#its the same category as when we remember there are genuinely people out there who cant stand the sight of blood

[mantisgodsdomain]

As we scroll art fight we continue to be shocked & baffled by the hard rules people have. You people... care, about if your character is drawn with someone else's character? You have hard rules about only shipping your character with one monogamous partner??? What?????

[ilikekidsshows]

I remember years ago when Ladybug the episode airing, there's so many people called Tom and Sabine as a bad parents... for whatever reason, and I was one that keep saying they're a good parents. Now though... it make me wondering if they are really as good as I thought they were if Marinette turned out to be this bad.

I saw some people say the reason why Marinette turned to be this spoiled is because she has one child syndrome, but Adrien is one too and ironically he become a better person than Marinette ever be. And the only one child who become spoiled is Chloé and Felix whose parents is also way too doting that they let the kid do whatever.

Today I found out the term "Helicopter parenting" A helicopter parent (also called a cosseting parent or simply a cosseter) is a term for a parent who is overattentive and overly fearful of a child's experiences and problems, particularly outside the home and at educational institutions. And I feels like its something that Tom would do, especially in Weredad episode. He doesn't want Marinette to feel sad so he will create a situation where she won't be sad, emotion need to be fixed or prevented, which... Track with what Marinette's tend to do.

I know I shouldn't put pshycological aspect into a cartoon, let alone a toddler show, but it just fit. 😅

---

The thing about discussing psychology when it comes to media isn't really about who the media is for, I think. The issue, as I see it, comes from using stereotypes of different conditions to classify characters in a negative way, regardless of what genre a piece of media belongs to. It's kinda how you would go about actually writing a story with these same themes: don't forget there are real people who deal with these things who won't appreciate being demonized or dehumanized, so treat the topic with compassion.

However, sometimes it can be useful for your self discovery to discuss whether or not a character fits similar categories as you yourself do. It can be a fun topic to discuss when it's done in a compassionate way. Sometimes small details just fit together way too well to not bring it up. Sometimes it can be good to be aware that the writers might be codifying their characters a certain way and what kinds of attitudes that codifying enforces.

Those people calling Marinette's problems "only child syndrome" when we can see her parents and their parenting techniques are definitely barking up the wrong tree. Only children aren't naturally spoiled, they might not be spoiled at all. But helicopter parents are common these days. A lot of modern parents are afraid of screwing up because we're more aware than ever of how parents can traumatize their kids, and that makes them easily veer into overprotective territory. I do agree with you that helicopter/cosseting parenting seems to be a far more fitting descriptor for what’s going on with Marinette.

Miraculous does often genuinely hit the nail on the head on what some types of parenting do to kids, which makes it so absolutely bonkers when they claim that it's not on purpose. It’s more likely that some of it was on purpose, but the writers then changed their minds about what they wanted to say about parenting. Like, Chloé’s issues get built up as being the result of being spoiled and neglected by her father and mother respectively, but then season five claims Chloé‘s just an evil hellspawn who was born that way.

The thing about Adrien is that his disposition also makes sense with his upbringing. His only friend growing up was Chloé, the epitome of a spoiled brat lashing out because she doesn’t get actual care from her parents, and sometimes Félix, another emotionally unskilled kid lashing out at others because he doesn’t have friends. Add to this Adrien’s emotionally immature father, who goes on a year-long magical rampage where he purposefully tramples on everyone else’s emotions in a misguided attempt to get his wife back with no consideration towards the son he also loves and who's actually still alive. Gabriel also doesn’t want to shield Adrien from disappointments, he often causes them and seems to have that attitude that it’s character-building.

But yeah, it makes sense that Adrien is emotionally astute, since his own emotional well-being relied on him developing the skills to work around the social bombs he grew up around. And then the series decided that, actually, Adrien being so attentive, often even to his own detriment, is a good thing because Marinette can benefit from it. Suddenly Gabriel’s behavior was claimed to not be abusive or emotionally damaging to Adrien at all and Félix is a caring cousin and a good guy. Considering there are still some throw-away lines in the post-retool episodes about how harmful Adrien’s fawning is to himself, it really seems like either there’s been a change in course or the writers disagreed on what the takeaway over Adrien’s family situation was supposed to be.

As for Marinette, ‘Weredad’ does, just as you pointed out, confirm Tom as an incredibly overprotective parent. I’ve also previously made a post about how Marinette exhibits a lot of signs of being an overly coddled child, which is the same thing as a child with cosseting/helicopter parents. Marinette can’t handle stress, because her parents don’t expect things from her, not wanting to pressure her. The one time her parents asked her to do anything for them in the show was handing off a cake to a customer in ‘Timebreaker’. The rest of the time Marinette seems to almost be a free-range child, with no mention of bedtimes or her parents expecting her to have her homework done. Marinette’s studies barely get mentioned, which is really weird for a middle school teen hero show where the characters spend a lot of time in school and classes. But Marinette’s parents are apparently completely unaware of what Marinette does with her day or what happens at school, outside of the letter/email they received in ‘Simon Says’ about Marinette’s repeated absences. Nobody keeps track of or expects anything from Marinette on a more casual level, so when things actually rely on her performance, she buckles under the pressure.

Marinette also can’t handle setbacks, because her parents refuse to voice out her failures and weaknesses so that she could accept them. In ‘Animaestro’, where Marinette starts badmouthing herself, her parents, instead of dealing with this self-deprecating attitude directly, insist she’s definitely not a klutz and totally gets to be a server. They also completely sideline her reason for wanting to be at the event because of this, which they know is to see Adrien. The instant Marinette’s lip starts wobbling, her parents will lie to make her feel better instead of discussing the situation with her. Basically, they treat her like she’s a toddler incapable of understanding that they have a responsibility to their client to not bring an untrained child to work as a server at a public media event with a lot of celebrities.

This lack of dealing with Marinette’s self-esteem problems is also related to Marinette’s past as a victim of Chloé’s bullying. Marinette’s parents are very unengaged with Marinette’s role as a victim; even when she gets expelled on what they think (rightly so) are false accusations, they leave things to the authorities and just tell Marinette she can work at the bakery. To a child, that preparation for the worst-case-scenario feels like the parents aren’t on her side at all. Of course, we don’t know if the parents are aware of the past bullying Marinette faced; even in ‘Origins’ they merely encouraged her to go to school and bring everyone pastries. In general, Marinette’s parents seem to know very little about her friend group (they think Sabrina is a close friend of Marinette’s in ‘Darkblade’) and social standing in addition to her daily activities, which lends credence to me deeming her a free-range child.

Marinette also can’t handle rejection, because her parents never deny her anything except for a single episode, ‘Simon Says’, where they told her she couldn’t go out with her friends until she stopped skipping class. They were incredibly gentle about this grounding too, and held each other's hands afterwards, like this was an incredibly difficult task they’d just completed, gently telling their teenaged daughter she had to stop skipping class for a week before she could be allowed out whenever she wanted again. Basically, it takes extreme circumstances for Marinette’s parents to give her any boundaries, and they clearly don’t like doing it, which explains perfectly why she has no boundaries when it comes to pursuing her attraction to Adrien.

The problem with all of this is that this should be a good ground for Marinette to grow from. This is a valuable topic to discuss. As I said earlier in the post, overprotective helicopter parents who are afraid that every single disappointment or setback will traumatize their child for life are a thing. As such, this is an important thing to teach to families and especially to kids who wouldn't understand what's going on in their lives unless someone brought it up. But this isn't what the show does, because the head of the showrunners is the most overprotective parent of them all for his fictional creation, so of course he isn't going to criticize himself.

[majorasnightmare]

Inevitable Gerudo Headcanon Posting

i spend too much time thinking about the gerudo like genuinely theyre one of my favorite recurring tribes in the zelda series, which as we all know is a form of suffering because god forbid nintendo stop relying on racist tropes and caricatures.

keeping in line with this nintendos portrayal of the gerudo tends to either be 1) why theyre bad, and/or 2) how a culture of all women has kids. like thats an oversimplification of ALLL the problems present in the gerudos portrayal but thats a different post for another time. in general i bring this up because it means, for me as well as any others interested and invested un the gerudo, that there is a kind of generalized lack of pre botw characterization or cultural concepts to work with, esp when compared to the other tribes of hyrule. (looks pointedly at how theres no gerudo in the gerudo desert but there is a prison slash execution site where their king was held. LOOKS AT WHO SURVIVED THE PROLOGUE CUTSCENE IN WINDWAKER)

ANYWAYS. botw was really fun because, while it had plenty of its own issues with the gerudo, they were at least non hostile! so with that in mind, the headcanons and worldbuilding i write primarily apply to the wilds era gerudo, which spans the timeframe between ganondorfs reign as king to totk (suspending disbelief because that timeframe is. by all accounts. longer than recorded human history. friendly reminder ganondorf does All That before we even get sheikah wifi towers. christ.)

anyways. second verse same as the first, core assumptions and then a readmore

Some core assumptions:

The BotW branch of the timeline is chronologically set AFTER the previous timeline, ie the events of ToTKs ancient past is set AFTER the last event of the Hyrule Historia timeline. essentially they all come back together to form one line that makes up ToTKs ancient era

The biggest effect on Hyrules topography was the flooding in Wind Waker. after an unknown point, the flooding ocean receded leaving behind the ruins of ancient Hyrule. at some point after that, the zonai settled parts of it and made the buildings wed see as ruins by the time of BotW. slowly the various tribes of hyrule immigrated back

all peoples within the setting of hyrule are loosely grouped into categories called tribes. in this sense, tribe refers a collection of peoples with shared traits, without anything concretely set in stone (for example, hyrule includes the tribe of hylians, the tribe of gorons, the tribe of koroks, etc etc). the main six who show up repeatedly can be considered the sage tribes (gerudo, hylian, sheikah, rito, goron, zora), and the various types of enemies can be considered the monster tribes (the blin tribe of bokoblin, moblin, bulblin, etc)

so. starting at the beginning. near entirely headcanons

in ocarina of time, we see the spirit temple, where Nabooru awakens as a sage. this temple features a MASSIVE statue of a woman adorned with a snake and its primary mechanic centers around mirrors and reflected light. while the mirrors return, we dont really get that same kind of implied spiritual/religious focus again. so instead im going to make a mountain out of a molehill and position her as the primary spiritual figure here. im running low on name ideas tho so suggestions are much appreciated. for right now ill refer to her as the serpent goddess

the gerudo are culturally a people of function over form, practicality over whimsy, but when circumstances allow for it, are drawn like any other to arts and music and decoration. they have a long history of bloody, brutal battle, and while the war has long since ended, its kings buried and its warriors naught but ghosts, the desert remembers. its sands haunted by the bloodstains of conflict past, and echoes of ancient tragedies. the gerudo here in the era of wilds may have lost their records of their ancient history of conflict, but some aspects, preserved by the sands, have managed to survive the onslaught of time

surviving all this time is the ancient creation myth of the gerudo people. as legend tells it, long ago in the time before myth, there existed a goddess whos power was transformation. she was possessed of two forms, one a proud humanoid figure, the other a striking serpentine form twisting through the heavens with ease, her scales glittering with mirror sheen. to shift from serpent to human, she would shed her skin, and grow it back again to embrace her serpentine form anew

seven times she shed her skin, and from these shed skins rose the first gerudo, each embodying a key aspect of their sacred mother. the serpent goddess's scales are each a nascent soul of a gerudo, and when those scales are shed and fall to the land below, a new gerudo is born. likewise, when a gerudo dies, their soul returns to the scales of the serpent goddess, to await until they would descend again and reincarnate once more. the seven daughters of the serpent goddess led these gerudo as their guardians, leaders, and protectors. but, away from the seven heroines and their new people, the goddess shed her skin an eighth time. this daughter was born alone, and while her sisters embodies the strengths of spirit, flight, endurance, knowledge, motion, skill, and gentleness, the eighth was born with insatiable wanderlust. learning of this, the seven sisters cursed her name for leaving them and their people behind, and despite their shared ancestry, the eighth was forbidden to be spoken of. this suited her just fine, and the eighth was free to walk the land and learn all of its hidden paths

in time, war came to the gerudo, as it often does. though they were united, and strong, they were a small collection of people, and thus despite their proficiency were threatened nonetheless. it became clear at last that they could not stand and fight, and that to survive, they could not remain in place for long. but the enemy had pushed them deep into their home, and knew all the paths back. as hope seemed lost, as if summoned by call, the eighth sister at last wandered home. calling her seven sisters to her, she proclaimed that every hidden step was known to her, and while she lacked the power to guide them on her own, together they would escape unseen into the night, their enemy none the wiser. thus, skillfully guiding the skills of her sisters, the eighth heroine led the gerudo into safety, and the seven were humbled from their pettiness. seeking to apologize to the sister they had banished and forgotten, the seven sought to make amends, but the eighth was content merely to have a place of remembrance among them. to wander is not a sin, as long as one remembers where their home lies.

the eight heroines have long since passed and returned to their mothers scales, but the virtues they embody are cherished by the gerudo family they left behind, seeking to hold their memory close even as the years wear on

to the gerudo was bestowed the blessing of the element of Spirit, embodied by their iron wills and manifesting as crackling lightning. this spirit lightning is the gerudo's will made tangible, arcing out towards their target as an extension of their focus and sheer determination. to a gerudo, nothing is impossible until one has devoted themselves entirely to it, giving it their all, and only then may it be conceded

a long history of persecution has resulted in the gerudo being increasingly insular and isolationist. their admiration of the art of combat and how it can bring forth an individuals talents, achieving a perfect harmony between body and will as the weapon became an extension of ones limbs, was often perceived as aggression by outsiders, who would react as if to defend their own interests. the gerudo have suffered much at the hands of hyrule at large, and have pulled further and further away.

as the gerudo pulled away from hyrule, and hyrule from them, they devoted most of their attention to themselves. cooperation amongst themselves is seen as paramount to their survival, and familial affection often extends well past ones blood relations.

the gerudo value family, and loyalty, alongside independence and cooperation. everyone should have the opportunity to pursue their goals, but if someone is struggling, it is the responsibility of everyone to help. children are raised by as many people as are available, and even in the times of monarchy, the palace was less a formal dwelling place belonging to the gerudo ruler and more a public forum that the ruler simply happened to live in

most of the palaces amenities are fully public, a tradition that has carried on to riju's time. meals are communal and the kitchens open to all, and the palace has no strictly dedicated servants, merely a collection of amenities the gerudo people are free to use at will and often do so together. what this means is that there is no servant, for example, dedicated to preparing riju's meals but instead a collection of people willing to cook and willing to eat making meals riju partakes in, and this applies to most other menial tasks as well. the throne room is where the leader of the gerudo engages in their job as public servant, attending to the needs of the gerudo at large and responding to crises as they arise.

