how are you?”
“Fine, thanks.” You respond and Rafe stares into the space between the two of you.
“I didn’t me-“
“Don’t. I’m not mad at you, don’t apologize cause we’ll both hate it.”
Rafe presses his lips together and takes a sip of his drink, “if you aren’t mad then why won’t you talk to me? Or look me in the eye?”
You make eye contact with him for the first time since he sat down. It’s almost a challenge, “keep looking me in the eyes and I won’t ask you any questions you don’t want to answer” And the strange thing is that you don’t want to look away. You want to sink into his eyes and never have to hear another voice again.
“You’re pretty.” He smiles, breaking eye contact so fast it almost startles you, “I like your dress.”
You blink at him for a moment, the words taking a minute to find their way to your brain, “oh uh, thank you, I like it too. You look…”
“Handsome?” He deadpans and you roll your eyes.
“Like less of an asshole than you are.” You smile and he returns it. You like how his eyes crinkle when he smiles. It makes them look shinier.
“I’ll take what I can get.” He shrugs, downing the last of his drink, “I understand why you reacted that way.”
The abrupt change from easy going conversation has you avoiding eye contact with him again, “do you?”
“Uh, yeah. I uh, we’re in similar boats in the parent department.” He clarifies, giving you a knowing look that gives way to more than you thought to know.
“Oh.” You mutter, thumb sliding across the condensation on the side of your glass, “it really is okay, I was mad I was just-“
“Embarrassed?”
“I guess. Um, I mean crying in front of Topper is one thing but I don’t think I’ll ever know you well enough t-“
“I understand. I just um, I didn’t mean to upset you or anything I don’t uh, I don’t tend to think before I do… anything.” He tells you, eyes squinting like he’s having to put in work to admit he was in the wrong.
“Really? You seem pretty purposeful to me.” You retort and he rolls his eyes, meeting yours for more than just a fleeting moment and suddenly you’re sinking into them again.
“You think so?” He smirks.
Before you can come up with some smart come back a hand is on your shoulder and you look up to see Toppers mother smiling at you, “honey, i need you to come out front we’ve got a-“
“I said I wanna see my daughter!” A slurred voice cuts through the music and chatter of the party.
You stand so quickly that your chair falls over as you try and locate the voice. You find him outside of the door yelling at the person in charge of the guest list.
“Luke.” Your stern voice cuts through his drunken tirade and he looks up.
“Hey, sweet pea! I was just trying to explain to this-” he’s interrupted by your hand gripping his arm and dragging him away from the party
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t find you, and I heard this was going on and that boy you’re always hanging out with was gonna be here, I connected the dots.” He shrugs.
“Leave.” You order.
“Oh, come on. You don’t mean that.”
“I do, get the hell away from here and away from me or so help me god I will-”
“You’ll what?” He laughs and his drunken affection turns right back to loathing, “what’s your prissy ass gonna do to me? I ain’t scared of you. Sitting up there in that fancy club in your fancy dress with the handsome boys in well tailored suits? Give me a break. You’ve gone full fucking kook. You didn’t even scare me before you started traipsing around with those boys. You think you scare me now?” He laughs.
“Those boys have nothing to do with any of this.”
“You think I should warn them?” He starts, stumbling slightly and leaning on a tree for support, “think I should warn those boys that you’re a whore just like your mother? That they shouldn’t hope for any long term anything with you cause you’re not worth th-”
You punch him in the face with speed you didn’t know you were capable of. He holds his nose as blood slowly starts to seep through the cracks of his fingers.
“You’re no better than her Luke. In fact you’re worse. You’re an abusive alcoholic hick who never amounted to anything and who couldn’t even care for his own children. I’m not scared of you either.”
He slaps you across the face and you can feel the blood on your cheek as the wind hits it and makes it feel cool. You barely have time to respond before Luke tries for another but the hit never lands. Instead Topper is stood in front of you, holding Luke’s wrist.
“Mr. Maybank, I think it’s time for you to go home.” Toppers mothers voice rings out behind you.
“And why should I listen to you?” Luke steps forward, wobbling slightly.
“Hey kids, how about the two of you go inside and grab something to eat, they should start serving the cake soon.”
Topper guides you back up the hill. Rafe is standing behind Mrs. Thornton, he stands beside two security guards, his gaze meeting yours for a fleeting moment before you’re quickly whisked in the direction of the country club restrooms by Topper.
He doesn’t seem to care that he’s in the ladies room as you sit on the counter. He’s gently wipes the blood off your cheek, his voice quiet as he tells you to move your head to the side so he can see it better.
“That was one hell of a hit.” He says and you shake your head.
“Stung like a bitch.”
“No I meant the punch you threw at him.” Topper clarifies and you nod.
“I hope I broke his nose.” You sigh.
“Me too, kid.”
