#no brain i DO have friends that care about me

[luckiestboy]

too many people are too focused on punishment/revenge on the perpetrator... while we've had studies that show prevention helps way more, and it's always been such a puzzling thing, i've questioned the way people care about CSA, with;

"why do you need a child to be abused before you care?" (you as in general, not you as in op)

fairly related additions under the cut

i think more people who are focused on punishment, need to watch the skip intro video about TCAP, since it seems like an easily available way to absorb information both about CSA abuse statistics, and how "revenge fantasies" don't help in the long run. i say this because many many people will likely be disinterested in reading articles or statistics, as bad as that mindset is, i would like to at least get them to think about the topic to begin with. as much as i hate the fact youtube essays about this include sponsors/patreon plugs, i get why it's done, it's a job that's besides the point though.

to summarize: He outlined how TCAP is more of a "revenge fantasy" and makes content out of reality of many people, majority of which were abused by those they knew (he also mentions that aspect.) instead of a possibly educational show, it was the same as current-day youtube "predator catchers" who were fueled by it, and yes the show ended, though it's impact remains.

the video is technically about how they "kinda killed a guy" which people argue "the guy shot himself, nobody but him pulled the trigger" but i feel like those people are missing the point. the criticism stems from how the "Education" chris hansen did, how he rushed to a swat raid for content, putting other people in danger, considering the man had a gun, what if he shot someone else?

again, i ask them, why do we wait untill a child's been abused and traumatized for life, when we have evidence teaching kids these things, helps them more, and avoids trauma.

or teaching them, if there were no signs, if the perpetrator was a child too, that it's okay to speak out, to seek help, comfort and guidance.

I'm someone who was SA'd by a classmate, a "friend", i have spent a decade repressing the memory, and when it surfaced, i denied it was SA because it wasn't what i considered to be SA, because "well... he didn't grope me, it was just a kiss, i wasnt traumatized", ignoring how i cried recounting it to my psychologist when being interviewed during the process of diagnosing gender dysphoria, as when i was put in a situation to recount memories or experiences, it was one of the few things i remembered, before coming out.

i never even got justice, because another child did that to me, i was never apologized to, even. because nobody ever said to speak up.

if i were taught to speak up when someone did this to me, i wouldn't be met with the horrified look my mother gave me, when i shared the story around the winter holidays, deeming it a "funny" thing from my childhood. and her question.

"why didn't you tell me?"

i was 7, maybe 8, there weren't any signs for my autistic little brain to pick up, and even then i was never taught about signs, only to never go with strangers.

i was told being taunted or teased by a boy meant he liked me, i was supposed to be happy, right? someone liked me, that means what they did was good. it didnt matter i ran from him before i was trapped.

the fact im so fucked up mentally, and hesitant of affection horrifies me, because those who endured worse? what about them? the mistreatment i went through were isolated incidents, and they still left a big impact, those incidents, caused me to subconciously try and present myself in a "tempting" way to one of the few male middle school teachers i had, in hopes of being abused more.

and i think about others who've gone through worse, the mental strain, and how people seem to be so focused on punishing the abuser, instead of helping the abused.

yes an abuser should be punished, but involvement shouldnt end there...

Speaking as a survivor of child sex abuse: the world would be a lot better if yall spent less time talking about the ways in which pedophiles should be punished and more time supporting survivors and preventing abuse

I get it, punishment can feel cathartic. I’ve certainly spent time imagining all the ways in which my own abuser might be punished. But ultimately, him dying, or being jailed, or publicly shamed, isn’t actually going to help me nor will it stop more kids from getting hurt in the future.

I don’t want more prisoners. I want free therapy with trauma informed counselors. I want better sex education for young children that teaches them about consent and body autonomy. And I want a society in which I can openly discuss my trauma, or at least as openly as yall discuss the evils of pedophiles

[belovedenzo]

kiss or dare || mattheo riddle & enzo berkshire

bf! mattheo x reader x enzo

summary; Your boyfriend, Mattheo loses a game of kiss or dare. After a passionate kiss between him and Enzo, you’re left with curiosity for Lorenzo’s lips.

words; 3k

warnings; matty x enzo, suggestive content but no smut, cussing, kissing, poly themes, sharing

notes; this has been eating my brain so enjoy <3 feedback is appreciated!

The rules are simple- do the dare or you have to kiss somebody in the group that’s playing. Since Pansy came up with this ridiculous game a couple months back, it’s been played in this common room a thousand times.

  It’s always a night like this, a dimly lit fire burning in the cobblestone pit behind a group of you and your bestest mates in Slytherin. A bottle or two is being passed around, making everyone feel nice and easygoing. That’s usually when the suggestion for kiss or dare comes up.

 Something about the alcohol mixed with the excitement and mystery of possibly kissing one of your best friends makes it a very enticing game when you all sit here alone- only the fireplace and small lamp lighting your vicinity. 

 “Theo- come on!” Pansy complains from her seat on the floor beside you. 

 A groan emits from the other side of the room. “I’m almost done!” Theo shifts in his seat for a moment before standing quickly to attention. He shoots a grin towards her direction and promptly walks over. A joint, filled to the brim with muggle weed is presented in the palm of his hand for everyone to see. “Rolled.” He declares with a proud huff.

 “Snape is gonna smell it in the morning when he comes in here.” Your boyfriend Mattheo lets out a sigh, fighting the shit eating grin that threatens his lips. 

 “Fuck it- who cares?” Theo laxly shrugs his shoulder before walking over to the burning fire place for a light. 

 Pansy had dared Theo to light a joint in the middle of the common room and smoke it- something he’ll probably get screwed for later. But as per usual, Theo doesn’t care. You’ve learned that he will truly do anything if he’s dared to. It’s safe to say that Theo hasn’t locked lips with anyone in the history of kiss or dare. 

 A chuckle or two can be heard, which only fuels him further. As carefully as he can, Theo lights the joint with the fire burning in the fire place. Once it’s lit he walks back over to the lot of you on the ground- a prideful smile spread across his face. Without a word he brings it up to his lips and takes a drag once he’s sure everyone is watching from the floor. Smoke fills the room, the cherry of the joint lighting up the dimly lit space.

 “So who’s next?” Are the only words that left his mouth before the group bursts into a fit of laughter. He quickly takes a seat next to Enzo- who has been sat in the circle across from you and Mattheo. The joint gets handed off to Enzo, starting its cycle through the rotation of half consumed liquor bottles. 

 “One day I’ll get you to say no to something and then you’ll have to kiss me.” Pansy grumbles sarcastically before taking a swig from the bottle in her hand. 

 Theo makes a face at her and they both laugh- clearly already too far gone for the night. In fact, the more you look around at your friends… they’re all there along with them. The longer you sit, the more you feel yourself inching closer as well- yet you still accept the joint being passed to you.  

 “Matty!” Theo says in a sing song tone, his attention now directed right towards your boyfriend sitting next to you. “It’s your turn.” An almost diabolic laugh comes from his throat. 

 Mattheo rolls his eyes before sitting forward to lock in. “Merlin- yeah.” His face sits in his hands for just a moment before making eye contact with Theo and accepting his fate. “Lay it on me.”

 You could tell from your lovers expression that he was feeling it just as much as the rest of them, so there’s no way Theo could come up with something bad enough for him to decline…

 “I dare you to go wake Draco up in a fucked up way- or you have to kiss Enzo.” Theo bites back a chuckle as he gives Mattheo his dare, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

 You watch as the boy next to you stiffens- eyes going wide as saucers. You also were quite shocked- sure, at first that sounds like nothing but… is it really? Draco had just went to bed an hour earlier, drunk as a skunk with an awful headache. It’s well known that the blonde doesn’t take very kindly to being woken up, especially abruptly. But in these conditions? Mattheo may not make it out of that alive. 

 You look over at Theo as Mattheo is left speechless, only to see a smirk staring back at you from Enzo’s lips. 

 “Are you trying to get me killed or?-“ This may sound like a dramatic question for your boyfriend to be asking but no body wants to deal with that version of Draco Malfoy for the foreseeable future. 

 Theo laughs along with Pansy from beside you. Then you hear a chuckle that sounded like Enzo’s. “What? You don’t have to do it, you could always just kiss Enz.” The laughing proceeds higher as Theo teases Mattheo.

 You now can’t help but also let out a laugh, watching Mattheo become flustered. Any of your friends would know that what happens in kiss or dare stays in kiss or dare and a little kiss between your boyfriend and one of his best friends wouldn’t upset you. Mattheo knows this too as you can practically see the cogs turning in his pretty little head, weighing the options of waking up the beast or kissing his mate. 

 From what you can see, Enzo is slightly amused and almost seems to enjoy the fact that Theo chose him. You wouldn’t put it past him in the state he is in- he wants Mattheo to kiss him. When Enzo is drunk he’s been known to kiss just about anybody who wants it.

 It’s just a moment before Mattheo goes to speak again and seal the dare. A quiet sigh passes through his lips before any words can- his thoughts getting caught in his throat. It seems like he has made his decision but remains hesitant with sharing.

 “If you wake Draco up, you’ll never hear the end of it.” Pansy retorts from next to you through the patient silence that filled the room as you all waited for Mattheo to speak. She also seems to want this kiss to happen.

 All this does is make the curly headed brunette groan aloud and cross his arms. “Yeah whatever-“ he shrugs his shoulders with another annoyed huff. “You got me.” You’ve always known your boyfriend to be a competitive person and you’re sure the idea of losing the game is what burns him the most. He’s the first out of him and Theo to crack and accept the kiss.

 “This means you gotta kiss Enzo!” Theo shouts and immediately points a teasing finger in Mattheo’s direction. He smirks wide and sly, accepting the crown of kiss or dare king while all his friends erupt in amused laugher around him. 

 You decide to look back at Enzo through all the chaos of their drunk commotion. Theo, Blaise and Pansy continue to gawk at Mattheo- who by now is red as a cherry but trying to keep face. Enzo however is sat back on his hands, a satisfied expression on his face. 

 His smirk was different than before, now that he’s sure Mattheo has to kiss him… he seems more excited. 

 You watch as their eyes meet, in fact you could feel their eyes meet- it was electric. You were surprised to see Mattheo fold beneath Enzo’s gaze, his mouth hesitating to part and form words.

 “You wanna kiss me, Matty?” Enzo asks in a lewd and confident way, like he had been waiting to say it. He watched your boyfriend shift in his seat at his question and squirm beneath his flirtatious nature. Just like he wanted. 

 You never took Enzo as completely straight, you’ve seen him kiss a male ravenclaw or two after a few drinks but the way he looked at Matty made you feel like he really wanted it. Maybe it was the taboo of kissing his friend- in front of said friends girlfriend at that, but he seemed into it. 