as nintendo is keen to point out, the gerudo are a people that are predominantly "all women", and thus spends plenty of time going over dialogue wherein people wonder how they have children and including a plethora of sidequests in the wilds era about acquiring partners. im ignoring all of that and instead going by lizard rules, in part because here theyre descended from a serpent dragon goddess, wherein a population of all female lizards were able to successfully maintain a stable population and have children without major issue. gerudo like ganondorf are the equivalent of a rare genetic mutation that flips some other genes on and has a different result, that really doesnt affect anything besides this one kid and doesnt have any major effects or differences in their life. two gerudo are perfectly capable of having kids together, having relationships as usual, and on the topic of "how do the gerudo have kids", thats all i really feel like exploring that topic

with an insular, isolationist culture that appeared for all intents and purposes to be all women, the gerudo were often a source of major culture shock when interacting with the other tribes of hyrule, most notably hylians

bonus hylian lore: hylians experience an even greater lack of sexual dimorphism than irl humans do, so gender presentation is near exclusively presentation based, with a heavy emphasis on clothing. showing skin is considered an act of emotional intimacy, and most hylians opt to cover as much as they can. the intensity of presentation scales upwards with their role in society, with the royal family having the most extreme form of gender presentation. gender is presented through clothing style and hair length, with ornamentation, jewelry, and piercings serving as a kind of intensifier, and hylian culture at large tends to operate on a sliding scale of masculine to feminine, with the middle androgynous zone being a weird gender spot for them

the gerudo, by contrast, never really developed a concept of masculinity versus femininity. gender pronouns in gerudo are based on personal proximity, occupation in society, and familiarity. these barely translate at all into hyrulean.

as the gerudo, by circumstance or by choice, interacted with hylians and the tribes of hyrule more and more often, some kind of understanding had to be reached with regards to translation. as relations were already terse, making an attempt to fully translate the gerudos understanding of gender to your average hylian was considered a fools errand, and thus translation was done in broad strokes, giving hylians the simplest root form of gender pronouns (and none of the increasingly specific declensions). loosely, the term vai is closer in concept to "us" and voe is closer to "not us" "foreigner" "outsider", and has taken on a connotation of " forbidden" or "taboo" (leading to wilds era gerudo secret clubs often imploying translatable Adult Puns regarding their catering to voe and the overall titillating atmosphere they tend to put on for customers). with regards to hylians, the feminine princesses and queens had more in common with the gerudo and were thus "vai", but the masculine kings and soldiers, who were often the main figures pushing aggressive efforts into conquering or otherwise absorbing the gerudo into hyrule, were "voe". this was then distributed in various guides to understanding the gerudo language as " vai" meaning "woman" and "voe" meaning man

gerudo town, as the capital of their people and general hub, has a law banning the entrance of voe. at the time if its writing, this was a fairly obvious law, because most "people who are forbidden" are forbidden from entering. as time has passed, hostilities cooled, and relations warmed, this law has been the subject of a long struggle of interpretation. it doesnt translate well into nearly any other language, and thus who counts as "voe" and "vai" is subject to endless debate. the differences in gender perception are most clearly on display with the admittance of the gorons. one might assume that the gorons, being a monogendered people who typically use masculine terms of identity and endearment in hyrulean, to thus qualify as voe, but the gorons cooperative nature, near uniform monogendered culture, and emphasis on hard work and independence has enough in common with your average gerudo that considering them as vai is a no brainer

ganondorf thus is also, clearly, considered vai. the specific pronouns he uses in his native gerudo include declensions regarding his position as royalty (one that has since gone out of use and is fairly archaic now, only really being used as a kind of neo-pronoun by current era gerudo as a rebellious self identification thing), his relation as the only child of koume and kotake, and are conjugated based on relation between the speaker and him. in the ancient era, calling ganondorf voe would be so confusing as to not even read as an insult. if one really wanted to refer to ganondorf with a tone of insult, theyd substitute the declension of familiarity with one used for strangers

ganondorf achieved his position as king the old fashioned way: a gift from his moms. ancient era gerudo practiced typical monarchy with a line of succession, and koume and kotake named him as the next royal of the gerudo as their heir. the hyruleans, seeing a masculine gerudo of royal birth, referred to him as "king", and correcting a culture of people he had little respect for was just a waste of ganondorfs time. after ganondorfs sealing, the gerudo changed to the current system of chiefs, wherein the current chief names a successor, or by default passes it onto their living heir. a system is in place to democratically install a new chief if the current one passes without naming a child their heir, or naming a successor in their place, a system drafted and then used in ganondorfs absence. riju thus inherited the mantle from her mother, but could opt instead to force a vote, or have such a vote forced on her due to her age, leading to much of her insecurity seen in BotW. this system has proven to be relatively stable, especially coupled with the continued tradition of keeping the palace an open public forum

the first chief of the gerudo was nabooru, advised by the sage of lightning we see in totk, following ganondorfs sealing

the gerudo are very familiar with the souls of the dead. poes, souls lost and aimless, wander the desert after millennia of bloodshed. thus their funerary customs have persisted, even as the folklore behind them fades in and out of memory.

a person perceives reality through their body. they know the sky is above them both by craning their neck up, and by the sensation of ground beneath them. in death, one is bodiless, and sensation becomes a confusing, directionless onslaught. it is so easy for a spirit to become lost, unable to orient themselves. the gerudos funerary rites seeks to aid these souls in their journey towards returning to the serpent goddess, as without guidance they are liable to become poes. the body after death is merely an empty receptacle, and on a practical level is a potential draw for dangerous desert scavengers seeking an easy meal. the shifting sands and hard soil makes burial difficult to impossible, so instead the gerudo burn their dead. smoke is ephemeral and thus able to be seen by spirits, and even as the wind rushes, smoke will still travel upwards towards the heavens. a spirit will linger by its body for a time, and thus cremation helps provide guidance to the dead. unable to feel the earth beneath them, the dead can follow the trails of smoke to orient themselves upwards, and dispel lingering confusion

as the body is burned both to guide the departed's soul and to ward away scavengers, the gerudo inter their belongings into gravesites instead, usually one or a small collection of items that the deceased valued or were considered emblematic of them. having a proud history of warriors, many gerudo consider their weapons extensions of themselves, and thus many gravesites will consist of a single weapon.

the sage of lightnings temple served as the primary gravesite for many gerudo, and in its heyday was decorated with love and care as befitting its role. torches burned bright in its sconces and the walls painted with care in massive sweeping murals. here in the temple, a foreigners idea of the gerudo as austere and practical would fall away, as the halls shone with warmth and color, taken from their desert home

lost souls that become poes often end up becoming consumed by their regrets and despair at their inability to find their way back to reincarnation through the serpent goddess's scales, and from there turn to rage and aggression. the sunlight glinting off of the goddess's mirror scales will blind and disorient the dead who have lost their way, as they try in vain to rely on their half forgotten senses, and thus poes eschew the day in favor of the cover of night. though incorporeal, poes move as fast as the desert winds, and try all they can to cause mischief and havoc. usually the end result of their shenanigans is light injuries and scratches, but it isn't uncommon for a waylaid traveller or adrenaline seeking youngster to suffer fatal consequences. despite this, poe hunting tends to be the go-to act of rebellion for antsy teenagers with a taste for danger. in general, one of the only things fast enough to strike a poe is a fired arrow

as the sands grew and the desert expanded, it grew more and more difficult for the steeds of the gerudo to gallop across the dunes, and they were driven further and further back until the gerudo phased out their horseback traditions entirely

and as an AU specific trivia tidbit

after ganondorf's sealing, nabooru grieved the loss of her childhood friend by constructing a dedicated tomb to house ganondorf's gravesite. even though he wouldn't die, nabooru would never live to see him again, and in traditional gerudo fashion, his gravesite is marked by his signature trident, further imbued by nabooru's blessing of lighting (in a similar fashion to urbosa's fury, despite urbosa not being a sage).

[granulesofsand]

🗝️🏷️ discussion of RAMCOA with nonphysical examples, sh/suicide

For every person I see opening up about RAMCOA, there’s another telling the world to never so much as glance in its direction. We are shit at tone sometimes, so not to be rude, but I do have reasons I dislike the silence.

Reading about tortured children should never be comfortable, and if you have no reason to suspect a similar history, you can filter away the nastiness. We will never be able to have that ignorance, even if our front-facing alters don’t remember.

If you do suspect a history or end up having one, congrats! Time to start deprogramming. Chances are if you went through this flavor of hell, the stability you have is a cover for your involvement, past or current. Either way, I’ve never seen someone survive without any side effects, and addressing the problem is the only way to actually solve it.

Omega (death/sh) programs can be activated by looking into trauma material. Any trauma material. And a good amount of other stuff, like trying to leave your area or not reporting back to an assigned group member. Our omega programs have been passively problematic for years, and our first active cases were around 4 years old. It’s a common program line, and some groups install functioning versions very young. We did not know about any kind of abuse at 4, despite being trafficked and regularly hurt our whole life. It was triggered by existing too close to a ritual site, and we had sh behaviors and runaway attempts for ‘knowing too much’.

We were taught by abusers that what they were doing was good and normal at the same time they were teaching us we were dirty for living it and nobody would believe us. Pretty much all of that category was just convincing us not to tell on them, with punishment for breaking cult rules. We’ve read about survivors taking the ‘Golden Rule’ as ‘Silence’, and we have a similar experience. Any breaking of the quiet without direct harm at their hands is another inch towards safety. If we can convince ourselves they really did lie about their omnipotence, we can shake some programs based in those beliefs.

We were told that our system/body specifically was bad and wrong, and that these things happened to us because we deserved it. We don’t hold the same standard for outsiders, and their stories make us think we might not have been predestined for the life we got.

Outsiders who have no trauma history, and sometimes those who do, can be pretty insensitive. We have been harassed for having been sexually assaulted, called names for telling/not telling parts of our story, and insulted in various unpleasant ways because we were forced to perpetrate. We still commonly get a reaction of disbelief, even after months of building trust and then giving only vague summaries. The more people hear about this form of maltreatment and its effects, the higher their tolerance will be when someone needs them to show up.

It makes us feel more secure in our own memories when other survivors have similar experiences. To know that it can actually be that bad, it isn’t the norm, and others have gotten out and started healing is more weight off our shoulders I knew we carried. I, and other alters, have shame pits that we can sink into quick. The pure validation of knowing it happened, the flex tape of understanding it wasn’t their fault, the basis for comparison we have never had in anyone but our abusers. It helps us, even if it also hurts.

Silence is what they wanted. ‘They’ being the pedophile rings, cults, and other organized groups that rely on programming children and anyone else they got their hands on for profit. I genuinely do believe more people fit into our community than currently admit, and the gray doesn’t become visible until you open your eyes to the damn black and white.

[fleapit]

I think there may be terfs coming out of the woodwork trying to turn trans people against each other. I've seen several terf posts within the past 24 hours trying to make it seem like transfems want to control transmasc, but the posts are always worded in that terf-y way that just reeks of pure transphobia.

Now, whether people are genuinely failing to read between the lines of flowery "progressive" sounding language? That's another story altogether.

Tldr stealth terfs are proving that no one is immune to propaganda

no genuinely. like when there was that anon going around sending transfems really vile messages claiming to be a trans man but it was really, really obviously a terf sending ragebait.

my opinion on the matter is, words like transmisogyny and transandrophobia should, can, and HAVE TO exist at the same time to describe our unique experiences. but its also very very important to remember that both of those overlap with eachother, theres not this huge solid wall between them and every trans person's experience is completely unique to them.

i dont think its useful to act like there are these boxes that oppression fits into that covers these broad categories while ignoring things like intersectionality and the basic fact that when someone is being transphobic, they dont try and puzzle out if youre ftm or mtf or transneutral or whatever, they just guess and attack you from there. its so ingrained in society its an automatic response for most of these people. it doesnt matter what kind of trans we are, we are 'othered' and treated as such.

conversations on who has it worse, or this concept that invisibility over hypersexualization is safer/inherent to your agab, it's all unproductive. it's a waste of time. they want to kill all of us.

they are trying to divide us so that we go nuts fighting with eachother and not them, and it's working. we know this is what they're doing because they openly post about doing so. we cannot let them win. we cannot break solidarity with eachother. we deserve better than that. we do.

[youssefguedira]

It's been like this since Crash beat Brokeback Mountain. Home of Phobia.

the thing is. the Thing Is. i saw maestro in theaters on its limited 'please give us an oscar even though we're netflix' run i was cautiously optimistic about the movie and it's like. it's just fine. there's nothing egregiously terrible about it but it is a complete nothingburger of a biopic it's not even a GOOD biopic. it is remarkably cookie cutter. it's got black and white for absolutely no reason i can ascertain and its switch to color part way through is like so incredibly weird. just PICK a COLOR bradley. i loathe to give nolan any ground on oppenheimer but at LEAST there was a REASON. that is understandable. i will give it that the score slaps but it kind of had to, the conducting scenes genuinely felt like the only part where there was any real substance or love put into that film, and it's really just a showcase for carey mulligan who is admittedly good. bradley cooper is just fine. it takes its discussion of bernstein's sexuality from the bohemian rhapsody school of biographical pictures. they're technically both movies about gay people but ONE of them is a devastating look at queerness across generations and family and love and the other occasionally makes references to it while hinging the whole film on the relationship between the gay person and his wife, which i have no complaints about it IS an interesting relationship, but the way it incorporates bernstein's sexuality feels vaguely Home Of Phobic.

and like i know that a lot of this actually comes down to active campaigning, because i don't know if there really was one for all of us strangers in the same way that when netflix wants something to win an oscar they throw everything behind it. i think (unevidenced claims btw i know nothing) they mightve done something similar with ripley which is like cool great go get those emmys. but WHO is seeing the 'i'm sorry i never came in your room while you were crying' scene and not IMMEDIATELY going oh i need to give this man every fuckin award in existence. like mr cooper is OK in maestro but who didn't see the scene where adam crawls into his parents bed in his pajamas from when he was a kid and immediately go this has changed me forever. who is doing it like mr. scott in all of us strangers. i argue nobody. this is partially because it's good and also because i hold the firm belief that he's simply one of the best actors working right now and i'm RIGHT. and like as well as that. what about paul mescal. what is rdj doing in oppenheimer that paul mescal is not doing. arguably what is ryan gosling doin[gunshot]. my real frontrunner in that category is sterling k brown but like STILL. a nomination would've been deserved. jamie bell and claire foy as well are fuckin phenomenal. and i can keep going we can talk about directing (excellent) and cinematography (INCREDIBLE. can we talk about it more. like i can't really remember how maestro looks other than serviceable. but there's one interview about every shot in the opening of all of us strangers emphasising adam's loneliness and it DOES you can FEEL that shit. that is cinematography that brings you into the film. you know that post about people wanting to help ariel out of the screen in the little mermaid. that's the shit i'm talking about. also like. just LOOK at the opener hang that shit in the louvre.)

