#so many kinds of people are lumped together

[malacalico]

pretty old tighnari simplification when he was first announced

not based on any research or anything, just took his base design, removed some stuff, moved other things around

i'd love to do a redesign and make a video in the style of my noelle redesign, but because of all the cultures that sumeru takes inspiration from, researching and finding references is a lot more challenging— what cultures are in tighnari's actual character? if there's a strong throughline, are the cultural elements used appropriately? or if it's a hot-pot of aesthetics, which ones do i choose to discard and which ones to highlight? not mention the absolute minefield that is google images/pinterest... if you don't know any better (or if you just really don't care about others), you may just have a shoddy aladdin inspired halloween costume as one of your references

anyway i think it's really cool when SWANA artists take the opportunity to rework the sumeru characters with their personal knowledge and connection to their own culture

[petit-papillion]

"Leclerc is too nice to be a world champion. A Hamilton or a Verstappen, Leclerc does not have that in him. Suppose Ferrari has the best car next year, then Hamilton will gobble him up. Leclerc doesn't strike me as tough when I look at the little mistakes he makes and how he treats his engineers."

Robert Doornbos during Chinese GP weekend broadcast | April 2024

Source: Ziggo Sport

Original Dutch:

"Leclerc is te lief om wereldkampioen te zijn. Een Hamilton of een Verstappen, dat zit er bij Leclerc niet in. Stel Ferrari krijgt de beste auto volgend jaar, dan vreet Hamilton hem op. Leclerc komt op mij niet hard over als ik kijk naar de foutjes die hij maakt en hoe hij met zijn engineers is."

[torontofetish]

i just found out that apparently in latin america you learn about geography based around a 6-continent model where both of the americas are considered a single continent? if that's the case then suddenly i understand a lot more why latines prefer to say usamericans when specifying people from the US (as opposed to just americans)

[metallteeff]

okay i will rant for like two seconds my once a month rant but i have recently realized fucking psychology or i guess like modern/pop psychology especially is destroyingggg art. so bad.

like as writer/artist for like the past 2-3 years i’ve found myself being like oh i need to be able to perfectly articulate how my stories deal with mental health and then i get in this awful loop bc i’m not writing anymore im dissecting.

and on the audience part too it’s also awful. i love metas and analysis etc etc but it’s all turned into this strange phenomenon of like “proving a theory” and so many of these metas (im just going to use that for the catchall) focus on the same dissection.

just lately when it comes to art and discussion old or new academic or twitter rants i feel like i constantly see people asking “what is wrong with the artist to make them make this” instead of understanding the emotion or subject present in the piece and dissecting that as it relates to you. it has ti be clinical and hard fact and true to the creators intent.

i hate this approach so much and the way i see it effects my writing has made me crazy so i’m glad i’ve realized. i do not like to see abstract concepts put into a box im sure no one else does but being in like online art culture it’s so so so bad for that because no one can discuss anything online it has to be a debate. and then you’re debating art instead of analyzing and sharing experience.

this is all very vague and that’s kind of the point. what i’m talking about applies to anyone from like brain rotted edge lord anime girl artists to characters in mainstream/high production projects. there is no separation of art from artist on the basis of how does it make you feel it seems like it’s everyone’s wondering what’s going on in the artists head and trying to use their art as tools to figure it out. i think that has terrified me in creating and it’s made me feel like i have to make it present in my art in the first place so i have “nothing to hide” but why does an audience need to be in your psyche???

this is not me saying exploring mental health and illness and symptoms of it in art is a bad thing, it is exactly the opposite. it’s when it turns into everyone fighting about how xyz proves their headcanon correct and then no one else is allowed to interpret a character another way when the point of most art from the people i know and/or admire want the exact opposite. every character should be a mirror to a large variety of people and experiences. the same shade of green should excite one person and disgust the next. i am just so tired and appalled and over the like compartmentalization of art to enjoy it as a monolith go fuck yourself!!!!!

and i kind of got off topic with the subject of psychology present in art but looking at art with a psychological lense can be fun but that’s the lens you should already be using in the sense of connecting emotionally to pieces. i’m seeing yourself in the art right in front of you. most people (especially people who don’t create art often) go into art immediately trying to “figure it out” which i understand but how to you make it clear to everyone that they already understand, they just need to listen to what is there in front of them.

to look at art through a clinical lens is the death of art is maybe a more accurate way of talking about it. to look at art and try to dissect it, not for yourself, but to say “i know exactly what the artist was thinking” you’ll never be right. it’s fun to joke about in the basis of relation to the art but then that’s just you relating. that’s your experience and perception. you will never know the artists intent.