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htaesan · 5 hours ago
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 ᅠ ✿ ᅠ GIVING YOU MY FOREVER  ──── ᅠ ( han taesan )
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𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀when han taesan, your boyfriend, notices you haven’t been answering his texts for the entire day, he sets out to figure out why𑁋only to find you sobbing alone on top of the hill.
   ᅠ 한태산 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 0.8k ⠀ genre comfort fluff established relationship ⠀ contains mentions of family issues crying skinship ⠀ note this fic is highkey self-indulgent bc i wrote this when i was having a hard time </3 so it kinda doesn’t make sense? welp ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net
   ᅠ >︿   please leave feedbacks   &   reblog
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“Hey, here you are.”
You didn’t have to look to know who it was—instead, you sigh deeply, letting the boy settle himself next to you. You throw your gaze far, letting your eyes capture the beauty of the night from atop the hill: the way the stars still shine despite being thousands and thousands of miles away, the way the city lights add a sparkle to the night’s black canvas. You take a deep breath, hoping that the smell of grass and the gentle breeze of autumn would bring some peace to your heart.
“You… okay?” you hear him ask after quite some time. You purse your lips, still not meeting his eyes, afraid all the tears might spill once you do. “You didn’t read my texts for the whole day.”
“M-maybe,” you manage. Your throat feels dry as you force your words out. “I’ll be fine.”
“You know,” he says, after a few moments. He places a hand on yours, his touch gentle and comforting. “You can tell me anything.”
You lower your head. 
Please don’t cry.
“I might not understand your pain, I might not fully understand what you’re going through,” he continues, his voice so deep and kind. “But I’m here. I’ll listen.”
“Even if you don’t want to tell me—or if you can’t find the right words to describe how you feel, I’ll be here. Always.” 
Under his hand, you clench your own. 
“I…”
“Okay?” 
You finally look up, turning slightly to meet his gaze. You bite your lower lip as you watch Taesan’s eyes widen slightly at the way your eyes fill with tears. His hands grab yours tight as he offers you a gentle smile. 
“I’m sorry,” you croak, lowering your head again as tears begin to spill. Taesan’s grasp remains firm, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. “I… I don’t know how to say this…”
Taesan smiles softly, squeezing your hands. “It’s okay. Tell me anything—just say anything that comes to mind, I’ll piece it together.”
“My parents,” you say, your words coming out one by one, in between sobs, “it’s stressing me out– I– is this my fault? Why– why are they fighting? I thought they– love– each other—”
You can’t stop it, your tears falling down your cheeks like raindrops in a storm, unstoppable and overwhelming. Your chest heaves up and down with each sob, your throat tight with a lump that makes your speech difficult to interpret. 
“Hey…” 
Taesan pulls you into a hug, causing you to hiccup in surprise. It engulfs you like a warm blanket on a winter night—you could smell Taesan: a mixture of champagne orange, passion fruit, sugar vanilla; the perfume his mother had bought for him. Immediately, your tears begin to flow down again, as Taesan’s warmth starts to become one with you. 
Taesan doesn’t let go—his embrace of you firm and comforting, telling you he’s there for you through every high and low. Taesan hugs you close, letting your heartbeat converge with his. He lets you cry your heart out in his arms, not giving a care in the world about how your tears are staining his favourite sweater. 
“I love you, Y/N,” he whispers, once your tears have subsided. 
“But… won’t you fall out of love, one day?” you ask him, resting your head against his chest. You close your eyes shut, trying to remove the memory of witnessing your parents’ fight from your mind. 
Taesan kisses the top of your head, resting his chin against it after. “Will I ever?”
“Maybe,” you mumble. 
“Darling,” Taesan says, causing butterflies to begin erupting in your stomach. He’s called you that for so many times already, yet it always catches you off guard. “If we love each other truly, we’ll always find a way to make things work, hm?”
He pulls away a little bit, and you look directly into his eyes. Taesan gives you a smile—different from his usual cheeky grin—beautiful, sincere, and ethereal. “Besides, we still have a long way to go before we get married, and before we die. We’ll have plenty of time to learn from our mistakes.”
“Married?” you exclaim, eyes widening. You smack his shoulder in an attempt to hide the blush that’s beginning to form on your cheeks.
“Yeah,” Taesan nods, folding his arms as he holds his neck from behind. “Why? You don’t like it?”
“Well… of course I love it,” you mutter, biting the inside of your cheek. After a while, you turn to him, narrowing your eyes. “But marriage is a serious matter, you know? I—”
Taesan kisses your cheek, grinning as he pulls away. “I know.”
You lock eyes with Taesan, the sparkling night around you, the gentle breeze blowing through. 
“And I love you, so seriously, to be doing it in the future. To be giving you my forever.”
― © htaesan, 2025.