ultimately when it comes to Cinema when i think about this year's nominees at least the ones i did see were MEMORABLE. maestro is nothing to me. i regularly forget it is a movie i have seen. all of us strangers haunts me every day of my goddamn life as is evidenced by My Blog over the past couple weeks as i descend further into whatever new problem i've developed. so tldr i'm not the academy but i should be and all of us strangers 2023 should've swept the nominations if not the actual awards. it GOT THE GOLDEN GLOBES. WHICH IS A REASONABLE PRECURSOR TO THE OSCARS. sorry just googled whether andrew scott has an oscar and that came up. anyway. this has been Neon Is Angry At The Academy Also Known As Fork Found In Kitchen. awards aren't an indicator of a films real quality because ultimately what all of us strangers is is a deeply deeply personal piece of art that everyone will take something different from and for me one of those things was It Is A Fucking Travesty That Andrew Scott Does Not Have An Oscar And In Fact None Of These People Do What The Hell. What The Hell. as well as feeling like i was going to be physically sick (complimentary). what i took away from maestro was a desire to rewatch the fabrizio de andré movie, which says a lot about both the movie and also me. the fabrizio de andré movie is also a pretty generic biopic but at least i ENJOY it

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 4.6

Practice, my dears, is about repetition, rhythm, and presentation. We take some form of power, often something Others have to offer, or a bit of our Self, and we use our inviolable word to push that power into the ruts that the past has carved into existence. Those ruts are the circuits in the computer of reality, the currents in the aether of unreality.

oh I love this. What a great description of how magic works in the Otherverse

This was my difficulty, because I was raised with what I would term craft, rather than by practice.  The word ‘practice’ implies rote repetition, with aim of perfection.�� Craft, on the other hand, is skill.  Something that comes from the honing of the self.

this is an interesting philosophy. Makes me wonder about other completely different approaches to magic

It is possible for an Other to step into humanity and assume nearly everything about a human life, including the ability to practice

Blake... :|

“No,” Dreg rasped, speaking with an adult’s voice. “A good familiar is a partner, something you can control, or something you’re willing to be controlled by.

depressing but true. I feel like most practitioners fall into the second category

“Meh.  If you asked around you’d probably hear something like how my family’s a bunch of magic janitors.” “Janitors? What do you do?” “I’m a knight of seals."

cool name though

If I got kicked out, no high school education or anything, then I’d probably end up a goblin exterminator.

ok. so. 1) teach your children enough to get a GED and 2) MAYBE NOT WITH THE EXTERMINATING OF SAPIENT BEINGS? Like, I can see how you might need to deal violently with some goblins, but "extermination" is a hell of a loaded word

Like… boy band attractive, but without the attached annoyance of the boy band.

I think the band is supposed to be part of the appeal?

“I find,” Jessica said, “the proportion of bad people remains roughly the same.  If ten percent of people are assholes, they’re going to be assholes whether you’re in a big school or here, or in the city or a town like mine.” “The proportions may remain the same, but the smaller the group, the harder it is to find the necessary number of people to surround yourself with, and the harder it is to avoid the monsters who are not Other.”

even leaving aside actual assholes, its so much harder to find people you genuinely like if the pool of total people is small

I think you have to find a family, found family or blood, and I don’t think Zed, I, Eloise, Ulysse, or Amine can be yours.

... yeah. I think Zed is a good ally, at least so far. But I think longterm the difference in goals is always going to be a divider. But the Kennet Trio have each other.

“Younger students, move closer to the front.  Don’t be scared,” he said, as he placed his laptop beside him.  “I byte with a y, but I don’t bite.”

oh, bad cs jokes

Not entirely sure what's going on with Ray here, if he's being racist or if he's seeing how Lucy responds to provocation

“That,” Ray said, after a short while, “was the Faerie. Seven courts.

oh! going back over those descriptions: Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, dark Autumn, dark Summer, dark Spring?

She struggled to.  All she remembered was how upset she felt as her emotions had gotten away from her.  Like Ray had hit a button and made her feel something.

this makes me think Ray is deliberately pushing at her emotions. Maybe something to do with trying to figure out what was up with the Hungry Choir binding?

Are these categories from the Pactdice practices list? I think some names have been changed, but I remember Divine being a column header, and I think goblins and abyss were in the same column

“You’re agitated.  Please relax.  I would like to explain and move on to a practical lesson, but I can’t do that like this.” You’ve been telling me to shush, you’ve been keeping me from raising my hand… She bit her tongue. “Would you step out, please?  I am doing my best to include you in the class when I don’t have data on you.  I will include you more after I have a better idea of where you stand, skillwise.  For right now you’re being disruptive.”

literally not doing anything!

So. From what Zed's saying, this seems mainly to be that at practitioner school, the professors all might have issues or unreasonable pet peeves and students just kind of have to roll with it. Sucks and is unfair, but that's how life goes.

But. If Ray's issue is people being angry, it is deeply unfair to hook someone up to an emotion detector and then react to the emotions being shown by the detector, even if the person controls them.

And also, out of all the students there, including other new students, including other students who didn't fill out the forms. The student he singles out for being overemotional and angry is the one Black girl.

She found them, not that far from the school or that deep into the paths.  The Dollmaker, Graubard, and the ex-headmaster, Bristow, talking.

hmm. Don't like that!

Verona turned a book so it was at an angle both she and Lucy could read, and she beamed, excited and happy.

I wouldn't be surprised if Verona wants to consider staying at school for the school year rather than returning home.

It isn’t nothing, answered that other part of her, that had just been lit up with simulations of karma and divinity, colored with spirit and seven shades of Faerie, and shaded with darknesses both visceral and ruined.

this is a hell of a closing line

[gontagokuhara]

2019 vs. 2024 hot takes exactly 0 people asked for (now with opinions on the dr3 characters!)

and because im mentally ill im elaborating below the cut because at least i’m cognizant of how few people share this illness with me ❤️

first of all. some categories were edited (+added). we shall address them all in due time 🫶 but just for posterity before we begin: top of the category is the one that best exemplifies the category title and it moves in descending order; so as gonta is my #1 my GOAT, pedo udg guy is the one i want to kill himself most. understandable? ok 🫶

2019 top 5-tier is slightly unfortunately named but other than that changes in 2024 are somewhat minimal. as is perhaps obvious if you have seen even one (1) danganronpa post from me: gonta is My character hes mine spike chunsoft dont get him like i do. AND i love sdr2. nagito is my very very close second i am so incredibly mentally ill about him Oh if you all could see the hundreds of thousands of words ive written about that fucking guy. also true of hajime. still true of sonia (<3 i love u girlie) and fuyuhiko but to a lesser extent (i have written so much sdr2. its a problem. we persist). they are characters we see a lot of and in that same vein give SO much to build upon in further character exploration. and boy do i do that. holds the five of them In my arms i love you babygirls

S tier excellents again prove i am an sdr2 enjoyer. i think it also showcases how much i REALLY love the v3 characters while absolutely hating the plot they were stuck in. kaede and shuuichi are SOOOO special 2 me u dont understand…….im going to have so many thoughts and be So mad when i replay v3. kokichi is VERY interesting and my thoughts on him are endless (hi evan) and there is soooo much there even if i also have to fundamentally hate him somewhat because of 3-4. also a wide array of sdr2 characters are here of course……on my most recent replay i have come to really appreciate imposter (better sexier byakuya ❤️) and ibuki . and i was kind of surprised how high some of the dr1 characters are (besides chihiro who has consistently been my dr1 #1) but sorry dr3 made me love the makoto/kyouko/aoi trio sooooo bad.

lots of variety in the A tier which are all characters i enjoy, they just arent my Favorite barbie dolls to mash around u know. so many very unique personalities like mahiru, angie, tenko, and ryoma that weren’t explored as well as possible in canon, so its harder for me to personally invest in them. junko is iconic and she gets worse as the games go on but god. dr1 was craaaaaazy so she and mukuro have to be given props for that. im ignoring e-girl junko and v3 entirely <3 also again in watching dr3 while replaying sdr2 i really came to appreciate natsumi and her dynamic with hajime :[ rip girl i miss u. also also i liked koichi way more than expected LOL it must just be cuz hes hot but his death was sick as fuck and i liked his thruline with jin (the weird flirting with kyouko aside……)

B tier! bit of a mixed bag, from characters i like very begrudgingly (byakuya, sorry, i latched onto him as my rich terrible boyfriend when first playing years ago and the fondness kinda stuck 💔) to ones i do genuinely like, but they were not given much to do in canon (ryota) or their arcs fell flat (kirumi). also here are dr3 + udg characters i didnt mind or were just somewhat nice to makoto (also chisa, who is very interesting but i very much disliked how her character ended off) so shout out them (they are all dead) (or orphaned like monaca and kotoko).

C tier is basically my ‘i barely remember’ tier sry……i did not finish udg so i have so very few opinions on most of the characters. chihiro aoi and yasuhiro’s parents are chill tho shout out. not much to say tho

and now we enter the hater zone with D tier……look. some of these are hot takes and some arent. as much as i love sdr2 i just cannot ever make myself like hiyoko and teruteru. theyre kinda fucked from the getgo theyre never treated as especially serious characters but their glaring flaws are so bad i cant bring myself to care when the rest of the cast is SO GOOD. i also do not like kazuichi LMFAO as a sonia ride or die just as i cannot look past teruteru’s sexual harassment NEITHER CAN I LOOK PAST KAZUICHI’S ‼️‼️ yes i think he can be fixed but sonia needs a restraining order + when she was hoping he was the ch4 killer i was cheering. everyone else this category are just mid ass dr1 characters and the dr3 characters i found actively annoying. also monokuma. hes cringe but iconic and doesnt fit anywhere else

not much to be said about F tier. i did not finish udg but i know enough that i need haiji towa to die. i need the asshole who beat up hajime to die. i need the asshole who tried to kill makoto to die. i need that stupid old fuck heading the future foundation to die. the monokubs are fucking annoying. the only like Real characters here are 1) miu because she is written terribly and her cool talent is wasted, treats gonta like shit, isnt funny, is just nasty perv bait and her most meaningful contribution is to be fodder for the 2nd worse written case in the game. and as for NUMBER ONE WORST: tsumugi mostly just symbolizes my hatred for v3’s ending because outside of her role in 3-6 she has very little impact on the story before her reveal. also got my girlies kaede and rantarou killed God i hate the end of thisgame

and finally: oh my poor sweet bastards. why would they do this to you. these characters are either underutilized in a way that is DEVASTATING (izuru 💔) treated like shit as joke characters their potential is totally squandered by dogshit writing (everyone else — sdr2 you could have been so much better WHY!!!!!!). mikan and korekiyo’s motives are dogshit and make the ch3 double murder so much weaker. nekomaru and akane are played as jokes essentially their entire screentime and akane is especially egregious because shes a survivor among characters like FUYUHIKO!!! like SONIA!!! like HAJIME!!!!!!!!! AND YOU SQUANDER HER LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!!!! kaito suffers from really flip-floppy writing and he sucks a lot of the time Especially pre-localization but ive adopted him a little bit in writing him and i love my construction of him in my brain.

ok thats it. im so mentally ill. give me ur thoughts or do the tierlist urself. now pointy objects lockdown time 👍

[eradicatetehnormal]

I love how Youtube has opened up a new space for journalism.

Anyways, I read through the comments of the video after watching the whole thing, and it made me remember how awful the discourse around sex work and porn is. Those two topics are one of the few that make me feel like I'm socially moderate.

Anytime time we talk about sex work and the effects of porn, it's almost always "Sex work is empowering for women and gives them the autonomy to objectify themselves" or "Sex work is demeaning to women, puts them in danger, and is immoral." It's just like, why those two extremes? I wish these topics could be treated with the moral grayness they deserve. Neither side really understands the other.

The side that's saying sex work is empowering is just kind of ignoring how it's really just a job. Take away all the social stigma and criminalization, women are just kind of doing what they've been able to do for a while now. Working. Can it be empowering? Depending on the person, sure, but it's about as empowering to women as a whole as say, working as a cashier at Walmart. Cool that we can provide for ourselves :) Actually getting into it though, a lot of people making this point do deliberately ignore how dehumanizing it actually is to work for say, the porn industry. A lot of people get boiled down to their categories. Shem*le, ebony, Asian, BBW, things of that nature. This does unfortunately contribute to how these groups get treated in real life. It may not be the main or only source of problems such as trans women and queer people generally having higher rates of experience with sexual violence, but it certainly doesn't help.

With the anti-sex work side, they hyper-focus on human trafficking, when most sex workers get into the industry out of choice. It's not because of glamourization either. Quite frankly, aside from Pretty Woman, which is a debatable example, I don't know what media these people are watching where sex workers and their jobs are seen as ideal. Any time I see a sex worker in a movie or tv show, they're either dumb, drug addicts, dirty, or dead. If you ask the vast majority of women across all ages if sex work, whether it be OnlyFans modeling, escorting, stripping, etc. would be their first choice of work, I guarantee that most of them we'll say no. Because most of us understand. Most of us know, if not the physical danger, the social harm it could cause us to sell our bodies. Places won't hire us, people will refuse to date us, people will assault us, and we will be disowned by family. I'm not gonna lie, thinking of sex work as being an easy job where you spend 15 minutes with a dude at some motel or you take pictures of yourself and get paid thousands, is a dude thing. It's an outlook you can only have if you don't have to deal with social stigma or the threat of pregnancy.

When it comes to the actual video that I linked, the woman herself shows a good dichotomy of these two sides. On one hand, she understands and is empathetic to abused sex workers. She isn't just dog-whistling about survivors of trafficking, she genuinely wants to help them and she sees their value as humans. That's a great thing, especially with her being a Christian, a group of people who put down and scorn sex workers. At the same time though, she does seem to blame things like porn for being the main reason people would call prostitutes and feel entitled to sex. Even though she recognizes the loneliness of those who'd even think about it.

Upon doing further research. The organization has lobbied Congress to decriminalize sex work, but it also has urged people part of its safehouse to not read magazines with progressive-leaning outlooks on sex. The organization she runs, "Hookers for Jesus" is also unsurprisingly anti-LGBTQ, which discriminates against a lot of people who might benefit from an organization like this as homeless queer people are 3-7 times more likely to take up sex work in order to survive.