 He gets up from his position on his hands and leans in towards the center of the medium sized circle you all had formed earlier in the night. “I can kiss you if you want.” His voice was smooth, almost causing a blush to appear on your own cheeks and match the boy next to you. 

 Mattheo opens his mouth again, the struggle for words showing across entire expression. This time though, he speaks. “If your gonna kiss me just do it-“ 

 With a quick shuffle forward, Enzo’s long torso is leaning over your boyfriends where he sits. His hands grasp the sides of Mattheo’s face once he is comfortably sat in front of him, leaning over the space between them.

 It’s quick before you register that Enzo’s lips are pressed against Mattheo’s, hands gripping the sides of his jaw and neck. The kiss was anything but a peck as their lips molded together. 

 Pansy lets out a soft gasp, followed by a giggle from the other side of this view before you. A small blush does creep onto your cheeks this time, a blush your sure is on her cheeks as well but your eyes are too trained on the their lips to check. 

 Mattheo’s eyes flutter closed the moment Enzo connected their lips. He seemed to relax under his hands, like it felt good. His hands that were formally up in a nervous defense had fallen to his sides like a rag doll- he’s fully submitted to Enzo’s kiss. 

 They stay like this for a moment, moving together in sync. The room had went silent, in shock probably. You on the other hand were feeling all kinds of things from what you were watching. 

 Enzo gave him one last yearning movement of his lips before pulling away with a quiet pop. There was no rule on how long you had to kiss someone if you lose a game of kiss or dare but no body expected the kiss to be that long and passionate. That kiss almost made you wanna kiss Enzo. 

 Everyone watched as Enzo took his seat back next to Theo like nothing had happened, like he didn’t just rock Mattheo’s world in front of the entire friend group. “You’re a good kisser, Matty.” He speaks affectionately, a short moment of embarrassment showing in his eyes as they dart away, but his grin returns. 

 Mattheo coughs on nothing, filling the space of his own embarrassment. He looks now over to you, it had taken a few moments to gain courage to do so but when he finally did, your expression bewildered him. 

 This man knows you better than you probably know yourself, so there’s no sense hiding any emotion from your face. You liked it. You obviously really liked what you had just seen. His eyes widen as he makes this realization. 

 “You’re such a whore, Enz.” Theo practically chokes out his words, taking a swig of liquor to stop his fits of obnoxious laughter. “And you liked it!” He motions to Mattheo in a dramatic way. 

 This would usually make you laugh as well, but all you can do is stare at Mattheo with eyes of intrigue. You’d accepted the pool of warmed that has entered your tummy, and you may also have to accept that it’s because of your boyfriend kissing a hot guy in front of you.

 Mattheo lets out a short chuckle- looking you up and down in amazement due to your depravity. “Yeah, maybe I did like it a little bit.” He responds to Theo, however still keeping eye contact with you. He scoots over and leans in, diminishing all space between you two. “I think you liked it a little bit too.” 

-

 A week passes and the image of Enzo kissing your boyfriend has still not left your mind. Late at night it seems to find itself in the forefront of your mind- sending your imagination to places you don’t want to admit to anybody. Since that game of kiss or dare you’d be lying if you said you can’t look at Enzo the same. 

 The veins in his hands, his teeth when he smiles, the smell of his cologne as he walks by- these were all things about Lorenzo you didn’t think about twice just last week.

 You know Mattheo can see it too, the look in your eyes when Enzo speaks to you and the way you look at the two boys when they are together. You haven’t decided yet however how Enzo feels about any of it, or if he even feels anything at all. Can he tell you want him?

 Mattheo and you never spoke further about the kiss they shared, part of you hopes that he doesn’t notice that your thoughts and curiosities still linger but the other part of you wants to see more. 

 It wasn’t until today, when you sat in yet another circle with that same group of friends on a late Friday night. That same fire is burning in the fireplace and everyone around you is drowning their school sorrows in the bottle and smoke. What better than a game of kiss or dare? 

 The game is fun and easy until it’s your turn. You now find everyone’s eyes on you as they wait for you Mattheo, who is again sitting next to you- to choose your dare. Waiting for him to decide your fate is gruelingly slow and is bringing all of your nerves to a boil. 

 When he does finally decide his face lights up and you know you’re screwed. He lets out a short cackle before the words spill from his tongue in anticipation. “I dare you to cut Pansy’s hair off with scissors while she sleeps. If you don’t- you gotta kiss Enzo.” 

 A gasp practically leaves you, did you just hear him right? Merlin knows that you’d never want to upset your best friend Pansy. Right now she’s probably sleeping like an angel and the last thing you’d want to do is ruin her life like that. Mattheo knows good and well that if you did something like that it would be detrimental. There’s simply no way you’d cut off Pansy’s hair while she’s sleeping! 

 “Mattheo!” You practically yelled, your hand reaching to swat him. “You know I wouldn’t do that!” Amusement covers his face but you are not amused. 

 “Oh yeah?” Your mates stay out of it while Mattheo speaks. “Then kiss Enzo.” 

 You scowl until his words set in, the reality sets in. You realize what’s going on. Your face drops, eyes darting over to Enzo in a heartbeat. Merlin- that same smirk from last week appears to be on his face once more. 

 “Enz? Can you do that?” You hear from next to you- Mattheo’s voice smooth with confidence. 

  Your eyes shoot back to your boyfriend in disbelief. “Yknow, since she won’t do the dare.” He smirks as he speaks to Enzo but keeps his eyes trained on you. 

 Cheeks burning red, eyes wide- you watch everyone around you watch Mattheo in surprise. As far as everyone is concerned, Mattheo has always come off as a jealous individual who wouldn’t share but what they don’t know is that since the kiss he has also not been able to stop thinking about it.

 The idea had come to his mind a few days ago. He’d set you up for failure so that just like him, you’d have to kiss Enzo because admittedly he wants to see it. He wants to watch one of his best friends kiss his girlfriend. 

Enzo watches the two of you look at each other- he’s starting to understand what may be going on here. No body is safe from the Berkshire charm, not even his closest friends. “I can do that.” He finally responds.

 This makes everyone’s eyes dart straight for him, including your own. You both locked eyes for a moment, a moment that would continue- because now that he has you, he won’t let go. 

 “Can I kiss you?” This makes your heart stop for just a moment. No amount of confidence could save you in that moment, all that you can do is nod in agreement.

 His grin widens as you nod your head softly- but he won’t take that for an answer. “Use your words, please.” His politeness is faux, a ruse to come off as more gentle and sweet than he really is. 

 “Y-yeah. You can kiss me.” It spills from your mouth like word vomit, nerves pushing them out the door. You can feel Mattheo’s eyes boring into the two of you speaking in front of him. He’s watching like a hawk.

 This time, Enzo accepted that answer and just like he did with Mattheo, makes a swift movement towards you. Before you know it- he’s in front of you, hands coming up to hold your small face in his large hands. 

 “I want you to kiss her just like how you kissed me, Enzo.” This comment from Mattheo, along with the proximity of you and Enzo made that pool return to your stomach, hotter and larger than before. The knot in your gut ached at the feeling of his warm fingers brushing against your skin- rubbing small circular patterns.

 “It’s almost like you wanted this. I think Matty knows that.” He mutters, only loud and eligible enough for you to hear, just a soft whisper but you hear him clearly. This is the last thing he says before colliding his lips with your own.

 It felt just as erotic as you had imagined. His lips are soft, warm and move at the perfect speed to make you yearn for more. A moan threatened to choke from your throat but you swallowed it back down, remembering you are surrounded by your mates. 

 He kisses you with the same passion he showed your man. Exactly what you and Mattheo both secretly wanted. Enzo is just happy to oblige, intrigued by your sudden interest in his lips after seeing them on Mattheo’s. 

 The kiss felt like forever but in a good way, in a way that makes you wish it never ended. He hesitated when pulling away, like he indeed felt the same. 

 Mattheo’s presence grew closer as he leaned in, your eyes still trained on Enzo in both shock and desire. Your boyfriend’s breath graced your neck as he spoke, sending goosebumps across your already sensitive skin. 

His voice woven with silk and suggestion.  “He’s a good kisser… isn’t he?” 

luv, spell

taglist; @draco-malfoys-lovergirl @dracosprettygirl @dearmisshoney @havokangel @riddlesbunny @voidofsunlight @eternalbuckley @ur-local-wizard @i-await @juliet-017 @riddlemelater @biscuits-and-gracie @viperify @dearnott @pizzaapeteer @obsessedwithceleste @hayleygrrr @nottscherry @nottsbaby @blocked-zombieartist

[munsonsmixtapes]

Electric Touch (2)

virgin!rockstar!eddie x fem!reader

Eddie shows up to your surprise and when you finally go back to his place, he decides that he wants you to take his virginity.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v)

Thanks @the-witty-pen-name for proofreading!

part one

The club is absolutely packed when you and your friends get inside. They’re scoping out the place but you’re looking for the familiar mop of hair. You don’t even know why since he left you on read and never told you whether or not he was coming. And you don’t know why you care anyway. You don’t actually think he’s going to show up. He clearly thinks he’s too cool for you so you don’t care if he’s here or not. You’re going to have fun with your friends and maybe even go home with a guy who will treat you the way you deserve. Eddie who?

You and your friends order your drinks then head over to a surprisingly empty table where you all sit. You’re so in your head that you’re not even paying attention to them giggling about something. It’s not new so you don’t really care. It could honestly be about anything. 

You feel bad for being in your own world tonight but you can’t help it. You just really thought that Eddie would show up, but you guess you were wrong about him yet again. You really can’t believe that you actually thought he would take your words to heart. He seemed offended in the moment but he probably just let it roll off his back like he does anything else.

“Oh my god, it’s Eddie Munson,” Hannah whispers and your eyes widen at her words. No, it can’t be. Can it? Maybe your words actually did mean something. 

“And I think he’s staring at you, y/n,” Bree pointed out. You turn towards where she’s pointing and sure enough, he’s staring directly at you from where he’s sitting in the VIP section. He’s smirking, waving you over and part of you wants to pretend he doesn’t exist. You want to make him feel exactly how he made you feel. To show him how badly it hurts. But you kind of want to have some fun first. 

Without a word, you head over to the VIP section where a security lifts a red velvet rope to let you in. You get into the booth with Eddie, keeping your space. You don’t want him to think he’s earned anything just for showing up. 

He looks you up and down, your silver dress catching the light just perfectly. God, you’re so beautiful. And you’re so close. You’re actually here. And now that you’re here, the long, heartfelt apology he wrote immediately leaves his brain. But he’s come up with shit on the spot more times than he can count so he’s got this. 

He takes a sip from his whiskey before licking his lips, hoping the liquid courage will help. He looks up at your face and takes in your body language. Your arms are crossed over your chest and you look like you’re about to shoot lasers at him with how angry you look. He just wants to fix this. And even if nothing happens tonight, he at least wants to show you that he’s really not a bad guy. 