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quibbs126 · 2 days ago
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So because I saw someone like my initial post with Overdrive, for whatever reason he stayed in my brain and I was like “okay fine, I’ll attempt to design him again”
To be honest, I think generally he came out a lot better than last time, at least in the face. I’m not so sure on the rest, or more accurately, the arms
Drawing this I was like “oh dear god the TFO style is a pain”. Honestly I think my main issues are that these designs are some of the most 3D reliant with how boxy they are (like they’re some of the most toy-looking Transformers designs to me), and I’m not very experienced in that, and also I have this need to make the designs as simple as possible, even if the design ends up looking kind of plain, as seen here
Like I know generally how the TF One characters are built. They have a basic body of components and gears and stuff that’s all black, alongside a silver head piece (I don’t think there’s any outside of Shockwave or people with masks that have a non-silver face, but correct me if I’m wrong). Then on top of that they have pieces meant to cover that black skeleton, giving their body protection and making them individual. Like they’re thinner pieces of metal meant to go over their basic bodies. I don’t know how fully to describe it but I know how they work
I just don’t know how to draw that well. G1 is blocky but they’re made up of solid blocks, not pieces on top of a basic framework, and I struggle to figure out how it works
What was I saying? I think I got carried away there, sorry. Point is I’m bad at drawing Overdrive in this style and I kind of don’t like drawing it. It’s probably just an issue of me not being able to leave my comfort zone and being spoiled with TFA style yesterday
Unfortunately, Overdrive has to stay in this style because he’s specific to this universe
Anyways, moving on for real this time
So his design is now pretty heavily inspired by some Jetfire toys I found when looking for references to use (but mostly this first one)
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It’s also the main basis for his color scheme this time around. Admittedly I do still think the red and white makes him look oddly similar to Ratchet, but oh well. Admittedly his design is allowed to at least have some blue paint, maybe I should give him some
But also one of the main bases of his head design here was another design I was making on the original, when I planned to expand the canvas and draw more. Unfortunately I got frustrated with posing blocks so I never did more, but I do have that one new addition now
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His cockpit is yellow here because while I was testing out blue, I thought that with all the basis on Jetfire, he didn’t look enough like Starscream, so I gave him Starscream’s yellow. I ended up using the blue I was initially using on his eyes, which are the main reason they’re blue now
Not a lot of experimenting with the colors this time around, mostly since I didn’t want to lose the colors I was already using
Maybe I could have made his wing stripes black though? I’m realizing now that outside of his framework and vents, his design’s pretty much all reds and whites
I think his arms could probably do with more detail and refining as well. I just didn’t know how else to draw them
Now, as for other character things, I’ve settled on a few?
Like I think I’m gonna have him working on ground bridge technology. He does still work on going as fast as possible, but it’s more a personal thing. The things on his back are also experimental engines he made to go faster
He’s probably also banned from racing due to his technically illegal self-upgrades, which are at the very least illegal in the sport
But yeah, he’s on the bridge technology team, though admittedly he’s used more for his speed and general size. After the movie when their project can resume production again, he’s mostly used as the guy to scavenge parts and scout out good locations on the surface. Never mind the fact that he’s never really been on the surface before this, but he at least can make a quick getaway if need be
This is probably how he ends up encountering the Decepticons, or most importantly Starscream. They find him doing experiment stuff in the surface. My idea is that his team is trying to build a bridge portal up on the surface, given they know the technology works now. But also they’re kind of doing it in secret and possibly didn’t tell Optimus about it. But they’ve been causing stuff to happen with one of the Energon rivers up there for their portal (like redirecting it or making a dam or something, idk), which caused the Decepticons to take notice
Still not entirely sure on his personality, but I do know he takes great pride in his speed and no one being able to out-fly him. He also takes pride in his work as a scientist, both personal and professional. He may be a little too ambitious and intense on his plans for bridge technology, wanting to one day remote portal to distant galaxies, when they haven’t even tested if it can go to another receptor up on the surface yet. But he’s at least happy rambling about his projects
Honestly I think he currently reads as too Starscream, especially when Starscream has never been in his life, I feel like I need to add a bit more Skyfire in there. Just not sure how
But yeah, I think that’s about it on Overdrive for now. When will I continue? Who knows
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kinardsevan · 3 days ago
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several sentence monday
the general consensus is that Know You Like That is going to be a WIP. On the subject, I've got a few scenes swirling in my head currently, and this is one of them:
“I’m so tired,” he murmurs. There’s the slightest bit of sound like Tommy is about to respond, but he continues, “but I smell awful.” 
“Shower,” Tommy asks gruffly. 
Evan stands up straighter, blinking a few more times before he turns around and looks at the other man. His gaze trails down and then back up, a smile playing on his lips. 
“Just a shower,” he replies. “I’m too tired for anything else.” 