IDK how to end this. So yeah.

[ryuuseini]

I really need to get this off my chest I'm just... I keep being told "learn to love yourself!! You cant expect people to love you if you dont love yourself first!" And "what do you mean everyone leaves you like youre purposely ignoring all the stable relationships you've had just to play the victim" by my family and im fucking sick of it.

To the first point - there are times where people are so deep in their self loathing and hatred, been told again and again they are unworthy of love, that they need someone to lend a hand in teaching how to self love. Because not everyone can do so when the world around them is constantly saying otherwise.

And to their second point - fuck off. Yeah, maybe its not good that I'm grouping people who do care in the same category as the people who don't... but have you considered that like, shit like this is triggering? Having a friend who promised to be there for you legitimately ruining your life; having a friend who said she was your friend and wanted to hang out with you, but each time you made plans she canceled last minute because it was her sister's birthday that day or some shit (only to see she hangs out with everyone else just fine); a person who said that they'll be friends with you and when you're floored by the fact that they waited for you instead of heading straight to class after gym, said "of course, I said I was your friend and I meant it," only for them to randomly ghost you like barely a month after this interaction and just decide to act like you exist simply when they want to, which is never, and you're just wondering what the hell you did to cause that; to the nicest girl in your class telling you, straight up, "of course you don't deserve friends! You just transferred here senior year, we already have cliques and friends we trust, how do you expect to break that?"; to the person who told you that he'll show you you're worthy of being loved, only to proceed to blame you for all of his unexplainable anger; to the friends who you thought had your best interest but talked about you behind your back about how much they hated you, to the point they willingly harassed you because you decided to leave; to the friends that said they'll try to be your friend but got mad when you pointed out that they rejected every single attempt for you to get closer but kept saying "you can join this one server we have" despite me explicitly stating that I Did Not Feel Safe There because someone who had harassed and stalked me was still in that server and there were zero protections offered for me to even feel safe in such an environment, only for them to decide a person who was suffering from such pain deserved no friends and got all of our shared friends to leave me, despite this being a private personal issue between me and them that I handled privately; to being blamed for a grown man's potential heart attack and that being JUSTIFIED by others while you're still a minor; to just... so many other bullshits I genuinely cannot describe, each happening within the relatively short time span of 5 years. Don't you think??? Don't you just think for a second??? That my brain is conditioned to think this way??? And being told "stop trying to play the fucking victim and realize the friends you DO have" is just ignoring the fact that I literally cannot because the pain is far stronger in my mind than the opposite? But you do nothing but help, so whatever.

And then I remember my first high-school. How I was gaslit, not only by my bully... But by the adults who were supposed to help me as well. I didn't feel safe attending any clubs, and the one club I did attend because he wasn't there... most of the people made fun of me anyway, there was no point. He was in every club with me, and instead of working out a thing so I - the kid who frequently felt isolated - could have a chance to socialize, I simply was expected to just not participate. I was suicide baited the day before a huge school trip by a friend of my bully under my bully's name, and when I went to tell the teacher hey, this happened, can you make sure I'm not paired up with this student who was also going to the trip, my bully stuck around to hear that, only to corner me at my locker to lie to me that he did care I got suicide baited (despite the fact I had texts stating that he only cared if the girl who had sent the texts under his name was going to get in trouble, and not the fact that I had been told my life was essentially meaningless) and had a girl who wasn't involved in the situation, who I thought was my friend, back him up and agree with all his points until I cried that I wanted to die and he should just kill me. The trip got canceled for me, but he was still allowed to go on it. We shared classes together and they were working to take me out of my classes to make my health better. One of these classes was my favorite class - the class where the teacher treated me like an actual fucking human being, the class I felt the safest in, the class I would hide in even when the teacher was teaching a different class because I felt fucking safe, the class that I wasn't put in initially for some reason but fought to be in - and they simply chose to take me out of the class instead of punishing him. How the head guidance counselor, to my face, told me "how can you say your bully isn't a friend of yours? He took the time to skip a class because he was concerned about you, how is that NOT something a friend would do?" And how, when I simply couldn't take the abuse anymore, they kicked me out of the school, forcing me to go elsewhere, where I did. And I didn't make any lasting friends and people ignored me 90% of the time, and at that 10% they cared I felt like... I had to pretend that they didn't fucking ghost me 9/10 times... Only for that school to fucking shut down at the end of my junior year, forcing me to go to another high-school my senior year, where I really had no one... Because that girl was right. Everyone already had their friend groups... I couldn't be expected to break that.

I'm just... I'm just not okay.

[darkcircles4lyfe]

give me queerplatonic decchan <3

I feel like in this fandom there is a lot of emphasis on proving that Izuku and Katsuki's relationship is romantically coded, as in, "there's no way [insert scene] is platonic" or "he's obviously in love because [insert dialogue]" and that's all fine and good. I happily participate in theorizing all the time because I'm rooting for the ship and at this point I genuinely think Horikoshi is planning something for them. But listen, I'm an aspec lil dude and I can't pretend it doesn't hurt my soul a little bit when the nuance of human connection is boxed up into the narrowly defined categories of "platonic" and "romantic." If we're being totally honest with ourselves, these are complicated, subjective concepts with a lot of overlap that's only differentiated by context. And if you've ever questioned your sexuality, you know how semantic it can get. What's in a glance, a handhold, a longing to have someone in your life?

Maybe you've never given it a second thought, maybe you don't really know what "queerpatonic" means. Generally speaking, it can be a lot of different configurations of not fully platonic and/or not fully romantic/sexual, or something beyond either. It is its own thing, really. It may describe an asexual romantic relationship, or the reverse, what could otherwise be called "friends with benefits." The way I like to think of it is this: there are a wide variety of ways intimacy can develop between people. Romantic and sexual attraction are just two of those ways. And even without the presence of attraction, many of the marks of intimacy we associate with it can still be present.

Izuku and Katsuki have whole lot, and I mean a LOT of potential to explore how their relationship could play out in this way. Going off and listing a bunch of headcanons is kinda self indulgent on my part, but I hope I can show some of you this potential, or at least broaden your perspective. And hey, maybe some of you are already on the same page and this will be as fun for you as it is for me :)

Ok, here we go ->

(cw: very mild vague nsfw mention) 

Give me Izuku who doesn't really understand why interacting with girls is so embarrassing. It's the novelty more than anything; he doesn't... desire... things. Not like some of his classmates talk about. It's almost morbidly fascinating the way Kaminari and Min*ta go on and on. But when Izuku thinks back to moments where he was flustered and felt blood rushing to his face, it was all because of the theoretical implications, not his own emotions. Like, the theoretical implications of what a boy and a girl together could mean. Hypothetically. Izuku only dares let himself contemplate the issue in the privacy of his own room, where none but the most snoopy person with their ear pressed against the door may hear his mumbling as he asks himself what external forces could be pressuring him into embarrassment. As time goes on he gets more and more fed up with these societal connotations and resolves to drive them from his mind. He starts paying more attention to the dynamics of all his relationships, trying to pinpoint what genuine attraction might be, and he realizes something. There is one person in his life whose closeness makes his heart soar, but never race. Ever since he can remember. Is it even possible, Izuku wonders, to have a silly fumbling crush on someone you have known for almost your entire life? Apparently it is possible, common even, if all the osananajimi-themed romance stories are to be believed. This revelation is the most confusing of all. But after many sleepless mumbling nights, Izuku is left with this simple truth: he will treasure whatever he can get from Katsuki, whether they are merely rivals, friends, or the most important people in each other's lives. Whatever they are destined for, it will be more than enough.

Give me Katsuki who literally and figuratively doesn't give a fuck. Never spared a second thought for sex or romance in his life. Even if he did have the time, he doesn't care. Doesn't care what people think about that, either. Plus, to begin with, he sees getting close to people as a vulnerability, and vulnerability as weakness. I mean, we're talking about someone who couldn't even admit Shouto was his friend. It takes him a very, very long time and heaps of humble pie to start questioning that mindset. But when he does, it all comes crashing down around him. What's really important to him, if not just his own superiority? Who is really important to him? WHY. Why is Izuku always there at every turn, and why does he kinda not hate that anymore? Never mind attraction though, that's still not in the cards. This is something else. Izuku is like a fact of life, a necessity. Now that Katsuki is free from the burden of his own guilt over their past, he realizes that though he said he doesn't expect things to change between them, he wants them to. Almost dying for Izuku made him realize their lives are one and the same. With the physical reminders now on his skin to mark this fact, he feels a magnetic pull. He longs to hold Izuku, not just his hand but his whole form, solid and real and alive. He wants to never let go. But he cannot act, at least not yet. He'll keep up the guise of their rivalry, but only just, ready for the occasion when Izuku gives him a sign of wanting more. Then he will open his arms.

Give me Izuku and Katsuki who dance around each other quietly, delicately. At least, what passes for such in their terms. They're still loud and abrasive, but there's an almost imperceptible bubble. Maybe those closest to them might notice a certain hollowness and tension. How their conversations are like some zany improv skit. They’re hyperbolizing themselves, all while casting thoughtful stares when the other isn’t looking. Neither one knows how to proceed. Such a relationship as it has been is like a habit they lean into in favor of the abyss of the unknown that gets harder and harder to ignore. But they are changing. It’s invisible until suddenly it isn’t. Suddenly they come crashing together and it’s as if their intimacy has been there all along, unspoken, yet complete. They have so much to say, and a long awaited handhold to sum it up with. Horikoshi, grant them the time to put it all into words.

If there is a world beyond the war, give me Izuku and Katsuki who slow down enough to really listen. Not only do they to know each other instinctually, but deeply and utterly. And thus, they also know themselves. They have a physical language all their own built from years of fighting which grew into competition which grew into teamwork which grew into an inseparable symbiosis. But it doesn’t end there. Izuku talks to Katsuki the way only someone who has waited a lifetime for this moment can talk. Katsuki talks to Izuku like every word is a privilege he has been granted. Whether by crying or laughing or screaming or whispering, they listen in turn. Their relationship as viewed from the outside looking in is as confusing as ever, but for different reasons. Instead of wondering whether Izuku and Katsuki are friends or enemies, people wonder whether they’re dating. Friends and family swap stories in an effort to make sense of them. Shouto thinks they’ve been married for years. Mitsuki is certain a mother knows when her son is in love (No, she will not elaborate. She isn’t certain at all, actually.) Mina is running around gathering evidence for a kind of relationship gossip masters thesis. Her story changes at least once a month. Some of them may have placed bets. The media is the worst, with press constantly asking probing questions about their behaviors and shared lives. Fans ship them, obviously. As for the pair themselves, they actually get a kick out of messing with everyone. They use the term “partner” liberally, for both their personal and professional roles. Coy, barely deniable public displays of affection are teased, only to have their meaning denied. Katsuki’s shit eating grin is the bane of everyone’s existence, matched only by Izuku’s wide innocent eyes. This whole act, it’s payback for all the amatonormative* bullshit.

(*amatonormativity: the societal expectations and norms placed on people regardless of orientation to prioritize romantic relationships, inflating their importance and emotional value)

No one else would understand everything Izuku and Katsuki have shared. People would write it off as romance in denial. Or at least that’s what they believe. While playing the game in public, they explore their actual relationship in private, away from judging eyes. Every step of the way they talk through their feelings and comfort levels, which are not always aligned, but nevertheless accounted for and hashed out. There are times when they muse about language and meaning. Izuku finds he has a kind of attraction that sparks from time to time, a sudden, fleeting, burning fascination. Katsuki can’t really relate, but making Izuku happy brings out a particularly mischievous glee in him. Yes, that includes the pleasures of their bodies, but not in the usual way. It is mutual, but simultaneously separate, just another facet of their boundless familiarity. Mostly, they express themselves in subtler ways, almost subconsciously. In a rare moment of piece and quiet, they casually lounge together like a couple of cats. Drape an arm around a shoulder. Nuzzle into a chest or a neck. They figure they have a monopoly on holding hands; no two other people in the world could claim so much meaning in the gesture, nor hope to fathom it.

. 

.

.

Bonus:  Their loved ones are finally made aware of what’s going on through some dramatic scenario, barging in on a private moment probably, which has them begging for clarity. When it’s explained how the pair don’t feel comfortable defining their relationship by any traditional means, the general response is a resounding, “THAT’S IT? Why didn’t you say something earlier?!” Both Izuku and Katsuki are still loathe to give up their game with the public, though. In a way, all the ambiguity was a true expression of how they saw themselves. So as a way of reconciling, their inner circle is brought into the scheme. For example:

An interviewer sits across from Tenya on a nighttime talkshow set, shifting their weight and preparing to change the subject: “From what I can tell you’re still very close with your former classmates, correct? The whole lot of you have been causing quite a stir on social media lately. You must understand, from our perspective, one finds it hard to tell whether this is merely an inside joke.” A screen behind them flashes a series of tweets, beginning with a bold statement from Shouto. “Theory: my best friends got married for the sole purpose of making me their unsuspecting third wheel.” There’s a picture of the three of them eating dinner at a fancy restaurant. Tenya comments a stern reminder to respect their privacy. Inko shares yet another photo of her son and Katsuki sitting arm in arm on her couch with the caption “I know what you mean! They’re too cute to handle!” Ochako, Mina, and Denki are in the qrts all claiming one or the other is dating them instead. 

“Perhaps you can shed some light on the subject?” the interviewer prompts. Tenya’s practiced emotionless expression hides an almost impossibly compelling urge to burst into laughter. With the glare of his glasses hiding the mirth in his eyes, he says curtly, “Ah. Deku and Dynamight? Yes, you’d be hard pressed to find partners as closely bonded as they are. Very admirable! But I can tell you with the utmost sincerity that it’s not what you think.” The interviewer visibly deflates. Well, so much for that. 

