#now i have it on tumblr dot com that i’m writing it so now it needs to be finished kgkfjf

[pinknblueforever]

.

[duskholland]

i’m the jokey baby

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Haircut

Summary: Javi thinks that he's way past due for a haircut. You like his hair long for reasons other than his good looks.

Word Count: 2.1K (I sprinted to write this after I saw this picture)

Pairing: Husband!Javi x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) Oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, praise kink, (lovingly?) possessive Javi, Javi's back at again with his filthy mouth, hair pulling, Javi is hungry and the man is gonna EAT, allsions to more smut, Jonas Brother's references ( bc Javi is our girl dad king and his daughters love them LMAO)

A/N: Y'ALL REALLY THOUGHT THIS PICTURE OF PEDRO WAS SURFACE RIGHT HERE ON TUMBLR DOT COM AND I WASN'T GONNA DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT?!? WRONG. I legit have 3 WIPS I started in the past 24 hours based on this picture alone. Pedro really did this one for the Javier Peña girlies (gn) and I will forever be in debt to him for that. You cannot tell me that this is Dad!Javi when his kids are a little bit older bc HOLY SHIT?! This really may the nail in the coffin for @notjustjavierpena and I bc really fear this is the dilfiest Husband Javi has ever looked 😩😵‍💫 anyways, never getting over this!!!!

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

“God, I can’t even remember the last time my hair has been this long. Lucy keeps saying I look like a Jonas Brother. Am I supposed to know who they are? Is that supposed to be a good thing?” Javi sighed, playing with his dark brown curls in the bathroom mirror as you snuck up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, peeking out to watch your husband’s longer than usual locks twist between his fingers. 

“They’re the goofy looking boy band on Disney Channel that the girls are obsessed with. Like the Backstreet Boys, except cooler, apparently.” You laughed, planting a soft kiss into the fabric of Javi’s worn t-shirt covering his broad back before stepping next to him, leaning your hip against the bathroom counter to admire your husband as he fiddled with his hair. 

“Jesus Christ, those guys? God, I really do need a haircut before I start looking like the poster what’s-his-face hanging on Lucy and Elliot’s walls.” Javi chuckled, running his hand through his hair once more before mirroring you, his hip resting against the counter, leaning his weight on his palm splayed flat along the granite surface. 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think he’s supposed to be the best looking one.” You teased, giving Javi a playful shrug. “Besides, I like your hair long.” 

“Seriously?” Javi asked, raising an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his chest in protest. “It looks like a mop right now.” 

“A very sexy mop.” You smirked, nudging Javi before stepping closer into him, reaching up to run your hand through his curls, slowly twisting the ends with your fingers. “It reminds me of that trip we took to Jamaica a few years ago. Your hair was almost this long, remember? You looked so hot in those stupid floral button downs you insisted on buying, and hanging out shirtless by the pool all day while you played with the girls.” 

“Fuck, I forgot about that. I’m surprised we didn’t end up with a fourth kid after that trip.” Javi chuckled, slowly shifting the palm that had been holding him up towards your waist, letting his fingers gently toy with the waistband of your pajamas. “You really like my long hair that much?” 

“Mhmmmm.” You cooed, continuing to close the gap between your bodies, your free hand resting on Javi’s chest as the other continued to stroke his curls. You could feel a low groan rumbling in Javi’s throat as your fingers weaved back and forth through his hair, the other creeping up to cradle his jaw, thumb tracing back and forth across the stubble on his cheek. 

“Yeah? What else do you like about it?” Javi groaned, his hand slipping under the elastic waistband of your pants to grab a fistfull of your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hand. 

“I like…” You paused, bringing your lips to Javi’s, pressing a tender kiss on his lips, “I like that it gives me something extra to hold on to.” 

“Hold on to?” Javi asked, cocking his head in slight confusion. 

“Hold on to when you go down on me. I love being able to run my hands through your hair when you eat me out, especially when it’s long like this.” You smirked, watching Javi’s eyes go wide in delight, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he bit down on his lip. 

Before you could say anything else, Javi’s hands were gripping around your waist and hosting you up to sit on the counter, caging his body against yours, hands planted around the outside of your hips while his lips crashed into yours, your mouths becoming a tangled mess of tongue and teeth. 

“Fuck…” Javi whispered to himself, pulling away from your lips to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck, running his hands over your thighs. “I love it when you play with my hair, Hermosa. Love feeling you pull on it when you’re close. Makes me lose my fucking mind every time. Fuck, I’d stay burried between your legs forever if I fucking could.” 

Javi began to let his kisses trail down your body, past your chest and across your stomach before he was dropping to his knees in front of you, draping your legs across the width of his shoulders. Pulling at your waistband, you lifted your hips off the counter so your pajamas and underwear could fall to the floor, revealing the wetness that had been pooling between your thighs since you had walked into the bathroom a few minutes ago. 

“Jesus Christ…” Javi whispered, further parting your legs to see the arousal already dripping through your folds, staring up at you with a boyish grin on his face, “So fucking wet for me, Hermosa. Didn’t realize you liked my hair that much.” 

“Oh shut up you goof, you know I- o-oh fuck-” You whimpered, Javi cutting off the rest of your sentence as the flat of his tongue dragged across your cunt, the suddent sensation making you gasp in delight, already playing in to Javi’s plan as your hand shot down to his head, digging your fingers into his messy hair. 

“Better hold on tight, querida. There’s a lot more where that came from.” Javi smirked, pulling away just enough to see the smug smile between his cheeks, peppering a few wet kisses on the inside of your thighs before his head was back between your legs, placing a soft kiss on your clit, already aching and throbbing for more of what you had just been promised. 

“Do your worst, Peña.” 

That one sent a low growl of approval humming through his chest, laughing to himself as his hands gripped tighter around your thighs, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your skin before another slow, broad stroke of his tongue was traveling through your folds. 

While you were truly convinced there wasn’t another man who loved going down on their wife more than your husband did, you could always tell when Javi wanted nothing more than to stay buried between your thighs, making you cum over and over until you were begging him to stop, lapping up every last drop of you until there was nothing left to give, and right now, you already knew Javi meant what he said when you were about to have to hold on for dear life. 

The hand buried in the dark waves of Javi’s hair only began to tug tighter as his tongue began to work meticulously across your cunt, pressing just enough pressure against your sensitive bundle of nerves to already have you a squirming, whimpering mess, but painstakingly slow enough to have you begging for more. 

“Javi… Oh, shit. Fuck, more baby, please. P-please.” You moaned, looking down at Javi with what you were already sure was a wrecked expression painted across your face. 

You could practically feel Javi’s smug smirk pressed against your cunt as he eased one, then two fingers into your aching core, curling them to bump against the spongy spot inside you that already had you fisting at the edge of the bathroom counter to try and keep your composure, and better yet, your voice down. 

“Oh my god, f-fuck. You feel so good, baby.” You moaned, feeling the strong arch of Javi’s nose bumping against your clit, placing a soft kiss there before the flat of his tongue licked another long, broad stroke across your cunt, putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to send the sweet tingling sensation to start building in your spine. 

“Fuck, I love this perfect pussy so much. I still can’t believe she’s all fucking mine. My perfect fucking wife. Tell me, Hermosa, whose pussy is this?” Javi asked, pulling away for you to see your slick covering his mustache and the lustful look pooling in the dark brown of his eyes, the quiet possessiveness of his tone making your cunt clench even tighter around his fingers as they continued to pulse in and out of you. 

“It’s y-yours, Javi, It’s all- fuck- It’s all yours.” You whined, your breath hitching in your throat as you spoke. 

“And who’s the only one who makes you feel like this, huh?” Javi tutted, sliding a third finger into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting making you let out a ragged whimper as you threw your head back in pleasure. 

“Y-you- Jesus- Y-you are, Javi.” 

“And who’s gonna be a good girl and soak my face when she cums for me?” 

“M-me.” 

“That’s fucking right, you are.” Javi growled before diving back between your legs, working his tongue relentlessly against your clit, circling and flicking in fast and firm motions as his fingers curled deeper into your core, eating you up like a man starved, desperate to make you fall apart. 

You could already feel the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten from the way Javi was working so relentlessly to make you come undone, drinking every ounce of you up as his lips latched around your sensitive bundle of nerves, making your back arch and mind go blank while that all too familiar tingle began to creep through your core, cunt beginning to clench tighter and tighter around him. 

At this point, your fingers were tugging so tightly around the soft, brown curls of his locks to try and hold yourself together, that you were convinced that you were close to pulling his hair out of his skull, but with the way you were on the brink of collapse from the way Javi’s mouth was working against your cunt, you almost didn’t have a choice. 

“Fuck, Javi. Oh shit- Baby, I’m so close. Don’t stop.” 

“I won’t stop, mi amor. Won’t stop until this pretty pussy fucking soaks me.” Javi mewled, peeking his head out from under you just enough so that his sweet, brown eyes were locked with yours, the hot words of his breath dancing against your pussy as his fingers continued to rock in and out of you. “I’ve got you, Osita. Promento. Damelo, bebita. (I promise. Give it to me, baby).” 

Before you could respond, your jaw dropped open and face scrunched in pleasure as Javi dove back in, burying his face in your cunt as each press of his tongue became more firm and precise than the last, feeling your pussy begin to flutter as you clutched tighter around the edge of the counter, trying to keep from screaming out in pleasure and raise any suspicion. But as your legs began to tremble and your heart race, teetering on the brink of collapse, it was taking every ounce of willpower you had left to make that happen.