“I wasn’t suggesting anything else,” Tommy replies. “I don’t even need-..” 
“Shut up,” Evan cuts him off, already pushing him toward the door. He stops long enough to turn on the monitor next to the bed before swinging through the kitchen to grab the other one before heading to the bathroom where Tommy has already managed to figure out how to turn the shower and stripped away his long-sleeved henley, is working on his jeans. 
Evan groans as he pushes the bathroom door shut and sets the baby monitor on the counter, his fingers immediately sliding around the other man’s ribs as his lips attach to a trapezius. He sinks his teeth in and well fuck because if the kiss in his kitchen didn’t feel like coming home, he doesn’t even know how to describe what this feels like. 
“Hey,” Tommy murmurs, sliding his fingers over Evan’s on his waist before he turns, standing face-to-face with him. They don’t get more than half a second of eye contact before their lips are on one another’s while hands move up and down each other’s bodies. When they finally part, it’s only because there’s no room left between them and the shower, and the kissing has sucked all of the oxygen out of the room. 
“What happened to ‘too tired,’” Tommy asks as Evan finally pulls his own shirt over his head. 
“Oh I definitely still am,” he counters, dropping his shirt onto the floor. “And even if I wasn’t, there’s no way I’d be able to stay quiet enough to let three toddlers stay asleep.” 
Tommy growls lowly, leaning in and nipping at the hinge of Evan’s jaw before they’re both dropping their pants to the floor. Still, once they’re naked, Tommy glances down at Evan’s groin and then back up. 
“You were saying?” 
Evan lets out a small chuckle as he nudges Tommy towards the inside of the bathtub before following after him and pulling the curtain closed. 
“You really think the very sight of you naked after four years wasn’t going to send every ounce of blood in my body straight to one place,” Evan comments as he pulls Tommy into the shower spray with him. 
Tommy turns him and then pulls Evan into his chest, both large hands splayed across his torso as his lips find their place in the curve of Evan’s neck. 
“Well I guess I’m just going to have to solve this problem in another way,” he murmurs as his hand slides down to Evan’s groin.
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xoxorealitygalore · 14 hours ago
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Trust and Believe V
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summary: Keyshia and Joe had a seemingly perfect life together after marrying in 2010. However, as their careers grew, so did the strain on their relationship. When Joe cheats on Keyshia. The emotional fallout from the incident leaves their relationship hanging in the balance, with Keyshia questioning if they could ever recover from the betrayal.
Joe and Keyshia sat across from each other in the cozy, dimly lit therapy room. The quiet hum of the air conditioning was the only sound, and the tension between them felt palpable, even in this neutral space meant for healing. They had been to therapy a handful of times before, but today felt different. It was as if they were on the precipice of something—some breakthrough, some painful truth or realization.
The therapist, a middle-aged woman named Dr. Reynolds, sat across from them, her calm demeanor offering a quiet sense of reassurance. She had seen many couples come through her doors, some barely hanging on, others desperate for answers, and some simply unsure of where to start. Joe and Keyshia were somewhere in between.
Keyshia sat with her arms crossed tightly in front of her, her expression unreadable. Her eyes flicked between Joe and Dr. Reynolds, but her body language was tense—on guard, as if she were preparing herself for something that might hurt. Joe, on the other hand, leaned back slightly on the couch, looking more relaxed but with an undercurrent of nervousness. His fingers tapped lightly on his thigh as he glanced at Keyshia, a small furrow in his brow.
Keyshia spoke first. Her voice, though calm, carried the weight of a lifetime of unspoken emotions.
“It’s hard,” she began, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. “It’s really hard, Dr. Reynolds. I feel like I’m fighting a battle inside myself every day. Every time I get upset, every time something triggers me, my insides just… burn up. I feel like I’m going crazy, like I’m about to lose control. But I’ve learned to control it. I’ve learned not to crash out, not to let it all explode. And that’s been tough. Really tough.”
Dr. Reynolds nodded, acknowledging the depth of what Keyshia was expressing. She understood that emotions like the ones Keyshia was describing weren’t easily managed, and that the act of controlling one’s own emotional responses took more than just willpower—it took self-awareness, time, and effort. Keyshia wasn’t just talking about being angry or upset; she was describing the intense, gut-wrenching, almost uncontrollable feelings that came from years of emotional turmoil.
Joe shifted in his seat, looking down for a moment before meeting Keyshia’s eyes. There was a mix of regret and guilt in his gaze. He knew he had played a part in bringing them to this place, and the weight of that was heavy on his heart. He had cheated on Keyshia, and now they were here, trying to piece together the fragments of their broken relationship.
“I didn’t make it easy for you,” Joe said quietly, his voice full of regret. “I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve hurt you. And I’m sorry.”