this is more specific and a little more silly but i feel like that^ over laps with people freaking out about character and “good/bad” representation. saying gay characters can only act this way. that characters with plurality can only be portrayed like this. that characters with a disability or neurodivergence or this or that can only say this list of things or else you’ve made a “harmful character”. of course there is harmful stereotyping but i would hope everyone able to publish and produce stuff knows what to do and not to do. i know that’s not realistic but i hope majority of writers don’t need a strict do and does list to write all of their stories!

i really mean this more in the way of making a strict view of how exactly to portray a certain character especially when it comes to marginalized identity and psychology then makes a new box that pisses people off. people did not like autistic people being portrayed as emotionless genius robots who parade as people and that’s normal because that is fucked up. but why now does every autistic character need to be almost a joke about being “too weird”. why also does a character need to be confirmed by the creator to be anything. it’s definitely nice but to me if a character portrays your experience without being confirmed anything, why not just enjoy the character in the way you perceive them. i’m also just a really big fan of ambiguity and surrealism in art so that’s how i prefer to take it but i don’t understand why every single aspect of art needs to be labeled for enjoyment. it’s killing it.

i kind of got off track with this but i hope it’s clear how i feel like psychology effects art in the ways of when you confine symptoms to one box and you put people into those boxes and those people love art and make art. then the perception of art will be affected and it’s hurting it badly. it is okay to be uncertain but i think psychology is hurting people and art badly in tandem

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Things That May Be Causing Your Writer's Block- and How to Beat Them

I don't like the term 'Writer's Block' - not because it isn't real, but because the term is so vague that it's useless. Hundreds of issues all get lumped together under this one umbrella, making writer's block seem like this all-powerful boogeyman that's impossible to beat. Worse yet, it leaves people giving and receiving advice that is completely ineffective because people often don't realize they're talking about entirely different issues.

In my experience, the key to beating writer's block is figuring out what the block even is, so I put together a list of Actual Reasons why you may be struggling to write:

(note that any case of writer's block is usually a mix of two or more)

Perfectionism (most common)

What it looks like:

You write one sentence and spend the next hour googling "synonyms for ___"

Write. Erase. Write. Rewrite. Erase.

Should I even start writing this scene when I haven't figured out this one specific detail yet?

I hate everything I write

Cringing while writing

My first draft must be perfect, or else I'm a terrible writer

Things that can help:

Give yourself permission to suck

Keep in mind that nothing you write is going to be perfect, especially your first draft

Think of writing your first/early drafts not as writing, but sketching out a loose foundation to build upon later

People write multiple drafts for a reason: write now, edit later

Stop googling synonyms and save that for editing

Write with a pen to reduce temptation to erase

Embrace leaving blank spaces in your writing when you can't think of the right word, name, or detail

It's okay if your writing sucks. We all suck at some point. Embrace the growth mindset, and focus on getting words on a page

Lack of inspiration (easiest to fix)

What it looks like:

Head empty, no ideas

What do I even write about???

I don't have a plot, I just have an image

Want to write but no story to write

Things that can help:

Google writing prompts

If writing prompts aren't your thing, instead try thinking about what kind of tropes/genres/story elements you would like to try out

Instead of thinking about the story you would like to write, think about the story you would like to read, and write that

It's okay if you don't have a fully fleshed out story idea. Even if it's just an image or a line of dialogue, it's okay to write that. A story may or may not come out of it, but at least you got the creative juices flowing

Stop writing. Step away from your desk and let yourself naturally get inspired. Go for a walk, read a book, travel, play video games, research history, etc. Don't force ideas, but do open up your mind to them

If you're like me, world-building may come more naturally than plotting. Design the world first and let the story come later

Boredom/Understimulation (lost the flow)

What it looks like:

I know I should be writing but uugggghhhh I just can'tttttt

Writing words feels like pulling teeth

I started writing, but then I got bored/distracted

I enjoy the idea of writing, but the actual process makes me want to throw my laptop out the window

Things that can help:

Introduce stimulation: snacks, beverages, gum, music such as lo-fi, blankets, decorate your writing space, get a clickity-clackity keyboard, etc.

Add variety: write in a new location, try a new idea/different story for a day or so, switch up how you write (pen and paper vs. computer) or try voice recording or speech-to-text

Gamify writing: create an arbitrary challenge, such as trying to see how many words you can write in a set time and try to beat your high score

Find a writing buddy or join a writer's group

Give yourself a reward for every writing milestone, even if it's just writing a paragraph

Ask yourself whether this project you're working on is something you really want to be doing, and be honest with your answer

Intimidation/Procrastination (often related to perfectionism, but not always)

What it looks like:

I was feeling really motivated to write, but then I opened my laptop

I don't even know where to start

I love writing, but I can never seem to get started

I'll write tomorrow. I mean next week. Next month? Next month, I swear (doesn't write next month)

Can't find the time or energy

Unreasonable expectations (I should be able to write 10,000 words a day, right????)

