#like every other country is one single thing

[redwyverndht]

ok. to all those people saying "the people are fine, I don't like the CCP": do you actually know anything about the Communist Party of China? Anything at all?

Do you know about their policies under Deng Xiaoping, the balancing act of "liberalization", how if affects more than one billion people every day, and how those people interact with their government?

Do you know about the practice of Democratic Life Meetings (民主生活會), how officials, from the lowest local offices, to the highest of ministers, are meant to debate and rid the Party of inefficiency through open debate? Do you know how some see it as a mostly ceremonial task with no real impact in policy, and how it's seen as a revival of Maoist thought and policy?

Do you know how all Chinese companies, per art. 5 of the PRC Constitution, have Party offices and committees as part of their company structure, which often host? Have you ever wondered how that changes employee relationships, HR practices, how that could affect culture?

I can't find any English-language information with a neutral view of everyday Chinese culture. Nearly every single website in English talking about committees in enterprises are Forbes, The Guardian, US intelligence agencies. This makes sense, I looked it up in English.

But have you ever seen where your perception of the Communist Party comes from? It's not from everyday Chinese people. Do you hate the CCP, or do you hate the idea of it the American government and its allies of the neoliberal order have planted into your mind? Why do you always mention Taiwan, Tibet, Xinjiang, Tian'anmen Square, Mao's Great Leap Forward?

That is like having everyone only mention the United States in terms of Jim Crow, chattel slavery, imperialism in the support of both fascist dictators and inefficient and unequal neoliberal regimes in Latin America, the killing of millions of people in the Middle East... I could go on for a while, but if you're American you probably know all that.

But is that your entire life?

I am NOT saying governments shouldn't be criticized. But you can't imagine what it is like when those criticisms are the ONLY thing your country is reduced to. If you're American, everyone is forced to know about you. Everyone has to care about your elections, know what a "Republican" is, because you are the hegemon of the planet. For now.

Americans will never encounter that reduction and xenophobia regarding their own country's legacy, because, inevitably someone will go "what about everything else?" Your movies, your inventions, your art, your music, your lives. Everyone will remember them, whether they want to or not. This does not negate oppression inside the United States, nor the actions of its government.

You should criticize that.

But the average citizen outside the American imperial core will not have that same grace. They will have their entire country, their identity, reduced to those things. To Taiwan, Tibet, Xinjiang, Tian'anmen Square, Mao's Great Leap Forward. To the Cartel, drug smuggling, crime rates, insecurity. To religious extremism, to poverty, to the eternal victim of violence.

To you "criticism" of their country's government.

Have you ever considered that the internal politics of other countries is those countries citizens' business? How you should shut the fuck up about governments you don't know, about oppression you don't face? Maybe you should focus that energy ranting about the CCP into actually making a difference in your own country?

How about you shut up when you don't know what you're talking about?

[chdarling]

ok so, I can't, like, set a precedent for every time there is a catastrophic event in my country I post a TLE spoiler because let's be real, that's gonna be every day for the next four years at least and I only have so many non-major-spoilery TLE bits to share. But I'm making my way through an emergency bottle of prosecco and texting my friends about how in the face of the endless onslaught of late stage capitalism, fanfic -- a community built purely around love and joy and not a single drop of money being exchanged -- is in a small way something radical and precious and dare I say holy (did I mention I was drunk) and that should be honored on today of all fucking days, and ALSO we should all spend less time staring at gifs of that evil-ass motherfucker doing nazi salutes and more time crafting joy and creating community with each other so

here is a lil snippet from TLE3

as with all my spoiler snippets, I reserve the right to completely rewrite this before the final draft because honestly this was mostly an exercise in me learning how to craft sentences again mid-burnout, but!!!! here, have a lil moment of joy, maybe. i love you.

Excerpt from The Last Enemy: Marauders’ End

“So, what do you think?”

Sirius turned expectantly to his best mate, who stood beside him as the boys peered through the doorway of Sirius’s second bedroom. The room had been unoccupied at the time of Sirius moving into this flat a few weeks ago. Now…it decidedly was not.

“Er…” said James, who did not quite seem to know how to answer the question.

“Her name is Lola,” Sirius added in a reverent tone.

“She has a name, does she?”

“Of course she has a name, you pig.”

“Right,” said James. “Well, then frankly, I’m a bit hurt you moved out and left me for Lola.”

Sirius knocked his shoulder against James’s. “Come on. I didn’t leave you. We’ve been over this. I’m of age, I was going to have to get my own place eventually.”

“Yeah, okay, sure, but you barely made it a month before you shacked up with your new flatmate, Lola.”

Sirius grinned. “She’s sexy, isn’t she?”

“She’s…very shiny.”

“She’s the goddamn love of my life.”

“Okay, ‘she’ is a motorbike, mate. You’ve gone completely batty.”

Sirius laughed and strode further into the room where indeed the Muggle motorbike had been set up, dominating the space. It was a thing of beauty, all sleek lines and silver glint. The floor around the motorbike was haloed with the detritus of Sirius’s last few delicious days: all sorts of mechanical bits and bobs, empty beer bottles, an ashtray, a crumpled up bag of crisps, a few oily rags, and a confusion of Muggle tools, the names of which Sirius kept mixing up — a socket wrench, he thought that one was called. The spare bed that had once been the primary feature of this room — a springy mattress James had transfigured for the nights he was too pissed to apparate home (“Mum won’t mind, she put the security spells on your flat herself.”) — had been shoved into the corner to make room for this new sacred altar.

James did not seem as impressed with Sirius’s new acquisition as he felt his friend ought to be. “You’re just jealous,” Sirius told him, “that you’ve never known a love so true.”

“Ha. Touché.”

Sirius pulled a rag from his back pocket and began to lovingly polish a spot on the seat of the motorbike.

“You know,” said James, still observing from his post at the doorway, “I’m not sure it’s healthy, you spending so much time by yourself.”

“What time by myself?” laughed Sirius. “You’re here almost every day.”

This was true. Hardly a day had passed so far this summer that James hadn’t found a reason to come by. Not that Sirius minded. Though he’d never admit it, he liked living on his own rather less than he’d expected.

“Yeah, well…” James strode closer to inspect the motorbike. “Someone has to make sure you don’t go completely bonkers, all on your own here. Lola, I ask you. You know, if you start talking to the bike, mate, I’m hauling you off to St. Mungo’s too.”

Sirius leaned down and whispered to the handlebars: “Don’t listen to the mean man, Lola. I’d never leave you.”

James sat down on the spare bed with a mournful creak. “Besides,” he said, “Potter House is too quiet now, with you gone and dad all…entombed. Some days I think if I don’t get out, I’m the one who will go bonkers.”

Sirius turned back to his friend, suddenly somber. “Hey, you know I’m just joking, right? You’re always welcome over here. I love having you here.”

“Yeah,” said James, though the faintest tint of melancholy compromised his credulity. Sirius watched as James plucked an oil-stained rag from the bed, sniffed it, then tossed it aside with a wrinkled nose.

“How are things…?” Sirius ventured. “With your dad?” Fleamont Potter’s health had been in steady decline for years, but last Christmas things had taken a turn for the worse. The diagnosis seemed to be simply that he was old…though Sirius had a hard time wrapping his head around that. “Have things gotten any better?”

“No,” said James shortly. “And they’re not going to. It is what it is.” He glared at the wall for a brief moment, then sighed — a deep, intentional sigh, as though exhaling all his miseries in order to transform himself back to Sirius’s good-natured friend. “So…does she work?”

“The fuck d’you mean, ‘does she work?’”

“Well,” said James, “it hasn’t escaped my notice that the bike is in your spare bedroom, rather than, say, on the street. So either you and Lola have a far kinkier relationship than I care to know about…or she doesn’t work.”

A pause.

“She’s a work in progress, okay?”

“Knew it,” grinned James.

“Hey, have some respect,” said Sirius. “I’m fixing her up myself. It’s far cooler than just buying some shiny toy from a shop. This is my bike. Mine. I’ll make her fly, just you wait.” He stroked the bike handle. “Isn’t that right, Lola?”

“Yep,” sighed James. “Completely bonkers.”

[kingjasnah]

idk if this has been discussed but i do wonder if there was a way jasnah could have won over fen. jasnah calls her very emotionally intelligent and she only started responding positively to dalinar in ob once he got truthfully frustrated with her and did some yelling and idk i wonder if jasnah had set aside all her philosophical talk and made a passionate and emotional plea if fen would have been more receptive. but of course jasnah wouldn't do that

short answer: agreed. long answer: ive been wanting to talk about this for weeks. so you're getting kinda a long one.

jasnah is obviously one of my favorite characters and that's almost why i was clapping and cheering during the taravangian takedown--like all of her flaws and everything that makes her compelling was completely cracked open. if jasnah cares about anything at all, it's how she is perceived. we dont know what happened to her when she was a child and we dont know why it seems that she was institutionalized or at least in confinement for a period of her youth but we do know that every single thing she does is a measure to keep her from never going back to the kind of powerlessness she felt back then. i remember shallan commented on her perfect her hair and makeup and clothing was waaay back in book 1/2 and thought how interesting it was for a self professed heretic to still take care to make sure the darkeyed sailors on their ship to the shattered plains never saw her out of makeup. jasnah has been vulnerable in this series, sure, but only to her family. or maybe shallan. or maybe hoid? persumably. every single page she has appeared on in this entire series has reinforced that to her a huge part of the way she does her job (and im considering hiring a spy to follow her sister in law her job too, not just being queen. i mean what she considers her role to be in her family) of statecraft is in the perception that she is perfect. and yeah, that's why it was never going to work with fen

dalinar did have a hard time cracking fen because i think that in the beginning of their interactions they both made fundamental misinterpretations of each other based on where they came from. fen only thought of dalinar as a warmonger who would walk all over her country in the name of conquest, and dalinar straight up did not understand that fen's perspective was so heavily influenced by the thaylen mercantile culture. they still found common ground and yeah it was a frank conversation and an abandoment of diplomat speak that did it. jasnah's made emotional pleas before but i think the crux of her error with fen is that she DID know how important the mercantile culture was but she interpreted it as "fen is going to leave the alliance if she gets a better deal for her country so i need to prove that im her best option" instead of "fen values exchange of commerce but she really values relationships. fen's culture involves building relationships with other merchants so that they can trade with each other and understand each other" (please see the original two rysn interludes). fen didn't need a perfect argument from jasnah but she also didn't need dalinar's approach either. all she needed was for jasnah to TRUST her enough to treat her like an equal partner in their alliance instead of a marker to be moved around a war map.

cause let's be honest. fen is an extremely capable ruler. she's smart and she's been in power for a long time. i do not think for a second that she was genuinely aghast that jasnah sent spies after aesudan or well, the kharbrath murders were pretty bad but im certain that a middle aged to senior member of ruling nobility has seen worse. it's not a bad thing for jasnah to put her people first. i am convinced that fen felt betrayed because jasnah had already set the parameters of their relationship by even engaging in this debate with taravangian. fen saw her logic backfire on herself and went "oh. okay. you are putting YOUR people first because you do not see the thaylen people as having the kind of relationship to you as, for example, vstim had with the shin or with the reshi king. you see us as an argument to be won over, as numbers on a map, as a thought excersize. not onyl withh you walk all over my country in the name of conquest (like dalinar might have) but you'd do it for the sake of what, rhetoric??" in that way, at least taravodium was honest.

but yes. jasnah would never do that. jasnah put on a full face of makeup every morning in her cabin just in case a handful of sailors that she never learned the names of would see her. of course she would never let a queen that she respected see her worry for her kingdom on purpose but it's over now. the mask has cracked, she lost, and she knows that the trap she fell into only closed around her because of her own hubris/the kind of love you have for winning that you'd have to have in order to spend your pre-apocalypse time actively arguing about heresy with every scholar and ardent out there. taravangian's arguments would not have worked on fen if jasnah had never put her in the position to be won over in the first place. i cannot stress enough that jasnah was my first love in this series and watching her finally crack and expose what i have always considered to be the most interesting thing about her was easily one of my favorite moments in the book. insane shit. i can't wait to see how she builds herself back up.