“Fuck, Javi. Fuck, I- fuck- I’m gonna, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh.” You whimpered, feeling your orgasm crash through you, pleasure radiating in your veins as you fell apart, losing all inhibitions to keep yourself quiet as you threw your head back in all consuming bliss. With his fingers still buried in your cunt, gently working you through your high, Javi shot back up, his mouth engulfing yours in an electric kiss to try and capture your ragged moans that had been coating the walls of the bathroom, the tangy taste of you still lingering on his lips. 

Your heartbeat finally began to slow, your chest heaving in long, heavy breaths as you slumped into Javi, your head resting on his shoulder as your hands stayed buried deep in his hair, grasping onto his now sweat-dampened ends to try and pull yourself back down to reality.

After a few moments of letting you come to, Javi gently pulled out his fingers, all three drenched and glistening with your slick, pulling them out and bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a devilish smirk of satisfaction on his face. 

“God, you taste so fucking sweet. You really weren’t kidding about the hair, huh Hermosa?” Javi chuckled, cupping your jaw to cradle your cheek with his broad palm, forcing your gaze up at him. 

“I told you.” You giggled softly, still trying to catch your breath as you smiled at him, pulling him in for another long, tender kiss. “Hottest looking Jonas Brother I’ve ever seen.” 

The two of you burst out into laughter, practically snorting at your comment, taking a second to compose yourselves as Javi crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes at you. 

“If that’s the fucking case, I’m getting out the clippers tonight.” 

“Not until you take me to bed and do this all again, you aren’t.” 

taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3

[amongussexgif]

Howdy folks. I’ve said I’d make a rant about this for a while. It’s time.

Let’s start with the basics. Mesopomatia is the earliest known human civilization. Humans existed before them, but this was the first “city”. They also made the first writing. This rant also kinda covers Sumerian tuff, because the two groups had a bit of a merging.

You know what transgenderism is. You’re on tumblr dot com. Chances are you are a transgenderist yourself

Transphobes often say that transgenderism is a “new concept” and that “nobody was trans 20 years ago”. For the record, you don’t have to go as far back as Mesopotamia. There’s Greece, Egypt, Hawaii, and tons of others I fail to remember. But yeah, we date back to The First City.

The First People believed in many gods, one of which you’ve likely heard of. Today’s subject: Inanna/Ishtar, The Queen of Heaven (I’ll be calling her Inanna, as it’s her original name). She was the goddess of Sex, War, and Justice. The most notable things she was believed to do were changing people’s genders and being an absolute queen. Like fr she slayed-

Anyways, the “transgender power” as I’m gonna call it because it's funny, is well documented in poetry fragments, with the direct quote “To turn a man into a woman and a woman into a man are yours, Inanna.” This was written by Enheduanna, Inanna’s High Priestess from Ur (Ur is a city).

Speaking of Inanna’s Priests and Priestesses, they were actually known for their androgyny. Poems and Dedications to Inanna often included them, with the direct depiction of the goddess transfer-ify-ing them. It’s unknown if these and the Gala are the same priests, so I’ll add a little space and talk about them for a bit.

The Gala were priestesses for Inanna created by the god Enki (who is really fuckign cool for non-trans reasons (might talk about him sometime)) to sing for her. Mourning Rites previously sung by women got taken over by the Gala, and as men joined, they adopted ALL societal roles and expectations of women, switching to female names and singing in the Sumerian eme-sal dialect, which was reserved for women trying to render the speech of female gods. The Gala looked after the sick and poor, and were highly respected by the rest of the Mesopotamian peoples.

Time to talk about the Pilipili! They were a group of cultic performers who worshiped Inanna, with the name coming from a person named Pilipili. They were raised as a woman (according to Mesopotamia’s gender roles), and were blessed by Inanna and given the name Pilipili. Inanna gave them a spear, an item associated very heavily with masculinity “as if she were a man” and they are only referred to as “The Transformed Pilipili” from that point on. “Spear'' is also thought to have phallic meaning here, which is even more directly saying that Inanna trans’ed Pilipili’s gender.

How about we move beyond the cult on Inanna now? A statue (or technically statuette but honestly whatever) found in the city of Mari depicts a singing woman. But wait! The name of the depicted person is “Ur-Nanshe”, a masculine name! This might mean nothing, but honestly, you’d assume transgenderism too if you met a woman named Steven. The statue has a soft face with traces of makeup, and it’s got tiddies!

A statue in the British museum (which for the record should not be in there. give it back) has a label translated as “Hermaphrodite of Inanna”. Hermaphrodite has a different meaning now, which a different translator, Cheryl Morgan, recognized, stating that “person-man-woman” would be more accurate. We don’t know specifics about their gender, but clearly this was a person outside of the gender binary who was not only significant enough to have a statue of them made, but also assumedly well-liked!

So, to summarize, Ancient Mesopotamia viewed genderqueer individuals as:

often blessed by the Queen of Heaven

transgender-ify-ed by said Queen of Heaven

well respected enough to be priests

said cult of trans priests was also said to be made by another god in devotion to Inanna

significant and well-liked enough to have statues of them

sounds like we should take some notes from our ancestors, huh?

[johnnyutah]

average adam faulkner stanheight fan: if adam isn’t in saw xi we riot! @lionsgate @kevingruetert @jameswan #adamlives #justiceforadam #corpseinconsistencies

average john kramer fan: What people don’t realize about John, is he’s such a genius that even when he makes mistakes, he planned on making the mistakes. He is the greatest villain of all time

average jill tuck fan: Appreciation post for the Women of Saw 🩷 [the same ten photos that get posted once a week]

average lawrence gordon fan: last night i watched a 2004 tv movie about serial killers called ‘the riverman’, followed by the cheesy family rom-com ‘a castle for christmas’. today my friends and i are going to binge the entire third season of netflix’s ‘stranger things’. none of us have seen a single episode of the rest of the show and we don’t plan on it. then we might rewatch ‘another country’ together

average amanda young fan: sorry i haven’t been online in 4 weeks i’ve been too busy trying to get the new pig cosmetic in the rift [posted 7 weeks ago]

average mark hoffman fan: [underneath a gifset of costas mandylor in a republican christian propaganda ‘sci-fi’ movie] #hes so fucking hot #i would give anything to put him in a sports bra and make him do jumping jacks in front pf me i would literally do #ANYTHING #i need to make him into a marionett and fist him lol

average daniel rigg fan: Here’s a quick low effort doodle I did of Daniel! I just love him so much ❤️ [a literal masterpiece, the best art you’ve ever seen in your entire life] [3 notes]

average allison kerry fan: i am hardcore attached to ONE ship which is probably either allison/amanda or allison/lindsey and my whole blog is devoted to them. there are dozens of us DOZENS

average lynn denlon fan: okay so i know bahar is a realtor now but in her last instagram post where she’s congratulating her son on some new achievement, both the first and last words in the post have 11 letters, AND there’s an X and an I visible in the background of her post 👀?? is this a reach???

average jeff denlon fan: No seriously let me finish seriously when you compare him to the other shitty men in Saw he’s NOT that b

average david tapp fan: i’m 39k away from publishing my 40k tappsing Everybody Lives AU <3 this is going to be epic [account has been deactivated for an indeterminate amount of time]

average brit stevenson and mallick scott fan: Hey I stayed up making this instead of writing my thesis paper for grad school. Here’s a 30,000 word document about the implications of Brit’s promotion within the Marshford group and how it would lead to her eventual demise and also how she rose to the top in her group. It also delves into her relationship with Mallick, whose existence, I believe, is an obvious literary reference to an ancient Roman play read by only me and three other people currently alive. I translated relevant passages and included them in my work. I got understimulated around page 8 so I did take a break to pierce myself in the same spot that I believe Mallick would have a piercing. If you read my fics on AO3 you will already be familiar with the location.

average peter strahm fan: haha peter does CRACK cocoaine haha i think he sniffeds some drugs! why else would he be so MANIC HYPER CRAZY!!! i love my crazy JUNKIE man LOL get him some andderall STAT!! if hoffman didn’t kill him the SPEED certianly would of! LOL!

average lindsey perez fan: i love lindsey perez i’m such a big fan of the character lindsey perez

average matt gibson fan: i literally would eat garbage out of a dumpster

average ezekiel banks fan: holy shit i just finished spiral what a good movie what the hell!!! what a cool addition to the saw universe! i bet everybody else loves this as much as i do! let me take a big drink of water as i check tumblr dot com to see all the nice things people will have to say about darren lynn bousman’s Spiral

average william schenk fan: my hobbies include: being a fujoshi,

average cecelia pederson fan: [pic of cecelia yanking on the metal loop around her neck and smirking] https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vT3f5IIzt5PG-M7G9_Z-gjY4gZaiUneTdMlYrFAcdBGcJo0-N-RDQcj2JfxOaBTxKa6J_DiDQNgqVpg/pub

average logan jigsaw fan: What people don’t realize about John, is he’s such a genius that even when he makes mistakes, he planned on making the mistakes. He is the greatest villain of all time

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Seven

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

Javi P got a lot of attention last week, both his visit to the bakery and for the many Pickled Peña fics he starred in. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments! It really means more than you probably reaslise! It's been a rough week and I feel lucky to have found a great community here and to have found so much fun and enjoyment in writing to keep my mind off things.