[theonewiththefanfics]

Best Friends My Ass (one-shot)

Synopsis: Being in love with your best friend whom you’ve had since childhood can be tough. Being in love and being dumb can make it tougher. Meet the Reader and Harry. They’re the latter. And everyone’s fed up.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe little bit of angst, tiny bit smutty, but not a lot

Warnings: swearing, two idiots pining for one another

Word count: 7524

Even when Harry was little, he’d known he’d have an odd path in life. Just because it was odd, didn’t mean it’d be bad, but it would make him absolutely stand out in the crowd.        When Y/N was young she didn’t see herself having any extraordinary adventures. Sure, she’d travel and explore the world with its secrets, but she didn’t have any plans to draw the attention of the masses. That was until Harry’d come into her life.        They were both young, still kids in that tender age where childhood crossed into teenage years, when they met. For Harry, it was like one of those scenes in the movies where the pretty girl walks into a room and a billion fans make her hair look like the wind is sweeping through it, and her eyes glisten like gemstones. Also known as the 'love at first sight' scene.        For Y/N, it was hard to keep her breakfast down as she walked inside the classroom, twenty pairs of scrutinous eyes on her, trying to figure out if the new girl was a predator or prey.        Luckily for Y/N, the biology teacher wasn’t a total witch and didn’t make her present herself to the class, and just pointed to the free seat next to a curly-haired boy. Luckily for Harry, that free seat was right next to him.        With a sigh, she dropped her heavy backpack beside the chair, giving the boy a shy glance, and was surprised to see a genuine and large grin right back at her. It wasn’t the kind people gave when they had bad thoughts. It was the kind people gave when they were truly excited and wanted to give a good impression. Y/N’s chest grew warm at the thought she might actually make a friend that day. And she did.        “I’m Harry.” He extended his hand for her to take, the grin never leaving his face.        She gave him a big, relieved smile. “I’m Y/N.”        Ever since then they were not only lab partners in classes they shared (which was biology, physics and math), but also in mischief. Together they managed to enrage Anne, annoy Gemma and absolutely horrify Y/M/N, and whenever one went down, the other made sure to go down as well.        So when a few years down the line, Harry had told Y/N about his idea to audition for X-factor she wasn’t surprised one bit.        “I mean, as long as you don’t trip and break your nose on stage, you’ll be fine.”        For that, she received a slap on her arm from him.        “I’m just saying!” Y/N defended herself. “You’re great at singing, Mrs Aberdeen certainly thinks so, you don’t have two complete left feet, and you’re alright to look at.”        That for the first time since the decision and application had been submitted, made Harry smile. He loved how easily Y/N was able to lighten the mood, to take his thoughts away from the bad, and just erase them with her wit and smile.