[softtdaisy]

a better father / Aaron Hotchner

summary. All Hotch wanted was to get a second chance to be a better dad. And now that you were offering him this chance, he fears he might have failed already.

words count. 2,465

a/n.  I got this idea with the episode from season when Haley comes and she told Hotch that he forgot about an appointment for Jack and I was like omg I need to do something that so here's sad Aaron again

Being an FBI agent and a dad was sometimes hard to combine. Hotch knew something about that. 

He had a lot of regrets about Jack. Not being there much when he was a baby, not seeing his first steps, hearing his first word, and missing so many memories that were nicely caught on camera by Haley. Things he could never make up for.

And no matter how often Jack could tell him that he didn’t hold any grudge against his dad, Hotch still felt bad most of the time. Wishing he could get a second chance to be a better dad. 

At some point, he accepted that it would never happen. He was getting older, and the morality wanted him to date women close to his age. Which wasn’t a bad thing at all. He had wonderful dates with them. But none of them wanted to have a child. Some already had one, some never wanted to get pregnant, and some simply couldn’t. And of course it was never a cause of a breakup—or stop seeing them, because Hotch didn’t date most of them. Hotch simply accepted he won’t be a dad again. 

Then he met you.

You were an old friend of JJ's that he met at her birthday. Your work made you travel around the world for many years, which explained your absence during the past parties and you being unknown to most of the team. But you were back in town, ready to meet new people and start a new life.

Hotch never believed in fate.

But he was sure he was destined to meet you.

You were so full of life, acting like a ray of sunshine in every room you were in. And not that he considered himself dark, but he had to admit that his life and job had quite an impact on how he perceived himself. As someone who wasn’t very funny or joyful to be around. Not a very good dad or a nice partner. And sometimes, not even a great boss.

His life was pretty much in black and white. And when you came around, you brought colors with you.

It started that very first night, when you spent almost an hour sitting outside with Aaron. Drinking and watching the stars.

“Shouldn’t you be with JJ?” He asked after you finished a conversation about your favorite countries to visit and the one you recommended for someone like him.

“Don’t know,” you replied, shrugging. “I like being with you.”

Aaron could blame the alcohol for the redness on his cheeks, but you both knew it was insecurity and flattering. It’s been a long time since someone pointed out how they liked spending time with him. He felt…alive, knowing that you wanted to be around him.

And you weren’t lying for a single second. “You’re an interesting man, Aaron Hotchner. You need to let people see that.” you added, giving him a little shoulder bump. You kept your shoulder against his for a second. You loved the little smile your words created and the sparks that appeared in his eyes.

You felt lucky that you were one of the few people he offered a glimpse of the real him.

It started with coffee dates once a week. Before he went to work, and while you were still discovering your new life back in town, you met at the same coffee shop for an hour. You talked about everything, more life than work. You wanted to see Aaron, and not Hotch, the man JJ told you about. 

Even if she gave you such a good description of him that you were already willing to give him your heart without any hesitation.

You loved discovering new things about him every week. 

Each smile was breaking the wall around him.

Each time he put his hand on yours was him installing himself in your life.

And each kiss was you giving your heart to each other. 

These coffee dates were still a thing.

They just happened every day, at the place you were now sharing together.

And not only did you give him a lot of things already, you offered him the chance he thought wouldn’t come again, which he sadly accepted. 

To be a dad again.

You were four months pregnant, and it wasn’t always as easy as it seemed. Either the stress that comes from work or the fact Aaron still felt like he was too old for this, for you. But he was trying his best to make things as perfect as they could be. He was leaving the BAU earlier than before, and every day off was for Jack and for you. 

And every night, he made sure to have at least half an hour with you in the baby’s room to talk about the future.

But sometimes, dealing with both situations can be difficult. And today was another proof.

What was supposed to be a calm office day turned out to be more rough and animated. A new case came in the morning and turned out to be in town. 

Hotch was part of the team that went out to catch the unsub. He was going less on the field these days. There was a selfish reason behind that: he didn’t want to stress you or miss anything important with the baby. But the case being in Virginia, he took the opportunity to follow Spencer and Emily outside while JJ stayed with Penelope, like the good old days.

“God, I wish every case were as simple as this one.” Emily said when they came back to the car, the unsub was with the police officers. And Hotch had to admit it was pretty easy this time. He couldn’t wait to tell you about this one, how good it felt to be back there.

He could already hear you say something like, “We’ll tell our baby how their dad is a superhero,” which reminded him of when Jack used to see him like that. He hoped your baby would feel the same about him.

What if they hated him? What if they blame him for being away, for not doing enough? What if someone terrible happened to them because of his job?

Most of the time, Hotch managed to put these bad ideas away. And when he couldn’t, he found comfort in your arms. That’s what he needed right now.

He only had one thing to do: check on JJ and Penelope once he was back at the office to conclude his report and make sure everybody could go back home soon. Him included.

When Hotch entered Penelope’s office, he was welcomed by her confused and surprised face. “Sir? What are you doing here?” she asked. She got up and took a few steps towards him to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

“What do you mean what am I doing here?” he asked, even more confused than her. 

And the confusion just kept growing when he looked around and noticed Penelope was alone. “Where is JJ?” 

“Hmm, at the hospital?” From her tone, Hotch could tell that Penelope assumed he was supposed to know about her absence and the reason behind it. “[Y/N] called her?” This wasn’t a real question, because Penelope was there when you called. She heard you. But she couldn’t understand why she would know about that before Hotch.

And he couldn’t believe what he just heard. Sure, it made sense that you would call JJ if you needed help. She was one of your emergency contacts. But why wouldn’t you call him? 

Looking for his phone to check on you, Hotch realized his mistake.

He forgot his phone at his office. And spend the whole day assuming you were fine.

Before Penelope could explain the situation, or maybe she did, but he didn’t listen, Hotch ran to his office. He probably jostled some people in the rush, and there was a high possibility that he forgot to apologize. But it wasn’t his priority. Especially not when he grabbed his phone and saw the notification.

Six missing calls.

Around ten texts.

All from you.

You’ve got awful cramps when you wake up, and nothing would make them go away. You spent most of your day in bed, crying—which you didn’t tell Aaron, but he could hear the tears in your voice in one of your voicemails. You were asking him to come and bring you to the hospital to make sure the baby was doing fine.

But he never answered.

“I called JJ; she’s coming. Please don’t worry and text me when you see this. I love you,” said the last one.

When he dialed your phone, Hotch met your answering machine. 

He kept trying during the drive to the hospital. But all he could hear was your joyful voice asking to leave a message and that you would call back later. 

Never has Aaron needed to hear your voice so badly as right now.

The hospital wasn’t too far away from the bureau. Which didn’t prevent him from driving way above the limits. Not that he cared this time. 

Even if Aaron had prepared his speech in the car to appear calm, he lost his words right when he made his first step in the hospital. Being there was scary. Hopefully, when he arrived, the first person he saw was JJ. He rushed to her, almost scaring her from the way he grabbed her arm.

“Where is she? How is she? And the baby?” 

“Slow down, breathe for a second,” she replied, putting a hand on top of his to try and reassure him. “She is fine. And the baby too.”

The seven words that he needed to hear the most.

“I was supposed to bring her home, but she’ll be happy to have you.” JJ added with a sweet smile. If someone could understand Aaron’s position here, it was her.

Once she indicated to him the room you were staying in and he introduced himself to the nurse, Aaron rushed to meet you.

He was relieved to see you, for real. Sitting on the bed with your eyes closed. He took a second to look at you. Aaron hated that feeling in his stomach. He didn’t realize that until now, there was a quiet thought in his head saying that maybe he wouldn’t see you again. 

But you were there, looking better than he imagined you would. 

And when you opened your eyes and saw the man you love in front of you, you lit up the whole room with your eyes. “Aaron, you’re here!”

“Of course, I am,” he sighed, with a tired smile. He finally walked up to you and accepted the arms you were opening for him. It’s been a long time since a hug had felt this good for him. He let it go for a few seconds, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of having you close to him like that. He imagined you were home, in your bed, on a Sunday morning. Not at the hospital. 

Then everything hit him back. You, being sick and pregnant. Him, not being here for you.

Aaron kissed your forehead before cupping your face with his hands. “What happened?”

“The doctor said it wasn’t serious. Sometimes you get cramped and sick during the second semester. Basically, the baby is telling me to relax and stop overworking.” You replied with a soft laugh that wasn’t effective enough to stop him from frowning. “Love, we are both fine.”

“But I wasn’t there.” 

It hurt you how his voice sounded so sad. 

You heard Aaron speaking when he was physically hurt. And you already hated the way he would contain the pain by gritting his teeth, making his voice sound deeper and heavier. You always thought he was blaming himself for not being careful enough, which explained the tone.

But this time it was different. Aaron sounded like he hated himself for what he thought was a disappointment for you. But for him, mostly. His voice was broken, almost unintelligible. Like he didn’t want to be heard. And deep down, even if it was a part of his life you’d barely ever talked about, you knew where this was coming from.

"Aaron," you said softly, asking him to focus on you and not his pain. "I'm good. We're good.”