This week's Pedro boy is dedicated to my lovely friend @secretelephanttattoo who is not only an amazing writer, but also one of the best people I've meet on Tumblr. Love you ❤

Series Master List

Working in a bakery almost every day means you pick up on people’s habits, whether they come into the shop or not. You know the bookshop owner across the streets always arrives ten minutes late on Tuesdays. The bodega owner next to your bakery always picks up his dry cleaning on Fridays and the dry cleaning lady always throws out her trash on Thursday evening. And you know that the cute guy with a dimpled smile always walks past your shop at about eight forty-five every weekday morning. 

He hasn’t always walked past, it started just a few weeks ago, but now it’s routine. You’d first noticed him when he stumbled over something on the sidewalk, smacking his hand against your window to keep his balance, and making you jump. He’d given you an apologetic smile, that’s how you know he’s got a deep dimple on his left cheek. And a really, really, great smile. 

The next morning you noticed him again as he glanced in through the window and smiled, a quick wave as he hurried down the street. And the same thing the next morning and then it was a routine. Around eight forty-five, between customers, you’d keep glancing over at the window until you see him walk past in his well fitted business suit, always a tie flapping in the breeze. He has a routine with those too you notice; a blue tartan pattern on Mondays, slate gray on Tuesdays, navy blue with white dots on Wednesday and the then tartan one again on Thursdays before he ditches the ties on Fridays. You wouldn’t go as far as saying that seeing him is the highlight of your day, but when one day he doesn’t pass by, you notice. And when the rest of the week passes and he doesn’t show up at all, you feel a little bit sad, even though you never even spoke with him. 

Monday morning, eight thirty, and you’re working your way through the morning rush, serving coffee and selling croissants and cinnamon rolls, he suddenly appears again. But this time he’s in front of your counter, holding on to a credit card as he smiles down at you. 

“Hi,” he says, the dimple deep in his cheek, “I thought it was about time I stopped by and said hello properly.” 

“Hi,” you say, a little breathless, he’s even cuter, and handsome, up close, and you’re suddenly very aware of your shiny face, straggly hair and stained apron. 

“I’m Marcus, Marcus Pike,” he says, holding out his hand, “I’m the creepy guy who slams into your window and never comes inside.” 

“Hi Marcus,” you reply, taking his hand, hoping yours isn’t too sweaty and clammy, “I’m the creepy baker who stares at you every morning.” 

He laughs at that, a warm sound that makes your spine tingle as his eyes crinkle at the corners, a wide smile making another dimple pop on his cheek. 

“I guess we need to be less creepy then,” he chuckles, “maybe I can start by buying a coffee like a normal customer?” 

“That sounds like a good start,” you smile back at him, “what would you like?” 

“A cappuccino, please,” he glances up at the coffee menu behind you. 

“Coming right up, anything else?” You motion at the fresh croissants and pain au chocolat piled up on the counter and he looks at them with longing. 

“I would love too, really…but my job, we’ve got this fitness test thing in a few weeks and I’ve got to be in shape for that. That’s why I started walking to work, instead of taking the metro.” 

“Come back when the test is done then, if you pass, it’ll be on the house,” you wink at him over your shoulder as you start preparing his cappuccino. 

“Now there’s the motivation I need,” Marcus laughs, stepping back and glancing over the selection inside the display cases, “But you don’t have my favorite I think.” 

“No? What’s your favorite then?” you ask, “No, wait, don’t tell me, let me guess.” 

“Ok,” Marucs smiles as you hand him the cappuccino in a takeaway cup,” what’s my favorite?” 

You look him up and down, and he grins and takes a step back so that you can see all of him, holding out his arms and giving you a little spin. 

“Hmm…business suit, always a tie, well polished shoes and a job that requires fitness tests…” you hum, enjoying the chance he’s given you at properly taking him in. His suit stretches almost  tight over his broad shoulders, hugging his biceps, and when he holds out his arms, the shirt underneath hangs on for dear life. The suit jacket lifts up over his butt as he turns and you’re given the privilege of eyeing it for the first time. It’s just as cute as the rest of him and you have to mentally chastise yourself for ogling. 

“What’s your guess?” he smiles, coming to a stop in front of you again. 

“Carrot cake, but you wipe off the frosting to stay healthy,” you say and he manages to look both cute, amused and offended at the same time. 

“No way, I would never sacrifice the frosting!” he says, pretending to be insulted as he grins, “but nice try, I really like carrot cake, but it’s not my favorite.” 

“Hmm…maybe-”

“No,” he interrupts you with a wave of his hand, “you get only one guess per day, you can guess again tomorrow.” He gives you a warm smile and as he taps his credit card to pay for the coffee.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, keep guessing,” he says, stepping aside to let the man who’s just stepped into the shop approach the counter. With a final wave he disappears out through the door. 

The next morning he turns up again, as the morning rush dies down, and orders another cappuccino. 

“Canéles,” you say, pointing at him. “Fancy, French, just the thing a guy in a smart, well tailored suit would like.” 

Marcus grins and shakes his head, “I don’t even know what they are, but keep guessing!”

“Give me more clues then!” you protest as he takes a sip of the coffee you just handed him. 

“Hmm…I used to play bass in a band in college,” he says and you raise your eyebrows. He does not look like a bass player, or any kind of band member for that matter. 

“Special brownies?” you ask with a wink and Marcus almost spits out his coffee. 

“Definitely not,” he splutters, chuckling as he wipes his chin, “and you only get one guess per day.” 

“Says who?” you ask, but you already know the answer, Marcus’s grin tells you. 

“I do, my game, my rules,” he gives you a wink and heads for the door, “see you tomorrow!” 

Wednesday he comes in a little bit earlier and hands you a travel mug. 

“This looks brand new,” you say and he nods. 

“Decided I should save on the environment, and your takeaway mugs,” he smiles, leaning on the counter while you start preparing his coffee, “What’s your guess today then?” 

“Cinnabons,” you say, glancing over your shoulder, feeling butterflies erupt in your belly when his face splits into a wide grin. But he shakes his head and you give him a mock scowl. 

“You’re impossible to guess!” 

“Keep trying, gives me a reason to come in every morning,” he replies, “Not that I need a reason though,” he adds, a pink flush suddenly creeping up from beneath his shirt collar as he gives you an uncharacteristically shy smile. 

“I’ll keep trying if you promise to keep coming in,” you smile back at him, you can feel heat creeping up your own cheeks as you hand him his travel mug. And of course his fingers touch yours, just a light brush, but enough for both of you to glance down at your hands. You jump a little as his breath catches and when you look up at him again, his lips are parted and you see the tip of his tongue peak out, just for a split second, before he composes himself. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles, “thanks for the coffee again.” 

Thursday he’s a little bit late, and he hurries through the door with his tie hanging around his neck, untied. 

“Sorry, I worked late last night and slept through my alarm this morning,” he huffs as he reaches the counter. 

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” you smile, “I only sell you your coffee,” you hand him the cappuccino you’ve already made him and he gives you a grateful look, “and let me fix your tie while you caffeinate yourself.” 

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he sighs and takes a long sip of the coffee as you walk around the counter and stand in front of him. You look up at him, taking hold of each end of his tie, and you suddenly realize you’ve never been this close to him before. There’s always been a counter between the two of you. Now he’s standing barely a foot away and you can smell his aftershave, warm and woody, as you adjust the tie. 

“Over…under…over again…” you mumble to yourself, trying to remember what your dad taught you, “up through the neck and down…there, got it,” you say, gently tightening the tie up against the collar as Marcus lifts his chin up, “but you might want to adjust it.” 

“No, it feels perfect,” he says, giving you a warm smile, “thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you smile back at him, tilting your head up a little to be able to meet his eyes now that he’s standing so close. You should really move back but he smells good and his eyes are so soft looking, the way he just smiles at you. 

“What’s your guess?” he asks, smoothing his hand down over his tie as you drop yours to the side. 

“What?” you mumble, slightly distracted by how his throat bobs just over the knot in the tie where your hands just where. 

“What’s your guess for my favorite baked thing?” Marcus says again and you blink, catching on. 

“Oh, of course! Uhmm…brownies? But real brownies, gooey in the middle and crunchy corners?” 

“Oh….that is definitely high up on my list, but not my absolute favorite, you’re getting close though,” he grins at you, putting down his coffee mug on the counter. 

“I’ve got to run, but….are you free tomorrow, after work?” he asks, his eyebrows knotting together as he waits for your answer. 

“Yeah, I’m free,” you say, you can’t stop the smile breaking out on your face at the question and he smiles back at you. 

“If you want, I’d really like to have dinner with you, maybe we can both drink something this time?” 

“That sounds nice, I’d like that, Marcus,” you reply, butterflies multiplying in your belly as he gently puts his hand on your arm, “and I’ll definitely figure out what your favorite is by then.” 

“It’s a date then,” he grins, “you supply my favorite and I’ll sort the rest, I’ll come by at closing, ok?” 

You nod and before you know it, he’s leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” 

Friday morning Marcus stops by and buys his, by now, regular coffee, “So what’s my favorite?” he asks with a cheeky grin and you stick your tongue out at him. 

“Not telling you,” you smirk at him, “I’ll serve it tonight, I’m pretty sure I’ve got it figured out now.”