Feeling discouraged and wondering why I'm even trying

Things that can help:

Follow the 2 min rule (or the 1 paragraph rule, which works better for me): whenever you sit down to write, tell yourself that you are only going to write for 2 minutes. If you feel like continuing once the 2 mins are up, go for it! Otherwise, stop. Force yourself to start but DO NOT force yourself to continue unless you feel like it. The more often you do this, the easier it will be to get started

Make getting started as easy as possible (i.e. minimize barriers: if getting up to get a notebook is stopping you from getting started, then write in the notes app of your phone)

Commit to a routine that will work for you. Baby steps are important here. Go with something that feels reasonable: every day, every other day, once a week, twice a week, and use cues to help you remember to start. If you chose a set time to write, just make sure that it's a time that feels natural to you- i.e. don't force yourself to writing at 9am every morning if you're not a morning person

Find a friend or a writing buddy you can trust and talk it out or share a piece of work you're proud of. Sometimes we just get a bit bogged down by criticism- either internal or external- and need a few words of encouragement

The Problem's Not You, It's Your Story (or Outline (or Process))

What it looks like:

I have no problems writing other scenes, it's just this scene

I started writing, but now I have no idea where I'm going

I don't think I'm doing this right

What's an outline?

Drowning in documents

This. Doesn't. Make. Sense. How do I get from this plot point to this one?!?!?! (this ColeyDoesThings quote lives in my head rent free cause BOY have I been there)

Things That Can Help:

Go back to the drawing board. Really try to get at the root of why a scene or story isn't working

A part of growing as a writer is learning when to kill your darlings. Sometimes you're trying to force an idea or scene that just doesn't work and you need to let it go

If you don't have an outline, write one

If you have an outline and it isn't working, rewrite it, or look up different ways to structure it

You may be trying to write as a pantser when you're really a plotter or vice versa. Experiment with different writing processes and see what feels most natural

Study story structures, starting with the three act structure. Even if you don't use them, you should know them

Check out Ellen Brock on YouTube. She's a professional novel editor who has a lot of advice on writing strategies for different types of writers

Also check out Savage Books on YouTube (another professional story editor) for advice on story structure and dialogue. Seriously, I cannot recommend this guy enough

Executive Dysfunction, Usually From ADHD/Autism

What it looks like:

Everything in boredom/understimulation

Everything in intimidation/procrastination

You have been diagnosed with and/or have symptoms of ADHD/Autism

Things that can help:

If you haven't already, seek a diagnosis or professional treatment

Hire an ADHD coach or other specialist that can help you work with your brain (I use Shimmer; feel free to DM me for a referral)

Seek out neurodiverse communities for advice and support

Try body doubling! There's lot's of free online body doubling websites out there for you to try. If social anxiety is a barrier, start out with writing streams such as katecavanaughwrites on Twitch

Be aware of any sensory barriers that may be getting in the way of you writing (such as an uncomfortable desk chair, harsh lighting, bad sounds)

And Lastly, Burnout, Depression, or Other Mental Illness

What it looks like:

You have symptoms of burnout or depression

Struggling with all things, not just writing

It's more than a lack of inspiration- the spark is just dead

Things that can help:

Forget writing for now. Focus on healing first.

Seek professional help

If you feel like it, use writing as a way to explore your feelings. It can take the form of journaling, poetry, an abstract reflection of your thoughts, narrative essays, or exploring what you're feeling through your fictional characters. The last two helped me rediscover my love of writing after I thought years of depression had killed it for good. Just don't force yourself to do so, and stop if it takes you to a darker place instead of feeling cathartic

[pollyanna-nana]

Part of why I’m so defensive of the name Thistle is that I just think it fits him so perfectly and has some really interesting meaning you can assign to it outside of it just being his eye color.

Where I come from, thistles are considered a nuisance species. They have massive taproots that burrow deep underground, so once one pops up in your garden or yard you’re going to have a hell of a time removing it. The scotch thistle, like above, is considered invasive and listed as a noxious weed, and though there are many native thistle species they all tend to get lumped together by the average person.

And yet, thistles are incredibly important to their local ecosystem. They provide food and shelter for many species, especially pollinators, and are hardy survivalists. In some places they’re seen very favorably, such as being the symbol of Scotland. Their prickly nature means that few people are likely to mess with them, which makes them an effective symbol of resilience and protection.

But, despite this, to many they are just weeds. A nuisance, to be tolerated at best and exterminated with little prejudice if the wrong kind is in the wrong place to the point that it draws attention. Despite the fact that ultimately it is us humans who brought them to these new locations. I think there is no malice in simply trying to be alive.