When he finally looked up to you, you met his red eyes. “These moments, they’ll happen again, you know.” 

He let out a sad sigh. “That’s not what I want.”

“I know, but you can’t blame yourself for that. This is your job. And we all accept it,” you said. You took one of his hands to put on your rounded belly. “She does too.”

Aaron opened his mouth to reply and argue on how this wasn’t the family dynamic he wanted for his second child. Not again. 

But no sound left his mouth. Which made you smile. This was exactly the reaction you expected from your so serious and composed boyfriend.

“She?” he finally replied, this time the glow in his eyes being replaced by happiness and surprise.

“The doctor did an ultrasound to make sure everything was alright. And this little princess inside finally decided to stop the mystery around herself.” You explained, but it would be a miracle if Aaron even heard you. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction: his mouth open, his eyes going from yours to your belly like he was trying to comprehend what you said. “We’re having a baby girl, Aaron.” This time, you couldn’t contain your own tears.

This was all Aaron needed to put all his stress behind. He couldn’t think about his job and everything that came with it when now he knew that in a few months, he would hold in his arms the miracle he couldn’t wish for anymore. A daughter that will be the result of the love he had for you. A daughter that he will love as much as he loves you. As much as he loves Jack.

Even if he still couldn’t speak, you could tell he was as excited as you by the situation. But there was still one thing that was waiting to be clarified.

“And wanna know the best part?” you asked, slowly caressing your cheek. “She’ll be the biggest daddy’s girl and will always love you. When you’re home, at work, or away. You’ll hold a special place in her heart, forever, Aaron Hotchner.” 

Being an FBI agent and a dad was sometimes hard to combine. But Aaron knew that he was fighting alone to find the perfect balance between both. 

He had you. And a perfect family to make sure he was a great man and a great father.

[myfandomrealitea]

Ah, yes. Another person who reads something genuine and immediately rocket launches themselves into the worst possible bad faith take in order to elevate themselves. And look! They're American!

(Shame on you.)

This may come as a shock to you, but 'curbside pickup' isn't always a thing in other countries, regions and areas. Where I live, for example, only two stores actually offer that service, and only on limited days and for orders over a certain amount. If you're just one person shopping for yourself, you very likely do not meet the minimum spend requirement for such a service.

Online grocery shopping is often difficult for many people, prices are often elevated, delivery slots are often limited and you can never guarantee that what they pick for you is good quality or even the correct item. People have been sent mushrooms instead of tampons because the policy is often to find the closest price comparison, not the closest product comparison.

(Sites like UberEats do offer the ability to choose a replacement product but again, prices are considerably higher than in-store or store websites plus added predatory fees.)

Secondly, I never stated nor implied the sole reason that stores implemented self-checkouts is as a conscious act for neurodivergent people. Nor did I state or imply we should be 'herding everyone through them like cattle.'

Something can benefit neurodivergent people even without that being the initial or primary intent of its existence. Stores implemented self-checkouts for their own gain and accidentally benefitted some neurodivergent people in the process. How awful!

The actual content of this post, if you care to re-read it and not immediately leap to arms over assuming I'm insulting you personally, is that getting rid of self-checkouts entirely is objectively a bad idea for a multitude of reasons, but primarily that intentionally or not they allow people like me to function as an independent adult and do something as basic as go grocery shopping with minimal stress and overstimulation.

They are absolutely necessary, because there are literal billions of people in the world and every single one has individual circumstances. And not every single person lives within the exact same means and means of service. If you want to be stereotypical about it, assuming otherwise is a very American perspective.

You hate self-checkouts. Good for you. I'm not holding a gun to your head and telling you to use them. I'm telling you that pushing to get them completely revoked is ultimately harmful to some people, for whom they are a necessity, because everyone's needs are different. You are not the only person to exist in the world.

I hate hearing older generations crow about how self-checkouts are isolating the elderly and getting honest people fired because self-checkouts also enable autistic and neurodivergent and anti-social people to shop in safety and peace without having a breakdown at the counter because the cashier won't stop asking about your day or if you have a membership card.

Checkout systems should be a 25/75 or 50/50 split.

Old people should not have to wrestle with the untameable beast that is a faulty self-checkout scanner and I, your neighbourhood anti-social autistic, should not have to dread shopping because Kathy is legally obliged to ask me 42 questions before she takes my money.

"Eradicate self-checkouts!"

I would literally rather starve to death than have to engage in More Human Interaction just to buy food. Its already bad enough when I have to apologetically smile at the checkout supervisor because my machine is having an aneurysm over my can of Red Bull.

[red-takami]

Hello red I hope you are doing good! I wanted to ask about your Navariah dr.

Whats it like there?? Can you tell us story-times or anything of the sort? It sounds magical and I would like to know more :)

-🪆

Sorry this took me so long to answer, it's been a weird couple of days. Anyway! I also got this question here 👇🏽 I'll be answering both.

What is it like in Navariah?

In Navariah, the continent is one absolute humongous landmass and is the only one on the planet. There are islands all around the borders and coastlines, some even sort of far from the landmass that belong to Navariah.

In Navariah, there are different breeds of humankind. Lizardis, Deer folk, Eleven's and a race that had gone extinct - the coal.

In Navariah, schooling and education is free. There you're allowed to use your Magic (Soul) for whatever you desire, and can turn that into anything. The place is so large that the difference in geography depends on where exactly you are in Navariah, you can experience, learn, and work with different things.

In Navariah, I am one of the two military commanders/generals, I work under the royals. There are 26 military squads that work in specific areas to keep Navariah running as smoothly as possible.

In Navariah, there are things that I couldn't have ever dreamt about before shifting there. The way Magic, Culture, and the history of Navariah is embedded into everything you'll ever encounter there is unlike anything I've seen. It grew on me of course, hence why I stayed for so long LMAO.

How has being in a different reality other than my Cr for so long, changed me?

Over the years I spent in Navariah, I went to school. I graduated. I gained knowledge of stuff that is taboo here. I fought. I met people. I experienced life in a completely different light than ever before. The literal chemistry of my brain, has changed due to my time spent in Navariah.

See it this way, imagine you spend your entire life in one country with specific things that were practically drilled into your mind since birth. You understand life on earth, in that country surrounded by that land and it's people/culture from a first person view, you know nothing else as personally as you know your home. Then, all of the sudden you make the split decision to drop everything. I mean everything, and leave to another country across the world where things are like white to black in comparison to your old home. You're forced to learn the basics of that land, you're forced to start from scratch as everyone else did there. You grow over time, you begin to understand and SEE things differently than you did before - you gain a specific perspective. That, is exactly what happened when I shifted to Navariah. It was bound to happen you guys, almost a whole decade? Of course I'd be different than before I shifted.

I find myself genuinely thinking about Navariah every single day since I shifted back. It's in everything I do, as if I had just gotten back from that (at first) foreign country and had HELLUVA time and still remember everything like it was a suupperrr long but very enjoyable and productive vacation.

Thank you all for reading this yap. Happy Shifting!

[kpopsexstories]

Hi, can you write a story of taeyong fucking with fan during the nct world tour?

One-shot #18: Backstage Sex with NCT Taeyong

This story is a response to the above request, but also to the following: "We need more Taeyong here, so I want to throw in a few ideas: Taeyong backstage sex (straight, wild)"

Celebrity: NCT Taeyong x Female Reader

Sex Content: Hard sex backstage, Taeyong with female fan, Rough & forceful, Fast sex, Dirty talk, From behind, Missionary, Pregnancy.

Type of Sex: WILD

Word Count: 5.1k

28 shows. 17 cities. 11 countries. Taeyong was weary and the days seemed to flow together, but damn did he have fun.

Towards the end of it he hardly knew what country he was in or what day of the week it was. His brain was fuzzy, his body was tired, but his heart was happy and full. He was pumped up despite his aching muscles – and how sore his dick had become.

Taeyong had gotten into the terrible habit of hooking up with fans after shows. Strangers, some of whom turned into good friendships, but the majority of whom did not.

Maybe it was a way to relieve stress, maybe he just missed home. It wasn’t that he went looking for them, at least not consciously so. It was more that his numb mind agreed when they made inappropriate advances, where he would normally just thank them and quickly dismiss the idea. It was about his need for release – a quick break while rushing between airports, arenas and hotel rooms – and the willingness of some fans to give him what he needed.

He certainly used his fame to his advantage. That’s how he gained their attention in the first place, even without trying. But he always made sure fame wasn’t the only reason the girls went to bed with him. He kept an eye out for those who were as horny and eager as he was, who were as crazy and wild as himself, but he was never the first to make a move and didn't coerce anyone.

When he found someone like that, however, he didn’t hesitate to tell them and ask for what he wanted too. Once he knew they were on the same page – once he found that match, of which there were always dosens at every show – things inevitably escalated. He had a real knack for singling those fans out.

And once they got to that stage Taeyong could become rather reckless. In a reality that didn't feel real and with consequences that so far had never reached him, he gave his partner for the night quite the experience. Perhaps the sense of surrealism was why he felt like he could continue to do what he did, even though he knew deep down that fame did play a significant role, and that what he was doing was wrong. This wasn’t fan service.

Regardless, the sexual encounters – though by mutual agreement – did sometimes have severe consequences. Even though he didn't know and would never find out about it, two of his exploits on this particular tour had already led to pregnancies.

Yes, that's right, Taeyong had two babies on the way, and their mothers were fans he'd only met once and would never meet again.

And then he met you. Today, after his last show on the tour, he would impregnate a third. And for better or for worse, you totally changed each other’s lives forever.

Being live on stage with his friends in front of a roaring crowd was one of the best things Taeyong knew, second only to the flow he sometimes experienced when he got really into a creative songwriting session. Both were a state of mind that felt incredible and brought him immense joy.

But life on the road took a toll. Despite plenty of rest in between sectioned parts of the year-long tour, Taeyong's body and mind needed short but frequent breaks. He found them in his fans who gave him pleasure and release. You were both a blessing and a curse.

You first met Taeyong near the stage, when he jumped down, shirtless and sweaty, to touch the hands of a few lucky fans. One of those fans happened to be you. You saw him rush toward you, and when his hand touched yours you took a chance: you squeezed it, held on to it, and for a split second pulled the man back.

It probably scared him, but it made him chuckle. Your eyes met and he grinned. Your face etched itself onto his brain.

You're not quite sure how it happen, but when the show was over you suddenly found yourself backstage. Taeyong was showing you around, encouraged by a subtle connection and reassured by your flirty approach. You were easy to talk to but it wasn’t just that. You had said a few inappropriate things already, and he felt there was more to your unapologetic personality. Maybe he also felt that now that the tour was ending, he should go for it one last time before reality came crashing back.