“I can’t wait,” he chuckles, winking at you before he grabs his travel mug and hurries off to work. 

Your day drags on and your nerves tingle every time you glance up at the clock at the wall. When the shop quietens down after lunch you prepare what you hope is Marcus’s favorite dessert, putting it in the fridge for baking later. 

Just a few minutes before the clock hits closing time you hear the jingle of the doorbell and look up to see Marcus step through it. He’s changed out of his usual business suit and is wearing a leather jacket over a gray t-shirt and jeans, a bright smile as he gives you a wave. You ring up your final customer, bidding them a nice weekend as Marcus lingers to the side, and then you get a chance to say hello to him as you go to lock the door and flip the sign. 

“Hi Marcus,” you smile at him as he steps forward.

“Hi,” he says, leaning down and brushing his lips against your cheek, leaving the spot tingling and your skin warm. When he straightens up he smiles at you, his eyes soft and crinkling at the corners, “I hope you don’t mind, but I have a slightly unusual plan,” he says, pointing to the duffel bag he’s got hanging from his shoulder, “Dinner’s on me, but in your kitchen.” 

“You’re cooking for me?” you ask and he nods. 

“Seems only fair, you’re making dessert, so I do the rest….well…” he gives a little embarrassed shrug, “with a little bit of help from my favorite restaurant.” 

“Sounds like a nice plan,” you say, putting your hand on his arm and his smile brightens again, “come, let me show you the kitchen then.” 

You lead him past the counter and into the back room, the kitchen clean and ready for tomorrow, except the dessert for Marcus. “What do you need?” you ask, “Help yourself to anything.” 

“First of all, I need you to sit down,” he says with a smile, looking around the kitchen for a chair and spotting only the stool with wheels on, “Not many places to sit in here, huh?” 

“When would I have time to just sit around?,” you laugh, taking your apron off and throwing it in the dirty laundry basket in the back room, “I usually just sit on the counter.” You heave yourself up onto the large workbench as Marcus starts unpacking his duffel bag. He’s hung his jacket on the hook by the door and now he’s crouched down, digging through the content at his feet. The gray t-shirt hugs his shoulders, stretching tight over his back and riding up, exposing a strip of bare skin just above his jeans. It’s so far from the man in the well fitted business suits you’ve been seeing every morning for the past few weeks, a much more relaxed Marcus. 

“Do you wear the suits every day because your job requires you too?” you ask, taking the opportunity to stretch your tired back as you get settled on the counter, baking all day takes a toll on your body. 

“Yeah, I don’t mind them but I prefer the days when I don’t have to wear them,” he answers, standing up and placing a stack of boxes next to you on the counter. “No peeking,” he says in a stern voice, smirking at you and you hold up your hands. 

“I’m not touching anything,” you reply, “But I never asked what you work with?” 

“I work at the FBI, with art theft,” he says and you widen your eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you’re an FBI agent?”

“Yeah,” he furrows his brow as he looks over at you, “do you..is- is that a problem?” 

“No, no, not at all, I’ve just never met an FBI agent. It makes being a baker seem very tame is all.” 

“Maybe tame is good sometimes,” he chuckles and looks around the kitchen and his brow furrows again, “Hhmm…hang on, I’ll be right back,” he says, grabbing the bag and going out into the shop again, “No peeking!”. 

“What are you doing?” you call out to him as you hear tables and chairs being moved around. 

“Nothing, just setting things up, just wait there,” he calls back and a few minutes later he comes back to the kitchen. 

“Now, let’s get dinner ready,” he smiles, “Plates and a small saucepan?” 

You direct him to them and soon he’s arranging food on two smaller plates. 

“Miss,” he says, winking at you and holding out his arm, “Let me show you to your table.” 

“How nice, please lead the way,” you smile at him and slip off the counter, taking his arm. He brings you out into the café part of the bakery and leads you to one of the small round tables by the window. He’s put a white table cloth on it and set two candles in the middle, another few candles arranged around the shop. The sun is setting outside and in the dim light of the shop the candles spread a golden glow, giving it an atmosphere you’ve never seen before. 

“Marcus…this is lovely, I’ve never had my shop look so nice before,” you say, sitting down as he pulls out the chair for you, “It’s so…romantic,” you let it slip out without thinking but Marcus puffs up a little and beams down at you.  

“I’m glad you like it, I really like your shop,” he smiles, “and I really like the shop owner, I wanted to make it special for you.”  

“You might be my very favorite customer, Marcus,” you smile back up at him, your cheeks heating up and he grins. 

“First course is coming right up,” he says with a smile and disappears into the kitchen. 

“You should give food walking tours of the city,” you joke as Marcus smiles at you from across the table. “I’m so full but I still want to go and eat at all your favorite places right now.” 

“I’d take them here first,” he says, “and make sure everyone knows where the best bakery in town is, but…” he leans forwards and grins at you, “Speaking of baking, I want to know if you’ve guessed my favorite dessert yet.” 

You give him a soft laugh and mimic his movement, leaning forward to meet him across the table, “I think I might have, I just need to go and turn on the oven and then they’ll be ready in a few minutes. But I just realized, you never said what my reward would be for guessing correctly.” 

Marcus hums, tapping his long fingers on his chin as he looks at you, a mischievous smile making the corner of his mouth curl up. 

“I don’t think we agreed on anything, but if you go turn on the oven and I’ll come up with something good,” he says, his smile widening, making your skin heat up as his eyes seem to suggest something enticing. 

Thank god for your industrial oven, it turns on and heats up to the right temperature in no time. While you pull out the dessert plates and take the ice cream out to soften, it hums to life and pings. The dessert goes in and you set a timer and go back out to Marcus, sitting down at the table again. 

“It just needs a few minutes,” you tell him, “did you come up with a reward?” 

“Yeah, I did, but what if you guess wrong?” he asks, “I need a reward too.” 

“If I’m wrong…” you say, thinking out loud, “you tell me your favorite, and no matter what it is, I’ll make it for you.” 

“That’s a nice idea,” Marcus smiles, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, the t-shirt stretching tight over his biceps, you swear you can hear a seam ripping behind him, “but I like my idea better.” 

“What’s your idea then?” you ask, giving him a suspicious look, he’s got a very happy grin as he looks at you. 

“If you guess wrong, I can take you on a second date,” he says and you laugh, that’s probably the easiest reward he could’ve asked for and you see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he sees your laughter.

“Hardly a difficult reward, Marcus,” you smile at him and he gives you a warm smile back, “But what if I guess right, what’s my reward then?” 

“If you guess right, you get to take me on a second date,” he grins and you feel little happy bubbles in your chest as his soft eyes stay locked with yours, you can’t help but smile widely back at him. 

“Deal, Marcus,” you say, holding out your hand to him. He leans forward and takes it, his large hand enveloping yours, thick fingers gently closing around yours as you both shake on it. 

“I can smell chocolate,” he grins, glancing at the kitchen, “I think you’re on the right track.” 

“I know you, Marcus,” you laugh, “all serious business suits on the outside, but a wild child on the inside, bass player and all.” 

“Hardly the definition of a ‘wild child’,” Marcus chuckles, “now, if I’d been lead singer or lead guitar, then maybe.” 

“Well, the dessert is only a little bit of a wild child, the defining factor is that at its heart, it’s very romantic, just like you.” 

Marcus gives you a slightly embarrassed smile, “It’s that obvious, huh?” 

“That you’re a romantic? Of course, but I like it,” you smile softly back at him, turning off the timer that’s just gone off, “Moment of truth. Did I guess right or not?” 

“Doesn’t matter, I’m getting a second date either way,” he says, winking at you as you stand up and head to the kitchen. 

Pulling them out of the oven you quickly plate the dessert and scoop up the vanilla ice cream, finishing with a light dusting of cocoa. Your hip bumps open the door to the shop and Marcus watches you eagerly as you bring the plates over and set them down on the table. 

“If this is what I think it is, you’ve got yourself a second date,” he jokes and grins up at you. 

“That’s not helpful, Marcus,” you laugh, “either way, you’ve got yourself a second date.” 

“I know, that’s the beauty of this deal,” he chuckles, picking up his dessert spoon and looking at you expectantly, “Can I guess?” 

“Sure, go ahead,” you smile and he pokes the dessert lightly. 

“Chocolate fondant?” he asks, looking up at you, raising his eyebrows, before he digs the spoon in and cuts it open. The soft chocolate cake exterior gives way to a thick river of chocolate that pours out of the interior of the little cake. Marcus giggles and scoops up a bite of both cake and sauce and puts the spoon in his mouth, humming at the flavor and closing his eyes. You watch with pride as he tips his head back and moans, the spoon still in his mouth as he sucks it clean. 

“How did you know?” he asks, a bright smile on his face when he’s finally done with his first bite. 

You shrug and smile back at him, “You’re not a health freak, you didn’t recognise the more complicated French pastry, you like gooey brownies and you’re a romantic. Chocolate fondant seemed like the obvious choice. Decadent, sweet and just the right amount of fancy,” you grin at him. 

You take a spoonful from your own fondant and put it in your mouth, watching the chocolate flow out from the inside, just the right amount of undercooked to keep the inside flowing and warm. The chocolate flavor spreads across your tongue, paired with a hint of vanilla and salt, rich and warm and you let an involuntary moan escape. When you glance up you don’t miss the dark look Marcus gives you, his eyes fixed on your mouth as he takes another spoonful. 