Keyshia let out a small, almost dismissive laugh. It wasn’t a laugh of amusement, but more of a laugh born out of frustration. Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she looked away from him, her jaw clenched. She was tired of hearing the same apologies. She had heard them countless times before, each one seeming more like an empty gesture than a true sign of remorse.
“I’m tired of hearing that, Joe,” Keyshia said, her voice low but firm. “I’m tired of hearing you say sorry and not understanding why it even happened in the first place. You don’t get to just apologize and think that fixes everything. I need to understand why. I need to know why you cheated. What happened? Where did we go wrong?”
Her words hung in the air, sharp and raw. Joe's eyes dropped once more, as if he were searching for the right words, for an answer that could satisfy the pain and confusion in her voice. He didn’t have an immediate answer, not one that felt worthy of her pain, but he knew he had to try.
"I… I don’t know," he said slowly, as if the admission pained him. "I think I was selfish. I didn’t think about how my actions would affect you, or how they would affect us. I wasn’t thinking about the relationship, I was thinking about myself. I don’t want to make excuses, but I know I screwed up. I hurt you, and I can’t take that back. But what I can do is try to be better now. And I don’t know if that’s enough, but it’s all I have."
Keyshia was quiet for a moment, processing his words. Her expression softened, but the pain was still evident in her eyes. The trust that had once been a solid foundation between them had been shattered, and rebuilding it seemed like an impossible task.
Dr. Reynolds, sensing the tension between them, decided to step in gently.
"It’s clear that both of you are carrying a lot of pain," she said, her voice calm and steady. "And it’s also clear that Keyshia has made significant progress in managing her emotions. But managing emotions doesn’t mean they go away, Keyshia. You’ve been working hard to control how you respond, but it’s important to also understand where those emotions come from and what they mean. And Joe, you’re carrying your own guilt. The question now is how you both move forward from here."
Keyshia nodded, her arms still tightly crossed. She could feel the weight of her emotions building up inside her, but she had learned over the years how to keep them at bay. Still, there was a part of her that wanted to scream, to shout at Joe for everything that had gone wrong. She wanted him to understand just how deep the hurt went, just how much she had to fight every day not to let that hurt control her. But she didn’t want to explode again. She didn’t want to crash out.
“I’ve been doing better, but it’s still hard,” Keyshia admitted, her voice quiet but honest. “Sometimes I just want to lose control. Sometimes I just want to scream at you, at everything. But I know that won’t help. It won’t fix anything. But I don’t know how to stop feeling the way I do.”
Joe looked at her, his heart aching. He could see the inner turmoil she was going through, the battle she fought every day to keep her emotions in check. And he knew, deep down, that he had been the catalyst for so much of that pain.
“I get it,” he said softly. “I really do. And I’m sorry. I don’t want to make it harder for you, Keyshia. I want to be better. I want to fix this, but I know it’s going to take time. And I know I can’t just tell you it’s going to be okay. I have to show you.”
Keyshia’s eyes softened slightly, but there was still a guardedness to her expression. She wasn’t ready to fully let her guard down. Not yet. Not after everything that had happened. But she appreciated that Joe was at least acknowledging her pain and the effort she was putting into holding everything together.
Dr. Reynolds spoke again, guiding them back to the heart of the issue.
“Keyshia, it seems like you’ve made a lot of progress in understanding and managing your emotions,” she said. “But you’ve also been through a lot. You’re not just controlling your reactions; you’re trying to make sense of them, and that’s a crucial part of healing. Joe, you’ve acknowledged your mistakes. The next step is to explore how you both can begin to rebuild trust and communication.”
Keyshia nodded, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. "I just don't understand how things went wrong. How did we get here? I want to understand how we got to this point so that I can make sense of it. I don’t want to keep feeling this way, but it’s hard when I feel like there’s so much left unanswered.”
Joe glanced at her, his heart heavy with the weight of her words. He wished he could explain everything, wished he could give her the answers she was desperately searching for. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure himself. He didn’t know when or how things had started to unravel. He had been selfish, disconnected, and unable to see how his actions affected the person he loved most.
“I don’t have all the answers, Keyshia,” he said softly. “But I’m willing to figure it out with you. If you’re willing to try. I can’t promise that things will be perfect, but I can promise that I’m going to work every day to be the person you deserve.”
The room fell into a quiet stillness as the words hung in the air. Joe's vulnerability, his willingness to admit his faults and face the consequences of his actions, was a step toward healing. But it was only one step. The journey ahead would be long, full of hard conversations, raw emotions, and painful revelations.
Keyshia looked at Joe, her eyes searching his face for something—some sign that he truly meant it, that he was ready to do the hard work that rebuilding trust required. She didn’t know if she could fully trust him again, not yet, but there was a small part of her that felt the smallest flicker of hope.
“I don’t know if I can ever forgive you completely,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “But I’m willing to try. For us. For me.”