“Look,” he says, licking his lips again, his hand reaching for your thigh but he quickly pulls it away. “I just want to apologize for last night. I had no right to act like that and I’m not going to come up with some lame excuse. I’m sorry. So sorry. I told myself I was doing to test you, but I was just trying to protect myself. I totally understand if you never want to see me again, but if you’re up for it, I’d really like to get to know you.” 

You take in his words, watch his face as he speaks. He could be lying so you don’t know why you decide to forgive him. You just want to put all this past you and to start fresh. You guess you shouldn’t hold one night against him. 

As you mentally accept his apology, you’re really hoping that he’s really going to show you the real him. You want to see the version of him that you’d see every week at the hideout. You want to see the Eddie that was there before all the fame, girls, and money. You really hope you get him back because you really missed him even though you’ve never actually met him.

“I forgive you,” you tell him after several beats of silence and he lets out a sigh of relief. This was clearly weighing on him. He’s so close to telling you how the whole thing kept him up into the early hours of the morning. He felt so bad that it made him sick to his stomach. The guilt ate at him and he was able to pour those feelings into a song. He scribbled and hummed and tossed crumpled pieces of paper before tossing them. His hotel room is still cluttered with little balls of paper. The one that he thought was worthy is currently in the pocket of his jacket. If he finally gets the guts, he plans on giving it to you. 

Even though he plays to venues filled with thousands of people all the time, it’s the one on one time with people that always makes him anxious. He can fake confidence on stage all he wants but put him in front of a stranger and all of the cool melts away, leaving the shy awkward boy he’s always been. 

You don’t make him nervous, but the vulnerability of showing you something he’s written is making him feel sick again. And the fact that he wrote it for you is making him feel even more so. He feels like such a loser right now. He knows you won’t make fun of him if he showed it to you, but he’s been burned so many times. 

He can still hear the giggles of the girls who laughed at him when he showed the song he wrote for Kelly Sherman. He had been crushing on her for months and watching her laugh in his face as she read the song he wrote for her caused irreparable damage to his heart. He was able to bandage it up and now it’s caged up and he won’t dare show it to anyone else. He can’t, not after all that. 

He shakes his head and once he zones back into reality, he sees that you’re closer to him, your bare thigh pressed to his. He can feel the warmth from you and when you rest your hand on his thigh, he tries to remain calm. He can tell you’re not making a move just from the look on your face. You’re trying to bring him comfort and without another thought, he rests his hand on top of yours. He then leans forward and whispers in your ear. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” You can tell just by his tone that he’s feeling overwhelmed and wants to go somewhere he’ll feel more comfortable. 

“Please,” you reply and wrap your fingers around his hand before pulling him up from the booth. He blindly follows, knowing that you’ll take him where he needs to go. Everything is closing in and the music is staticy. His heart is racing and he can feel every piece of clothing touch his skin. A panic attack is coming on and he immediately feels a little relief when he finally gets outside. 

This is why he never likes to go out. He loves to be social, but not like that. There’s too many people and the music is too loud and everything feels distorted. It all just gets to be too much and he always feels like a dick for leaving so he just doesn’t go in the first place. 

A car is conveniently waiting for the two of you when you get out onto the curb and Eddie doesn’t remember even doing that. You must have called an Uber when was going through his overstimulation. You open the door for him and he slides in, letting out a sigh of relief when you close the door. Cars always feel safe to him.

He gives the address to his hotel to the driver and when he turns to you, he sees that you’re close to him again. You’re leaning into him, your hand still holding his. You’ve been so nice and he doesn’t think he deserves it. But he’s going to take it anyway, his head leaning against yours as you squeeze each other’s hands. 

He knows you barely know each other, but there’s something about this that just feels right. Your fingers fit perfectly like puzzle pieces. And it’s like all the anxiety that always sits on his shoulders melts away. 

You feel the same-feeling like there’s something about this that’s just meant to be. Just with the way he's behaving now, you can see that he was telling the truth. He’s the complete opposite from how he was last night and now you’re glad that you decided that you gave him a second chance. The “cool guy” exterior has melted and now he’s just Eddie. 

You always hoped for something like this but you never thought it would happen. It’s something that you’d dream about before falling asleep at night. You don’t even know how you got here but you’re not going to take it for granted.

You blink and you’re standing outside Eddie’s hotel room as he unlocks it. He then opens it and lets you head inside first. You’re amazed by the size of it and are pretty sure that it’s bigger than your apartment back home. 

You throw yourself onto the bed and can’t help but laugh. His life is so different from yours. He gets to tour the world while you’re stuck in your tiny town. Just a few years ago, that was him. Now he’s playing sold out shows at Madison Square Garden and you couldn’t be prouder of him. 

Eddie slowly lies down next to you and you can feel his eyes on you. You turn to look at him and can’t help but let your smile match his. He grabs hold of your hand and pulls it to his mouth, pressing a featherlight kiss. 

“Thank you so much for giving me another chance.” He’s closer now and you can smell his cologne. It’s mixed with the cigarette smoke that’s clinging to and you feel yourself moving closer, like he’s got a magnetic pull on you. 

“You were so sincere and I thought you deserved it.” 

He’s lying on his back now and you hover over him, your hands landing on his chest. You then lean down, slowly slotting your lips between his. He responds quickly, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling it while his other one rests against your back. 

Your bodies are now flush, legs tangled together as the kisses progress. Your hands move to his hair as your tongue flicks into his mouth. He moans as your tongue roams his mouth and now you’re a mess.

You kiss your way down to his neck and give it a suck, getting even wetter when he moans again. You keep at it, pulling even more sounds from him and hearing him beg for you makes you feel like you could come right there. 

His jacket comes off and so does his shirt and he can’t believe that he’s letting this happen. He never gets this far. It never goes farther than over the clothes touching. 

He’s always been so nervous when it’s come to this part, but with you, it feels so natural, so right. He actually thinks he might be ready to go to the next step this time. And he’d be more than honored if you were the one who took his virginity. 

You unbutton his jeans and he rests his hands on top of yours but only to stop you because he feels like he owes you the truth. 

“Stop,” he says and you’re quick to pull away, a worried look on your face. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I should’ve-“ You’re panicking now, sure that you’ve overstepped. You’ve never slept with a virgin before. You don’t know the protocols so you’re going to tread very lightly. 

“No, it’s okay. I want to, I really do. I just wanted to let you know that-that I’m a virgin.” Your eyes widen but quickly soften and you give him a soft smile. You’re obviously surprised but this is in no way a deal breaker. 

“Oh,” is all you say. “And that’s okay. We don’t have to do this. I don’t want to pressure you.” You feel bad now, taking it there. You honestly never would have guessed if he hadn’t told you. And now appreciate that he has. You feel so grateful that he trusts you that much. 

“Y/n. I want to so badly. Like you have no idea. I don’t feel pressure at all.” He’s hard beyond belief underneath you and you need him now. 

“Okay,” you press a kiss to his lips. “But if you feel uncomfortable at any point, we can stop.” 

“Okay.” He’s excited now, still a little nervous, but now he’s just looking forward to seeing what all the hype is about. He just can’t believe that you want him like this.

[snail-day]

Mummy issue gojo has me thinking of him being in an arranged marriage that he accepts dutifully as another thing he must do, only to very quickly become enamored with his new wife who keeps warm meals waiting for him when he's home at an ungodly hour, quietly fussing over the state of him and, just showing him the maternal attention he never received. Thinking that you are beginning to care for him as much as he cares for you. Only until a little hiccup happens when he checks your phone, to find that the two of you have a mutual friend who you still are hung up on.

The only real solution is to put a baby into you as he begs you to never leave him. (Or invite geto to join in aswell)

🪻

OHHHH I love your sweet little brain, mwah mwah mwah, come here, let me kiss those slick-with-brain-juice grooves because I was just thinking about something similar the other day.

hold my hand 🪻 anon, i'm going to go a little off topic here:

TW: Yandere, Satoru is playing house with his parental issues, Power imbalance, brief smut, unedited, mdni

Satoru would absolutely love an arranged marriage with someone sweet like honey. Especially if you’re the type to keep dinner warm for him, no matter how late he gets home, brushing his white hair back and kissing his forehead while he rambles about his day. Quietly fussing over him while he curls into your lap like a child.

And sure, he still holds all the power in the relationship, so you’re not exactly eager to piss him off. His temper tantrums sometimes leave the house in shambles. Holes in the drywall. A shattered mirror or two. His hands shaking as he screams that you’re all he has left.

The night Suguru attacks the school... you fixed Satoru’s broken, needy heart in the past. So, of course, you could fix Suguru, too. He’s already halfway there - missing an arm, bloodied and weak, slumped in your shared bed, groaning in pain like a mere wounded animal.

Satoru watches you patch Suguru up, absolutely enamored, baby blues shimmering. Suguru’s half-conscious, muttering under his breath while you tend to him, gentle whispers shared between the two of you, and Satoru’s whining.

“Mommyyy,” he pouts, curled up with his cheek pressed to your shoulder. “You’re taking such good care of Daddy…”

The word hits your stomach like a stone. Daddy? You’ve known Suguru for about a year, back in high school, and then he became a cult leader. A murderer. You think you're going to be sick, when you catch that lovesick look in Satoru's eyes.

But it doesn’t stop.

Satoru starts calling you Mommy and Suguru Daddy.

Suddenly, he’s playing house.

He wants Mommy to spoon-feed him. To coo over him. To make everything better. And he wants Daddy to stop being so grumpy about the situation. Suguru should be taking you from behind, and putting a baby in you while Satoru watches from the floor, touching himself and murmuring how good his family looks. And of course, he's there to clean up the mess, on all fours licking your slick cunt mixed with his and Suguru's cum. It's a true family bonding experience. He just loves the way you and Daddy taste together.

Suguru, well, he's surviving; it's much like house arrest. He will play the game, though, only barely. There’s a flicker in his violet eyes that says he knows this is a farce. He’s humoring Satoru, indulging the delusion. Because Satoru is powerful and more unhinged by the day.

Because in Suguru's mind it’s safer to play house than to pull the curtain down. And you, well, you don't have much of a choice by being a weaker sorcerer. So how about you keep playing house wife, daddy will make sure to keep your cunt full and Satoru will happily lick up the seconds like the good boy he is. <3

[wynnyfryd]

Eddie hesitates with his thumb hovering over the send button. The date tonight went so well. They've been on three so far, and honestly? Eddie's not even sure if Steve Harrington is a real human being or just some shroom-induced daydream of an old-school Hollywood star; he's so....