“You really guessed right, I love chocolate fondant, but I’ve never had one this good before,” he says, humming around the big piece in his mouth. “How come you don’t have them in the shop? Actually, don’t have them in the shop, I’d buy them all every week.” 

You giggle at his blissed out face as he takes another big bite, dropping his head into the palm of his hand as he sucks the spoon clean, “It’s like hot chocolate, brownie and chocolate sauce all in one fluffy soft shell of cake.” 

“I’m glad I guessed right, seeing your happy face makes me happy,” you smile at him and the tips of his ears go a pink in the dim light as he clears his throat and chuckles. 

“Coming to your bakery makes me happy,” he smiles, scraping the last bit of fondant from the plate while he looks up at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners and it’s your time to feel the heat rise in your face, his grin widens as he sees you shift awkwardly in your chair and glance at him with a smile.  

“Really, getting my morning coffee has become the highlight of my day,” Marcus says, “How sad isn’t that?” 

“Not sad, you coming into the bakery every morning has been the highlight of my day,” you say, finishing off the fondant and putting the spoon down while Marcus watches you with a smile. He suddenly pushes his chair back and stands up, holding his hand out to you. 

“Dance with me,” he says, the warmth of his hand spreading across your palm and down your arm as he pulls you to your feet. 

“There’s no music, Marcus,” you laugh but he just grins and spins you around before catching you in his arms, one around your waist, the other still holding on to your hand as you put your own hand on his shoulder. 

“Who cares about the music,” he says, gently swaying you back and forth while he gives you a soft smile, “it was just a clever ruse to get to hold you.” His hand on the small of your back is lightly stroking the fabric of your shirt and you’re very close to him, pressed up against his chest as he holds you near, moving slowly in a circle. You can smell his aftershave, mixed in with the dark chocolate of the dessert and without thinking, your hand slips into the soft looking curls at the back of his neck. Marcus tilts his head as your fingers play with the silky strands, letting go of your hand and moving it slowly to cup your face, his thumb stroking the soft skin on your cheek as he seems to inhale slightly and dip his head to yours.  

His lips are just as soft as you’ve imagined them, warm, gentle, as he parts them and tastes you. His steady hand holds you close, the curve of his strong nose brushing up against your cheek as he angles his head to better kiss you. You feel your fingers gripping his hair, willing him to press you even closer to him. All of his warm, solid body is pressed up against yours, his hand at the small of your back sliding up to hold you closer to him, your own hand gripping his shoulder, steadying yourself as you feel like melting into his touch.  

He’s still swaying the two of you gently, your lips moving slowly together, tasting the chocolate on each other's tongues. Heat is creeping through your body, wrapping around you, as you feel him tighten his hold on you, his breath skating over your lips as he exhales, a quiet groan leaving his throat. 

“You taste so sweet, even sweeter than the dessert,” he mumbles, his mouth close to yours, “I never want to stop kissing you.” 

You stand on your tiptoes to reach more of him, your hand around his neck, and part your lips for him, letting his tongue lick into your mouth with more fervor. He also tastes sweet and the way he pulls you closer as you steady yourself against his chest makes you moan under his increasingly heated kisses. He’s not swaying you anymore, instead he lets you melt into his body, his arm holding you up, as he bends his head, another groan slipping from him as he feels your tongue slip around his own. 

Marcus’s kisses make you forget the time, where you are, and not until he pulls away with a sigh, do you open your eyes and look up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust, and it’s mirrored in the way his body feels against yours, his arousal a clear presence between you. And you can feel your own fill your core with heat, a slow shiver as you touch upon the thought of having him even closer. 

Marcus keeps his eyes locked on you, his warm hand gently stroking your cheek as he seems to take a deep breath, composing himself. Your fingers are still toying with the impossibly soft curls at the back of his neck, letting them slip through your fingers, and you feel like you might drown in his dark brown eyes if he doesn’t release you soon. 

“Is it too soon to ask for a second date tomorrow?” he whispers, his eyes dropping down to your lips again, and then back to your eyes as you shake your head. 

“No, tomorrow sounds like a very good idea,” you mumble, slightly hazy from the way his hands never stop touching you, warming your body and sending shivers to your core. 

“Ok,” he mumbles back, “can I kiss you again?” 

“If you do, we might not get out of here tonight, Marcus,” you smile at him and he chuckles, nodding and pulling back a little. 

“You’re very right, maybe it’s best to save more kisses for tomorrow.” 

“I look forward to them though,” you say, letting your fingers slip from his hair and down over his shoulder, caressing his arm, his wrist, and finally his hand. He takes your hand then, enveloping it in his larger one,  and brings it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it. 

“Tomorrow then,” he smiles. 

Part Eight

@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

[kiyomai]

disappeared off of the face of the planet but … been thinking about vampire!midoriya and how unbelievably hungry he’d be.

warnings. vampires, stalkingish, mind control, loss of autonomy(?), blood(he bites you at the end but it’s not descriptive) GN!reader, reader is called ‘pretty’ but everyone’s pretty so no gender attached to it, let me know if i’m missing tags please !!! minors DO NOT interact

he’s the kind of vampire who’d starve himself cuz he hates the idea of hurting people, of ripping through flesh to reach the one thing his body can’t live without.

but he can’t—won’t.

he’s not a monster, not at heart, at least. he doesn’t want to be a monster. he’s nice, he cares about humans—people, he has to remind himself.

they’re people, and i’m not a monster.

so he doesn’t eat.

but all things must eat to survive, even a creature like him.

and in comes you, unsuspecting little human that you are, walking down the dark, dark streets, aware of your surroundings, yet none the wiser of the real monsters lurking through the night.

izuku watches you from the rooftops, hears the way your heart beats a little faster with the way you’re speed walking, knowing how desperate you are to get home.

you’re so unbelievably human.

and he’s so unbelievably hungry.

he doesn’t remember jumping. one second you were out reach, and the next, well…he’s in front of you now.

your expression morphs into terror and your heart is beating out of your chest. it’s a good look on you, he thinks. you look so human.

you reach to grab something while your eyes are trained on him, watching his every move. smart, he thinks, too bad he’s not human. and with the little energy he has, he wills you to stop.

“it’s okay,” swims through your mind, sticking like honey. “you’re alright.” and with those few words, you’re at ease, and izuku thinks you look even prettier like this—under his thumb.

for a while, all he does is stare at you.

how long has it been since he’s been this close to a human before?

how long… has he been starving—denying himself of the one thing he needs to survive.

your hand twitches and izuku catches it.

oh right, he’s not that strong. if he waits any longer, you’ll break free in no time.

he takes the small window he has to get closer to you, thankful that you’re still under, and rests his head on your shoulder.

“i know this is a little strange.” his voice is soft as he speaks, but he knows his voice is echoing loudly in your empty little head. “and that deep down you’re scared out of your mind.” his hands are itching to wrap around you.

“i’m sorry. so sorry that i cant—that im not strong enough to make this painless,” his breathing quickens, unable to hold back. “i just want—i really need you.”

his hand wraps around your neck and the chill that runs through you drives him crazy. if you manage to slip through the cracks, he thinks he won’t mind it. “i promise i won’t take too much,” he breathes into your neck. “i just want a taste. you’ll let me have this, right, pretty?”

and with the last of his will keeping you trapped, you nod your head just enough for him to sink his fangs in.

a/n: i haven’t written in 2 years :O wow i’ve been lurking on tumblr dot com but writing became so difficult. i’ve been rewatching tvd and every time i see stefan i think of deku and how he’d be the same (especially in terms of ripper!stefan) yeaupp hope u enjoyed!!! likes, comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated <3

[kiwiana-writes]

hey! I recently discovered your writing and I really love it but I have to ask you a question. you seem to write a lot of kink and I love that but: are you into pet play? it's a boundary for me for authors not to be into kinks that skirt around illegal acts so if you could let me know if your work is safe for me to read that would be great. thanks!

I got this last night and didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with it, and now I’m running on like 4.5 hours sleep, so… I’m going to treat this more as a general PSA than anything else.

So:

1) If your concern is that at some point in some hypothetical future I may write Kink X, Trope Y, Pairing A/Z, or anything along those lines, and me doing so would make you regret interacting with any of my previous work: please assume that I may do so, and curate your experience accordingly. I’ve written a bunch of things that I have, at some point in my life, said “I don’t think I’ll ever write that”—not because I was being a dirty liar, but because things change. There are also things I have written in the past that I have no plans to write in the future. Tastes shift over time, and so does what feels easy/fun to write; not to mention some things just hit different with different ships.

2) If your concern is more rooted in whether I think it’s fine for other people to write Kink X, Trope Y, Pairing A/Z, or anything along those lines—you should ABSOLUTELY assume the answer is “yes” and proceed accordingly. There are a whole bunch of kinks, tropes, and ships I am simply not into that exist on a continuum from “not my jam but if I writer I love tackles it I’m at least willing to give it a go” through to “if I never see evidence that this exists again it will be too soon”, but I do not believe that my personal tastes or sensibilities should be the yardstick by which fics are allowed or not allowed to be written. My personal tastes and sensibilities are the yardstick by which I READ fics, because I am in complete control of my own fandom experience.