And in that moment, both Joe and Keyshia knew that while the road ahead would be difficult, it was the only path worth walking. Together.
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yearsbecomingcool · 18 hours ago
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where did the party go? | simon kalivoda
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donate to gaza here | masterlist
pairing | simon kalivoda x f!reader
synopsis | your best friend invites you to a party & simon teaches you how to take a shot.
warnings | underage drinking, driving after one shot, slight sexual references, innocent!reader, f!reader, possibly ooc!simon, reader is described as being shorter than simon.
word count | 2.8k
a/n | i am so awful at taking shots so reader is very me coded in this. i kept having thoughts of someone teaching met to take a shot like this and it felt kind of simon coded so that's where this came from. debating on writing for some of Fred's other character but haven't fully decided on who yet!! if y'all have any requests/suggestions my ask box is open!! also thank you to everyone for all the support on call me, beep me!! it means so much to get so much feedback :D
“Why the fuck is this impossible?!” You groan, throwing yet another dress to the floor, that’s the fourth one in the last twenty minutes. You’re standing in a pile of dresses and skirts you’ve all deemed too ugly to wear out tonight. Your friend, Aubrey, pokes her head into the closet and gives you a small smile. 
“You need some help babe?” She asks, pulling the door open a little bit further. She convinced you to finally try going out to a party with her.
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She had sat down at lunch with a huge smile on her face, “Have I got a proposition for you!” Her tone worried you, she sounded a little too excited. 
You groan and look up from your shitty school lunch, “What is it this time?” 
“Don’t look so upset, I haven’t even told you yet! Anyway, Taylor Owens’ parents are gonna be out of town this weekend so she’s throwing a party tonight and don’t give me that look!” You’re glaring, you hate parties and Aubrey is well aware of that.
“Your little crush is gonna be there, he got off for the night to deal, he’ll definitely be making way more than whatever Grab & Bag pays him,” Aubrey explains, picking up a soggy fry from her tray. 
“Aubrey, I don't know. I’m really not a party person, you know that,” you sigh.
“You should go to just this one and if you hate it you never have to go to any ever again, pinky promise,” she smiles, holding her pinky out to you. 
You weigh your options, you hate crowds and all things loud, besides concerts for some reason…you’re not sure how to explain that but that's another problem for another time. But, if you go Simon will be there and you might finally be able to talk to him. You’ve been watching him from afar like a lovesick puppy for way too long now, if you don’t make a move tonight it’s possible that you never will. You sigh and wrap your pinky around hers in agreement. 
“Ohh hell yes, I’m coming to your place to help you pick what to wear. I love you too much to let you show up in a skirt that goes past your knees.”
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“I hate everything I own right now,” you say bluntly, looking at Aubrey with a defeated look on your face. “Can’t I wear like, jeans or something?” 
“A skirt is easier to take off,” Aubrey jokes, laughing hard at the sight of your eyes widening at her words. “C’mon, give Simon something to look at that he hasn’t already seen. I know you’ve got something short and cute in there, let me look.” She pulls you out of your closet and you sit on your bed watching as she rummages through it. You sigh and lay back on the bed waiting for her to make her selections. 
“Ooh perfect!” Aubrey exclaims. Before you can even sit up you’re hit in the face with a dark purple babydoll dress you barely remember buying. 
“Um, ow?!” You pull the dress off your face and sit up glaring at her. You hold the dress up in front of you. It’s made of velvet and has white ruffles at the bottom and on the neckline.
“You’re gonna look hot in this. Very Courtney Love or Kat Bjelland.” 
You fold the dress over your arm and look up at her, “Fine…I’ll wear. You wanna find me some shoes?” Aubrey nods in response and goes back to your closet while you strip off and slip on the dress. It fits you perfectly, the hem reaching just above your fingertips. You grab a pair of tights from your drawer and slip them on as well. Aubrey lays out a pair of mary janes for you.
“I’m gonna run to my place and get ready, I’ll be back here at 8,” Aubrey says before heading out your door and leaving you alone to figure out your hair and makeup. You pull out a box of magazines from under your bed for some inspiration. You’re a fan of the messy grungey looks all your favorite artists wear. You finally land on a picture of Courtney Love that helps you make up your mind. You copy her dark red lipstick, smudged black liner, and add some mascara. You feel…hot. It’s a first for you to feel anything but fine. 
At 8pm on the dot you hear honking outside your house, you push the curtain out of the way and smile as you see Aubrey waiting outside in her beat up Honda. You head out the door, locking it behind you, and hop in the passenger seat. “You look fucking hot!” Aubrey exclaims, turning on the light in the car to get a better look at you.
You smile giddily, “Thanks…you do too. Anyone you have your eye on tonight?” 