       “Besides.” She nudged his shoulder with hers and then intertwined their fingers. “I, Gem and our Mums will be right there for you. Won’t even blink until the end of the performance.”        With how her insides trembled in excitement and fear for her best friend, it truly seemed to Y/N she hadn’t blinked at all on that fateful day. Her breath hitched when the judges were talking. She couldn’t even remember what they said, all of it turning into white noise.        And then he got through, and Y/N screamed so much she was sure she’d blown out Anne’s eardrums, and had hugged Harry so tightly she was afraid she’d broken a rib. But with his victory also came a fear, because, for the first time in Y/N’s life, she was terrified as to where she’d stand in Harry’s. Since day one it’d been secure, but now, with the newfound fame of X-factor and who knows what kind of an amazing future, she didn’t know if he’d throw her to the curb, simply forget about the mundane friend from high school or maybe use her for something.        But it wasn’t like that. Not one bit. After insane hours of rehearsals, Y/N was one of the three people he always called. It was her, his Mum and Gem. Always. And he loved to listen to her speaking of what was happening at school, how the lessons were, which teacher turned out to be hooking up with which. As much as Harry knew he was made for the extraordinary, he loved the ordinary Y/N brought in his life. She was his safe harbour. But what he never agreed with were her own thoughts she was meant for a simple life, so he took it upon himself to bring a little bit of eccentricity in hers, as he explained how he’d gotten united into a band with four other boys, now going by ‘One Direction’, and it was his mission to join his newfound friends with the most important friend he'd had.        “This is Y/N,” Harry introduced her to the guys after one of their late-night practices, one where they weren’t being filmed. “If you do anything that even mildly upsets her, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”        The slap against his arm made him let out an ‘Ow!’ while the rest of the boys laughed and welcomed her with open arms.        In a weird way, Y/N became part of the band. She didn’t sing or play any instruments, but she was always around, gave her input on songs and setlists. That kind of closeness made all of the fears and doubts about losing a place in Harry’s life disappear. She was his personal hype-man while at the same time knocked him down a few pegs whenever the fame started to get to his head.        She was there for his highs and lows, for the break-ups and break-off in the band, and watched as he ventured into a solo career as much as she could with school and all, but when summer break rolled around it was like Harry couldn't get rid of her even if he tried. Not that he wanted. Sharing the success and happiness with his best friend was one of the biggest rewards he could have.        And Y/N would never admit it because it’d boost Harry’s already elephant-like ego, at least that’s what she said, but she kind of liked the attention she received because of him, especially because most of it was pleasant.        Had she been terrified that being known as Harry Styles best friend would make people think she was just a gold-digger, seeking fame and leeching it off from him? Yes. And there were people like that. But ninety-five percent of what people said on her social media accounts was actually nice, some even said ‘thank you’ that there was a person like her in Harry’s life to keep things real, and most importantly – cared about him through it all.        Harry also saw those comments; he loved to read about how people saw just how much Y/N cared, and it kind of stirred something in him. He didn’t know when exactly, but it was around the age of twenty-four for him and twenty-three for Y/N when he started looking at his friend in a different light. And it bloody terrified him. He didn’t know if she felt the same, and the thought of putting his heart on the line like that only for the possibility of it being crushed was the scariest thing ever.        He did, however, have an inclination as to what incident had prompted them to surface. The feelings that were. It was a night after a party. Y/N was on winter break from her master’s at uni, which meant he used every opportunity to spend time with her.        The hangover was real, I mean it’s what you got by mixing vodka, tequila and beer into an empty Sprite bottle and chugging it. Harry stumbled over sleeping bodies on his way to the kitchen in search for some leftover pizza he was sure he and Y/N in their drunkenness had ordered, as well as to make two cups of black coffee. He knew she hated the taste, but cold junk food and bitter coffee always did the trick with her. That was when he’d found her.        Although he’d woken up in Y/N’s room, she hadn’t been next to him. Instead, as it turned out, she’d gone on a food search sometime before him and had passed out on the couch, a Cookie Monster onesie on her body, but most importantly his signature pearls around her neck. And one of her hands even rested against her collarbone, as if scared someone would take them away from her.        That’d been the first time his heart had flipped in his chest at the sight of her, but most definitely not the last.        He did however keep this change in his emotions to himself. He wasn’t really sure what it was, so it would be unfair to dump that on Y/N and have her figure it out for him because he didn’t know where she stood on her own, let alone do the work for him.        Luckily, despite the tornado of feelings, their friendship didn’t falter, and when his Vogue cover came out, he was incredibly nervous for people to see it, but especially for those who mattered the most to him, like his Mum, sister and Y/N. Especially Y/N, for her opinion had become the most important one outside his blood relatives. After all, all his thoughts went to – if we dated, would she be as proud of me as she was of me as a friend?        Her support meant the most because he was away in the middle of filming; he had no way of getting physical comfort, so all of the messages, calls, social media posts and FaceTimes was the world to him, especially when Y/N sent a picture of herself with three copies of the magazine, two beside her head as she laid on her bed and one clutched to her chest, which she also posted on Instagram with the caption ‘Can’t hug you for real right now, so this will have to do. When I do get to you @harrystyles, I’ll crush your ribs with my love. And that is a threat.’        Then the comments came in from the rest, and one stood out more than the others.        Bring Back Manly Men.        At first, he felt odd about it. It didn’t really bother him, but at the same time, it made him sad. He knew that he was seen as somewhat of a controversial figure, as he painted nails, wore frilly blouses and now full-on dresses, which were all typically categorized as feminine things, but he never understood why a nail colour or the shape of a shirt suddenly became exclusively for just one gender. Which is why he was so grateful to have Y/N in his life.        “I mean, anatomically speaking, men should be wearing dresses and women trousers. It’s you who have all the dangly bits,” she said through a bite of food. “The Scots have been onto it since the beginning.”        Harry threw his head back in a laugh, shifting an arm behind his head. “So I assume your favourite pic is the one in the kilt?”        “Well, it did remind me of that awful punk phase I had back in school with all those safety pins, only in a more tasteful way, but no. My favourite one is you in that brown, grey off-shoulder jacket thing.”        “Why?”        Y/N wiggled her brows at him. “Shows enough of your cleavage but leaves enough for imagination.”        “Of fucking course.” Harry snorted, shaking his head. “Objectifying much?”        “What? I’m not going to deny that my best friend is a sexy beast.”        He wouldn’t say it out loud, but when she called him her friend, it made his heart clench in a painful way. Harry had been trying to be a bit flirtier around her, but given his open nature as it was, Y/N hadn’t seemed to notice it, nor had she seemed to notice how he looked at her while she was frowning at her computer screen.        Harry’d had relationships with some women who could be considered the most beautiful in the world, but if he’d had to say, in his opinion, who’d receive that title, it’d be Y/N. The way she snorted when she laughed too hard, the way small crow lines had already appeared next to her eyes from how much she smiled and the way her forehead creased when she was concentrating. It enthralled him to no end. He could read her life’s story on her face, how she’d lived and thought and experienced, unlike so many people he met who couldn’t move a muscle.        Though the reason she was so concentrated in that moment was because thousands of people had tagged her in a tweet of a woman, she’d heard of for the first time in her life (because Harry had been trying to keep that one off her radar), and what she saw made all the blood boil in her body more than any other hate comment had.        Without hesitation, Y/N atted her and tweeted “Bring back manly men. Please! Millions of people would let him raw them WHILE WEARING THE DRESS. I mean you tried, so I’ll give you the gold star you so desperately want, but that was pathetic.”        At that same moment, a notification popped up on the screen of Harry’s phone. He only had notifications on for one person, and when he saw what was written, he gasped, looking at Y/N. “You did not just do that!”        “What?” Y/N shrugged biting down on the chocolate bar she’d been savouring for the last half hour of their conversation. “I just said what everyone was thinking. Besides what the fuck does ‘bring back manly men’ even mean? Go chop some wood? Fight a bear in the Siberian woods? Have your ‘friends’ stab you to death at a political meeting?”        “You’re a menace.”        Y/N winked popping the last bit of the chocolate in her mouth. “Only to those who dare go for the people I love.”        His heart fluttered at the last word, but all he could do was mask it with a large grin and shake of his head.        For another hour they spent talking, Y/N kept hyping Harry up, tried to get as many plot details of the movie he was filming, while he avoided as many spoilers as possible and attempted to steer the conversation somewhere else, but when that happened, Y/N jumped onto his music, which he had told her all about. In fact, there wasn’t a music video made without her approval, and neither would his next one be. “You’ll fly out to see me film for ‘Treat People With Kindness’, right?”        Y/N sighed, giving him a sad smile. She hated disappointing Harry. “I’d love to. But you know with everything going on, I don’t think I’ll be able to.”        “Phoebe Waller-Bridge will be in it.”        She gasped, in real excitement. “Well, why didn’t you say so from the start?!”        “So that’s what this friendship has come to. I’m just your gateway to celebrities?”        “Harry you’ve always been just my gateway to the people living in LaLa Land.” But she let out a small breath much like she’d done before. “I really do want to come, Harry. You know that; I miss you like crazy. But Phoebe or no Phoebe, I don’t think I can.”        Harry bit his lip nodding, but he still needed to try one more time. “Is there anything I can say or do to get you here?”        “Get me a private jet and a quarantine mansion?”        “Deal.”        “Woah! Wait!” Y/N pretty much jumped up from her position in bed. “That was a joke! Harry Edward Styles, I swear to God, if you try an –“        But with a giant grin, he just blew Y/N a kiss and ended the call.        She was quite terrified if she was being honest, that Harry would do what she’d asked. He already had once. It'd been around Christmas time while she was still in First Year at uni, and she’d seen a glistening necklace at a jewellery store display. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even uttered a word, but just seeing the sparkle in Y/N’s eyes, was enough for Harry to make the decision and gift it for her.        When the next day, around five AM her time, she got a call from Harry’s manager Jeff, she was ready to rip both of them a new one, an e-mail with a plane ticket popping up in her inbox.        “I swear I’ll poison your drinks when I see you,” she’d grumbled, but couldn’t hide the excitement as she threw everything she could in the suitcase. “And no one will find your bodies, mark my words, Azoff.”        He snorted. “Yeah, tell that to the FBI agent listening in on this call.”        “Fuck. Gave myself away,” she said softly, giggling right after.        “You know he’s stoked beyond belief.” Jeff piped up. “He literally jumped out of the bed this morning, and during the dance rehearsals he didn’t miss a step.”        That made Y/N’s heart warm. “Well, you can tell him to curb it a bit. Otherwise, I’ll just stay at the fucking mansion – which, by the way, it was a joke, Jeff! I’m pissed enough he’s spending money on me as it is, let alone such a chunk on the plane, you didn't have to get me an actual mansion.”        “You know, for you, he’d give away all of it.”        “Yes, well, he might need it for his funeral, if he keeps spending it on me and on shit like this.”        The man shook his head but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t the only one trying to drop hints to Y/N that Harry felt something more, but he’d leave it to the man himself. He didn’t need to possibly ruin everything, and have her decide not to come. His client was nightmare enough without her around, because Harry was like day and night when Y/N finally arrived on set for ‘Treat People With Kindness’.        To say he enveloped her in a hug would be an understatement as he didn’t let go of her for ten solid minutes, having grabbed her by the underside of the thighs and sat down on the ground just so he could prolong the feeling of being with Y/N.        The fact that she’d actually gone for it and hadn’t scolded Harry too much for spending that insane amount of money, for having brought a small piece of home to LA with herself where they were filming, made him now fully acknowledge the true extent of his feelings, especially as she didn’t pull away from their embrace, rather hid her face in the crook of his neck.        I mean, in the end, he did have to let her go because everyone had to get back to shooting, but not before Y/N had stripped the meticulous jacket from him, and went to have a glance at herself in the large mirror, one of the costume designers playing along and adjusting the clothing on her body, as if she was going to be the one performing.        Harry felt someone slide up to him and he looked over to his left, a smiling Phoebe standing there. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”        He nodded, looking back over to where Y/N was still looking at herself in the mirror, wearing the heavy jacket as if it was nothing like it was made for her. “I’m a cliché, I know. But I can’t help it.”        “Of course, you can.” She squeezed his side. “All you gotta do is tell her.”        But it wasn’t that easy. Comparatively, getting Y/N to appear in the video was easier than coming to terms with the fact, all they’d ever remain would be friends if he didn’t do anything.        Yet the shoot for the video ended as quickly as it had started, and Y/N needed to fly back to the UK to defend her PhD paper, and Harry had to go back to filming ‘Don’t Worry Darling’, thousands of miles stretching between them once more. And Harry was a romantic, he couldn’t confess over FaceTime. Besides, he wanted to make it a special evening for her, plan something out, rather than risk a shitty connection cutting him off mid-word.        He hated it though. It’d been almost four years since Harry had realised his feelings had developed from just friendly into romantic, and still, he hadn’t said anything. Even the people who’d never met Y/N in person like Florence Pugh saw what was going on.        But unlike the cast and crew of ‘Treat People With Kindness’ who had to deal with his pining for maybe a couple of weeks, it’d been almost half a year for her at that point. Did she just want to call Y/N and tell her how Harry felt? Sure. She’d had enough of him coming into her trailer only to fall down onto her pillow and whine. But it wasn’t her place. So instead, she was going to figure out a way to get Y/N to the set and make him tell her himself.        Getting Harry’s phone away from him should’ve been the inspiration to the next ‘Mission Impossible’ script though, because it took her literally a whole day to fish it out from his coat's pocket, and she only had about ten seconds to find Y/N’s number (which wasn’t that hard given how it was the number with literally hundreds of calls next to it) and put it in her own phone.        Once their filming was done for the day, Florence rebutted Harry’s invitation to a movie night, saying a massive headache was coming on, so he wished her a good night and with slumped shoulders went to sulk on his own. Which is why she practically sprinted to her own trailer to finally call Y/N        An unsure ‘hello?’ greeted her ears before she responded. “Hey, this is Florence… Pugh.”        That stunned Y/N into silence for a few seconds before she spluttered out a greeting and said ‘hi’ as well. “Not to be rude, but how did you get my number?”        “Stole it from Harry’s phone. Look, he’s miserable. Keeps moping around, and I can’t take it anymore. Last night I found him crying in his pillow with your shirt over it.”        “What? Why?”        “Because it didn’t smell like you anymore.”        Y/N’s heart broke. “Why didn’t he tell me anything? We just talked, and he said he was fine. God, that man is so dumb sometimes.”        “Is there any way you could find a way to get here?” Florence asked biting down her lip.        She heard Y/N sigh at the other end of the line. “I’ll – I’ll try and figure something out. Have to know what’s going on at work, I mean it has been like two months since the video, so maybe…” She was more so talking to herself, but then remembered about Florence. “Listen, can I give you a message when I find out if my boss will let me?”        “Of course!” The actress was excited about the possibility of Y/N getting here, as long as it got Harry out of his depressive mood.        “Oh, and I’ll need to know what kind of restrictions are on set. I’ll figure something out with flights and quarantine, but I have zero clue as to what’s it like where you’re filming.”        Florence waved her off, even though she couldn’t see the motion. “Leave that to me. Just get your ass over here before the guy cries himself dry.”        It was a struggle though on all three ends – Harry was still moping, because not only had Y/N’s shirt lost its smell of her, but homesickness was hitting full force, Florence was getting more and more desperate as she attempted to take his mind off of things, but nothing seemed to work, and Y/N was trying to get on any possible flight to Harry while arranging two tests and an AirBnB she could self-isolate in for two weeks while attempting to set up her work from afar at the same time.        Two days after Florence’s call, Y/N sent her a message ‘Flying in tomorrow at 4 AM. Don’t tell Harry. He’ll feel even shittier cause I have to stay alone in quarantine. First test came back negative.”        She sighed in relief at the message and immediately texted back ‘i’ve got you a set pass ready, just need a picture. selfie will do. also, masks are mandatory on the lot, so bring those.’        Immediately Y/N sent a thumbs up, and a picture of herself she didn’t absolutely despise to be used on the ID card. All that was left was to pack. And spend two weeks in an attempt of not going crazy with anticipation before seeing Harry.        Those two weeks turned out to be worse than the two months between the music video shoot and going to the filming lot. Because throughout then, Y/N knew her only access to him would be through FaceTime, but to be about twenty minutes away from the man without the ability to touch him was pure torture, but at least Harry seemed completely oblivious to the change in her surroundings.        As they still continued on with their calls, not once did he mention her background, or how the paintings suddenly had managed to switch positions or the fact that Y/N didn’t even own paintings. She was sure she could’ve been missing an arm, and he wouldn’t have mentioned it with how tired he looked.        “Have you even slept, Har?”        “Not really,” he groaned, getting more comfortable in his bed. “We’ve had a bunch of early shoots and then late nights, ‘cause we need to get the continuity for the scenes, and then the day’s full of Zoom calls, and well, I can’t not call you.”        Y/N scoffed, scolding him. “You know damn well I won’t be offended if we sacrifice a couple of calls for you to get some proper sleep.”        “I know, but I will.”        Y/N sighed, knowing in a way it was her fault. She could tell him she no longer was hours of time zones away, but rather watched the same sunset and sunrise as him, but she also knew Harry, and he would be unable to stay away from her until her quarantine was over.        She was quite happy she’d sat through the fourteen mandatory days, because when she got on set, even though Harry was usually good at keeping his composure during a scene, despite the mask, he’d recognise Y/N anywhere, and all of the lines flew out of his head.        “Jack?” Florence’s hand came to cup Harry’s cheek, trying to bring him back on track. “You alright?”        But he didn’t even care about improvising to get out of the flub as his lips were split apart by a grin, and he dashed away, a loud ‘CUT!’ ringing throughout the set, but Harry already had Y/N in his arms, spinning the girl around.        “Best friends my ass,” Florence murmured as she went to the two.        Harry was speechless, Y/N’s face in between his hands as he looked her up and down. “How are you here? What? Why?”        “Thank Florence.” Y/N gave an attempt at motioning to the actress with her head. She set the whole thing up.”        Harry’s head whipped to his scene partner. “You knew Y/N was here for two weeks and told me nothing?”        “Your brain short-circuited when you saw her! You wouldn’t be of no use on set at all if I had.”        Harry scoffed, throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get away from this meanie.” But as he walked away, he looked over his shoulder and mouthed a grateful ‘thank you’ to her.        All Florence could hope for was that he’d get it together and confess, but it didn’t seem like he was in any sort of a rush. Y/N was set to be there for three weeks, but the thought of the woman leaving without knowing how Harry felt, leaving him in a sea of his own heartache, made her miserable, especially after a night they’d all spent together.        Harry really wanted Y/N to get to know the people he worked with so he invited the ones closest to him for a movie night, during which he himself had been the first one to actually fall asleep, of course.        For most of it, as ‘Westworld’ ran on in the background, he spent curled up in Y/N’s lap, his head resting against her chest with her fingers weaving through the shortened locks. She had to get used to the length, motion automatically wanting to go on longer than it was possible to. Soon enough, the soothing motions lulled her to sleep as well, their bodies leaning into one another and perfectly fitting together.        As tired as Florence was of seeing Harry, a person who’d become her friend now pine for someone so hard, it was absolutely heart-melting to watch the two interact. Everyone could see Y/N had the same feelings as Harry did for her, only she hid them a bit better. A little, but not by a lot.        No friends acted the way those two did around one another. Sure, people could be touchy, but not like that, not with such intimacy behind the motions. She felt like she was being a little creepy as she pulled out her phone to take a picture, but it was too cute not to.        A loud noise from somewhere outside set made Y/N shoot up straight, and Florence held her breath as she clutched onto her phone, having swiped it accidentally into video mode and filming the whole thing.        “No,” Harry whined, a hand reaching up for Y/N and grabbing at her elbow. “Come back. ‘S too early.”        She just nodded, grumbling something unintelligible but possibly along the lines of ‘don’t make me throw hands’ before laying down and snuggling into Harry’s chest.        Florence let out a large sigh of relief and decided to get some sleep as well before their annoying four AM alarm woke them up for set.        This time it was the other way around, as Y/N whined for Harry to ‘come back and keep her warm’.        Florence watched as Harry slipped out of Y/N’s grasp, but not before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and a whispered a promise to ‘see her when the Sun’s up’. The second the trailer door was closed, she slapped his shoulder, and Harry gasped in shock. “What'dya do that for?”        “Stop that! Stop that stupid dance!” She stomped her foot on the ground. “I’m sick and tired of watching you watch her with that dumb longing expression on your face. I can’t take it anymore. Why do you think I went through all that trouble to get her here?”        “I told you I would!”        She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I know it’s not my place or anything, but she does like you. A lot.”        Harry threw her an uncertain gaze. “And how do you know?”        “Because that woman spent two weeks in self-isolation just to see you! She’s gone through how many of those awful Covid tests just to go and visit you! She’s dropped everything for you, has supported you through so much, and never fails to boost you up.”        “That’s what friends do.”        “No.” Florence shook her head. “That kind of loyalty… that’s what people in love give. I haven’t talked to my best friend in like a month. What’s the longest you’ve gone without speaking to Y/N?”        And with that question, she left Harry to ponder not only his feelings but the girl’s he was in love with as well. Because if he had to be honest, the reason he’d been dragging everything out, the reason he’d stayed pining for Y/N for years on end was that he tried to write everything she did off as something a childhood best friend would do.        The truth was more terrifying than anything because once that came to light, it’d change everything, and Harry didn’t know if he was ready. He wanted it, desperately so if it meant Y/N becoming someone he could love freely and openly, but not if by the end of it, she'd disappear from his life, leaving a hole the size of his heart in his chest.        His thoughts were cut short as someone knocked on the ‘Hair&Make-up’ door, and an assistant let in a pouting Y/N. Well, he couldn’t’ see the pout behind the mask, but he definitely knew it was there, making a smile come on his own face.        She plopped down in an empty sofa and crossed her arms. “I was cold.”        Harry snorted, wanting to shake his head, but didn't as to not ruin the hair stylist’s work. “You’re always cold.”        “And you’re a living furnace.”        “ ‘S that why you like cuddling? Leeching off my warmth?”        The same assistant who’d let Y/N in handed her a cup of coffee, which she was ready to kiss the woman for, but opted for a ‘thank you’. “We’ve established I only use you to get to other celebs. What makes you think I wouldn’t use you for those sort of things.”        For a moment, the trailer settled into silence, as Y/N enjoyed her morning coffee while the crew kept doing their own work.        “It’s so weird,” Y/N piped up, eyes racking up and down Harry’s body. “Don’t even wanna really look at you like that.”        He let out a mock gasp of hurt. “What d’ya mean? Am I suddenly repulsive to you?”        “No!” she let out a laugh. “It’s just odd seeing you without the tattoos. They’re such a huge part of you, even the dumb ones. Can’t really imagine you any differently.”        “Would you love me any differently without them?” The question was bold, even though he knew she did love him, he had to start making moves.        “No,” Y/N shook her head. “I don’t think so. I believe I’d be a different person then as well, but I’d love you all the same. As long as you’d do the same with me.”        Harry nodded looking down at his hands then back up at her, catching her eyes through the reflection in the mirror. “Don’t think there’s a dimension out there where I don’t love you.”        “I mean that is a bold statement,” Y/N said, sipping on the remnants of her coffee. “What if I’m like a weird, cat-skinning psychopath in one dimension? Would you love me even then?”        “Jesus Christ, Y/L/N, do you just normally come up with those gruesome scenarios or is it a hobby?”        She wiggled her eyebrows, standing up and throwing away the paper cup. “There’s a reason I have a VPN and clean my search history. I’ll see you in your trailer?”        “Yeah.” Harry nodded and smiled. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”        The next half-hour he kept hyping himself up, about how he was actually going to do it, but Florence intercepted him right as he was turning down the way his trailer stood. “How are you gonna do it?”        “I – “ Harry huffed and placed his hands on his hips. “In the beginning, I had like a whole romantic outing planned, but… I’ve dragged this on long enough, so I think I’ll just tell her.”        “Okay, good.” Florence nodded and slapped his shoulder in approval. “And if I don’t hear that trailer rocking, I will throw you in a ditch.”        Harry’s eyes widened at the statement, fully knowing she meant her words, but she was already half-way down the track, blond hair swishing behind her back.        It was then or never.        Slowly he opened his own trailer door as if it was Y/N’s place not his, but by the looks of how she’d sprawled out on his bed, she had made herself right at home. Just like she’d done it on the first day of school, but just with his heart.        “Hey!” She smiled looking at him. “You ready to film?”        “Yeah, but umm… I kind of wanted to talk to you beforehand.”        Y/N’s brows furrowed at Harry’s serious tone, so she sat up, nodding. “Sure. Is everything alright?” “It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you won’t take it in a bad way... I’ve actually been wanting to tell you this since that winter’s break party you had while doing your masters...” He let out a small chuckle but seeing Y/N’s eyes widen in a panic he stopped. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “You have a kid! Oh my God.” “What? No!” Harry spluttered. “Why the hell is the first thing you assume that I have a kid?” “I don’t know!” She was now standing facing him completely. “We’ve never had secrets between us, especially for as long as you’ve apparently kept them, what am I supposed to think? Maybe one of the girls you hooked up with got pregnant, and you’ve been hiding the fact you’re a baby daddy because you know I wouldn’t be able to keep the fact I can be the cool drunk aunt to myself.” All of that came out as is she’d prepared it ages ago. “Well, no.” Harry shook his head stepping closer so he could be chest to chest with Y/N. “I’m not anyone’s baby daddy. At least I don’t think so, but umm... when that moment would come... when I have a kid...” He looked up at the ceiling and sighed before lifting a gentle hand to cup her cheek. I wouldn’t want you to be the drunk aunt. I um...” There goes nothing. “I’d kinda like if you were the mom.” “Of course, I’ll be the Godmother!” Both of them said at the same time, making the other’s brain stumble over the words said. “Wait, mom?” Y/N’s question was breathless. “Like donate my eggs or some shit?” “No like, I’ve been in love with you for close to four years, and I wanna try and build a future with you, where you’re more than just my best friend.”        “Oh.”        That was all that managed to escape her mouth as he fully opened his heart, and Harry couldn’t lie – it shattered. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was more than that. “That’s...” Y/N huffed sitting down on the bed. “That’s a lot to take in Harry. Like a lot.” “I know.” He sighed and sat down next to her. “Which is why I’ve been pushing this away for as long as I could, but... it was time. It wasn’t fair to you or me to keep on living like that. Look.” Harry took her palm in his. “Whatever you want us to be, we’ll be that. I - I mean I’ll be heartbroken if you say you don’t feel the same, but no matter what you tell me now, I won’t let you leave my life. I love you, and I’m in love with you. This is your choice which way you chose to go with.” Y/N shook her head, interlacing their fingers and finally looking up at him. “I don’t want you to be heartbroken. It’s the last thing, I’d ever want to see you like. And umm well, if it takes me using the pair of ovaries I have to admit I’ve been in love with you too to change that, I guess I’ll have to say it. I’m in love with you too.” Harry’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears of happiness, as he looked at Y/N like she’d hung the stars in the sky. Not that it mattered. He always looked at her like that. “You mean it?” “Yeah,” she chuckled, wiping away a few stray pearls from her own cheeks. “I guess I always thought I’d end up the drunk aunt in your life, so that’s why I thought you’d ask me to be whatever future child’s Godmother. But I love you, and I’m in love with you too.” “Can I – “ Fuck, Harry was too giddy for his own good. “Can I kiss you?” And when Y/N chuckled, nodding he swore he already was in heaven. “Yes, please.”        At first, the touch of his lips was gentle, almost afraid, but the second he pressed them to Y/N’s, and she gasped at the sensation, it became full of lust as passion, years of pent-up pining and angst and just plain old stupidity surfacing and morphing itself into a steamy make-out session.        In a split second, she was sprawled out on Harry’s bed, his toned body leaning over hers and teasing hands moving along her sides, making her squirm and ache for more of his touch, but she wasn’t the only one who wanted to explore a body with a new mindset of what was possible.        As Y/N moaned from Harry’s tongue invading her mouth, her hand couldn’t help itself as it slid down his chest, and her finger flicked against the button of his trousers.        “Can I touch you there?” Y/N whispered against his mouth, and Harry eagerly nodded.        “Please. Been dreaming about this for literally years.”        Smiling, she allowed him to continue and explore her mouth with his tongue, intoxicated on one another’s taste. In fact, Y/N was so far gone just from the kiss, she forgot how a fly worked and needed Harry’s help to open it.        “Get back here,” she grumbled as he chuckled, having leaned up a bit to make it easier for her to get the offensive piece of clothing off. “We’ll see how you fare with a bra.”        “Oh, I’m an expert.” His hands trailed to her shoulder where he snapped one of the straps against her skin, making her yelp.        “You do not want to do that when my hand is an inch away from your dick.”        But the threat had no merit to it, as she dipped her palm behind Harry’s boxers while his mouth went to soothe the sting and leave a little mark on her skin, which he’d get to admire later on.        The second, Y/N wrapped her hand around his cock an involuntary moan escaped into the air, as she gripped him. Fuck, she couldn’t wait until he was inside her, because, and it might sound a little cliché given how they were best friends who’d fallen in love with one another, but she was one hundred percent sure, he was made exactly for her.        But no matter how much she twisted her hand or how gently or roughly she rubbed the tip, he couldn’t get hard, and Harry was on the verge of tears, which Y/N saw and instantly pulled away, cupping his face.        “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”        “Hey!” Y/N cooed. “None of that. It’s alright. Shit happens.”        Harry nodded understanding that she was right, but he still felt shitty and well, he felt insecure about it. “I just. Fuck. Usually, when I think of you, I’m hard in like a second.”        And although all Y/N wanted to do was smirk and tease him about the fact that he thought of her while wanking himself off, that wasn’t the right moment.        “I promise, you turn me on, you do." He sniffled. "This had never happened before.” But Y/N wasn’t offended or sad, and her laugh wasn’t mocking or trying to hurt him.        “Harry you’re dead tired.” She cupped his cheek with one of her hands, and if he’d been ice cream he would’ve literally melted. “You had to wake up at four in the fucking morning and won’t go to sleep until two the next day. Let yourself rest a bit.”        “But,” he whined and then huffed. “But I wanna love on you. Wanna show you just how crazy I am about you.”        “And you will. You know I’ll always hold you to your word. But this won’t be fun for either of us if mid-fuck you suddenly collapse on me asleep. I don’t need to go to the A and E and explain the broken nose is because my boyfriend decided to take a nap while shagging. A nap on my face.”        But Harry hadn’t really heard anything she’d said after Y/N mentioned the b-word, a dopey smile on his face. “I’m your boyfriend? You really want me like that?”        “I mean I would prefer if you were Phoebe…”        Harry pinched her side, making her squeal before tackling her in a hug. “Shut up!”        And that’s how the two fell asleep (and were woken up twenty minutes later by an assistant in a panic given how Harry was supposed to be on set in five minutes)  – wrapped up in one another’s arms, smiles on their faces, and no longer best friends, but lovers.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I loved writing this so much :)