Though he was cautious about it he quickly made it clear what he wanted to happen between you. He stopped in a deserted corridor and glanced around. He approached you, and you leaned against a wall when he came in close. There was definitely something there, a connection which you both felt. But he let you be the one to decide, by not saying a word and just wait to see how you’d react.

You put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. He didn’t pull back. You leaned in closer, suddenly filled with ideas of your own. He didn’t flinch. Then you took another chance and kissed him, just as you had when you grabbed his hand and yanked his arm.

“Not here,” Taeyong said and took a step away from you, just in time when a member of staff walked by.

“Not here what?” you asked, confused because his words didn’t condemn the kiss. All he did was smirk at you, then he started walking.

You smirked back, suddenly thinking naughty things, but Taeyong just continued to show you around, casually giving you a VIP tour as you walked around backstage. This only confused you further.

You didn’t know what the expectation was at all when he first snatched you from the audience, but it didn’t feel like it was just fan service. With the kiss out of the way and the flirty and borderline sexual conversation between you so far, you looked forward to spending some time alone with the man.

Instead he kept showing you places, introducing you to people, pointing things out and telling little anecdotes and trivia about the tour. What's that all about? Maybe you had totally misunderstood his intentions.

In reality you had misunderstood nothing. You were on the exact same wavelength, having the exact same forbidden thoughts. Only neither of you had spoken them out loud yet. Like I said, Taeyong had a knack for knowing these things.

The backstage tour was just a facade. Taeyong had a reason for taking you on a long walk. Other than the fact that he needed to be sure, by continuing the conversation and see if you’d say or do something else that might confirm that you did, indeed, want to have sex with him, he had a destination.

Eventually you did find yourselves alone again, away from the stage hands and people carrying props and talking in walkie talkies. Some of the audience still hadn't even left the arena yet when Taeyong led you into a room and closed the door behind you.

It was a dressing room, or some sort of storage room, fairly large for just one person. You quickly recognized some of the stage clothes in it, which had been worn by Johnny, Yuta, Taeyong and the others. You quickly came to the conclusion that the boys probably all got changed in the same place, or perhaps this was just where the clothes went after they had been used.

None of the other members were around though. You figured they must still be somewhere in the vicinity. It didn't matter, because once you got to this point Taeyong didn't waste any time and neither did you.

You came there for sex and deep down you both knew it. The moment he closed the door behind you he took your mind off everyone else and gave you what you came there for.

It started with a make-out session, brutal and sloppy. Taeyong pushed you against a wall and your mouths smacked together with an audible passion. That first kiss was just an appetizer. His tongue played around inside you and his hands were all over your front and sides.

You felt his hot embrace and soft skin for the first time. He abruptly took off his shirt and pushed his full body against yours. You’d seen it before, when you grabbed his hand. Now you briefly got to study his tattoos up close, when he leaned away from you to lock the door. You heard it click before he abruptly returned to you, still sweaty, travel weary and horny as hell.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Still nothing had been said about the purpose of your time together. But you both knew.

“Yeah,” you said softly, suddenly eager to feel more of the man. Within a minute you were both down to your underwear, passionately making out and getting ready to fuck.

Taeyong's bulge pressed against your hip. You were wet, so wet, and the fact that you were in a place where you could get caught turned you on.

For a moment you actually forgot that Taeyong was famous. The fact that he was who he was thrilled you, and there's no denying that it was part of the reason you had come on to him so strongly, and so readily agreed to what you had quickly understood would be a quickie backstage. It was sort of a dream come true, and the moment felt as unreal to you as the muddled touring with days that flowed together felt surreal to Taeyong.

But now, as he got naked in front of you and you in front of him, you were completely in the moment.

Your bra and panties were on the floor by your feet. Taeyong's lips violently played on yours. He had one hand on your boob and pulled down his underwear with the other.

You stopped kissing when he bent over and kicked them off his feet, but you never saw his dick in this moment as he quickly pushed and rubbed against your body again.

“Mm, babe, you're so hot,” he said. Now that he had you naked there was no reason to hold back.

The words turned you on and he could tell. You spread your legs for him when the kissing resumed and wrapped a foot around his thighs. You felt his ass before the palm of your hand slid up his back and grabbed on to his shoulder. He briefly froze and pulled back, when he reached in and the shaft found your vagina.

You closed your eyes and held your breath. Taeyong's mouth breathing on your face felt nice and hot. And when the head got in position and stretched your folds, you let out a soft moan.

He felt amazing. He was rock hard and you were dripping. His cock slid in with ease, expanded you and filled you up.

“Mm, Taeyong,” you blurted out. He kissed your face and grinned.

Is this really happening? you thought. This isn’t real, I’m dreaming.

Taeyong was triggered, in the best possible way, by the way you moaned his name. Once there was no doubt left in his mind that you were onboard – and there really wasn't as his dick was already inside you – he felt comfortable and confident to the point that he could reveal his true self.

“Mm, fuck, you're so slutty,” he said when he penetrated you.

There was a risk that his words would shock you. They did not.

He pushed all the way in and you exhaled deeply. His words were meant as a compliment and that's exactly how you took them. Taeyong had definitely found a match.

“Mm, fuck yeah, you're so wet baby,” he continued while he started rocking his hips back and forth. “You wanna have sex with me, don't you?”

“Yeah,” you moaned and held on tighter around the man.

“Go on, tell me how badly you want it,” Taeyong requested. His lips moved down the side of your face and onto your neck. “Say my name,” he whispered near your ear.

Oh, that’s how we’re gonna play this? Okay.

“I wanna have sex with you Taeyong,” you said. “Mm, I want you to fuck me so hard.”

The wall was starting to hurt you as your shoulder blades scratched against it, and your raised thigh felt painful the way Taeyong stretched your body to expose your hole and push deeper inside.

He dug his fingers into your skin. You jumped into his arms while he pushed you harder against the wall. He was freaky and so were you, a perfect match indeed. You understood the assignment, and he was happy and a little proud that you were as loose as he had hoped.

From this point on his dirty words just kept coming. He repeatedly told you how badly he wanted to be inside you, how good you felt, the crazy things he wanted to do to you, and how slutty and hot he thought you were.

“You want me to fuck you hard, don't you?” he asked while nibbling on your ear, squeezing your boob, and thrusting his dick in and out of your body.

“Yeah,” you moaned with your legs fully wrapped around his hips. His tattooed chest and stomach were nice and soft, and his ass cheeks flexed and became firm as he thrust into you at an ever faster pace.

It surprised you how strong he was for his tiny figure and slim arms. He pinned you to the wall and while his motions were small at first, his hips soon jolted while his body weight pressed against you.

You opened your eyes and looked at him, with your arms around his neck. “Do you always fuck fans backstage?” you asked and smirked.

Taeyong kept jolting and thrusting. “No,” he grinned.

“I- ahh, fuck! - I don’t believe it.”

Taeyong grinned and massaged your breast. “We usually go to my hotel room.”

You chuckled at the response. Then Taeyong temporarily shut you up, as he slammed you harder against the wall and you grimaced.

“Mm. Yeah. Fuck!” he said with each violent thrust. The way you rode his cock felt incredible to you both.

“Mm, fuck Taeyong!”

Taeyong asked pulled his head back slightly. “Yeah, you like that?” he asked. He kissed you on the lips and your noses clashed together, but then he stared straight into your eyes with a grin on his face. “Does my dick feel good? Is this freaky enough for you baby or do you want more?”

“Yeah, yeah, so good!”

He slammed you against the wall again and again, in wild and rough jolts. “I have a name, baby. Use it.”

“Yes, yes, your cock feels so good Taeyong.”

“Keep going,” he ordered and rested his forehead against your shoulder while pulling your hips onto his shaft.

“Mm, you're so strong Taeyong. So wild and freaky. Your cock feels amazing. Yes, yes, I'm so wet baby. Yes, fuck me Taeyong, ahh, Ahh, harder Taeyong!”

Taeyong was going hard. With each sentence your voice got higher and his thrusts more abrupt. He was really going at it, pounding you like a wild animal, fucking you so hard your skin turned red where his fingers dug in and his pelvis clasped against yours. The sounds you produced got louder and louder, as he pulled you harder and your lower body was brought further away from the wall, until he yanked your hips so far that he lost his grip and your thighs and ass fell down.

You instinctively, to save yourself, let go of the man's body with your legs. Your feet slid down his sides and onto the floor before you collapsed on it. The wall scratched your upper back so hard it left a mark, a long reddish bruise.

Taeyong's dick immediately slipped out of your pussy. But neither of you let any of this bother you. The second you regained your footing your mouth was on the man's face again.

You made out with passion. Your lust was wild and erotic. Taeyong put his hands on your waist and spun you around, then pushed you toward the center of the room.

There was a couch and a table. He held your hip and pushed your shoulder forward, forcing your upper body onto the armrest. You leaned on it with your ass sticking out behind you, and spread your legs when Taeyong's crotch hit your cheeks.

“Mm, take me Taeyong!” you ordered. He was quick to comply.

He hunched down slightly and guided the dick. When he stood up straight it slid deep into your wet hole. He took a firm grip around your hips and pulled, instantly thrusting so hard it made you groan.

The pained noise quickly turned into moans of pleasure. Taeyong hit his crotch against your ass repeatedly. He pushed and pulled on your body, his dick going fast in and out of you, as he roughed you up and fucked you senseless against the couch.

“Mm, Mmm, yeah, Taeyong,” you whimpered.

“Say my name baby.”

“Yes, yes, yes, Taeyong!”

The clapping of your bodies got so loud there was no way it couldn’t be heard in the corridor outside, but your words and Taeyong’s grunts behind you drowned it out.

“Huuh, huuh, huuh,” he panted from deep down his throat. The sweat he had on stage returned. “Huuh, Huuh, Huuh!”

He leaned in over you. His hand went along your side and to your front. He found your boob again and played with it, stopping it from shaking violently while the other kept jumping out of control below your chest.

You felt his lips touch your shoulder blade. His stomach was moist and slippery. He pulled you closer with his forearm covering both your breasts, and held you tighter when the arm was fully wrapped around you.

You straightened your spine, raised your upper body, and twisted your neck. Taeyong's wet lips and tongue touched the side of your face. You reached behind your head with your arm and ran your fingers through his hair, opened your mouth wide but kept your eyes closed.

This is incredible, you thought and you genuinely meant it. The sensation of his dick rubbing your insides was amazing, and the way he fucked you so hard and in such a thrilling place was fun.