She laughs, “Not unless Heather Watkins plans on breaking up with Ryan anytime soon.”
“We can only hope she’ll turn to her senses and give you a chance.”
“Damn right…Simon is gonna be all over you tonight y’know. I’ve seen Deena make him listen to Hole at lunch before, there’s no way that boy doesn’t have a crush on Courtney Love. You look like her but a million times hotter right now,” Aubrey says, clicking the car light back off and putting the car into drive. You fumble through the tapes in her glove compartment. You pull out a Bikini Kill tape and put it on. 
“How exactly am I supposed to talk to him?” You ask, turning to look at her as she starts the drive to Taylor’s house for the party.
“Well you open your mouth and-” Your groan cuts her off. She laughs at her own joke and rolls her eyes, “It’ll be much easier if you don’t stress over it. Just be yourself, he’ll like you.” You feel unsure, you don’t even know if he knows your name. You’ve been too shy to speak much to him. 
You’ve seen him at his work a few times and he’s always been friendly, but he’s paid for that so it doesn’t mean much in your eyes. “But what if he doesn’t? What if I’ve been pining over this guy for like two years now and he thinks I’m weird or embarrassing or-”
Aubrey rolls her eyes, “He’ll like you, trust me. Okay? And if he doesn’t you can get drunk and then we’ll go to Taco Bell and you can eat as many tacos as you want, okay?” 
“Fine…Taco Bell does sound kind of nice.” 
It doesn’t take long before you pull up in front of Taylor Owens house. There’s already dozens of people out in the grass all hanging out, the best part of living in the woods is having no neighbors to snitch when you throw a party. Aubrey finds a clear space to park and the two of you head inside, you stick close to her as you follow her inside. Some pop song you struggle to recognize is blaring from the speakers when you step inside, you both have to move carefully around the house as it’s already pretty packed. Your eyes scan across the room looking for Simon, you don’t see him but you do see his friends Kate and Deena in the kitchen. They’re leaning against the counter by the drinks talking with one another. As Aubrey leads you into the kitchen Simon comes in through the backdoor. 
“Kate c’mon, it’s your turn to take over, I’ve been out there for an hour now!”
Kate sighs, “Would another hour kill you?”
“You promised we’d switch every hour, go show those jocks your charm, there’s only so much I can do,” he jokes, nudging her towards the door. She rolls her eyes in annoyance but heads out back anyway, Deena follows behind her to keep her company. As Simon turns away from the girls his eyes land on you, he smiles wide and laughs in disbelief. “Holy shit…I never thought I’d see the day you came to a party!” He walks towards you giddily.
You laugh nervously, “Uh yeah, Aubrey practically had to drag me here…”
Aubrey looks over at you and then to Simon and then back at you. She nudges you towards Simon and looks up at him, “Y’know, they’ve never even drank before.”
“Seriously?” Simon wraps his arm around your shoulder and leads you over to the booze, you look back at Aubrey and she’s smiling at you with a thumbs up. “We are gonna fix that, take your pick.” You nervously look over all the different bottles, unsure of what you might like. 
“Uhh…what do you like? I don’t really know where to start with any of this…” You answer nervously. All the different brands and types overwhelm you.
Simon pulls you closer to him, leaning forward to get a better look at the selection. “Hmm…how about…peach schnapps! He grabs the clear bottle off the island, holding it up for you. “This barely tastes like anything, you’ll like it. Trust me.” He sets the bottle back down and grabs you a pink plastic shot glass, grabbing himself a purple one. You watch as he pours you both a shot, handing yours over after. You hold the shot glass up to your nose and sniff, nose crinkling in disgust.
“Is it supposed to smell like that?” You ask, looking at him warily. 
“Oh yeah, all alcohol tastes and smells pretty gross, this one isn’t as bad as the rest though. You’ll be fine, trust me,” he smiles. You watch as he leans his head back and takes his shot. You watch how his nose crinkles at the taste as he sets down the shot glass.
“So I just lean my head back and drink it?” You ask, holding your drink up..
“Pretty much, you wanna take it fast, don’t let it sit in your mouth. If you do you’ll wanna spit it out, this one tastes a little like cough syrup so you really don’t want it sitting in your mouth,” Simon explains. 
You hold the glass up to your lips and lean your head back, attempting to shoot it back but you only get about half the shot into your mouth before you try to choke it down. Simon giggles and shakes his head, “Uh, here. Let me help you.” He grabs your chin and leans your head back, “Mouth open, c’mon.” You feel your cheeks heat up but you do as he says. He grabs the shot glass from the counter and holds it up, “Let’s try this again, yeah?” You’re definitely going to be thinking about this in the shower later. He holds the shot glass up to your lips and tilts your head back just a bit more before pouring the shot down your throat. He lets you go once you’ve swallowed it down but smiles smugly as he watches you wipe your lips. “You’ve got it for next time right?” 