3) If the information you need to proceed is what I am personally into, you can in fact fuck off. You are not entitled to this information. Kink writers are not required to disclose their kinks to you, in the same way you shouldn’t be demanding anyone’s sexuality/gender/trauma to determine whether they’re ‘allowed’ to write about a particular topic. I have been dealing with this shit on and off for YEARS, both from a ‘how dare you get turned on by this’ angle and from a ‘how dare you write this if you’re NOT turned on by this’ angle, and both takes are invasive and obnoxious. This is, incidentally, why I really hate the rhetoric of “the hottest fics are the ones the author wrote with one hand haha”—both because it’s really fucking weird to speculate on the sexual proclivities of someone who is usually a stranger, and because in my experience it simply isn’t true. I have really successful kink fics that are kinks I’m into and really successful kink fics that are things that don’t do it for me; I have less successful kink fics that I personally find really hot and less successful ones that I don’t. I have personal kinks and fetishes I’ve never written and probably never will (although, see point 1) because I worry that readers will perceive me a little too much. The only thing you’ll learn about my relationship to kink from reading my fics is the things I find psychologically interesting to write about.

4) I have fundamentally zero interest in debating the ~ethics~ of any particular kink, in fiction or otherwise, but I absolutely recommend perfecting the art of being squicked out or even disgusted by something without attaching any moral superiority to that feeling.

Like… curate your own experience, my friend. If you need to block me, block me. That’s cool. If you’re a regular reader/commenter/someone I interact with on tumblr dot com I’ll be sad to see you go, but you gotta do what you gotta do to make fandom fun and comfortable for you. But I tag my kink fics, so the ones that yuck your personal yum should be pretty easy for you to avoid.

[rxqueenotd]

https://www.tumblr.com/rxgirlie/759293552242114560/not-that-i-owe-this-to-anyone-on-gods-internet

You really have been acting like all of those things. Way too many people are bending over backwards to justify this shit, she’s a nazi, school shooter loving, victim blaming, pedo defending, homophobic, antisemiticc, anti black loser and he’s ignoring all of that. They’re both shitty and claiming that people who are calling this shit out are jealous is misogynistic and gross, some people just have actual morals.

Please do not talk to me about morals on tumblr dot com. Take your big girl words and shove them up your ass. Call me what you want, I just don’t give a fuck who he’s fucking and y’all want to hide behind everything you’ve stated above to mask your jealousy and distaste for someone he’s chosen to be with. You’re not worried about Joseph or his reputation, be so fucking for real right now. It happened with Grace Van Dien, with Alicia Davis, and very briefly with Alana Heim. He’s just moved on to someone who is actually shitty and y’all want to be social media warriors about it now. I’m sure y’all didn’t go this hard against her before, did you? It’s hypocrite behavior. You can’t cherry pick where to have morals and when to point things out so they fit into your agenda. “He’s ignoring all of that” 🤧 cry me a fucking river. You’re not his moral compass. Go join the person who said they were having sleepless nights over this and planned to write a fic where they hurt Joseph to help process their emotions. I’m sure y’all can crank out a banger. And while you’re at it, go after all the people below, including your fave, who is having the time of his life.

Make sure to go donate to causes that are actively happening inside and outside of the US that are devastating since you like to call out injustices, have the moral compass of a nun, and like to play captain save-a-hoe. I shared some before: https://www.tumblr.com/rxgirlie/759244201875636224/world-central-kitchen-tropical-storm-ernesto

[celestie0]

🪷 girl fuck these people I'm really sorry you're getting so many messages bitching about no smut in ch10. Like who even cares? Does a story or chapter have no value if the characters aren't going at it like rabbits and fucking and sucking on each other?

At this point if you're so disappointed about no hanky panky just go read one of those pornhwas where the characters start screwing at the drop of a hat.

I would've loved that chapter with smut or without smut idgaf it doesn't even matter to me (and the same is for most of your readers too, I'm sure of it). We've all stuck around with your work for so long, and we have faith in your direction as well as your decisions regarding the pace of the plot. It's never that serious, especially not to the stage that bozos feel the need to weep in a writer's asks and swamp them with negative messages. Go jack off or play dj with your hello kitty and go to sleep like the rest of us.

Again, no matter what you do with your work it's entirely your choice. Ofc we as readers can have our own takes and how or why we interact with the work can vary, but it shouldn't reach this stage. I've seen this same story of bullying and pestering authors on tumblr too many times with other authors whose work I enjoy, and many have left their blogs because the harassment made them lose interest in writing and sharing their pieces. It's fucking heartbreaking. Pornhub dot com is right there for y'all to be doing entirely too much in the asks of these writers who are already overwhelmed and write and share all this FOR FREE. If you have so many qualms about it pick up that bic and get to writing bitch!

I'm sorry babe take care! We love you🫂

AHHH LILYPAD ANON I APPRECIATE U SM THIS MEANS THE WORLD TO ME 😭😭 you’re always so kind to me i sobs

yeahh sigh :( i was just a bit upset that ppl were already finding fault w a chapter i haven’t even released yet just bc it doesn’t have smut in it 😭😭 like i obviously know by now that i can’t make everyone happy, but it’s not right to subtly pressure me into a certain direction for my story (ik this is a normal thing authors/writers have to deal with, i am just a weakling unfortunately 💀💀 my therapist wld agree)

i know it’s not most of my readers though :”) everyone is so sweet n kind n patient, i just don’t understand the some few that think that just bc they tell me they’re disappointed there’s no smut, that i’m somehow gonna go back to my 80pg dissertation of a chapter n make it 100pgs just to add some for them 😅…like no. what it DOES make me feel is icky n sad

frankly it’s really uncomfortable to make an author feel bad that there’s no explicit sexual content in a story 😅 your horny brainrot is showing. like, i AM def planning to write smut in kickoff, there will be multiple smut scenes to come. but even if i suddenly chose not to include them anymore, that’s my right to do so.

and yes, if they want smut, they can write it themselves. why do i need to be the one to write it for you? i don’t owe anyone anything.

i totally agree w you. honestly, i feel bad sometimes setting these boundaries, but you’re SO RIGHT in that SO many authors leave their platforms bc of hateful asks/pressuring comments etc, i’ve seen it time n time again. bc it’s true that it DOES get to people, especially when creating art is already a very stressful thing. i don’t have to passively tolerate rude strangers on the internet just because i’m trying to protect n pursue my passion

thanks sm for trusting my direction :”) and YES absolutely!! i love it when my readers disagree w character actions or emotions, bc characters have flaws n i’m intentional about those flaws, so it’s exciting to see opinions my readers have, even if they’re in disagreement, because it’s interactive w my work. not that i expect anyone to interact ever. i understand that i post on my own accord, so readers can choose whether to interact on their accord as well.

but something about pressuring me into writing explicit sexual content into a story that i’d like to think is a lot more than just smut, is really disheartening.

- ellie 🐸

[amhrosina]

Come back!!! We miss u 😞

i miss you!!!

a brief overview of my life lately:

- started an associate teaching position in August at a title I school and had so much fun learning and working with the SpEd kiddos that i’m now getting certified to become a SpEd teacher :)

- ran into a man that i’ve spent my entire life missing, we were finally in a place where we were both ready for each other (it’s a long winded explanation but we’ve been in and out of each other’s lives for 15 years!), fell in love and we’re moving in together when his lease is up :)

- subsequently became the mother of two kitties, currently working on safely introducing them to my dog, it’s been chaotic but they’re becoming friends :)

- my current goal is to have all my teacher tests done by the end of July, fingers crossed but it is quite a lot of info to remember so we’ll see!

i’m still very much active on this account, even if it’s as a lurker/liker for right now. i plan on writing more when my schedule calms down a little (i.e., all my testing done). and with Daredevil Born Again coming out next year (??) i’m almost positive i’ll be inspired to write more Matt and Frank fics.

i love you all and i’m so so so grateful for everyone’s continued support after my sudden and unexplained absence last summer! i can’t believe i have over 2,000 followers on tumblr dot com and im always, always grateful for you all!!

if you made it this far in this long winded response, your reward is pics of the aforementioned kitties and dog!

[tinypandacakes]

Hey Panda!

It never fails to astound me when people badger you about Trapper Keeper

Of course we love it and want more, but I really wish I could make everyone realise that you’re a whole person with a life and a family outside of Tumblr dot com

And that you want to write just as much as we want to read

Take your time, you are an incredible writer and an amazing person, this is a hobby and hobbies are for fun! You don’t need to apologise or tide us over, we are collectively more than happy to wait for you to feel good about posting something as important and intimate as the art you create.

You’re amazing, I’m sending good baby vibes (you mentioned yours wasn’t sleeping and mine is in a sleep regression right now, so I get it lol) Have a wonderful day/night and we love you.

Mwah!

Thank you so much for this 💕💕 your support and kindness means the world to me 🐇🥰

you’re so right, I want to write very badly, but some days it’s tough (and yes, a baby that still wakes 4-5 times a night doesn’t help. Some days my brain feels like mush)

Also sending you sleepy baby vibes, so we can both get more sleep!

[yourhealingjournal]

Hey.

I'm really struggling with PTSD related anger lately and it has ruined a lot in my life. I feel like crap for unintentionally hurting people and feeling like I have to defend myself to the death. Do you have any advice or reassurance for dealing with mental illness and anger?