Taeyong suddenly pulled on your leg. You raised it and he stretched it long by his side. He opened your hole wide, one of your feet still firmly planted on the floor, and looked down at his cock as he pushed and pulled.

The man needed a shower after the sweaty show on stage but you didn't care. The way he bent you and fucked you, the way his hard cock stretched and rubbed you, his lustful and horny embrace, his hand still on your boob, and his loud and lustful grunts – it all felt so good you wanted to scream his name from the top of your lungs.

“Ahh, ahh, fuck yeah!” Taeyong suddenly exclaimed and let the leg go. He hunched forward and pushed you down on the armrest while slamming hard and fast against your ass. ”Yeah, fuck, I love that you're so slutty.”

You tilted your head back and pressed his face against yours with your arm around his neck. “Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me all night Taeyong, pleease!”

“Mmm, it’s so hot when you say my name,” he said through clutched teeth.

Sweat was dripping down his front between your bodies. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. It felt absolutely incredible.

You suddenly twisted your body to turn around. “Take me on the couch,” you said. “I wanna see you.”

Taeyong grinned and suddenly pulled out. Your hips fell down as his firm grip loosened around you. He pushed on your shoulder motioning for you to spin, and you did a little leap to sit up on the armrest.

He put a hand on your shoulder and pushed again. You giggled when you fell backwards onto the couch. And for the first time, as you crawled back to lie down and stretch out for him and he put his knees on the armrest to come after you, you saw his tattooed and naked body on full display.

His knees fell onto the couch between your legs. The dick pointed straight out, ready to attack you again. You spread your sore thighs wide and he crawled closer, and you briefly reached out to touch the pulsing shaft before he came to lie on top of you.

You quickly retracted the hand, while his slid up your leg and side. He found your chest again, but this time freaky wasn’t the word you’d use to describe him. He kissed your lips with a soft passion and gently massaged your boob, while moving his ass and hips in slow, wide motions.

His dick slid back and forth against your folds and lower stomach. You dared to reach in again to feel it. You held his shaft loosely and it jolted between your fingers. You pointed it down and felt the head push your lips apart, and he let out a horny groan when they gradually opened up and the dick slipped back inside.

The shaft stretching your hole was so arousing. It felt hot and good. And when it rubbed you in just the right place, and the full length of the man's body was on you and in your arms, you felt a new kind of pleasure shoot through your body.

“AHH, TAEYONG!” you screamed while your pussy clung hard to the shaft. For the first time Taeyong chuckled and moved his hand from your breast to your mouth.

“Shhh,” he said and grinned wide. He briefly slowed the rolling of his hips, almost to a complete stop.

“Sorry,” you giggled. His hand eased up on your face and you looked into each other's eyes.

You maintained eye contact while Taeyong kept the slow pace. He pushed into you only to pull half way out again, while you smiled lovingly at each other.

“Are you this wild with all the others?” you asked, referring to his admittance that you weren’t the first fan Taeyong had sex with.

“No,” Taeyong said. His breath was heavy as a relaxed to regain his strength. “Only with freaks like you.”

Your smiles soon faded as your racing hearts settled, and lust and desire took over again. You closed your eyes and made out. Taeyong's lips eventually went down the side of your face and he buried his head in your hair and shoulder.

The deep and heavy heaving from before returned, slower this time but still lustful and coarse. “Huuh, Huuh, Huuh,” he groaned by your ear. Faster and faster as he rolled his hips and used his arms to push and pull.

You stroke his back and felt his warm spine and ass, which moved up and down in rapid motions. His cheeks were soft this time, and his lower back was still wet and slippery which felt hot. You raised your knees and spread your legs as wide as the couch would allow it, and the dick slipped deeper and deeper inside you with each erotic push.

Taeyong stopped rolling his hips and soon just rocked his ass. It jumped up and down as he held his arms tighter and tighter around you. You tilted your head back for fresh air, and panted repeatedly as the man filled you up and fucked you good.

“You're so hot,” he moaned, but he no longer had the energy to call you slutty. His mind became fully focused on the tight and slippery sensation of your vagina licking his erect dick, of the pleasure it produced, and on the orgasm which was suddenly imminent.

That it was imminent became clear to you when Taeyong pushed himself up on his elbows. You saw his grimacing face and strained expression before you too closed your eyes hard and squirmed.

Your legs and feet were pointing straight in the air by now. Your boobs were shaking and jolting back and forth on your chest. The couch started moving across the floor, that's how brutal Taeyong was when he reached his peak.

You moaned and nearly screamed again but managed to restrain yourself. You suddenly became fixated on making your idol come, and the last thing you wanted was to get caught and end the act prematurely.

You were certain the man would pull out at any moment. He would sit on his knees between your thighs, furiously jerk his boner with his hand, and deliver his load onto your stomach. You started imagining his cum and tried hard to remember exactly what his amazing dick looked like.

Except he didn't do what you expected. He only pushed his upper body higher, and pressed his lower body harder between your legs, until he was hovering above you on long arms.

He kept thrusting violently into you, burying your body in the cushions and forcing the couch to inch closer to the wall with each wild thrust.

The finale came when you lowered your legs and wrapped them around Taeyong's waist and hips. You used your feet to push and pull, aiding him in his sensational movements. His twisted face curled up so hard it couldn't get any tighter.

“Uggh, fuck, I'm coming, ahh, I'm coming!”

“Yes, YES, come for me baby, fuck me harder Taeyong, oh yeah, yeah, TAEYONG!”

“AHHH, BABY, fuck you're such a hot slut. AHHHH, AHHHHH, HHHUUUMMN!”

Taeyong's whole body jolted. He jerked forward and slid backwards only to do it again. A couple of hard, abrupt thrusts, several times while his pace slowed with each one.

His eyes and mouth opened wide. His face loosened up and became droopy. His skin quickly became flushed and his pale skin red. His lower back was more moist than ever, and perspiration spread to every surface of his body.

“Mmm, fuck Taeyong,” you moaned and suddenly felt exhausted. Only then did your mind catch up and you realized that the man never did what you thought he would do.

He didn't come on your stomach. He never sprayed your front with his sperm. He never smeared his cum-covered dick around your folds to edge you on.

Instead he had come inside you. He had released his load deep into your pussy. He had planted his seeds in your womb, and the realization made you smile and giggle.

And – though of course neither of you knew it at the time – the seeds took root. Taeyong's third child was on the way.

At the time the thought did cross your mind. Seconds after he came in you the risk actually worried you, and your initial giggle was short-lived. But you quickly forgot about it. As Taeyong collapsed in your arms and started heaving by your ear, you lowered your legs, smiled at the ceiling and caressed him like he was your long-term lover.

You just had sex with an idol. Only half an hour ago he hadn't said a word to you, and the odds that he ever would were unimaginably slim. The man you watched on stage, cheered and screamed for from the audience, was currently laying naked on top of you with his still hard dick throbbing inside you as he emptied itself. You would have laughed if someone said this would happen.

Yet it certainly didn’t feel like you’d only just met. In this moment you felt as though you'd known the man forever. It would be days after the fact that it fully sank in that all of this did happen, but that you didn’t actually know him at all. And if it wasn't for two things the memory would have faded into a surreal dream.

The first thing that assured you that it wasn’t just a dream was the fact that Taeyong gave you his number. No fewer than 48 girls before you had been in similar situations on this tour, and not once had he given them any way to contact him after. Sex with them had been good but not this great.

With you, however, Taeyong felt as though he'd taken ecstasy. He could be rough and you took it. The way he felt you clicked with each other in bed – no, on the couch – was exceptional. Maybe he was also sad that the world tour was ending.

The others never heard from him again. But when you texted him, several days after the backstage sex, he replied in less than a minute.

The second thing that kept things real was not by intention or design. When you eventually found out that you were pregnant there were only so many guys who could be the father. You did the math and came to an inevitable conclusion.

It felt like a nightmare, like your world came crashing down. But compared to the two other mothers-to-be whom Taeyong had unknowingly and recklessly impregnated, you were the lucky one.

Taeyong was indeed reckless and thoughtless. He should have pulled out, or never done what he got into the habit of doing on this tour in the first place.

But he also wasn't one to leave a young mother and his child to fend for themselves. He would be a fixed figure in your son's life, and consequently in yours.

Of course, as you lay there on the couch and his body felt heavier by the minute, you didn't know any of this. You were oblivious to the baby soon growing inside you. And when Taeyong slowly pulled out and stood up, and you watched as he nurtured his slack but beaten dick, you smiled at him and felt an enormous joy.

“That was great,” you said.

Taeyong smiled back before he turned around and went to pick up his clothes. He looked at you while he pulled his underwear back up, then found your panties and bra and tossed them to you.

“Great? You were fucking incredible!” he said.

It made you chuckle.

“You don't mind the things I called you, right?” he asked.

“Not at all,” you confirmed. “I love how freaky you are.”

“Good. Because babe, I wanna see you again. You have a phone?”

“Sure,” you said and sat up straight.

Was it the last time you had sex, and was this as "freaky" as you ever got? Well no, certainly not. It was only just the beginning of your relationship as parents as well as sexual partners.

[theomencometh]

Anthony's Realization

Fandom: Smosh Pairing: Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla, Anthony Padilla & Dan Howell, implied phan Rating: T Key Tags: Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers Word Count: 5,275 Read on AO3

Summary:

When Anthony’s realization finally hits him, the first thing that he does is take three slow, deep breaths. The second thing that he does is figure out when his next therapy appointment is, decide it’s too far away, and pull out his phone to text an expert.

When Anthony’s realization finally hits him, the first thing that he does is take three slow, deep breaths.  He closes his eyes, inhales, and tells himself that it isn’t a big deal.  And it truly isn’t, not really.  The thing about this realization is that it's not a surprise.  He may not have been aware enough to name what was happening, but by the time he becomes conscious of his feelings, he’s been living with them for long enough that it’s a natural part of him, nothing to be done.  He doesn’t want to fight it, it’s silly to deny it, and there are definitely worse fates in the world.  Still, it’s a huge fucking realization to have, and he takes a second to re-center himself in the middle of the office so he doesn’t do something stupid, like have a panic attack or grab Ian by the lapels of his jacket or start laughing hysterically.

The second thing that he does when he finally has his realization is figure out when his next therapy appointment is, decide it’s too far away, and pull out his phone to text an expert.

There’s no way that he can talk about this with anyone he works with.  Not only are there sometimes complicated boundaries with him being one of the owners, but if this got leaked it would spread around Smosh like wildfire, and he’s absolutely not ready for that.  In that instance, might as well stay away from everyone in the general LA area, just in case it manages to get back to anyone on staff.  Actually, there are too many people who know Smosh members in the entire country, so it’s best to discard everyone in the United States–no, everyone in all of North America entirely.