Sharp-nose-drowsy-eyes-blahblahblah-expression. High fashion model cool, he makes bored look hot; he acts like you're the only interesting thing in the whole room. Eddie's never been aloofly cool a goddamn day in his life (unless you count the villain characters he's played at the head of the Hellfire club, which—he's pretty sure actually suave characters don't get so keyed up with performance anxiety that they chug Mountain Dew out of a gold-painted "chalice" from the Dollar Tree just to have a moment to remember their next line.)

Point being, he doesn't want to fuck this up.

And he's pretty sure he's going to, because Steve kept glancing at his mouth all night, and now he's all worked up, and the question that's been worming its way through an apple core in the back of his brain has suddenly burst through the skin and demanded an audience.

And also?

It's too late to play guitar without pissing off his roommates and he needs something to do with his hands or he's going to die, so it's really either this or chew the skin around his fingernails until they get all gross and bleed. Steve would care about his health, right? So really, it's like.... it's like Steve basically encouraged him to ask this. I mean, he did, right? He prompted the question in the first place by responding to Gareth's dumbass prank profile. My friends call me Eds, but you can call me Daddy. Which is stupid for so many reasons, namely that no one even calls him that, but—well, now Steve calls him that. Steve calls him Eds, and it's actually kind of really charming the way he says it; how it slides out the side of a lazy smirk; his eyes a little closed; and—and Steve swiped right! He read the whole thing and still swiped right, so, so maybe it was a joke and maybe it wasn't, but regardless as his Gramma would say Eddie's near to working himself into a tizzy over the idea that Steve might want to call him the other thing, too.

....Fuck it.

Eddie: heyyy uh

Eddie: [cowboy_pewpew.gif]

Eddie: i had a really great time with you tonight

Eddie hits send and then panics a little, because he- he sent the pew pew gif? Why? Why the hell did he do that?

Steve: That feels ominous ha ha

Shit! Eddie deletes the paragraph of anxiety-induced excuses for his behavior and just generally who he is as a person and starts typing:

Eddie: no! no genuine GREAT TIME like

Eddie: !!!

Eddie: rly guf

Eddie: *guf

Eddie: GUD. DAMN IT

Steve's incoming call takes over his whole phone screen mid text-rant, so like, he's really not even sure if he can be faulted for how ridiculously quickly he answers—like, his finger was already right there.

Steve says, "You seemed like you were struggling," in that same tone he uses when he calls Eddie Eds. Jesus. Eddie can see the smirk so clearly it's like he's on a video call.

Oh, god. He's not on a video call, is he? Cause he definitely has, like, a little bit of goddamn drool on the edge of his mouth.

"Eddie? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah." It's muffled through the sleeve he's wiping his mouth off on. "Sorry, yeah, hi."

"Hi." There's a smile in his voice. He's doing that thing again. The model thing, where he makes Eddie feel like he's fascinating to listen to.

"Hi."

Which, clearly, Eddie isn't. Shit. His chest is gonna explode out of his chest. He's gonna find out he has some weird Russian nesting doll configuration going on in there or some shit, whatever; his heart feels like a bomb.

On the other side of the line, Steve takes a deep breath in, lets it out through his nose, so much slower than Eddie's. "Okay." There's a soft laugh, a beat where Eddie imagines him rolling his shoulders back and down, then, "You seem like you have something you want to say to me, so, as long as you're not trying to tell me you don't want to go out again— I mean, you could still tell me that. I wouldn't get mad or anything, it would just suck to hear because I like you, but—" Eddie's never heard him talk this fast before. "—I guess what I'm trying to say is." A deeper breath; pumping the breaks. "You can just tell me stuff. I'm not gonna, like, freak out on you or whatever."

There's the slightest wobble to it, a strain that suggests that maybe Steve's got a softer, squishy side tucked behind the prince charming smirk. Eddie wants to crawl inside and find it. "Okay," he exhales; here we go. "So like, obviously you know Gareth screwed with my Tinder bio the night we matched."

"Yeah."

"And uh- and I know that you said you swiped because you thought it was funny."

"I thought it was insane, actually. And also I was bored and drunk."

"Wow. Killer blows to my ego over here, Steve."

"Sorry," he laughs, "I did think you were really hot, too, though, if that helps."

"It does not."

"Aw, come on," and his voice goes slinky again like a cat stretching its spine, "It's got to help a little bit, right?"

"Oh, my god." Eddie's voice cracks.

The smirk is audible. "Are you blushing?"

Jesus H. Christ. He's blushing so fucking badly.

"Because you look cute when you're flustered."

"Steve." Eddie squeezes his eyes shut; begs mercy. Goddammit is this shit embarrassing, and Eddie's got to get away from it, got to spit it out of his mouth before it corrodes his tongue or something, got to— "DO YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO CALL ME DADDY OR NOT? Because I'll be honest, Steve, I'm not totally sure I'm into that, and I don't even know if I could do a good job of that for you, but I am pretty good at roleplaying for D&D, and I do also like you a whole lot and think you're hot and would be open to trying—I mean, shit, uh, whatever with you, I guess; I mean, maybe not the real weird stuff, but—"

He only cuts himself off when Steve's cackling gets so loud it starts blowing out his speakers. "Eddie," Steve chokes through long peals of laughter—showing off his teeth, Eddie can picture it: the angles and ridges, the holds Eddie would use to climb inside him and look around. Shit. Maybe he is into the real weird stuff. "Eddie, I'm—you—"

Steve takes eight seconds to calm down and catch his breath. Eddie knows that, because he was counting, so as to not lose his goddamn shit waiting for Steve's official government response to the natural disaster he just unleashed on the state of Indiana.

"To be clear," he says when he collects himself, "I did swipe because it was funny, I was drunk, I'm pretty sure I'm not really into that one, either, but I'm willing to try basically anything once. Also..."

Oh, no.

"I meant it when I said you look cute when you're flustered."

"Je-suuuuus."

"Hey," Steve purrs, "maybe you could call me that."

It's...

Hmm.

Eddie feels himself making kombucha girl faces, because, like, there is something kind of conceptually hot about the power play, something kind of peeling the paint off the edges of his brain at the thought of Steve keeping that supermodel calm while he bosses him around, but also— Ugh. Yeah. No. His dad's a fucking dick. "I think I'm good," he snorts. "No judgement or whatever."

"No judgement."

They're quiet for a moment, but it's nice. A warm, pretty bubble before it pops in soapy swirls. Eddie thinks if they were in person they'd be pinky-promising. "Maybe... we could, uh. Talk about. What we are into, sometime. Maybe try some of it out on the next date?"

"Yeah," Steve agrees. "Yeah, whenever." There's a sound like he's biting his lip, the wet click of his tongue against the back of his teeth. Eddie knows the smirk's back. "Just text me."

Steve’s drunk and sad at a party and doom-swiping through Tinder when he comes across this profile:

Eddie, 21

guitarist, dm, dipshit, six time ass eating world champ 💪 🌎 my friends call me Eds, but you can call me Daddy

“What the fuck?” Steve laughs to himself. First time he’s really laughed all night, actually; this party kinda blows.

He slinks down further into the couch, takes another sip of hunch punch and tilts his phone so no one sees him swiping right on this shit. It’s obnoxious. Like, objectively. He’s just…

Bored.

And curious. Surely that bio has never actually worked for the guy, right?

Steve swipes.

It’s a match.

He snorts to himself again, sends a message before he can overthink it.

Steve: Hey, Eds. That’s kind of a bold move, isn’t it?

Message sent, he goes to back out of the app; doesn’t really expect an answer this close to midnight on a Saturday night — only losers use Tinder at this time of night, and what the fuck does that make him? — but then Eddie starts typing.

Eddie: hey, cutie :) what is?

Steve: Uhh…

Jesus. Why is he blushing? He’s not the one who wrote a wildly aggressive hookup bio. Guy might as well have sharpied DTF on his forehead.

Steve: Your bio? 🫣

Eddie: huh?

Eddie: i mean, dnd can get a little spicy on occasion but i’d hardly call it scandalous

Steve: What’s that?

Is it a sex thing? It’s probably a sex thing.

Eddie: okay, what?

Steve: What? I’m so confused lol

Eddie must be, too, because it takes him a few seconds to answer, and when he does he just says:

Eddie: hold pls

Steve holds. Takes a big gulp of his drink and winces; pretty much all vodka at the bottom.

Eddie is typing and then he isn’t, then he is again and then he’s not, and Steve frowns at his empty cup and wonders if he’s already fucked up the one interesting thing that’s happened to him all night.

Finally, finally, a new message pops up.

Eddie: ………god. DAMN it, Gareth 😤😤😤😤

[ghostlycamil4]

haaai looooove your writing <3

realizing ur in love with ur childhood bsf bakugou.. and then panicking even more when u realize he likes u back cus what if everything gets all weird

if ud like, i think a little angst would go well too but THANKU AS ALWAYS

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑊𝑎𝑠, 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑎𝑠 𝑀𝑦 𝐵𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝐹𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑.

anon, tysm for waiting and for sending this req, fr. sorry it took a bit i was lowkey struggling to hit the right vibe, but i think i finally got it down. biggest inspo for this piece was my boy only breaks his favorite toys (first draft) by taylor swift. if you know it or take a sec to listen, you’ll get exactly where my brain (and heart lol) was at while writing. hope u like it!!

The sound of running water told you he was in the shower. You didn’t care. He didn’t care.

You were about to throw yourself onto the bed, probably to wait for him half-asleep or snoop through his shelf of records, when you saw it.

A notebook.

Opened right in the middle.

Almost begging you to read it.

You hesitated.

You shouldn’t.

That cramped handwriting, with the lines disobeying the margin, like writing was also a fight for him.

The first line was brutal.

I hate you.

I hate you because I shouldn't care this much.

I hate you because you make me want to stay still, to listen to you, to look at you.

I hate you because you make me want things I don’t even dare to name.

I hate you because you're always there. Because you know me.

Because you know when to shut me up, when to provoke me, and when to stay silent.

And even then, you don’t see all of this that’s killing me inside.

I hate myself more for not saying it.

For writing this like a coward, because I’m scared to look you in the eye and lose you.

The notebook trembled in your hands. You didn’t know if you should drop it or keep reading. You didn’t know if you should cry or laugh or run. He was right there, just a few steps away, on the other side of the bathroom door, unaware that you had come in. Unaware that you had just seen his heart written in black ink.

Bakugo didn’t say things like that. He didn’t. He pushed, growled, locked himself up like a damn stone fortress. And yet there it was. That letter—that emotional purge—was the most honest thing you’d ever seen in your life.

And the water in the shower stopped running.

You left so fast you almost twisted your ankle. You closed the door without a sound, holding your breath like that could erase what you’d just read.

You leaned your back against the hallway wall, your heart pounding hard. It wasn’t fear that Bakugo would catch you. It wasn’t adrenaline.

It was the letter.

It was him.

Because…

Because you were in love with him too.

Because you had spent years convincing your heart it was one-sided, that Bakugo would never see you that way.