P.S. my tags are always open

P.S.S. I don’t take requests, sorry. Also, please don’t repost my story on other platforms (wattpad etc) without specific written permission. 

[white-chalk-sapphomet]

[ Ask: what's wrong with c*tgirlfor*skin? ]

Idk if this is a genuine question or if its bait or whatever, but basically like.

Back when the same shit happened back in October w lea she was a huge defender of all the paraphilia incest/rape shit if I recall. Idk that they supported the racism fetish shit or beastiality at least as far as i know, but I would prefer to avoid them for the other things alone.

The entire argument about sexual puritanism or whatever could apply if it was about like. Leather, piss, rough sex, weird fetishes and not straight up like. Getting off to rape/incest/ageplay etc that like. Has a real life context.

I and many other ppl on here who were victims of csa or other shit understandably don't want that kind of interaction. I don't buy that it's genuinely empowering or sexually liberating or a healthy coping mechanism for other survivors either.

Somehow I feel that the ginormous category of porn marketed to like. Parents fantasizing about fucking their children isn't the hill they should die on when it comes to a discussion on how respectability politics are dumb. And I say that as somebody who does think respectability politics are dumb.

And yeah, trans women are treated like an easy target for accusations of 'deviancy', of being abusive, of being manipulators, of being violent. We are more carefully scrutinized for respectability.

With that said, I'm sick of mostly other white trans women clamoring about being victims of transphobia when faced with criticism for anything a tme person would also get criticized for.

And then soapboxing about solidarity being a joke and spreading intentionally vague posts like 'once again, trans women are burned at the stake for doing anything. 😒 rb to hit a transphobe with a brick'. Like some kind of blithering child trying to guilt trip their way out of trouble. Which then gets passed around in its full context by their supporters, and then like. Spreads out of context as generic trans solidarity that paints them as a victim while obscuring who implicitly supports whatever they've done like some kind of dog whistle.

It was upsetting to watch the first time I saw it happening and it's upsetting to see it happening again. A lot of the ppl involved were former friends and mutuals.

Its been several months and if I've misrepresented any argument she made as I remember it, its not my intention.

I find no personal gain in like. Petty slandering or whatever if that's what some people universally chalk every blocklist or whatever to be. In summary I think rape/ageplay/incest fantasy apologists cross a boundary that a lot of people would rather not be involved with, either for their own well-being or for the people around them.

Idk that I answered the question as cohesively as I could bc I've been awake since tuesday morning. Thats the most I can manage for now

[1kook]

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!! 

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue 

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that. 

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[safertokiss]

Through a Different Lens

A/N: Well, well, well. Lookie what we have here. New content wowza. I’d say I’m surprised it’s been a while, but I simply am not. Luckily another fic swap has arrived to get my creative juices flowing once again. The gods have gifted me with another perfect opportunity to write sub spence because I was given @writing-in-april as my person yet again. Hooray! Anyways I hope you enjoy and thanks all you cool cats and kittens for the support (we almost to 1000 yeet skrrt). Also, it just happens to be my birthday today so as a gift to myself I thought about subby Spencer for a while.

Pairing: SPENCER x READER

Category: SMUT and can’t forget that fluff

Word Count: 3.2k

ENJOY:)

~~~

It all started completely by accident.

There was no possible way that she would’ve been able to predict just how much they would affect the poor kid. 

She could remember, clear as day, the first time she was forced to wear her glasses to the bureau due to her ongoing frustrations with the torture devices that were also referred to as contacts. There were only so many headaches and eye-waterings that she could take before the insecurity of wearing her frames to work shriveled below the point of caring anymore. 

But none of those previous insecurities held a flame to the amount of confusion she felt when she entered the bullpen and waltzed over to Spencer’s desk to say good morning with a shy smile adorning her face. Y/n hadn’t even been able to get a complete sentence out before the young doctor had turned to her and froze, his mouth hanging open like a fish, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, the harsh red blush she had seen before, just maybe not to this extent, engulfing his boyish features. 

Before she could even attempt to ask him what she had done to warrant such a response, he was spouting out a meager, “H-hey Y/n” whilst simultaneously scurrying off in the direction of the nearest bathroom.

Completely and utterly perplexed over what had happened, she had shrugged it off and made her way back to her desk, silently mulling over the interaction periodically throughout the rest of the day. 

It was a couple of the same type of interactions later that Y/n began to take notice of what was actually happening with the boy genius. The stiff and unnatural posture. The stuttering, granted that wasn’t something new, just much more frequent and severe. The audible heartbeat always accompanied by rosy cheeks and goosebumps. 

Spencer Reid was fucking turned on by the glasses.

And he didn’t even try to hide it. Or maybe he did and was just really, really bad at doing so.

Either way, Y/n quickly discovered just how much fun it was getting these reactions to pour out of the kid...so of course she kept wearing the glasses even after she was able to wear contacts again. He didn’t need to know that. 

It was so fucking easy too. 

She would just be sitting at her desk, occupied by some particularly troubling pages of a case file that makes her have to readjust her frames out of stress, when she’d hear a high pitched squeak across the bullpen, followed by the pattering of frantic footsteps she had familiarized herself with in former few weeks. 

While she felt some kind of guilt for putting him through this, it was nowhere near enough to overtake the genuine excitement and gratification that came with knowing she could have such an effect on the adorable doctor.

Of course she found him attractive...how could she not with his perfectly sculpted cheekbones and nerdy slicked back hair. Ultimately Y/n could understand his apparent infatuation with her wearing glasses as she had caught herself, on more than a couple occasions, openly ogling his own specs. 

Maybe they were both weirdos...the whole situation was almost as strange as the Converse kink that she secretly harbored for years. Although her intuition was quick to suggest that, just maybe, both of her unique infatuations stemmed from the same noodle-shaped source.

Perhaps her favorite reaction of his, though, came about during the little office birthday party that the entire team had thrown for him.

He looked so adorable in the gigantic birthday cake hat they had bestowed upon him, Y/n could hardly contain her giggles at the giddy smile adorning his face. She watched on in amusement as Spencer tried desperately to get the candles on his cake to extinguish, to no avail, at least until someone felt bad watching his struggles and decided to give him a hand.

“They’re trick candles Spence, they’re gonna come back on every time.”, JJ chuckled, subtly smirking at Morgan who was also enjoying Spencer’s ongoing struggles. 

A couple “happy birthdays” later and the rest of the team slowly began to disperse, leaving just Y/n and him alone in their own little space. He must’ve noticed this too because the blush that had already been present throughout the celebration beforehand seemed to deepen even further as he visibly swallowed down his nerves.

Slowly stalking towards the rouge kissed boy, she dragged a couple of her fingers across the surface of the desk, noting the way his eyes briefly flicked down to follow the movement before hesitantly returning his gaze to match her own. 

She also noted the way his knuckles were basically turning white from the amount of pressure he was using to grab the sides of the chair.

“You have a good birthday, Spence?”, Y/n drawled with a teasing smile, now standing directly before the trembling young man.

Seeming to snap out of whatever sort of trance he had been in, he hastily cleared out his throat before responding with a bit of trepidation. “Hmm...yeah-yes uh yes it was v-very good, than-thank you.”

She couldn’t even attempt to conceal the smirk that had made its way to her lips listening to the genius stutter through his words. Such a nervous, nervous boy. So adorable. So fucking hot. 

“Well that makes me happy. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself pretty boy.”, she paused her thoughts soaking in the little hitches in his breath surely from how close she was standing near him and the added nickname. Deciding to play a little bit dirty, she leaned over directly into his line of sight to reach for the cake set before him.

 “Now how about I take this away and cut it up for all of us to eat? Hmmm?”

His eyes darted immediately to the cleavage that was so graciously presented to him as she bent over to pick up the dessert, a sharp little gasp escaping his pretty, pink lips as his pupils dilated carelessly. 

Y/n inwardly smirked at his reaction and began walking towards the kitchenette, but only made it about three or four steps before being interrupted. 

“Did you know that in some instances birthday candles are safe for wax play?”, he exclaimed before seemingly realizing what had just escaped his lips, his hands flying up to cover his traitorous mouth. 

Bewildered, in the best of ways, by what had just been said, she slowly swiveled back around, facing him once again, before placing the cake on the desk beside her. 

“What was that Spencer?”, she grinned at the petrified man who hadn’t made a single noise since his unexpected declaration. The poor thing looked like a caged in animal with nowhere to escape. Perfect.

“N-nothing! I m-mean obviously it was um s-something, but j-just uh just forget what I s-said.”, he quickly explained while frantically shaking his hands as if he was hoping he could simply wipe your memory of the last minute or two away permanently.

“No, no please go on.”, she teased. “Now I’m intrigued. What did you mean by ‘in some instances’ Spence?”

She wasn’t expecting the look of confusion, however brief it was, that peeked its way through the overwhelming embarrassment that had been showcased on his face, as if he truly couldn’t fathom that someone was actually asking him to go into more detail about a topic. 

Still didn’t change the fact that he was completely mortified.

Clearing his throat, he hesitantly lifted his gaze back to Y/n’s, seemingly debating with himself over whether he could articulate the words to come out or not. 

“Um...well..usually many p-people who choose to e-engage in such act-activities will use specific types of c-candles that are uh more designed especially for pl-play.”, he paused and she drank up the way his Adam's apple bobbed along his throat. “Uh… basically depending on the t-type of candle that one u-uses, the amount of pain or um d-discomfort differs. B-birthday candles tend to b-be on the more painful side so only the couples who are in-into that kind of thing would ever really utilize t-them.”, he finished abruptly, his leg bouncing rapidly in her line of vision.

She still couldn’t really believe she had actually gotten him to say anything at all, nevermind an in depth analysis on wax play. In a weird way she was proud of him. Really proud. Sometime amidst her thoughts, she’d found herself standing directly behind his sitting figure, her hands resting on either side of him against the table, the goosebumps visible on his skin from the implications of the position they were currently in.

“That’s really intriguing Spencer. I’d love to find out someday just why it is you know so much about the subject, but I don’t want to make you go into cardiac rest anytime soon.”, she remarked, giggling at the shy smile that made its way to his mouth.

She didn’t even register reaching out to lightly touch his lips until she heard his sharp intake of breath. Until he turned his head so they were mere centimeters apart. Until she watched his puppy eyes dart between her lips and your frame covered gaze. Until the space between them seemed to be lessening with every sec-

“Hey pretty boy! Where’s my cake?”

Y/n grudgingly pulled back at the interruption, watching in amusement as Spencer’s body instinctively leaned forward as if his lips hadn’t gotten the memo and were still searching for hers. “It’s coming right up you lazy ass!” she yelled back with a grin on her face.

She looked back to the boy sitting before her and was almost mesmerized by the dazed look present on his face, the blush slowly retreating as he came back to his surroundings. She could tell there were words that he wanted to say, but they just didn’t seem to be forming fast enough to actually come out. Deciding to put their little moment on hold before he passed out, she walked back over to the neglected dessert and started heading towards the break room again.

“I’ll make sure to save you the biggest piece, Spence.”,she threw over her shoulder, chuckling at the bewildered look still that was still present on his face.