The answer is obvious.  There’s one other person who is uniquely positioned to understand what he’s going through and who would be willing to talk him through it, and that person doesn’t live in the country and talks more to him than anyone else at Smosh.

Anthony: hey, any chance you’re free to chat soon? could use your advice. nothing bad

He only has to wait a few seconds, which is impressive, because he didn’t consider calculating the time difference before he texted.

Dan Howell (youtube): oh hell

you’re not dying right

30 minutes sound good?

Anthony: no death, 30 min is good. Ttyl

Anthony grabs his jacket and heads out the door, calling a very general goodbye to the office at large so no one thinks he has just been burdened with self-knowledge that he will be obsessing over for the foreseeable future.

Anthony makes it home with no memory of the drive.  He barely has time to kick off his shoes and settle on the couch before Dan’s call comes through.  It’s a video call, but Anthony is still met by a dark screen, only half of Dan’s face illuminated with white light.  He’s probably in his room in the dark even though he’s wide awake, which feels so quintessentially Dan that it eases Anthony a little.

“Hey, thanks for calling,” Anthony says.  Dan squints at him suspiciously from the tiny phone screen.

“Of course,” he replies.  “Not every day I get to talk to my good friend Anthony Padilla.”

Anthony rolls his eyes, because Dan has been busier than him lately and they do send each other memes and funny messages sometimes.  It’s not like they’ve had no contact in the past few months.

“What’s up?” Dan asks, steamrolling past any reply Anthony might come up with.  Anthony likes that about him.  It may be hard to lock Dan into a genuine conversation when he doesn’t want one, but once he’s there he has single-minded focus and doesn’t let Anthony beat around the bush or procrastinate.  Anthony would be almost offended that it seems like Dan wants to get it over with if it wasn’t for the fact that small talk right now would be excruciating.

“I’ve, uh, had a bit of a realization recently, and I don’t really want to talk to anyone in the office about it.”

Dan levels him with a flat look.

“Are you fucking in love with Ian?”

Anthony groans, leaning back against his couch and giving himself a moment to cover his face.

He didn’t expect Dan to clock him so easily.  Can everyone tell?  Was Anthony himself the last person to know?  Does he have a flashing neon sign saying IN LOVE WITH IAN HECOX hanging above his head?

“How the fuck did you know?” he asks incredulously.  Dan laughs at him, loud and bright.

“Because if it wasn’t about Ian, you’d be talking through whatever it is with him as part of your “healthy communication” pact, and my largest skill set is navigating how to be a gay youtuber in love with your best friend and business partner. Also, I’m probably the closest gay person you know who isn’t associated with your company.”

Anthony laughs.

“Is it really that obvious?” he asks.  Dan shrugs.

“I know what I’m about,” he replies.  “Now, is it the gayness that’s a crisis or the Ian-ness that’s a crisis?”

“Ian-ness,” he responds immediately.  “Wait, actually…”

Dan waits while Anthony takes a moment, because that’s not right, not really.

He isn’t worried about his sexuality.  He came to the conclusion a few years ago that he would keep himself open to other possibilities, and he’s always been able to appreciate other guys.  The fact that Ian has a dick isn’t a problem.  Sure, he hasn’t felt particularly motivated to give someone a blowjob before, but he’s not bothered by the idea at all.  He’d like to have the chance, frankly, even if he’s bad at it and needs to practice a bit, especially if Ian is the one he’s practicing with.  But the Ian of it all isn’t a crisis, either.

“It’s not–” he starts, then stops.  Dan hums encouragingly.  “It’s not a crisis, really?  It’s Ian, you know?  This is probably the best case scenario for my first time falling in love with a man.”

“Fair,” Dan says.  “So what do you need me for, then?”

Anthony snorts.

“If I didn’t talk this through with someone, I’d probably end up blurting it out in a meeting tomorrow in front of everyone.”

Dan hums.

“Yeah, wouldn’t be the most professional moment, even for you,” he says.  “I take it this means you’re down bad.”

“Oh yeah,” Anthony confirms.  “Hit me like a truck.  Nothing even prompted it!  I was wrapping up for the day and wondering if I should ask Ian to grab dinner like usual and the idea made me so happy I thought something was wrong.”

“That’s fucking gay, Anthony,” Dan says.

“I know!” he groans.  “That was the problem, because that’s how I feel about him all the time.  This is how I’ve felt for months, and I’m just now realizing.  What the fuck?  How does that happen?”

“You were too caught up in the euphoria of being around him again to tell it was a proper crush.  Like a frog in boiling water,” Dan says, nodding sagely.  Anthony mirrors him, grateful that he doesn’t need to elaborate further.  Reuniting with Ian felt like finding a part of himself that had been missing since before he left Smosh.  He had no way of knowing that the rush he felt every time they hung out or the elation when he managed to say something that made Ian laugh was a symptom of something bigger.  It felt like it used to, except better because they’d both grown as people and weren’t emotionally stunted children anymore.  He didn’t realize that love had anything to do with it, at least not romantic love.  Then, once they’d stabilized properly, they bought Smosh and he had more things to distract himself with.  He loved being around Ian, he loved being at Smosh, he loved the fact that he could have both when he had missed them for years.  He didn’t feel the need to examine things closer than that.

“What am I supposed to do?” Anthony asks.  Dan snorts.

“Don’t do what I did, which was stalk the other person to the point where we were friends and then make him do all the romantic heavy lifting,” he says.  “The way I see it, you can either repress it so hard it disappears and you’re miserable, or you tell him in a private moment that you both can escape if it goes badly.”

Anthony frowns.

“Will it go badly?”

Dan shrugs.

“You know Ian better than I do.  What do you think?”

Anthony makes himself stop and genuinely consider the question, rather than respond with knee-jerk fears or defensiveness.  There’s decades of history including their friendship completely unraveling to consider, and Anthony doesn’t think he’ll survive losing Ian a second time.  But Ian has never run away because Anthony wanted too much from him.  He might not respond the way that Anthony wants, and he might not give Anthony the same openness and vulnerability that Anthony would be giving him during a confession, but he can’t see this being the thing that pushes Ian away for good.  It might be awkward for a bit, but they’re both adults.  Anthony can figure out how to manage his feelings, and Ian historically has been great at ignoring elephants in rooms and pretending like things are fine.

“I think it’ll be okay,” he says slowly.  “If he doesn’t feel the same or is weirded out, I think we’ll be able to move past it.  He’ll probably make some bad jokes to deflect, but I don’t think he’ll hate me, or ask me to leave the company or anything.”

“You think he doesn’t feel the same?” Dan asks.  Anthony shrugs.

“Who knows, with Ian.  I know he loves me, but that’s different than being in love with me, and he was repressing the shit out of his emotions for a while there.  I don’t know.  It’s been–things have been really good with us, recently.  And I think he’s in the same place as me, with the sexuality thing.  But that doesn’t mean that he’s in the same place as me with his feelings, too.”

Dan hums.

Anthony tries to imagine Ian smiling at him in that new, soft way he sometimes does, saying something like “don’t be stupid, Anthony, of course I love you, too”.  His heart speeds up at just the thought, feeling like it’s about to skip out of his chest, and he slams that door shut immediately.  No use in getting his hopes up or catastrophizing, not before he knows the actual outcome.  Better not borrow the joy or anxiety of the future, right?

“When are you going to tell him?” Dan asks.

“What happened to maybe repressing it and being miserable?”  Anthony replies.

Even though he can barely see anything from Dan’s side of the screen, he can see the look that Dan gives him.  At least it makes him snort.

“As your friend, I can’t in good conscience actually recommend that route to you,” Dan says.  “Especially because you’d be shit at it and would tell him anyway, but it’d probably be at the worst possible moment.”

Anthony can’t argue with that.  He’s not great at keeping things inside.  If he tries to repress this, it’ll bubble up before exploding, like a soda that’s been shaken then cracked open, spilling his feelings all over the place.

“I should probably tell him soon, then,” Anthony says.  Dan nods.

“Better to get it over with.  Rip off the bandaid.”

“Opposite of what you did.”

“Fuck off,” Dan says, voice high with indignation.  “I’ve been in a happy relationship for over a decade.  You asked me for help.”

“I did,” Anthony concedes.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dan says, smarmy and pompous in a way that makes Anthony laugh.

He directs the conversation away from his realization and toward normal topics, taking his time to catch up with Dan properly.  It’s good to talk to him, just like it always is.  As allergic as they are to phone calls, it’s nice to be able to chat in real time, rather than allowing text messages to get lost in a flurry of notifications.  More time has passed than Anthony realized when another notification pops up at the top of his screen.  He trails off mid-sentence when he sees who it’s from.

Ian: you ok? you left the office pret…

While he’s reading, another banner appears.

Ian: dinner?

“What’s up, what just happened?  Why are you ignoring me?” Dan asks.

“Sorry,” Anthony says, shaking his head to bring himself back to the moment.  “Ian just texted.  He wants to have dinner.”

“The thing that started it all,” Dan says ominously.  “Sounds like the perfect opportunity.”

Anthony feels a dash of panic surge through him before it fades, leaving the hint of a bitter aftertaste.

“Already?” he winces.

“Why, do you need to let things settle?” Dan asks.  “You seemed pretty secure with everything earlier.  Do you think your feelings are going to change?”

Anthony shakes his head immediately.

“I have never been more sure of my feelings,” he affirms.  “I’m in this for the long haul.”

Dan holds his hand up in a there you go gesture.

“Right,” Anthony says.  “Pulling off a bandaid.”

“Guess I’ll let you go get your man,” Dan sighs dramatically.  “Text me what happens.  Whether it’s a celebration or you want someone to listen to emo music and cry with you.”

“Thank you,” Anthony says earnestly.  Dan rolls his eyes.

“Whatever.  Welcome to the gay disaster club.  Have fun.”

“Thanks for having me,” Anthony laughs.  “Talk to you later.”

Dan says a quick goodbye and signs off with a wave, and Anthony navigates over to Ian’s messages before he can second-guess himself.

Ian Hecox: you ok? you left the office pretty quick today

dinner?

Anthony’s thumbs hover over the buttons, not wanting to lie to Ian, but also not wanting to confess his feelings over text.  If he says he wants to talk to Ian about something, Ian might think it’s worse than it is, and Anthony doesn’t want to turn this into a big deal for him if it doesn’t have to be, but if he ignores Ian’s initial question and just asks him to come over with takeout, he’ll still think something is wrong, and he’ll think that Anthony doesn’t want to talk about it with him and therefore it’s something terrible.