That if he had ever looked at you a moment too long, if his gaze had ever drifted to your hands or to the mole on your neck, it had been an accident.

But it wasn’t.

It wasn’t.

And the worst part wasn’t that he felt the same.

The worst part…

The worst part was thinking about everything that could go wrong.

What if it was just an impulse?

What if you were both confused, if it was a fantasy born from years of closeness, from the habit of having each other?

What if it ruined everything?

Because losing him as a friend…

Losing him completely…

That would hurt more than never being loved back.

So you’d rather never know.

You’d rather keep pretending.

You’d rather keep loving him in silence, than risk turning it all into just another memory.

Because if you lose him…

You lose yourself too.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[twistedleafs]

Ok an ABO version of this post:

Sweet omega Macklin who’s never been courted before, who thinks Will is courting him because of how nice Will is to him. Will takes him out to all the cool food spots in the Bay Area, he always picks Mack up and drives him to practices and games, he brings Mack his favourite Gatorade, they hang out on every off day. Will is just being a good bro but Mack is so in love and so happy he’s being “courted” by Will.

Mack wants to take things a step farther and eventually asks Will to start scenting him. Will thinks Mack just needs it in a comforting/grounding/friendly way, and obviously he goes along with it because he wants to help. And then Mack’s heat comes around, so Will gives him a few of his sweaters, thinking again it will just be comforting to have his friend’s scent around. Mack takes it as a very romantic gesture and he is soooo happy!!!! His alpha is taking such good care of him!!

After his heat, Mack becomes very clingy and touchy with Will. Again, Will is an idiot who thinks Mack is just doing it because he doesn’t have an alpha and maybe he’s stressed out about the season. Will is happy to help him out by putting an arm around him when they’re sitting together, or placing his hand on the small of Mack’s back when they’re walking together.

After a tough loss Mack asks to come over. He’s very down on himself, emitting a stressed out scent and Will hates it! He wants to help so he asks what the omega needs. Mack takes it as an invitation and climbs into Will’s lap. Will is shocked but doesn’t want to embarrass Mack, so he just wraps his arms around Mack and rubs his back. Mack tucks his face into Will’s neck and starts purring, and his scent goes back to being sweet and happy. He says something along the lines of “You take such good care of me. My alpha.”

Will freezes for a few seconds, in shock, but then quickly goes back to rubbing Mack’s back because he doesn’t want to disturb his peaceful purring. He is suddenly doing some insane mental math, finally adding together all of Mack’s behaviours in the last few weeks. And the purring, to top it all off. Omegas don’t do that for just anyone. Mack clearly views him as his alpha.

So Will has a little internal mental breakdown for a few minutes because he had no idea he was accidentally courting Mack the entire time. But Mack is awesome. He’s sweet (even when he’s being bratty), he’s funny, smart, beautiful, great at hockey, he smells amazing… of course Will wants him. He just took a while to figure that out.

When Mack is calm and happy, he stops purring and pulls his face out of Will’s neck to look at him.

“When are you going to claim me?” He asks shyly.

Will’s brain short circuits a little. They haven’t even kissed yet, and he JUST figured out they’re in a courtship.

Will needs time to process everything and to start courting Mack PROPERLY. “We… We should wait until the off season. And I need to ask your parents for permission.”

Mack just nods happily and goes back to cuddling and purring. Will kisses his hair and wonders how he got so lucky to be handed this opportunity on a silver platter.

[lvciddreqms]

Pairing: Logan Maddox x fem!reader (Motorheads)

Genre: fluff, romance, friends to lovers

Warning: this is insanely cheesy

A/n: this story was requested!

Scribbled hearts

"These promposals are going to kill me." You groaned, smacking your head onto the lunch table. "What, because you don't got a date to the prom?" Logan chuckled. "No.. because they're cheesy, and dumb, and did I mention cheesy?" You said, looking over at the promposal in motion. "You did." He responded with a nod. "I mean, can we talk about the fact that half of them aren't even based off of what the girls like?" You scoffed.

"They seem pretty happy to me..?" He replied, leaning back into his seat as he watched a guy across the quad hold up a giant glitter poster that read: "You auto be my date to prom!" next to a rusted out car with pink balloons tied to the mirror. "Okay, that ones kinda funny." Logan said with a snort. "Funny? Logan, she's terrified of driving. She literally failed her permit test three times." you pointed out, your tone flat.

He winced. "Oof... yeah, uh.. that's rough.." You groaned again, sinking into your seat. "It's like these guys don't even know the people they're asking. They just wanna get a scene, get a video, and go viral." Logan tilted his head, studying you for a second. "Okay Y/n, so what would you want then?" You paused, caught off guard by the question. "What do you mean..?"

"For a promposal. If it wasn't dumb or cheesy. If someone actually did it right." You narrowed your eyes at him to see if he was teasing, but he just seemed to be asking a question. "I don't know..." you said slowly. "Something small, something thoughtful, something that feels like me. Maybe custom to a special memory or something.."

You were about to press him, to ask why he was curious when the bell rang. He stood up, swinging his bag over his shoulders. "Cmon we got auto." He said, pulling you by your sleeve. You followed behind him, observing, a weird flutter kicking up in your chest. You shook your head. Nope. Not going there.

But later that day, when you opened your locker to find a small piece of paper, with a scribbled message surrounded by small doodles. "You're right. Cheesy isn't the way to go." You couldn't stop the smile that pulled your lips, glancing down the hallway to catch Logan looking at you from a distance with a boyish grin on his face. And your heart absolutely did not flutter. Not even a bit.

You slipped the paper into your pocket, cheeks warm, and shut your locker with a soft click. The hallway buzzed with end of the day chaos-slamming lockers, shouted goodbye's, and the occasional squeak of someone's busted up sneakers. But your gaze narrowed in on one thing. Luke. Or more specifically, the way he didn't even wait for a reaction. No smirk. No expectation. Just.. walked off like it didn't matter.

But it did. More than it should've. You found yourself smiling again as you walked into seventh period. And when you sat down in your usual seat, Logan was already there, chin propped in his hand, doodling something in the corner of his notebook. You didn't say anything right away. Just slid into your seat and let the silence stretch for a moment.

Then, casually. "You know, for someone who 'doesn't care' that was a pretty thoughtful note." Luke's mouth twitched, but be didn't look up. "Must've been a coincidence. Maybe your secret admirer's just got good timing." You snorted. "Right. Secret admirer who also happens to have the same terrible handwriting as you."

He finally looked at you, eyes dancing with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. "If it was me-which I'm not saying it was-I'd probably do something better next time." "Oh?" You raised an eyebrow. "Like what?" He leaned in slightly, voice low. "Not telling. You hate spoilers." You hated that he knew that. You hated how he was right. And you especially hated the heat crawling up your neck.

Class started but your brain was somewhere else entirely. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, trying to decipher if this was still a joke to him or if..maybe he was serious. The next day, another note appeared, this time tucked between the pages of your sketchbook.

It was written on the back of a cafeteria napkin, in the same messy writing. "Today's prompt: list three things you'd actually say yes to. Bonus points if they're not cheesy." You looked up sharply, No Logan, just a blur of students. You bit back a smile and grabbed your pen and scribbled under the prompt.

1. A promposal that doesn't involve glitter

2. A date that starts with milkshakes and ends with a movie

3. Someone who actually listens

And underneath, in smaller letters. "You get points if you bring gummy worms."

You left your sketchbook half open on your desk during next period. And when you came back from the bathroom? The list had a fourth item, written in a new line below yours.

4. Logan

You stared at it. Blinked. Then closed the sketchbook quickly, your heart racing in your chest. This wasn't a joke anymore. And honestly? You weren't sure you wanted it to be. You spent the rest of the day in a daze. Like your brain had just hit the gas and the brakes at the same time. One minute you were replaying the moment you found your list edited-edited by Logan of all people. You were trying to convince yourself that it meant nothing.

It was a joke. It had to be. Logan teased everyone. He was effortlessly charming, full of that casual confidence that made it hard to tell when he was being serious. But item four? That didn't feel casual. That didn't feel like a joke. That felt like he saw you, really saw you.

By the time the final bell rang, you'd make exactly zero progress in calming down. Your stomach flipped as you shoved your books into your bag, barely even registering the conversations happening beside you. You were halfway down the hallway when you spotted him-leaning against the lockers like he had nowhere to be and all the time in the world.

"Hey." He said, straightening when he saw you. You stopped, adjusting the strap of your bag. "Hey." There was a pause. "So.." He began, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Did I get any points?" You stared at him, your heart thudding in your chest. "For what..? Stealing my sketchbook?" Logan tilted his head, grinning. "For honesty. And the gummy worms."

You blinked. "You didn't even-" He pulled a little bag from his hoodie pocket and held it up. "Sour, not regular. I pay attention." You stared at the bag, then at him. Then back at the bag. He shrugged, a little less smug now. "I meant what I wrote, by the way. I know I joke around a lot, but... I wouldn't have put it on the list if I didn't mean it."

You swallowed hard, your voice coming out quieter than you expected it to be. "And what does that mean exactly?" He looked at you for a long second, all the teasing melting from his expression. "It means..." He said. "If you wanted to go to prom-with someone who doesn't believe in glitter signs or public embarrassment-I'd like to be that someone." He said, handing you a piece of paper once more, in the middle it read "Prom?" surrounded in the doodles of his that you loved so much.

Your breath caught. You could say no. You could make a joke, deflect, pretend your heart wasn't doing summersalts in your chest. But instead. "Okay." You said softly, a soft smile growing onto your face.

✩

Marcel held the small piece of paper in his hand, looking at it curiously. "Hey, check this out." He called out towards everyone who was inspecting a car. Caitlyn walked over, taking the paper. "... Wonder why Uncle Logan would have this.." She spoke, raising her brow. The paper in her hands looked a bit aged and worn out, it was slightly crumpled up and had some tears on the sides, but the ink remained in the same condition as the day "Prom?" and those small drawings were written onto it.

[romanoffmazie]

[DAY ONE] - 1

Summary: She didn’t expect to fall apart in front of anyone—least of all him. But grief doesn’t ask permission.

Pairing: TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Neighbor reader (she/her)

Warnings/Tags: Pre-TFATWS, cursing, grief, emotional breakdown, loss, smoking (coping), emotional vulnerability. (Please let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2k

Note: Just a little idea that popped into my head while rewatching The Falcon and the Winter Soldier this week. Hope you enjoy!

It was an autumn afternoon. A Monday. You were on the train, heading home, and everything felt… wrong. The subway rocked gently beneath you, the steady clatter of the tracks echoing through the nearly empty car. Too quiet. Too still

You sat there frozen, your eyes unfocused. You weren’t really present. Not fully. Your body was in the seat, but your mind? It had already left. You felt like a shell. Hollow. Like if someone looked too closely, they’d see right through you.