“Y-Yeah…definitely,” you sputter. Your pupils are blown and you feel hot. Your eyes wander his body shamelessly. You’ve never had anyone touch you like that, never had anyone take charge like that. It lights a fire in you with only one way to put it out. Simon can tell he’s got you worked up, he looks almost proud of it. 
“What’d you think? It wasn’t too bad, right?” He asks, moving in closer to you, putting his hand behind you on the counter you’re leaned up against. 
“I-It was nice…I mean, it didn’t taste as bad when you helped me,” you say nervously, looking down at your feet and playing with the hem of your dress. His hand comes down to feel the velvet material, grabbing the hem and rubbing the fabric between his fingers. 
“I like this look on you, very…punk. It suits you.” Your cheeks heat up again at his comment, at this moment you’re mentally begging someone to turn the ac up. 
“Thanks…I don’t usually dress like this, I kind of like it,” You say softly, looking up at him. He shifts his eyes to yours, briefing flicking down to your lips then back to your eyes.
“Why don’t you? It suits you, you like it, so what’s stopping you?” He asks, continuing to absentmindedly play with the hem of your dress. 
“I don’t know…I just don’t want to stick out at school I guess? It feels easier to just blend into the background, y’know?” 
“Let’s make a deal, you start dressing however you want and if anyone says anything about it I’ll have your back. It’ll make my day better to see you walk into school wearing something like this,” he teases, letting go of the hem of your skirt.
“Fine…deal,” you chuckle, holding out your hand for him to shake on it. His grip is firm when he grabs your hand, he pulls you slightly forward as he shakes on it. You put your hand against his chest to stop yourself from stumbling forward. 
“I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to talk to you. I’ve seen you around school for years, you’ve always looked cute y’know. You remind me of the basketcase chick from The Breakfast Club, before they gave her that shitty makeover at the end though. You just…you’ve always looked cool, I don’t know why we didn’t talk before,” Simon rambles.
“To be honest you’ve always intimidated me a little, I don’t know why. I’ve always wanted to talk to you but I could never work up the confidence.” You can’t believe you’re admitting that to him. 
“Me? Intimidating? You flatter me,” Simon giggles, his hand comes up to his chest dramatically before he gives you a coy look.
You roll your eyes and lean back against the counter again, Simon puts his hand on the other side of you, boxing you in against the counter now. “Are you always this dramatic?”
He feigns offense, gasping and pouting at your words. “Dramatic? I am not dramatic.”
You chuckle, “You should really consider joining theatre.”
“They’d be lucky to have me,” he says cockily.
“So lucky.”
You both pause, tension thick between you two. You’re both suddenly aware of just how close you are to one another. His hand comes up to cup your face and you melt into his touch. He starts to lean in before being interrupted by Kate.
“Si! C’mon switch with me, it’s been an hour.” He sighs and turns back to face her, his hands coming down to his side, making a fist in annoyance.
“I was kind of in the middle of something, Kate!” He groans, his eyes flicking back to you as you lean against the counter. 
Her eyebrows raise and she laughs, “Oh! Were you just-”
“I was about to,” Simon cuts her off.
“Well, rules are rules right. We’ve gotta make money somehow,” she says, crossing her arms. 
Simon debates what to do but eventually sighs and gives in, “Fine. Yeah, whatever.” He;s clearly annoyed by Kate interrupting the two of you. He turns back to you and kisses you quickly, catching you off guard. When he pulls away you instinctively lean towards him, almost chasing after his lips. “Come meet me outside, I’ll need some company. Maybe even give you and your friend a little sample, yeah?” He pulls away before you can respond and slips out the back door. 
“Did you really need to cock block him like that?” Deena groans at Kate. 
“He’s done it to me before, I wanted a little revenge,” she turns to you, “No offense to you.” 
“None taken…I think?”
Before Kate can say anything else Aubrey comes up behind you and drags you away from Kate and Deena. She pulls you towards the front door, “We need to go, whatever shitty food they had is going to make me puke. Can you drive?” Her face is pale and she doesn’t look great.
“Shit, yeah. Uh, go start the car. I’ll be out in a minute, there’s something I need to do really quickly.” Aubrey nods and heads out the front. You head towards the back to find Simon sitting in a lawn chair, a box in his lap, looking beyond bored. “You got a sharpie on you?” You ask, standing in front of him.
He nods and grabs it out of his hoodie pocket, he hands it to you with a confused look on his face. You grab his arm and roll up his sleeve, you quickly write your number on his arm and toss the sharpie back into his lap. You kiss his cheek, your lipstick leaving a mark. “Call me, okay?” 
He looks at you like he could kiss you again. “Yes ma’am,” he chuckles, leaning back in the chair and watching as you run off through the gate and to Aubrey’s car.
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