Thank you!

first of all I AM SO SORRY FOR JUST ANSWERING THIS. i didn’t get notified by tumblr dot com that i have an ask on my inbox waiting my bad

my first thought reading your ask is that anger does not make you a terrible person. & i would argue you’re not a terrible person because i have the proof of you sending in this ask which to me shows: a) you’re aware of the hurt you’re causing as a byproduct of your anger & b) you want to change and be better about it.

& then you mentioned two things i’d address separately:

re: feeling like defending yourself constantly - i don’t know what you’ve been through but it must have been really tough and exhausting. i hope you’re far away from the situation that hurts you & i’m also so sorry that the effects of it still isolates you. feeling the urge to defend yourself often is one of the unfortunate consequences trauma can leave behind.

i think defensiveness that comes out from trauma often stems from a belief that a part of you is being threatened. this can be from you or your choices always being questioned or scrutinized (threatens your security of self), not being believed (threatens your sense of reality) / having to explain yourself constantly but not still being understood, not having a safe place to live (threatens your physical security), etc. it can also be feeling threatened for your own self and survival when you perceive the threat to be too big or strong for you to handle. most trauma modalities argue any of the 4Fs are survival mechanisms that ultimately serve to protect us one way or another.

unfortunately, even after we’ve removed yourself from the harmful environment, our nervous system requires time to catch up. anger is a form of fight & like you said it feels like constantly defending yourself.

my advice (if you’re at a point where you’re ready to process your trauma & can do so safely) is to not shame your anger, but ask what is it so angry about (not in a judgmental way, but a curious one). you can keep track of an anger log to see what triggers that anger to come out. what event did it remind you of that you have the urge to defend yourself now? the roots of our current responses are wired in the past.

anger can also be a presentation of resentment that was built up overtime so you can also ask what you’re resenting about the other person or situation. i’d suggest not thinking too deep about any of these questions — writing or typing might be easier to just get the thoughts out. you may find a deeper understanding of where your anger comes from, from the process alone.

if you’re not a place to process it deeply, you can start with accepting that your anger exists. i think all our trauma responses really boil down to needing safety & comfort & protection so each time the anger comes, i hope you give that acknowledgment and comfort to yourself. it can be difficult to have gratitude for a part of you that responds in a way that can put you in a disadvantageous situation, so you can start with a neutral statement like: “I see you’re trying to protect me.” or “you don’t have to be angry any longer. you can let the anger go now. i can protect you.” (i’m borrowing a bit from IFS parts work’s framework of thinking). my point is yes your anger can be misplaced, but your anger did come from somewhere so it’s not something you need to shame yourself over because also to your other point:

re: you feel like crap, you said, because you know the anger wasn’t the response you wanted to emulate at that point in time. you can fix that. my only advice for this is to apologize once you’ve calmed down to the people you unintentionally hurt. (not saying you don’t already do this by the way) if you’d like (&it seems appropriate to disclose that in your relationship with them), you can also tell them it’s something you’re working on (e.g. let’s say you got angry at someone you barely know or only know as your work buddy, you can say ‘sorry about the other day, it was a long one’ v.s. If it’s someone you’re close with like a friend, then you can say “sorry about x event. i’m working on my anger”). you dont have to disclose the why you have the anger in the first place, but if you feel that beneficial to your relationship, go forth.

with other people in the equation, the solution is not so much to isolate but to titrate. by that i mean:

first, if you can limit the amount of contact from people who trigger you (e.g. a well meaning relative but really they push your buttons), do so for the time being.

if however these are say a deeply beloved friend who you haven’t seen each other in a while or a situation where you can’t limit contact with them (e.g. work, etc.), when you start to feel frustrated, remove yourself from the environment if able. make an excuse like needing to use the bathroom, “let me check and get back to you”, etc. if it’s not feasible and you have to stay in the room or you don’t want to draw attention to yourself, distract with doing something that can delay your response. for example, drinking your choice of beverage, walking away to get something before returning, etc. ideally we all can leave & disappear when something triggers us but that superpower hasn’t been invented yet.

i didn’t say “triggered” and use “frustrated” because sometimes there’s a build up to one snapping. build ups can range from not getting enough sleep the night before, being hungry, & anything else that can impact one’s mood regulation. the acknowledgment of where you are on the scale of being on top of your mood regulation game is dependent on you checking in with yourself daily. you can do this in the morning / afternoon / evening where you just ask yourself where you are on the scale of tolerance. mostly it’s to let yourself know like “hey i didn’t get much sleep last night so i might be a little bit more prone to being angry so let’s make a plan around that (eg. limit contact with people who trigger you, don’t watch the news if you know the news tends to make you feel bad, etc.)”.

i also think if you don’t find the idea of check-ins appealing, you can also do this retrospectively so at the very least even if you find it difficult to accept your anger, you can validate your emotions. let’s say you got angry at someone, you can ask yourself the basic checklist questions like; when’s the last time you eat? drink? sleep? any physical discomfort? all of these do contribute to our mood. maybe the coffee machine broke that day & when it happened it didn’t make you upset but it is one thing that didn’t go the way you expected so it’s another drop on the tolerance meter. & then you’ll find that wow of course you lost your cool: you didn’t sleep, your body aches, a customer was being a bit difficult even if not hostile, a lot of little things add up and then the neighbor just had to mow the lawn when i’m trying to sleep. like idk if i were you i’d lose my shit too. did the neighbor deserve it? no. could i have responded “better”? yeah but i get why i’m upset.

which brings us to the second part of titrating: mood regulation. this is a whole other thing i can get into but the gist is accepting & validating what your mood is right now (eg yes i’m angry & it makes sense as to why i’m angry — even if the situation you’re not in makes sense like the scenario above, your anger comes from somewhere. maybe you don’t even know why you’re angry but that anger is still valid. you can say: ok i’m angry right now idk why but i am and that’s okay.) then process it with whatever method works for you. trial & error. counter to what i mention about the anger log: you don’t always have to know the reason behind your anger to process it.

some activities to process anger & if you’re simply asking how to deal with anger when you feel it once you’re alone: movement helps. exercise no matter how low intensity it is still works. walking. venting to yourself on a voice note then deleting it as a symbol to delete the anger can also work. punching a pillow. squeezing a stuffed animal. screaming to a pillow. screaming to the void. needlepointing. knitting. plonk keys on the piano. crying is another option. that’s all i have for today.

now once you’re in a better mood and headspace & more equipped with skills, you can relax rule no 1 of limiting contact. ideally i’d also suggest doing some somatic work to rewire your nervous system but that’s a whole other post.

ps. sorry i get a bit sassy & humorous at the end with the scenario. i wanted to get this out asap but it’s 4 am and i am running on 2 hours of sleep. i hope this answers your ask.

[bluedalahorse]

I’ve been writing since I was a little kid, and I’ve had friends who were also writers since I was a little kid.

For most of late elementary school into the beginning of middle school, I wrote a lot of stories about girls on quests. This is probably unsurprising, given that a significant portion of my reading diet involved Alanna and Daine and Cimorene and Lyra and Susan and Lucy Pevensie.

I distinctly remember a moment, however, when one of my fellow writer friends said to me, kinda dismissively, “Oh, every time you tell me a new story idea, you begin by saying it’s about some girl! I’m writing a story about a sixty-year-old man who digs graves and lives all alone.”

And the way this friend said it, it sounded like she was saying, here’s my more artistic story, because it’s about a man.

Now, full disclosure, this friend later got into feminist theory before I did, so we’re all on our own timeline and she’s called me out more than once. But I remember that marking a turning point in the kinds of stories we wrote in our friends group. And it was around the same time we all started writing Gundam Wing fanfiction, too, in a very boy-dominated way. We seemed to all absorb the idea that boy characters were always “better written” and “more interesting” and there isn’t much to be done about that.

I wrote boy characters for years after that because I worried that girl-centered stories wouldn’t be good or prestigious enough. It took a long time for me to be able to just see female characters as characters like any other characters.

And nowadays I see that idea echoed on tumblr dot com with a kind of fatalism, usually in discussions of female characters showing up in fanfiction. “Oh, well, there’s so few women who are interesting and written well! They are just such a rare species!” And like, I kinda get it, I’m a fan of Shakespeare plays and some of the gendered ratios + gendered expectations there can be just brutal.

But I also just… I wonder if maybe things aren’t as bleak as we sometimes say they are? We live in a world with Claudia the Vampire and Sara Eriksson and Felice Ehrencrona. We live in a world with Ashley Bennet from The Black Kids and Lily Hu from Last Night at the Telegraph Club and Marin from We Are Okay. We’ve had Katara in the 00s and Utena and Anthy in the 90s and Ramona Quimby in the 50s. Anne Shirley and Jo March and Fantine have all been with us for a long time!

I do think there are legitimate concerns we can have about how women are written and have been written historically. I get that. But I wonder if we maybe shouldn’t be leaning into our fatalism as much as we do.

[pipsuwu]

The Event of the Season- Part 1

A/N: Tumblr dot com does not like my gifs, but I will continue to make them so suck on that Tumblr dot com. Anyways, you know the drill, feel free to let me know if you hate this or love this. Enjoy! Happy New Years Eve! MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT.

Summary: You overestimated your alcohol tolerance and accidentally confessed to Spencer Reid that you uh... love him. Oops.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN! Reader

Genre: ????

Warnings: Foul Language, Mentions of alcohol, Mentions of Rossi, The L word, Anxiety, Lack of Editing, I am sorry if this is bad? I usually don't write things with multiple parts.