There was this high-pitched buzzing in your ears, like your brain was short-circuiting. Your chest was tight, your breathing shallow. You couldn’t tell if it was panic or grief or rage or all three at once. You didn’t even know anymore.

You just knew it hurt.

And somehow, your body still moved. Off the train. Through the city. Past the noise, the people, the lights—all of it a blur. You didn’t feel real. None of it did.

And then you were pushing open the heavy rooftop door of your building.

Your spot.

The one place that always felt safe.

It was this old building mostly filled with retired people and little old ladies who baked too much banana bread, so no one ever came up here. Just you. And the occasional seagull.

The wind was cold. It hit your face like a slap, sharp and biting, and for some reason, it helped. Like a reminder that, yeah, you were still breathing. Barely. But breathing.

And then everything cracked.

You kicked the old red beach chair—your usual one—sending it clattering sideways. Your bag followed, tossed near the railing with a heavy thud.

Everything inside you was burning. Your chest, your throat, your eyes.

And you screamed.

Loud. Raw. Ugly. The kind of scream that didn’t have words, just pain. You screamed until your voice gave out and your knees hit the concrete, until your lungs burned and the tears spilled over in hot waves that wouldn’t stop.

You didn’t think it could hurt like this. It was day one. Just day one.

And it already felt like you were falling apart from the inside out.

“Shit,” you whispered, breath hitching as your hands flew up to cover your face. The tears only came harder. And honestly? You didn’t even care if anyone heard you.

It kinda felt like if you didn’t fall apart now, your chest might actually implode.

“Uh… hey.” The voice behind you made you freeze.

It was deep, rough—like it came from someone who hadn’t used it much. Or maybe someone who chose not to use it unless they really had to. Careful, cautious.

Like the words didn’t come easy.

You spun around way too fast, your heart doing a full Olympic sprint as your eyes landed on the man standing a few feet away.

“I—sorry,” he said quickly, both hands raised like he wasn’t sure if you were about to run or throw something. “I wasn’t trying to scare you. I was just… over there. And I don’t know. Figured I should say something? Maybe?”

You blinked at him, still breathless, still kind of in that dazed “what the hell is happening” mode. Your eyes followed the direction he’d gestured toward.

Corner of the rooftop. Blue beach chair. Two beer bottles. A small red notebook resting on the concrete beside it.

Cool. So he’d been there the whole time.

The. Whole. Time. Of course he had.

Your face was still wet, definitely blotchy, and your heart hadn’t really gotten the memo to chill yet. And to top it all off? You knew exactly who he was.

Bucky Barnes.

That Bucky Barnes. The one who used to be glued to Steve Rogers. The literal Captain America’s best friend.

That was pretty much all you knew.

Well—that, and the fact that about ten years ago, when you were fifteen, a bunch of shady SHIELD/HYDRA government files got leaked online and everyone freaked out. You, meanwhile, were way too busy obsessing over One Direction, wondering if Toby Kavanagh was A, and trying to convince your parents to let you dye your hair purple.

And then, like half the world, he vanished. You forgot about him. Completely. Until three months ago.

When he moved into your building. Wall to wall.

Naturally.

Because why wouldn’t a literal ex-assassin-war-hero-super-soldier move into your building just in time for your life to crash and burn. Right?

“You… you okay?” His voice was low and unsure. Like someone testing the water before stepping in. Careful. Like maybe he wasn’t used to asking questions like that. Or maybe just not used to asking anyone.

You didn’t look at him. Just let out a humorless laugh through your nose.

“Do I look okay?”

It came out sharp. Bitter. Not really meant for him, but it hit him anyway. You could tell by the way the silence shifted.

He cleared his throat. Scratched the back of his neck like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

“No,” he said finally. Plain. Quiet.

You didn’t say anything back.

Maybe on another day, you would’ve felt bad about it. About the tone. About snapping at a stranger who was—at least in theory—just trying to be nice.

But not today.

Today, you didn’t care. Today, you were allowed to break. Even if it wasn’t pretty.

You turned away from him without warning and crossed the rooftop again, over to one of the old sun-bleached beach chairs scattered around—the one red, slightly crooked from when you kicked it earlier. You set it upright, dropped your bag beside it with a soft thud, and sat down, pulling your knees up to your chest.

The city stretched in front of you in muted blues and silvers, the sky starting to dim, and for a second, you tried to lose yourself in it.

Didn’t work.

“I’ll be fine,” you said quietly, more out of habit than belief. Your fingers tapped against the worn cardboard of the cigarette pack until the last one slipped into your palm.

You didn’t smoke often. Only when your head felt like it might explode if you didn’t do something.

The first time had been at twenty, right after your parents had one of those fights. The kind that splits the ground beneath your feet and leaves you stuck staring at the pieces. Your family had always seemed solid. Clean. Easy to understand. Until it wasn’t.

Until you realized you couldn’t fix it.

So you smoked. One cigarette, just to feel like you were controlling something. And over time, it became… a thing. Not a habit. Just a coping mechanism that showed up when things got too heavy.

You lit the cigarette, shielding the flame from the wind, and took a long drag, the smoke burning your throat just enough to remind you that you were still here.

Behind you, he shuffled slightly. You could hear it. That awkward weight shift people do when they’re not sure if they should leave or stay.

“Uh… right. I’ll just… go back over there,” Bucky said. Hesitant. Like he didn’t want to intrude, but didn’t quite want to disappear either.

You didn’t look at him.

Didn’t answer. Just exhaled smoke slowly, watching it drift into the air like fog, and tried not to think about how raw everything still felt.

[…]

Bucky had noticed you.

Of course he had. How could he not?

He heard you humming at the hallway in the morning before work, soft and half-asleep, and sometimes late at night when you came home and forgot the world could hear you. He recognized the sound of your heels on the old wooden floors in the hallway, the quiet thud of your bag hitting your door, the way you always talked to someone — maybe a cat. Maybe a dog. Maybe just yourself.

And yeah… he heard the fights too.

Always with the same name: Kevin.

A boyfriend, maybe. The yelling was never pleasant, and every time Bucky thought you were finally done with the guy, Kevin would show up again, knocking on your door like nothing had happened. And for a little while, things would seem okay. Until they weren’t. Again.

It was a cycle. A pattern. One Bucky had quietly picked up on, even if he never meant to.

He didn’t know if your rooftop breakdown had anything to do with the guy. But something told him it didn’t. That kind of pain? The one he saw in your eyes? That wasn’t heartbreak. Not the kind that comes from a toxic ex.

No — that was deeper. Older. The kind of pain that sinks into your bones and makes a home there.

The kind that feels too familiar.

After that day on the rooftop, Bucky didn’t see you for two weeks.

He still heard you in the hallway sometimes — the click of your heels at certain hours, the soft close of your door — but no more humming in the mornings. No music on Saturday nights. Just silence.

He found himself wondering about you. Curious, even. Tempted to knock on your door, maybe ask if you wanted to grab a coffee or something. But it had been… what, eighty years since he’d been on an actual date? He didn’t even know how to do that anymore. And honestly? He wasn’t in a hurry to figure it out.

He wasn’t ready. To share. To explain. To unpack the thousand-pound suitcase of memories and guilt and trauma he carried around like a second skin. Everything felt like too much already. And if he could barely handle it on his own… How the hell was he supposed to handle it with someone else?

It had been a quiet Saturday afternoon when he heard the knock on his door. Autumn hung heavy in the air — the sky a soft gray, clouds low and threatening rain. Bucky was curled up on the couch with a book in his hands and a mug of black coffee balanced on the armrest. The silence in the apartment was kind, familiar. Safe.

So when the knock came, he froze.

Who the hell…?

He didn’t get visitors.

Sam wouldn’t just show up — not unless he wanted to start a fight. And Bucky didn’t have anyone else. Not really.

He put the book down and stood up slowly, cautious, a quiet knot forming in his stomach. When he peeked through the peephole, his heart genuinely skipped a beat.

It was you. Standing there, red sweater hugging your frame, hair down, no makeup on — just you. Beautiful, quiet, soft in a way that made something ache in his chest. You were holding a small basket, covered with a white cloth. His heart started racing for absolutely no reason. He could already smell them. Blueberries.

He hesitated for a second, glanced back at the apartment — bare, impersonal, still more of a shelter than a home — and finally opened the door. Not too fast. Not too slow.

Just… nervous.

You gave him a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes but still felt real.

“Hey,” you said, voice gentle. “I, um… I made muffins. Blueberry.”

He blinked, staring at you, then at the basket, then back again.

“They’re kind of… an apology. For the other night. I was rude. You were trying to help, and I didn’t let you. So…”

You held out the basket.

“Apology muffins.”

A laugh escaped his nose before he could stop it — soft, surprised.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you said, shrugging. “But I wanted to.”

He took the basket from your hands, careful like it was fragile or something sacred. It smelled like comfort and sugar and things he hadn’t had in years. He didn’t know what to do with that.

And maybe that was what made him say it.

Maybe it was the red sweater.

Or your hair loose.

Or the fact that he hadn’t stopped thinking about you for two weeks.

“You doing anything tomorrow?” he asked suddenly, voice quiet, barely there. “I was thinking… maybe we could get coffee. Or something. If you want.”

There was a pause.

Longer than he liked.

And he watched the hesitation flash across your face — that tiny moment where he was sure you were going to say no and he’d have to live with it.

But then you nodded.

And smiled.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

His shoulders dropped.

He didn’t even realize how tense he’d been until you said yes.

“Cool,” he said, a little awkward. A little breathless. “That’s… yeah. Cool.”

You laughed — soft and knowing — and stepped back down the hallway.

“See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” he replied, watching as you disappeared inside your apartment.

He looked down at the basket again, then closed the door behind him and leaned against it, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He hadn’t been on a date in almost eighty years. But for the first time in a long time…

He kind of wanted to try.

[spikedfearn]

hi! do u have any tips on writing smut i always struggle and suck at it! please anything will help

hi anon!! first of all: you absolutely don’t suck, smut is just HARD (pun intended) 😭 it takes time, trial and error, and a complete lack of shame. here are a few tips that helped me when I started writing filth:

1. Focus on the feeling, not just the logistics.

Readers care less about where the hands are and more about how it feels—physically, emotionally, psychologically. Is it frantic? Tender? Possessive? Filthy and degrading? Anchor the scene in that vibe.

2. Use all five senses.

Don’t just say “he kissed her”—talk about the taste of his mouth, the weight of his body, the sound of breath hitching. Smut is immersive, and sensory detail is your best friend.

3. Internal monologue is gold.

What’s the character thinking while they’re getting railed? Is their brain short-circuiting? Are they trying to hold back a moan? That tension is hot. Let us live in their head.

4. Word variety > medical terms.

Switch it up. “Cock” is fine. “Length,” “shaft,” “the heat of him”—spice it how you want.