~~~

The day was a big success in her opinion. 

Spencer looked even more like a child than usual with the big shit eating grin that remained throughout the celebration and the bulky hat that he refused to take off. She could never understand how someone could have such an affinity for sugar as she watched him devour the huge slice of cake she had carved up for him.

But hours later, it was just her and Spencer left in the building. 

And she was not about to let that go to waste.

Y/n could see him from where she stood at the entrance to the kitchenette. She could see the way he slouched over his desk with his legs curled underneath him, criss cross applesauce, as he scribbled down whatever case file he was working on. She admired his determined work ethic, that’s for sure.

But now was simply not the time to work.

Spencer immediately froze as soon as her body situated itself to be leaning against his desk, painfully aware of her gaze on his tense form. 

“H-hey Y/n.”, he nervously murmured, the stutter once again making her giddy.

“Hey yourself doc. Wanna tell me why it is you’re still here working at such a late hour? Doesn’t the elusive Spencer Reid have better things to be entertaining himself with?”, she drawled, her piercing gaze making the poor kid squirm before her eyes.

“Oh um no...n-not really. I actually don’t mind working late. It’s k-kind of therapeutic in a way. But um...I’m happy t-that you’re here w-with me.”, he whispered the last part as if he was scared you wouldn’t appreciate his gratitude.

But she appreciated it more than he knew.

Noticing the little pencil holder situated amongst the file stacks on his desk, an idea popped into her mind that she just couldn’t shake, prompting her to pick it up and begin fiddling with it.

“Oh is that so pretty boy? Does my presence satisfy you?” Before he could even attempt an answer she “accidently” dropped the holder on the ground, the array of pens and pencils dispersing among the floor. “Oops my bad.”

Spencer immediately scrambled out of his seat and onto the floor to start collecting the colorful writing utensils, the perfect distraction needed for Y/n to situate herself on his desk with her legs spread open directly in front of his face. 

“D-don’t worry abou-”, his sentence cut off as he looked up and was met with the tantalizing sight of her white lace panties already damp with her excitement. She swore he could die happy with the way his eyes widened and cheeks flushed. She couldn’t help but chuckle lightly.

“See something you like baby?” Unable to even form words, the young doctor slowly nodded his head, eyes still locked on the obvious wet spot between her open legs.

“C-can I..can I um…”

“Use your words baby boy. Can you what?”, she spoke clearly, grasping his chin so he’d look her in the eyes.

“C-can I taste you?” She couldn't get over the desperate way he spoke as if he’d die of thirst if he didn’t get a drink from her.

“Of course you can sweet b-” Not even letting the words leave her mouth, his hands were eagerly pulling her panties down and off her legs, his lips instantly connecting with the heated flesh at the apex of her thighs. She swore his tongue and lips were enchanted with the way he was able to effortlessly maneuver his way around, easily picking up on what she loved. 

“Oh Spencer you’re such a good boy.” she couldn’t resist  threading her fingers through his silky hair and tugging slightly, an action she assumed he enjoyed based on the muffled whine she heard from between her thighs. 

It hadn’t even been more than a few minutes before she found herself already on the verge of letting go. No guy had ever been able to make her feel this good and just electric until now. He was quickly ruining her for anyone else in the future. She did not mind in the slightest.

“Baby I really wanna feel you inside me. Is that something you want sweetheart?”

He reluctantly pulled back after a few more kitten licks to her clit, wide eyes finding hers and whimpering out a broken “yes”. More than happy with his response she gently pulled him up by his hair and started undoing his belt, his oversized pants easily falling down without the extra support. Just another thing about him that she had come to adore. She was very pleased by the obvious bulge that protruded through his baby blue checkered boxers. 

Before she pulled those down too, though, she very gently reached up and cupped his cheeks, guiding his plump lips to her own, basking in the delighted whimpers that escaped his mouth at the soft but passionate contact. She released his lips with a slight nip and proceeded with his clothing removal, coaxing him to sit down in the swirly chair he had been previously residing in, before straddling his lap. 

“You ready sweet boy?”, she asked leaning forward to kiss his rouge forehead and cheeks.

“Mhmm I’m r-ready.”

Taking that as the go ahead, she cautiously positioned herself over his throbbing erection before slowly lowering herself inch by inch until he was completely enveloped by her tight, warm walls. 

“Oh-ohh my.”, he whimpered at the overwhelming feeling of being connected so intimately. Gently, she started to move a bit more, hesitantly lifting up before lowering herself back down, flush against his lap, one of her soft hands anchoring herself to his shoulder while the other caressed his flushed cheeks.

“I know baby, I know. You feel so good baby boy I don’t think I’m going to be able to last much longer.”

“M-me neither.”, he stuttered as the pace she had previously set seemed to increase in speed, the excitement and ecstasy getting to the both of them and subconsciously pushing the two of them closer to their shared release. 

The fire was quickly building within her body and she knew she was truly crumbling at the seams, but with the way his body was trembling and his dick was subtly twitching inside of her she knew he was right there too.

“It’s ok baby boy, it’s ok. Cum for me sweet boy. I want you to cum inside and fill up my pussy Spence.”, she muttered feeling the beginning of her end crash unexpectedly throughout her entire being, grasping onto the boy underneath her to tie herself to the earth. 

Overwhelmed by the utter euphoria of Y/n cumming around him, Spencer let himself get thrown off the edge, his hands tightening on her waist hard enough she was sure little bruises would form come tomorrow, not that she minded at all.

“Oh Y/n!” She watched on, obsessed with the way that his mouth fell open in a little o-shape as his eyes squeezed shut, the tell tale signs of pleasure coursing through his veins, the warm feeling that he left deep inside of her as she gently lifted herself from his shaking legs, reaching for her panties before the warmth was able to escape down her damp thighs.

Looking back at the trembling boy after cleaning herself and him up, she couldn’t help but melt at the lovesick, puppy dog eyes he was giving her, prompting her to lean forward and leave more little kisses on the top of his damp hair.

“That was incredible Spence. Really incredible. I’ve never felt anything like that before baby.”

She melted even further at the way he shyly dropped his head to somewhat hide the wide grin that had spread like wildfire across his face. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them before his head lifted with a questioning glance.

“How’d you-I mean uh how did you know that I liked you?” There was no way she could control the giggles that left her lips at his silly question.

“You weren’t exactly subtle with the whole glasses thing Spence.”

And then the only sound heard throughout the building was her full blown laughter at the mortification that speedily adorned his cherry cheeks.

Tag List: @hopebaker @pastathighs @psychedellic-phase @gloryekaterina @sleepysnapesnake @racharr @etherealgubler @furiouspartyrebelhoagie @andiebeaword @liaabsurd @cielo1984 @starkeybaby @victomizedbyreginageorge @rainsong01 @moonlight-jukebox @gretaamyk @httpnxtt @rachelxwayne @watermelonstyl @goldnratio @cheyxminds @kricketc29 @cupcake525 @pinkdiamond1016 @slutforthegubes @shadyladyperfection @emilysallysmith @babblingbrookex @legendaryanimeaestheticclou @sunstspidey @ashwarren32 @pixels-impulse @eviewildflower @spencerreider @awkwardsadaa @dirty-pan-goblin @ughgoaway @cromies90-blog @mightaswell247 @calm-and-doctor @golden-hoax @1mpvls3 @lonewolf471 @centiaaa @spencerspecifics

[citrineghost]

Struggling to stay organized because you have ADHD?

Well, I have a fantastic solution for you! There’s this bitchin site called Trello and I’m gonna tell you all about it

This is not sponsored, I just really like organization and Trello is awesome. And, as always, no readmore because this is targeted at ADHD people and y’all ain’t gonna click it

[ID: a picture of a website with many columns/lists. Behind the lists, there is a customized background. To the right is a sidebar showing that you can search Unsplash for backgrounds right from the site. Each column/list has a bunch of ‘cards’ on it. The cards each have a title and color coded label(s) /end ID)

Here’s a picture of my to-do board

There are some things blacked out, mostly just my avatar, name, and some original creative stuff I don’t feel like broadcasting.

So, Trello is broken up into different levels of organization. Let’s start with the most important level: boards.

Boards

A board is what’s pictured above. Think of it like a corkboard where you pin your notes. You can make as many of these as you want. You can title them, invite people to them, automate certain parts of them, and more.

On your board, you can make

Lists

Lists are those columns you can see on my board. You can title each list, click and drag them around to reorder them, set them to automatically label the things on them, and so on.

My lists on my to do board are titled with a time period for when I aim to do something. The time periods are large and vague, which makes them great for my ADHD. I can move things between them as I need, which is also great for my ever shifting brain thoughts. 

But! What makes it great is that whatever I put in the left list, titled Next, I know is what I need to be focusing on at the moment. It makes it easier to ignore what’s to the right of it and let’s me relax knowing I won’t just forget everything I’m not prioritizing.

Lists are used for holding

Cards

(ID: A picture of a small window that opens after clicking on a card. It contains the title, the labels (with their names now visible), and a functioning checklist. There is also a place to type a description, a place to add comments, and a list of buttons on the side for managing the card and its place on the board /end ID)

Each card can be as simple as containing just a title (making it a simple entry on your list), or as complicated as housing photos, descriptions, checklists, labels, and comments. You just click the card and it opens the window shown above.

My card is for a tabletop I’m working on, nicknamed TAP. I have it labeled with all of the things pertaining to what it involves (world building, writing, in progress, spreadsheeting, and art/creative). These color coded labels make it easy to see what kind of cards I’m looking at when looking at the overall board and lists.

As I do things on the checklist, I can mark them off. You can even set it to hide completed items on the checklist.

When I’m done with an item on my to do list, I click and drag the card to the Done list (which is offscreen on the far right). If you don’t want a visible Done list, you can also just archive a card and it will disappear from the board.

You can also set due dates on cards, which will notify you when they’re almost due or when the due date arrives.

Customization

One of my favorite things about Trello is that you can customize the appearance of your boards! My ADHD brain can’t stand looking at the same thing constantly, so it’s great that I can change things up. Each board can have its own design too, so you can match the vibes of the board with the appearance.

You can pick from a bunch of solid colors for your board or you can use the connection Trello has with Unsplash to search and select free stock images provided by photographers.

Other Parts of Organization

Not only do you have boards, lists, and cards, you can also make Workspaces, which are basically categories to sort your boards into. If you use Trello for projects, and have a board for each project, you can sort your boards into a Projects workspace.

There is also a function called Butler, which you can use to automate boards. For example, you can set it to automatically create a card called “Pay Rent” at the start of each month.

On the right, in the same sidebar where you can see the background options, there’s also an activity feed, tracking every time a card is moved, commented on, added, archived, and so on.

Team Work

Not only is Trello great for keeping private boards, you can also invite people to them! That makes it incredible for household management, group projects, or even friend groups who feel like storing plans and personalized memes. You can literally use it for whatever you want and in whatever way you want!

ADHD Applications

So, now let’s get down into the specifics of how this is great for people with ADHD.

You can make as many boards, lists, and cards as you want.

This is a big one for me, because I really struggle with websites that limit how much you can do with one account and force you to make multiples and then juggle multiple logins and so on. Start a new project? Make a new board. Follow your heart. Be free. If you end up giving up on it, just delete it, or store it for later. You can Star the boards you actively use and just use the Star list to access the boards you need, so if you star all your active ones and then ignore the unstarred, failed projects, you can leave them to rot or abandon them until the mood strikes again.

You can organize in a way that works for you.

So many organization applications are made to work one way and that can be really difficult to navigate as someone with ADHD. So many people with ADHD have such specific needs in regards to how they organize that it can be really hard to find something that works. Half the time we end up just scrambling around from application to application, cursing them as we go because one has one thing we like, but it doesn’t have the thing this other one has that we like and nothing ever seems to just work.

Trello makes it possible to personalize how you organize and even change how you organize halfway through. I keep my to do list organized in 4 priority levels with the addition of a Pin list and a Done list. You could also:

Keep a list that works as a calendar, with a card for each entry, organized in order of date

Keep a list of reminders where automated weekly/monthly/yearly responsibilities pop up

Jot down reminders as you think of them

Keep lists of school assignments in the order they’re due

Use descriptions and photo uploads on cards to collect information or resources needed for said assignments

Keep lists of information that’s easy to forget or lose track of on paper like address history, work history, references, contact information, and so on (like I’ve done on my ‘Pin’ list)

Use boards for projects, to keep track of things like resources, due dates, meeting times, sending files between classmates or project partners, and so on

Use boards for planning events like weddings, parties, conferences, school dances, or whatever else you’re into

Collect resources, references, or recreational to-dos (like links to fanfiction you want to read)

Literally anything

You can separate everything onto different boards, making everything visible from the titles of cards, or combine it all into one, with lots of information available on a click

The sky’s the limit

You can automate repeat tasks.

ADHD comes with a lot of forgetfulness when it comes to regular tasks, such as weekly appointments, medication reminders, and a yearly charge for your Nintendo membership. You can put that stuff into your calendar, but that can also be tricky because then you have information spread across multiple platforms.

Just as easily, you can set Butler to make new cards with reminders on them.

There’s probably more but I have ADHD and I forgot

Just think of the possibilities!!

I used to get debilitatingly stressed out because I would have 10 things floating around in my head because I was simultaneously trying not to forget them and also stressing about them and I would make what I call “spaghetti lists” where I would list all the things I’m thinking of, just as a way to calm down and know that I won’t forget them, so that my brain could quiet down.

Since starting this board, I haven’t had to do that once because all of the things I’m afraid of forgetting are already listed, even if they’re on the list titled ‘ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ‘ because idk if they’re ever actually gonna happen.

It can be incredibly stressful to see all of your to do items in one place, but since starting this, I have been less stressed overall, because I now know I can find them all in that one place. Learning to manage and cope with the stress of knowing I have a lot to do is easier than forgetting things and then realizing I’m late on something or things just never happening because I never remember them when I’m in a place where I can work on them.

And when you have everything in one place to reference when you have some executive energy, you can suddenly just start doing things. I have them labeled by type so I can go, “I’m in the mood to draw,” and then check all the dark blue labels for creative projects. It makes everything so much easier.

Anyway, I hope this is helpful to some of you, it’s genuinely been life changing for me