Word Count: 1,115

You don’t own a dark brown leather couch… that’s why waking up on one was so weird. 

Everything is blurry, but even through the blur you can see it. Green walls. Warm lighting. Way too many bookshelves… it all was very much Spencer Reid. But that is impossible. Why would you be in Spencer Reid’s apartment? 

“Hey,” he speaks softly almost as if he is worried about scaring you. You jumping a little probably didn’t help. You look to the doorway he’s standing in. It’s the doorway to his bedroom. You glance behind him. You see his bedpost, his sheets have been slept in, you can see that. A sense of relief passes over you. 

“Uh hi… Spencer—”

“You got really drunk at Rossi’s,” he blurts out abruptly, “I rode with Emily to the party, we were some of the last attendees. Emily drove both of us to my apartment because I said I needed to take care of you… you were incredibly sick. I’m sorry, waking up like this must be very confusing.” 

Letting that sink in, you close your eyes trying to remember. You remember going to Rossi’s, you spent a lot of your night drinking with Garcia and gossiping, the two of you danced with one another, Morgan came up and Garcia left you to hang out with him for a bit, you started drinking again, and it all gets progressively fuzzier the further the night went along. 

“I am so sorry…” You feel the need to apologise. 

“It’s okay…do you uh-remember anything?” He asks, briefly glancing at the floor before his eyes land back where they were. Now that is curious…he wants to know what you remember, implying there is something you need to remember and it is possibly associated with him… hmm. That’s totally not suspicious. 

“I remember drinking with Garcia… talking with Garcia…dancing with Garcia… Morgan took her away… I started drinking again. That’s it.” 

“You don’t remember anything after that?” Spencer questions walking closer to your position on the couch. You look at him confused, scanning him for signs. You’re getting nothing from his features other than those damn puppy eyes with his eyebrows upturned. His tongue slides over his lip before he bites his lip softly, he’s thinking, debating with himself.

“What did I do, Spencer?” You feel the need to ask. We’re clearly having this conversation for a reason, if he’d just throw you a bone…

“You don’t remember it, I’m sorry for bringing it up,” Spencer turns to go into his bedroom. 

“Hey, hey, hey, wait a minute, Spencer?” You get up off the couch, worry laces its way into your facial expression. You feel a pit in your stomach forming. He pauses to look back at you. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologises. 

“Yes, Spencer, you are sorry, I get it. But please don’t leave me hanging like this. Tell me. I’m really sorry if I did something wrong, I really appreciate that you helped me—” your ramblings trail off. The cardigan he’s wearing looks familiar, the sleeves… you have a fuzzy memory of seeing the sleeves of Reid’s cardigan being rolled up his arms. He was helping you onto the couch. 

“No, Y/N, you didn’t do anything wrong, but you did say some things…” he trails off and you instantly walk back to the couch, sitting back down. There’s is plenty that you could have said in your drunken stupor to Dr. Spencer Reid. Like how he is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, or how his hands make you feel the need to hold your breath, or how you spent one time staring at his ass for 3 full minutes while Hotch was speaking to you and you still don’t know what that conversation was about to this day. However, you can think of a handful that would be causing this conversation and you didn’t want to have any of those conversations, especially not today… but you still had to know. 

“What did I say, Spencer? Please, be honest with me, I’m serious,” you pleaded to him, it was almost pathetic. The shakiness that was in your voice was thick. Spencer went over to the couch, sat next to you and put a comforting hand on your thigh, smoothing the hand back and forth on it before looking at you. 

“You… told me I was beautiful, you clinged to me whenever I would try to leave, you asked me to stay, and then you told me you loved me. Then, you proceeded to tell me not to tell Reid that you loved him because it would ruin your life,” Spencer looked straight at you, but the pit in your stomach turned into a raging fire of nerves. You close your eyes and you can see it. You can remember bits and pieces of it. 

“Ah, I see,” you nod and look at the coffee table in front of you. There’s a big pile of books on it, some of them are even in other languages.

“Y/N please say something.” 

“I don’t know what to say Spence,” You reply, about ready to sink into an endless abyss.

“I do have feelings for you Y/N, just so you know,” Spencer says, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world… 

“Why else would I hold your hair back while you’re puking in my apartment bathroom’s toilet, make you drink some water, and then tuck you in on my couch?”

“…I hate you,” you glare at him. 

“Actually if I recall correctly, you love me and—”

“Spencer Reid, you are treading on thin ice,” you utter in annoyance. 

“Aw, I’m sorry, what would make this up for you,” he is fighting off a smile as he asks the rhetorical question, before getting closer to you, his moving from your thigh, to your hair as he puts some of it behind your ear. You mess with his cardigan, acting like it’s messed up and you’re fixing it, gripping the side. 

“You can’t.”

“I think I can,” Spencer looks down at your hand “fixing his cardigan”, grabbing the wrist of the hand “fixing his cardigan” lightly, before meeting your eyes. He leans in and brushes his lips softly against yours. Chaste. You groan, wanting to continue, but realising you haven’t brushed your teeth, you’re still in last night’s clothes, you feel icky. You pull away. 

“I need to be less gross for the direction this is going,” you say, pouting. He is unmoving, face still merely an inch from yours. He sighs softly. 

“We can go to yours.” 

“WE??” you ask, eyes widening, looking at him like he has lost his mind. 

“Yes, we.”

[jeork]

TC Tag Game

As always I’m excessively late to the party, but thanks @renaultphile for the tag!

1. "He would not fucking say that" only they did and it's canon. When/who?

I don’t have a copy of the book at hand right now, but while Laurie is visiting home for the wedding he goes on a walk and recites this weird incest-y song to himself, then contemplates how it always felt relatable to him. I’m not saying he would not fucking say that, because obviously he does and I hear him quite clearly. But I am saying maybe he should not have fucking said that. 

Also Ralph calling Bunny “Boo”. I don’t care how drunk he was, you don’t randomly slip out with a word you wouldn’t otherwise use. It’s part of his vocabulary. This one had me in contemplation for months, like, would he ever call Laurie that? Does this count towards the bad habits and lifestyle choices he wants to abandon while being with Laurie? Whole scene’s just embarrassing af 

2. Did they kiss in the study? Yes/no + why you are 100% correct about this.

I think they probably did, but that it was very chaste. I’m convinced the kiss between Laurie and Andrew is supposed to mirror it almost exactly. The way I see it, Laurie didn’t fully process it and therefore just stood there. From the flashback he got later on while holding onto Ralph’s sleeve while they’re in Ralph's room I think Laurie might’ve grabbed onto Ralph’s arm a little. But other than that I don’t think he did much, which made Ralph decide he wasn’t ready yet.

3. Mandatory question about Ralph's alleged tattoos.

I wasn’t aware this is something people discuss lmao, I’ve only thought about it once myself. Gonna be a party pooper and say he has none, as it's "improper"

4. 53 vs 59 edition: quote a line or paragraph that is better in the edition you like the least.

I feel like me and @renaultphile are the only ‘59 truthers. I think I once even wrote an entire post just on why I like that Mary cut the knee-touch?

Again, don’t have any book copies at hand right now, but I remember one small detail in the ‘53 I really loved. During Alec’s birthday party while he’s blowing out the candles everyone is looking at him, and for a moment there’s this shared feeling of hopefulness. In the ‘53 Laurie feels someone’s eyes on him, but by the time he turns around Ralph has already stopped looking. Something about Ralph glancing at Laurie in this moment, who’s presence represents so much to Ralph, makes me ache. 

5. Which TC character would feel right at home here on tumblr dot com?

I guess the obvious answers would be something like Hazell, Sandy or Bunny, but I feel like Andrew would run the most terrifically angsty aesthetic account. Also young Laurie, he'd probably write bad poetry or something

6. Tag yourself at Alec's birthday party.

The two guys holding hands in dead silence, not because I can relate, but because they really set the scene. Or the petty shit-stirrer who snitches on Ralph having a boyfriend. Or the other petty shit-stirrer who cries "Here comes Bim"

7. Post a TC meme.

I used to run a TC meme account over on Twitter. I’ve planned on reposting all of that stuff on here sometime, in the meantime here’s one: 

8. Easy to talk about who deserved better. Who deserved worse?

Dave. The Mature Wholesome Elder act he’s putting on at the end is pissing me off. Self-serving cu- 

Also, following the heavy implications that Alec had been snuggling it up with Bunny for quite a while, I think he got off pretty scot free 

9. You can break the fourth wall (at any point in the novel) and say a single sentence to our protagonist, Laurie Odell. What do you say?

I really wanted him to stay friends with Reg. I always felt like Madge’s Aunt Vera joke was pretty funny and well intended, albeit improper and terribly timed. It didn’t come off to me as her making fun of him for being gay. More like her trying to awkwardly bond over it, similar to Reg during The Bathroom Talk™. If Laurie hadn’t been so emotionally rattled at that time I feel like he would’ve played it off. It was such bad timing for him. So I wanna scream at him “Chill out, they’re clearly not out to get you!” 

10. What's a question you have about TC? One you haven't found an answer for yet.

I think there still might be a couple minor details, but I can’t remember them right now. The only bigger piece of dialogue that’s still a little intransparent to me is Ralph’s whole speech at the beginning of their post-wedding trip argument. I have my theories about it, but would also enjoy to hear more. 

Considering I’m over a month late and have no clue who did this tag already I’ll open it up to whoever might still wanna do it.