5. Don’t be afraid to cringe.

You will write things that make you second-guess your existence. That’s part of the process. Write it anyway. Let it be messy. You can always edit later, but you can’t edit a blank page.

Bonus: read a LOT of smut. See what turns you on. What language sticks? What pacing works? Then steal like an artist and make it your own.

you got this!! the only way to get better at writing smut is to write it. often. shamelessly. with your whole chest and probably your whole pelvis too 🙂‍↕️

[gatheringbones]

[“Kai Cheng: Oh yes, this could be a book on its own (laughs). Yeah, I mean, the harm, it could be a book because it’s vast. The harm of the binary right? And it is sort of just the same harm as the binaries that you mentioned that we’re so good at naming. We’re good at naming that the gender binary is harmful and the biological sex binary is harmful. Why? Because it erases people, it dehumanizes them and at its extreme, which we have seen many times in history, that the binary also then gives way to excuses for heinous actions on the part of the medical complex or the police complex or the justice, the supposed justice complex, and binaries have been used like that for many, many, many years to various extremes. And they can’t all be compared because they’re not all comparable but when we start to sort people into binaries, we start to dehumanize because we lose individual context. And it’s a very kinda slidey scale there when we attach moral worth to a certain part of a binary, like maybe males are better than females, or maybe straight people are better than queer people, that moral attachment really quickly becomes, then maybe all those other people who are not that valuable maybe they should disappear, or just shut up, or become subservient, like all these kinds of things.

So I want us to talk about his carefully because it requires care. The binary of good and evil, or like pure and problematic, those binaries, they do that same thing. I get why we need them or why we want them. I was just talking about values and integrity, standing in your values, and it’s so hard to stand in our values in this confusing, horrible, violent world, traumatic world. And there’s biological reasons for this too, like our brain becomes attenuated to this black and white thinking, this quick sorting, who’s a friend, who’s a foe. It becomes very tempting and in some cases very strategic to say I am just going to write this category of people off. Anybody who’s problematic they’re never going to harm me again, that’s sort of where that comes from, they are never going to hurt me again. And I’m super sympathetic to that, but we lose the context and we start to lose our discernment and that discernment is if we’re always saying that we’re going to get rid of all the problematic people, what’s going to happen when we are problematic? Well we’d have to be gotten rid of, so then we develop a complex around well, I can never be problematic.

And this is where all kinds of weird, bizarre, painful stuff can happen, our collective delusion that anyone could ever be pure, like politically pure, or not harmful. Being a human is to harm others. I harmed something today by eating a hamburger, right? It is just, that is part of our existence, that we hurt others. It’s not a good thing but we have to admit it and it is so difficult to do that work of integrating that reality that we lash out at others. And then there is lot of writing about this, I’m probably going to get cancelled just for saying this but Sarah Schulman writes about this mentality in “Conflict is Not Abuse” when she is focusing on the Israel/Palestine conflict/occupation. The idea that having suffered horrible, horrible ancestral trauma and social violence and genocide could justify a colonization of another indigenous peoples, right, that’s sort of where this binary starts to take us. And yeah, I’m not there for it. And the last binary you mentioned is the survivor/perpetrator dynamic and that’s the one that requires the most care, at least I think it does, as it’s so sensitive.

And I want to be clear, there is a lot of really shitty ways that my work and Sarah Schulman’s work and Porpentine Charity Heartscape’s work, anyone who is writing about nuance, and conflict, and transformative justice even adrienne maree brown, there’s many kinds of way this work could be used to delegitimize survivor’s truth and I hate that, I’m not there for it. There’s so many ways that any rhetoric can be used to deflect real accountability or honesty, and that’s disgusting, I hate it. But it’s also a truth, we can hold more than one truth at the same time, that being human is to harm and as Mariame Kaba says, “no one is introduced to violence as a perpetrator.” No one is introduced to violence as a perpetrator. So when we start to ask ourselves the question, how do we end violence? Actual, I just don’t believe it is a functional answer to say, we’re just going to get rid of the violent people. That’ll just be this endless cycle of trying to get rid.

We have to start talking about why do we do violence, and what does it look like when we do violence, how can we tell the truth about that? And that is so much messier than there is a group of predatory people who are all evil and they’re just hiding among us, waiting for the opportunity. The truth is that that harmful being is usually someone lashing out in their own attempt to survive, often misguided attempt to survive. And the only way we’re going to not have that problem in such a present way is to ask what is it that we need to survive and then make sure everybody gets that.”]

[dropthedemiurge]

Tag Game: Scenes I will never forget

Rules: Share 5-10 scenes you can't forget. Not your favourites, the ones that got stuck in your brain for any reason.

tagged by @delesaria-blog and ofc, I'm also going to stick to QL series. I'll also choose the ones I like, and not the ones that stuck in my brain cuz I got ick from them. Also I probably won't be able to find the perfect screenshots so I'll just go with gif vibes :D

Myungha and world glitching in Love for Love's Sake. Because it was so so so so brilliantly emotionally acted and edited and I love-hate the vulnerable feeling when you don't know what's going on with your reality. Even other actors kept talking about the preparation and execution for this scene, and the gradual emotion surge in such a short time is just chef's kiss.

2. Sky in the final episode of Love in the Air I'm going to try and pick one scene because this episode was full of delicious heavy stuff but what stuck with me was Sky's empty disassociating gaze as he softly asked why Pai was crying. He couldn't care for himself so Prapai had to be the one crying. And then Sky's broken 'Nothing gets better even if I cry' just tore my heart. Again as I rewatched it just this morning.

3. Alan x Wen scene in Moonlight Chicken We've had this pairing for 5 minutes and we always knew it didn't have happy ending so seeing the stark contrast in the beginning of episode 5 just. Idk. Hurts in perfect way. Moonlight Chicken has way too many good scenes (I should've put the entire Liming x Heart storyline here!)

4. Hotae x Donghee in Time of Fever I was fortunate (or more like very unfortunate) to watch Time of Fever in cinema before it was streamed online so imagine. I had to sit through THIS scene with all other people pushing all sounds and emotions down when suddenly the tension went off the roof (and then not be able to even yell about this scene with anyone for months?? so cruel). Friends to lovers always just hit extra hard. Bless the cinematography of this and team who put up this lighting.

5. Flag scene from Not Me Of course, this one is memorable for every BL fan out there. Still, after all these years. It's so influential that I don't need any words. I'd just like to imagine the rebellion and pride celebration that hopefully my own country will see one day again as well. (on the other hand, I also wanted to write about Max from Be My Favorite with his pride celebration scene as well but I have to admit his aphobic commentary scene is the one that's stuck in my brain the most and I still haven't forgiven the overall incredible BMF team for this so he sits in the corner for this)

6. Friendship turn around in Bad Buddy. This one isn't heavy or serious, I just loved how after PatPran were outed, P'Aof once again played with viewers and the gang of bad engineering guys turned out to be great and loyal friends to Pat, and the gang of do-good architecture kids held grudge for Pran. Turning the expectations and what we know of characters from Episode 1 was a fun experience that made me love all the characters more.

7. Grey Shelter's realistic melancholy I know this BL probably went over many people's heads because it was very short and 'not satisfying' in a true BL romance sense. But to me, it was fascinating. Two flawed human beings, stuck in the exhausting world, not being vulnerable enough to communicate - not wanting to take a risk for love. Another 'we're almost family and we have to fight romantic feelings', but unlike hopeful vibes under Time of Fever surface, the hope in this one feels very fragile. I was surprised to see such atmosphere in a BL. Also the animated intro perfectly delivers it.

8. Boston by the end of Only Friends Okay, I wasn't going to include scenes that disappointed me but! BUT! As I rewatch OF right now, there were great scenes (Episode 4 start with Ray crashing down or him making a brilliant scene in a bar, again, I should've put you) but I will never ever agree with how the show treated Boston. Even though I didn't have huge affection for the character throughout the entire series but HEY THE ENDING that's supposed to make us vengeful and joyful made me love him and care about him when no characters did. Haha, take that, Jojo.

I now have even more great scenes in my mind than I did in the start of this post, but I'm going to stop here. I tried to pick unusual ones. Anyway, that was a lot of fun and I'd love to see everyone else on my dash post about their scenes too*__*

[brasshighway-579]

Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High? | Theo Nott

Author’s Note: 1st part of a set of AM inspired Theo fics!!! I hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: Reader uses substances (weed and alcohol)

Word Count: 766

3:00 AM

-14 missed calls from: Y/N-

Theo sighs and rolls over as he sees his phone ring yet again. Just as before, it’s you- his not-quite-friend, not-quite-lover.

He had humored you the first several times you called, repeating over and over that he had to be up early and couldn’t go out, but you, in your heightened state, kept calling and insisting you missed him terribly. He knew, of course, that you weren’t sober- it was obvious from your slowed pattern of speech, your dramatism, your clingier behavior. After about 7 such conversations, he grew terribly frustrated, and stopped picking up entirely.

It was quite difficult to sleep, of course, when every few minutes his entire bedside table would shake with your call. The calls grew increasingly frequent, driving Theo to the brink of madness. Next call, he decided, as the current call faded away. The next time they call, I’ll be very blunt. I have to sleep.

Theo watched his phone intently, determined to talk to you as quickly as possible and to get to sleep. Less than two minutes later, of course, his phone rang again, and this time it was answered before the first ring could fully complete itself.

“Teddyyyyy! Baby, there you are, I’ve been missing you so much��� Why'd you stop answering? I got so nervous, Theo…”

“I told you before. I have an early wake up tomorrow. It’s already 3am, and I shouldn’t be calling you. I need to sleep. Please stop calling me.”

Not being fully alert, you hadn’t anticipated the bite that would come with Theo’s tone, nor had you expected the way it would upset your heart. In your own mind, you had committed no crime, unless one counted adoration as a sin, but the harshness in Theo’s tone indicated he was much more upset than you had bargained for.

“I just… I just wanted to talk, Teddy. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Theo realized at the way your tone had dramatically softened that he had hurt you, which was far from what he ever wanted to do. The idea that he was the reason you were at all in pain was absolutely miserable to him, and he felt all his prior resolve slip away.

“I’m not upset that you wanted to talk, dolcezza,” he replied, this time barely above a whisper. “I just wish it meant something.”

“It does mean something, Theo, you mean the world to me, that’s why I want to talk to you. You’re my best friend, and…”

“I just wish you were sober,” he interrupted. “I wish you wanted to talk when you were yourself, not when you’re… like this.” He felt himself tense, this time with genuine hurt at your silence, further confirming that you were out tonight to smoke and drink, as he expected. Usually, when you went out together, he was the only thing stopping you from getting wasted, so it figured that the night he wasn’t babysitting you was the night you were on the verge of greening out.

“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?” he asked, so quiet you could barely make out his words over the phone from your crowded location.