His phone buzzes with another notification.

Dan Howell (youtube): you better be replying to him and not PROCRASTINATING like a LOSER

Anthony sends him the middle finger emoji, but it’s the encouragement that he needs.

Anthony: had something on my mind i wanted to think through, nothing bad

wanna come over? bring thai pls

Ian’s reply comes in immediately.

Ian: be there in 20

Anthony locks his phone and sets it down, letting out a long breath.  He scrubs his hands over his face, then through his hair, blinking at the blank tv across from him while he tries to organize his thoughts.

He can’t sit here for 20 minutes spiraling until Ian gets here.  He wants to smoke to offset the nerves thrumming through him, but he doesn’t want to overdo it and lose his sense of urgency, then decide to put the confession off because of it.  He needs to tell Ian tonight.

“Like ripping off a bandaid,” he says aloud, slapping his thighs and standing.  He spots a candle and lights that, at least, then busies himself tidying up.  His home isn’t messy by any means, but rearranging things and breaking out the duster to run along his bookshelves gives him something to keep his hands busy while he repeats a mantra of affirmations in his mind, not allowing any room for the negative and anxious thoughts to permeate.

A sharp knock on his door breaks him out of his thoughts while he’s unloading the dishwasher, immediately followed by his door opening and Ian’s voice calling “Honey, I’m home!”

Anthony’s heart flutters.  If this continues, he’s going to need to see a cardiologist.

“In the kitchen!” he calls back.  “Want a drink?”

“Water for now,” Ian calls back, no doubt setting their take-out up on the coffee table in the living room.  “We’ll see about later.”

Anthony grabs two glasses for them and fills them from the filter in the fridge, adding ice for himself but none for Ian because he says it gets too cold for his teeth these days.  They’re getting older.  Anthony is grateful that he’s present to see it.

“I got you your usual,” Ian says, gesturing to the container while Anthony carefully sets the glass in front of him.  He changed since the office, dressing down in sweatpants and an older Smosh hoodie that they discontinued before Anthony left.  He looks tired and comfortable, like he belongs on Anthony’s couch shoveling rice into his mouth, and Anthony swallows around the lump in his throat.

Yeah, he needs to tell Ian tonight.  He can’t keep living like this.  Self-awareness is a gift, because you can’t change things if you don’t know there’s a problem, but Anthony wishes the problem wasn’t being in love with his best friend in a way that’s overwhelmingly impossible to ignore.

They don’t talk about anything important while they eat, just chatting casually about whatever crosses their minds, from a weird squirrel that Ian saw yesterday to an artist that Anthony found on Instagram and really likes.  It’s easy and comfortable, and Anthony finds himself relaxing with every little joke Ian says that makes him laugh.  Ian doesn’t try to be funny outside of work, but he naturally has Anthony in stitches more than anyone else he’s ever met.  Anthony has laughed more in the two years they’ve been reunited than he did in the entire six years they were apart.

Eventually, the laughter fades away, Ian setting his plastic fork down and leaning back against the cushions, wiggling a bit to get in the most comfortable position possible with a content sigh.  He’s such an old man that way, but Anthony is right there with him, knees cracking when he stretches out.

“So,” Ian says, lolling his head to the side so he can see Anthony fully. “What were you thinking so hard about earlier?”

Anthony sighs.  He crosses his arms, but he doesn’t like how that makes him feel like a kid waiting outside the principal’s office, so he rubs his hands against his jeans instead.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Ian offers.  “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Anthony says before Ian can get the wrong idea.  “It’s not–I wanted to tell you, anyway.”

“Okay,” Ian says slowly.  Anthony takes a deep breath, then another one.

“I’m bi,” he blurts.

Not quite what he wanted to say, but baby steps.

“Officially,” he adds.  “I know we’ve kind of talked about it before, but I wasn’t really sure, and now I am.  I’m bisexual.  I like dudes, too.”

“Nice,” Ian says with a grin, leaning forward to give him a high five.  Anthony obediently slaps their palms together, and Ian’s fingers curl around Anthony’s hand, shaking him.  “Let’s go!  Solidarity!”

Anthony laughs, letting Ian break the tension like he usually does.  Their hands fall back against the couch, still clasped together, and part of the laughter dies in Anthony’s throat.

“Thanks for telling me, dude,” Ian says.  “I am, too, since we’re sharing sexualities.”

Ian’s thumb swipes over the back of Anthony’s hand and goosebumps erupt across his arms, thankfully hidden by his sweater.

“Cool,” he manages to say.  Ian smiles at him, open and joyful, and Anthony doesn’t know what emotion is playing across his face, but it makes Ian soften.

“Are you going to get emo on me?” he asks, light and teasing.  Anthony chuckles, but it comes out a little wet.

“I didn’t think I would,” he says honestly, blinking up at the ceiling and letting out a shaky breath.  Ian squeezes his hand, just a quick pressure and release, and Anthony returns it.  When he’s centered himself enough to look back at Ian, his best friend is still smiling at him.  It’s a smile that has no pretenses or expectations, just gentle acceptance.  He’s so much more open than Anthony ever expected him to be, even since they reconciled.  They both had to relearn how to read each other in these heavy moments, and Anthony now knows when Ian puts his walls up and why, and when he can give Anthony more of the vulnerability that he always craves.  Now, though, he doesn’t feel like Ian is hiding, despite the jokes and teasing.  He’s just here with Anthony, ready to take whatever confession he gives.

“That’s not all of it,” Anthony says.  Ian shifts, tucking a foot under him so he can face Anthony fully.  He still hasn’t let go of his hand, but Anthony doesn’t want to watch him do so later, so he does it himself, twisting one of his rings around to distract his hands from the sudden emptiness.

“I, uh,” he starts.  Ian’s steady focus on him is distracting, and it’s making his throat close up again.  He clears it, an incongruous sound in the otherwise quiet space.

“I realized I have feelings for someone,” he finally brings himself to say. Ian’s expression doesn’t change, maintaining a careful neutrality that Anthony is all too familiar with.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks eventually, when too much time has passed for Anthony to fill in the blanks.

“No,” Anthony says quickly.  “No, it’s not– I’m not upset about it.  It’s just… scary.  But I can handle it.”

Ian’s eyebrows twitch with an aborted frown.

Damn, he’s botching this.

“It’s– if I had to fall in love with anyone, it’s best that it’s him,” he tries to explain.  “He’s– this is the best case scenario.”

Ian does frown this time.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna let me down easy.”

Ian stares at him.  Anthony replays those words in his head and heat floods his face, everything burning.  He blinks a few times, but time doesn’t rewind and let him take those words back to tell Ian in a better way.  He’s always been shit at improv; he should’ve scripted this in those 20 minutes while Ian was grabbing them dinner and instead he’s making a mess of things.

“What,” Ian asks, no inflection.  Anthony opens his mouth, can’t get any actual words out, and closes it again.

“Deep breath, Anthony,” Ian commands.  Even though the inflection is still strangely empty, Anthony forces in a breath, then another one.

“Sorry,” he says.  Ian shakes his head.

“It’s fine.  But you need to use words, because I don’t know what the fuck is happening right now.”

Anthony gestures helplessly.

“I love you?” he says.  “In a gay way?”

Ian nods slowly.  Anthony wants the ground to open up and swallow him.  Maybe he can go stay with Dan and Phil for a few weeks or forever, since Dan’s advice got him in this situation in the first place, except he knows that he’s being irrational and everything should be fine once it stops sucking so bad.

He should’ve done this at Ian’s house so he could run away, rather than having Ian come to him and having to kick him out.

“You think I’m going to let you down easy?” Ian asks.  Anthony laughs, a high pitched, hysteric noise that he immediately hates and never wants to make again.

“Are you really going to be mean to me about it?” he asks.  His pulse is racing.  He’s going to die.  He’s actually going to die from confessing his gay love for his best friend.  This is pathetic.  This is terrible.  He’s almost 40 years old and it feels like he’s 15 and getting rejected for the first time, except worse.  Dan owes him so many drinks.

“Anthony,” Ian says, reaching towards him.  Anthony isn’t fast enough to lean away, and Ian’s hands cup his jaw, curling around his neck and threading through his hair to keep him in place.

“Stop freaking out,” he says, thumb swiping across Anthony’s jaw.  “Don’t be stupid.”

Anthony can’t even begin to formulate a response, because Ian leans forward and kisses him.  His brain completely short circuits at the gentle contact, even though it only lasts for a second before Ian is leaning back, carefully eyeing him.

“Huh?” he says.  Ian cracks a smile.

“I love you, too, you idiot.”

All of the tension leaves Anthony in a rush that makes him dizzy.  It’s a good thing that Ian is still holding him, hands anchoring him in the present while Ian gives him that new smile, the one that makes Anthony feel like Ian doesn’t want to be anywhere else if Anthony isn’t with him.

“Huh?” he asks again.  Ian chuckles, but it isn’t malicious, and Anthony smiles with him.

“Dude, did you really not know?” Ian asks.  “Courtney staged an intervention for me weeks ago.  Apparently she and Shayne have been making little bets since you came back.”

“Since I came back?” Anthony asks.  “No way.”

“They were delusional,” Ian agrees.  “I was not in touch with my feelings enough at that point.  I was just happy to have my best friend back.”

“And now?” Anthony asks.  Ian grins.

“I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.  What happened to you being in tune with your mind and spirit, bro?  Why’d it take you so long to get here?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Anthony laughs, hands coming up to circle Ian’s wrists.  “I’ve never fallen in love with my best friend before.  I thought it was just you.”

Ian snorts, ducking his head and finally letting his hands fall from Anthony’s face, tangling their fingers together instead.

“That’s so fucking cheesy,” he says, but he sounds pleased.  Anthony flushes.

“We’re basically a friends to lovers fanfiction, Ian.  This was always going to be cheesy.”

Ian rolls his eyes.  When he looks at Anthony again, it’s through his lashes with a fond smile, like he’s taking pages out of Seduction 101.  Anthony is actually embarrassed at how well it works on him, face heating and breath catching.  His eyes wander down to Ian’s lips, and he forces them back to his eyes in a panic before he remembers that he’s allowed to do that.  Ian made that clear.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.  “I wasn’t ready when you did it.”

“I don’t know, can you?” Ian replies automatically, then grimaces.  Anthony gives him a look, even if Ian’s immediate regret is clear.  At least they’re on the same page there.

“Yes,” Ian corrects.  “Actually, if you don’t I’m going to be upset.”