“Theo…” you choked, on the verge of tears realizing how upset he was. To him, you were only interested in talking to him because you needed him to take care of you. In reality, he had no idea how many hours out of the day you had spent cancelling on Pansy and the rest of your friends all together simply to spend time with Theo. You found him taking up almost all of the space in your brain these days, and had truthfully called him hoping to change his mind about coming out tonight. You didn’t need a smoking buddy or even a babysitter, you just needed to be around him. That by itself was enough to make you feel safe.

“I need to be up early,” he said, gently. “I… I need to sleep.”

Both of you sat in your silence for a moment.

“Can I come over?”

A pause. Then: “Yeah. That’d be a good compromise, I think.”

By 4, you were curled up in Theo’s bed, much to your relief and his content acceptance. Pansy was very disappointed by your “early” departure, but agreed to hail you a cab to ensure you made it to Theo’s safely. By the time you fell asleep, you felt so safe under his covers, it forced you to wonder why you even wanted to go out in the first place.

[is-the-fire-real]

Conversion student, Masorti tradition, with a Sephardic community and an Ashkenazi Rabbi.

I've struggled a LOT with the concept of G-d. I have a differing perspective than most of the Jews you're talking about, though, for obvious reasons.

I was raised in a Christian-ish cult. This cult was extremely centered on a Heavenly Father. They are obsessed with him. They taught me a lot about how to pray and how to worship and so forth. They used my belief in Heavenly Father to trap me further into the cult. I wanted to believe in a Heavenly Father because a lot of really horrible things happened to me as a child. I wanted to feel like someone cared about me. No one in my life did, including cult members, so I figured Heavenly Father was obliged to.

I prayed a lot as a child. Until once I prayed for a miracle, a miracle my elders promised me would absolutely happen because my faith was pure and I was loyal and Heavenly Father was real and he would listen, and...

... nothing happened.

Nothing ever happened.

For a long time, I took that personally: as G-d simply not listening or caring. But eventually, long after I left the cult, I finally started thinking: It's because there's no G-d.

I engaged with neopaganism for a while. Nothing ever happened. I engaged with Buddhism for far longer. Nothing ever happened. I would still periodically pray when I was at my extremes of stress or pain or strife, and...

... nothing. ever. happened.

Religious trauma's damage cannot be overstated. It's not just the obvious and headline-grabbing stuff; it's stuff like what happened to me. Taking a child's natural sense of trust and twisting it for the purposes of cruel or indifferent humans. Building my expectations so high, and then blaming me whenever they failed. Taking lonely kids who have zero friends and telling them that G-d will be their friend, and then, when G-d isn't your friend... well, it makes sense nobody else likes you, right? After all, you've even been rejected by G-d Himself.

You don't just feel abandoned, you feel foolish for trusting G-d or anyone, and you feel foolish as an adult whenever you try to trust anyone. Anyone mentions G-d and you struggle not to roll your eyes because oh yeah this crap again, you're just trying to trick me into turning off my brain, I won't fall for it this time.

So why am I converting? What do I get out of it?

I started out mostly an atheist who admired so much of Jewish culture and thought that, to be honest, I was okay with being around people who talked about Hashem as though He spoke to them personally. I figured that if Jews pray the Shema, I ought to pray the Shema, and even if I didn't know how to feel about the subject of the Shema, it was important to do. That is how I have approached a lot of my conversion so far.

But. Like. In the past month or so? I think maybe I'm starting to glimpse Someone. I feel like learning about the real purpose of prayer has helped me to pray more effectively. The more I learn about how Jews as a people view G-d, the more that G-d seems like someone I could follow, and the more I start to suspect that maybe, possibly, He's there.

So much of the Torah describes Israel as a lover and G-d as a wooer. Well, how do you fall in love with someone if you never have a single disagreement with them, ever? If you never bicker? Maybe some folks are struggling with G-d as a concept because they want to know who they'd be loving, if the vulnerability is worth it. (Apologies to the aromantics out there.)

By wrestling with the concept of G-d, I came around to a better understanding of G-d, and feel far differently about Him than if I'd just been told at the outset "believe in Hashem or else you can't be a Jew".

Anyway, I have no idea if this will clarify anything for you, but it's what came to mind when I read your query. I would gently suggest it's not so much a Reform thing as a "humans that have been hurt very badly by other humans" thing.

I’m genuinely so confused at where this idea that Jews have this tradition of grappling with the concept of G-D comes from like?? Last time I checked like the most important thing in Judaism is to believe in Hashem ?? Like am I missing something cause I’m so ??? over this

[beom-s-author]

txt reactions- they saw you with a baby

choi soobin

Soobin was calling you. He needs help with his nephew. His brother got an immediate job and his nephew needs care. But Soobin was not the best about the care. He was searching in his mind for the names. And he dials your number he called you. "Y/N..Good evening, I know it is not the best timing..I know you have a few big Jobs also and need rest but..My nephew is here with me so I need help. It seems like I do not understand what is happening with him while he is crying..He is looking at me now. I do not know what to do."

You smiled to Soobin's desperate voice tone. You accepted his offer and you went to his house. When you opened the door, Soobin was patting his nephew's back. The boy was crying loudly. You sighs and picks up the boy. You checked his diaper and feed him. The boy got calm and his cryings turned into soft hiccups. Soobin was in awe because how natural you were. You were like the real mother of his nephew. "Thanks, Y/N. I am so bad at this and I can't do it without your helps."

choi yeonjun

Yeonjun was aware of everything. You were so tired nowadays. You were going to the college in the morning, you were working in a job for your college with your friends and in the evenings, you were taking care of your sister's girl. Your sister was getting divorced and her daughter needs someone when her sister is in the court with her abusive husband. Her daughter was so calm. She was so kind. She always brings her toys and clothes.

And Yeonjun came to your house with foods. The voices were loud. You were playing with the little girl, the girl was pouring fake tea to your cup. You were sipping the invisible tea and she was laughing at you. Yeonjun decided to attend the game also. And he found himself in a princess dress, painted nails, messy hair. He was sipping and eating the invisible tea and cakes. The girl was enjoying a lot but she got tired easily. You put her on the bed and sigh. Yeonjun replied. "You made a womderful job.

choi beomgyu

Beomgyu knows how much you love your job. You were working in the hospital, for the premature,delivery room and neonatal unit. Your job was tiring. He always found you asleep on the couch when he came after the work. And it was Saturday. It was not your work day but you got called from the hospital, after your friend got sick and canceled her nightshift. You got ready and packed your shift back. You went to the hospital. Beomgyu got home but didn't see you. He saw your text and he sighed. He grabbed his Keys back and he drives to the hospital. He goes into the department..He saw you in there. You were holding a new born and trying to make it burp. The baby was clinging to your warmth. Beomgyu smiled with your maternity insticts. He continues watching you until you saw him. You smiled. He came near of you. "İt is my first time seeing you with a baby..and it is something that I will always want to see." You smiled to his words and the baby burped softly. Beomgyu chuckled. "You should take care of the babies. I will sit in the cafetaria and wait for you. We will go to the house after that." You nodded. Beomgyu waved at you. He was feeling so overhelmed with your scene. He was putting an idea to the corner of his brain..having a child with you...

Kang Taehyun

Taehyun was driving to the kindergarden you worked as the teacher. He always finds your job entertaining, tiring and exciting. You always came to home with paint over your shirt or puke on your hair. He was feeling so relaxed to see you not having an issue in your job. You have a few friends in the job also. The children were so interested in you. You were the kindest person ever. You always play with them and help them.

After he came to the kindergarden, He saw you. You were talking with children's parents. The children were hugging to your knees. You saw Taehyun and waved at him. One of the child was hugging to you tightly while waiting for his parents..Taehyun watched you with awe.

Hueningkai

Hueningkai was not good with kids as he thinks he is. You were so much better. You always buy a few gifts to the children in the neighbourhood. The children were knocking your door so much because they know you have biscuits, lolipops and candies in your cupboard. Hueningkai always heard your voices in excitement. One day, You were in the house, 3 years old boy was sitting on your bed and sniffing with pain. You were putting bandages to his little wound on his knee. You wiped his tears and gave him a lolipop after his treatment. He hugged to your neck and he kissed your cheek. Hueningkai chuckled. "İt seems like you have secret Admirer."

[just-a-wierdo]

INTRO POST

WELCOME TO THE BLOG

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Facts n Shit :3

HIHIHIHIHIHIHHIHI Just call me Wierdo :]

They/Them/He/Him

Nonbinary (Transmasc/Masculine presenting)

Aromantic + Asexual (AroAce)

ADHD squirrel brain; proceed with caution

MINOR!!!!! UNDER 18!!!! CAREFUL PLEASE!!!!!

I'lI mainly do shitposts or light RP on here tbh I do more on my side blog (for some reason???)

I'll update this more as I go

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MY AWESOME MUTUALS <3

—IRL Friends—

@manicallyydepressedpsychopath - Girl Kisser

@i-eat-train-tracks - Fish kisser

@splooshsplash - I can’t talk about what she kisses, there will be legal trouble

—Online Friends—

@carmyn-rambles - Car Vroom Vroom (They have an amazing Alastor ask blog, go check it out: @demonic-radio )

@imasharkingamer - The coolest shark :}

@i-commit-arson - The KING of eye strain and numbers you guys have no idea

@sunshine-mystery - Just a super cool dude (harder to come across then it sounds like)

@nonbinary-dinosaur7 - “Yeah you go autism” - Them to me

@ratsinspats - They locked me in a room…a rubber room…a rubber room with Spats…the Spats made me crazy…”Crazy”? I was crazy once…

@shark-byte-vox - An amazing guy to talk to with some awesome art

@kenn-the-roach666 - HOLY FUCKING FUCK GO LOOK AT THEIR ART RIGHT NOW AND GIVE IT ALL THE SUPPORT

@human-prune-factory - This thing…

@pinkbluberri - The most random yet entertaining conversations istg

@rad4rrr - MORE AWESOM ART ACTUALLY EXPLODING CHECK THEM OUT

@zh4rkbyt3 - ANOTHER PERSON WITH AWESOME ART SUPER UNDERRATED

Seriously though, no words to describe these people. Go support them or you’ll stub your toe two more times today

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MAIN FANDOMS LIST

(This will most likely update as my interests do)

- Beetlejuice (Movies, Musical, Cartoon)

- Pokémon

- Hazbin Hotel

- Helluva Boss

- Five Nights At Freddy's

- Day Shift At Freddy's

- Obiect Shows

- The Amazing Digital Circus

- Legends Of Avantris

- Forsaken

- Wreck It Ralph

- Friday The 13th

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Other Blog(s)

@w1r3d0 - ‘Side Blog’ (fanart, writing, rants, etc)

@w13rd-r3bl0g5 - A side blog for reblogging