That’s all the encouragement that Anthony needs to lean in.  He takes his time, letting their noses brush and settling his hands on Ian’s waist before Ian gets impatient and closes the gap.  It feels entirely different than their first kiss.  Anthony goes into it with intention, pressing as close as he can without Ian's glasses getting in the way, and Ian responds in kind, hands snaking over Anthony's shoulders.  The scratch of Ian's stubble against his mouth sends shivers down his spine, much more addictive than Anthony would've guessed, and he fists Ian's hoodie tighter in response, shifting to try to get even closer.  Ian breaks the kiss before Anthony is ready, but all he does is take off his glasses and dive right back in, matching Anthony step for step.

Being this close is causing Anthony's head to spin, each change in angle and point of contact simultaneously making every nerve in him stand at attention and glaze over.  He can smell Ian's aftershave under the leftover Thai food and burned down remnants of the candle permeating through the living room, and Ian's hands feel incredibly warm through his sweater, even more so when one of them slides up his neck to dig into his hair.  The gentle scratch of nails against his scalp pulls the start of a whine out of his throat unbidden, and Ian immediately deepens the kiss, coaxing Anthony to open his mouth with a brush of his tongue.

Anthony wants to keep kissing him all night.  He could stay kissing him for the rest of his life and be perfectly happy, whether he keels over in a few minutes or a few decades.  This is their first time kissing with intent, the first time where it actually means something, but there's something so familiar about it anyway, the easy way that they move together and around each other, the compatible pressure and comfortable motions.  He pulls at Ian again, wanting to get even closer, and Ian shifts without breaking contact, pushing Anthony back against the arm of the couch and following him down.  It puts their bodies flush together, and Anthony wraps his arms around Ian's back, pinning him there, a warm line along his front.

A vibration in his pocket startles him enough that he breaks the kiss, blinking up at Ian in surprise.  He's haloed by the overhead light, mouth red and cheeks flushed, and he has never looked more beautiful.

"What's wrong?" he asks.  Anthony blinks at him, processing.

The phone in his back pocket vibrates again, loud enough that Anthony can hear it now that he's not distracted.  He forces one of his hands to release Ian's sweatshirt, lifting his hips to access the pocket and inhaling sharply when the motion makes him brush against Ian.

"Anthony..." Ian says, voice thick.  Anthony's phone vibrates again in his hand, drawing Ian's attention to it.  He sits back on his heels, finally giving Anthony room to catch a full breath.

Dan Howell (youtube): how are things?  have you told him yet?

celebration or crying

maybe silence is a good sign??

“Who is it?” Ian asks, tugging on the bottom of his hoodie.

“Dan,” Anthony says.  Then, for clarification, “Howell.  I called him earlier.  He wants to know how the love confession went.”

Ian plucks the phone from his hand in the middle of typing his reply.

“Hey,” Anthony protests halfheartedly while Ian swipes to the camera app.  Any additional bitching dies in his throat when Ian presses his lips to the corner of Anthony’s mouth, taking a selfie at the exact moment.

It isn’t the best picture.  They’re off-center and Anthony’s face equal parts enamored and very clearly caught off-guard, but Anthony doesn’t protest while Ian attaches the picture to Anthony’s message thread with Dan and sends it.  He locks the phone and discards it off to the side, something that Anthony is very okay with once Ian turns his full attention back to him.

“I know we need to talk about this soon, but I kinda want to save that conversation for later tonight and go back to making out right now,” Ian states.

“I’m fine with that,” Anthony says, already reaching for him.  He kisses Ian’s grin off his face.

Somewhere on Anthony’s coffee table, nestled among empty takeout containers and a stack of napkins, Anthony’s phone buzzes again.  Neither of them hear it.  When Anthony finally checks his phone the next morning, he’ll have a litany of text messages, equal parts sincerely happy and playfully disgusted.  For now, he’s more than satisfied to kiss Ian silly, everything else fading away until the world consists of just the two of them.

[chiasaaa]

— the things we do for love

itoshi sae x f! reader

summary: sae has always been stoic, always appearing uncaring who only gives a shit about football. yet, his team noticed how he wears his heart upon his sleeve when it comes to you

warning: english is not my first language. apologies for any grammatical and spelling errors.

— dating a football superstar only meant frequent days apart from each other, and today is much like any other. because the european league began, sae leaves for germany, the host country for the season. it has been three days since his flight, and he’s already itching for you to get your work done and fly over as soon as possible. he can’t possibly start a season without you, right?

alas, your career as one of the most successful businessmen in spain caused your delay for this year. there is much to take care of with the month of love coming up, and you’re preparing an upcoming fashion line submitting to the theme. sae didn’t want to pressure you into going. after all, fashion is your passion and soccer is his. he wished to be as supportive as you are to him, and that meant refraining from whining like a little kid when he can’t get what he wants immediately.

however, as he stared at his phone screen displaying his last message left with no response for about five hours now, he couldn’t help but feel a little down. have you been so busy that you can’t even take a quick peek at your phone?

sae put the device down the bedside table, turning his back on it in an attempt to sleep it off. that, too, led to nothing but uncomfortable shifting left and right. he can’t sleep not knowing what’s happening to you right now. you haven’t even responded to a simple “did you eat dinner yet?” question. frankfurt and madrid have the same timezone, meaning it’s just as much 23:39 as it is in madrid.

what the hell are you doing at this hour?

buzz!

barry allen just lost his title as the fastest man alive with how sae immediately turned back and snatched his phone from the table, eager to see a message coming from you.

michael kaiser: coach called us down the luxury suite.

curse his annoying narcissistic teammate for getting his hopes up.

with reluctance, sae rises from the bed and threw on a loose pair of sweatpants and his favorite sweater. given that he’s dating you who quite literally dominated the fashion industry in most european countries already, every article of clothing sae used to have were replaced by your designs. not a single one was salvaged, and he preferred it that way. it felt like he walks around with a piece of your everywhere he goes.

if you can’t always be there, your creations most certainly are.

as sae goes down the to meet at the lounge, a few soccer fans boarded the elevator with him and began striking an unwanted conversation. it’s not helping that he’s already in a sour mood because of a certain someone still missing in action. it took a lot for him to stop himself from snapping a snarky comment or two in respect of you. “be nice” in your ever-so sweet and loving voice rang in his head repetitively.

“good luck on your match tomorrow, sae!”

“let’s take a picture!”

“what do you think of tomorrow’s match? will it go well?”

he sighs, “if my girlfriend happens to magically appear, then yes, it’s a sure match.”

sae has always been open about his relationship to the public, mainly because he hates the thought of people thinking he’s still up for grabs when he’s irrevocably yours to begin with. you, thankfully, had no problem dealing with the paparazzi and thousands of interviewers going through hell on earth just to get something out of you.

after what felt like forever, the elevator opened and allowed him to step out and meet his team at the luxury suite reserved for their team meetings. it took him two knocks for the door to open, only to reveal kaiser with a smug smirk on his face.

“aren’t you punctual?”

“you called me over,” sae sighs, walking right inside to see only three more of their teammates with them, “i don’t see coach anywhere.”

“right, i might have lied about that.”

“what—“ sae turns, an string of vulgar words ready to shoot themselves right towards their annoying centre forward, when he was halted by the sight of you closing the door with a gentle smile carved upon your lips. “—the hell…”

“surprise!” you giggled, holding your arms out for him. sae didn’t need to be told twice to bolt right into your warmth, wrapping you in a tender embrace that evoked a thousand unvoiced thoughts expressing how much he missed you. “wow. we’ve only been apart for three days, querido.”

“demasiado tiempo, mi vida.” it’s too much time, my life. sae didn’t know whether or not he should be happy that you’ve finally arrived. partly happy because this is indeed a pleasant surprise, but partly not because what if something happened to you as you’re traveling and he had absolutely no idea? he would hate himself to death if something were to happen to you.

and as if you knew what he was thinking, you carefully leaned back to look into his teal hues. he can stay in that moment forever and never get sick of the sight. “i’m here, and i’m alright.”

indeed, the fact that he’s able to hold you so close to him is enough proof to ease his worries away. he should have known you’d pull things like these even after three years of dating. you always knew how to keep him wrapped around your finger.

oh, the things we do for love.

[transexualpirate]

whose blog did you find my post on lol

petty rant incoming "florida miku" "texas miku" "ohio miku" it's supposed to be countries!!!!!! not states!!!!!!!!!! it's interesting bc you have to fit as many elements from a whole ass country you can into one single art!!!!!!!!! if you make it with states it can easily get specific!!!!!!!! not the point!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! everyone else is making countries why are americans acting like their states are different countries it's all usa

[backpackingspace]

Young odysseus convincing everyone Ithaca is nothing but a poor island with rocks and goats to avoid any raids/conquerors/so he doesn't get murdered for talking to Helen bc "it's not like he's a real choice"

Young odysseus falling in love with Penelope at the same event: wait. Wait shit I fucked up hold on just hear me out

[rabbithaver]

every so often i will see a post from a leftist on this website that is so egregiously ableist that i remember that like. oh yeah the userbase of leftists on this website is violently anti-disabled people and will jump at any chance to demonize any of us for any reason. i just forget that fact because i'm extremely dedicated to curating my space

i'm paraphrasing here but i saw a post that said, "every time i see an American [disabled person] mention being scared about the election because they're afraid of losing their benefits i have to laugh. anybody who wants blood-soaked money from the US government deserves to starve" which. like. goodness that's a lot to unpack. i think we should burn the whole suitcase instead !

[yunogf]

.

[seventh-district]

not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

Why are people who look at comic books from a “critical real-world lens” so obsessed with identifying the one person who is “100% right”. That doesn’t even exist in the real world.

Lost Days wasn’t made to protest global issues. It is a comic book exploring fictional character Jason’s mental journey after being resurrected and regaining consciousness against his will and/or power. Now how dare this character, in his own story where he has his own personal objective, not go out of his way to make sure each individual child from the collective hundreds he saved from traffickers and the likes gets adopted into nice homes. Obviously we have to disregard any good he did or that he cares at all because all he did was kill the fucker at the top who was responsible. Winick also never fleshed out all 42 of the trafficked children into nuanced characters with their own thoughts and feelings which was apparently neglectful lol.

In regards to utrh, Idk what this person read but there were more drug dealers Jason didn’t kill than those he did. Not once did he ever say he wanted to eliminate the flow of drugs in the community. He took over the trade. Not to mention he explicitly stated control vs elimination is where his goals differed from Bruce’s pipe dream hence why he’s successful and Bruce is still failing. Obviously if you completely misunderstand the character’s motivations you’ll find issues that don’t exist.

People just don’t want stories to be about what they are about, huh.

[musical-chick-13]

My God. Does anyone knows when it stops hurting. Does anyone know how to stop feeling like this.