[cy-cyborg]

Hey, just so everyone knows, the Olympics and the Paralympics are two separate events.

They are run/overseen by two separate organisations (the International Olympic Committee and the International Paralympic Committee) and Paralympians are not Olympians (unless they are/have competed in both, of course, but to my knowledge there isn't anyone doing that this year, though there have been a few athletes who did in the past).

If you're talking about things that effect both groups of athletes, say "Olympians and Paralympians", if you're talking about things that only effect the Paralympians or people who are competing in the Paralympics, say "Paralympians". If you're talking about a former athlete who previously competed in the Paralympics, they are not a "former Disabled Olympian", they are a former Paralympian. If you are writing articles or posts about Olympic events/controversies, don't tag the Paralympics unless you actually bring them up in said post or article.

The Paralympics are not "the disabled events at the Olympics" - they are their own thing.

I know to outside perspectives this seems pedantic but there's a very good reason these events are separated the way they currently are. Any time a disabled and abled sporting event is under the same banner, information about the disabled athletes is overwhelmingly drowned out, to the point that even if you know what you're looking for, it will be hard to find things about us (e.g. i spent a few hours today just trying to find out if certain countries have paralympic teams this year, but only got results about those countrys' olympic teams).

Do i wish this didnt have to be the case? Yeah, if you asked me back in the days when I used to play, I would have said they should be one event, but unfortunately we arent there yet, and they still need to be separated both to reduce confusion/being drowned out, and for other reasons that are beyond the scope of this post. Using different terms for our events (Olympics/Paralympics) is supposed to help alleviate these kinds of isses but it doesn't work when people lump us back in together anyway. This is especially important now when so many people are getting their info about these events via social media from other every-day people talking about them instead of from big news sources (regardless of your thoughts on whether this is a good or bad thing)

[obscure-entity]

your shading is AMAZING specially when its conveying organic forms..... do you have any tips for people who dont know wrf going on (with shading)

ok so HI. hi. my old tutorial pisses me off so i will make a new one

i made a guy whose sole purpose is to be shaded so dont worry he likes it. and his name. his name will be mr. Boob. mr boob does not have to be blue

theres probably way better explanations of how to do it but unfortunately trying to "emulate" shading does ask you to somewhat understand ur character in a 3d way. like what would the 2d shape be if you "sliced" it? mr boob is made of so many circles. his tail also does a kind of weird perspective foreshortening thing because its pointing at you. is this being conveyed

you obviuously dont have to draw a horrendous grid on your characters skin to do this . BUT it helps you put down (or at least envision) the lines of the form shading :

dont worry about cast shadows or the shading color because this is FORM SHADOW time only. think about what surfaces of the character are obviously facing away from the light source and put down the "separation line" of the shading based on that. thr most important thing is that youre trying to separate light from dark

im going to pick the first one for cast shadows bc it will be the most obvious to me

ok so. his ears and snout are blocking other surfaces of his body from the light, which means a shadow is cast!!!! bam. i saw someone describe cast shadows as what the light's pov "can't see." his entire body is putting down a cast shadow on the ground too

im impatient so i blended the form shadows now. its usually the easiest to just NOT blend cast shadows as a way of conveying that they are still cast shadows. but you can still blend them if you want to show "distance" between the obstruction and the surface its blocking. but its just a way of saying form and cast shadows should not be treated the same even if their softness coincides

im going to lump reflection and ambient light together because theyre like. similar. reflections dont just happen in mirrors

since the sky is blue, making the ambient lighting, i tinged mr. boobs existing shadow to be a bit blue. (*this is kind of important because it can help you decide a shading color, which should USUALLY be based on the environment) (unless your character is just in the transparent void then it doesnt matter)

since the ground is pink, i made pink light bounce off of him. pointed and labelled. i dont rlly know how to go more in depth than that

contact shadows are literally shadows formed from direct-touching contact. very little light can reach in there, even from how reflections disperse, which means youre free to use the darkest color available (black). in this case mr. boob is making contact with the floor. because he is sitting on the floor.

i touched him up a bit and wow!!!!!!!!!! look at mr. boob!!! he is so beautifully sculpted.

and one more thing

thats right. i made mr boob PINK. hes fucking ruined now. just kidding i would never say that to him

what im trying to convey here (its the easiest with really light colors) is a transitional color. this can also show subsurface scattering depending on how you use it which is fun to look at. the mistake i made on my last tutorial was "Just pick a warm saturated color!" which is really wrong in examples like Blue mr boob. because it would be weird to use a warm color to transition from blue to blue.

if you have a character that isn't bright enough then obviously the shadows wont be as visible. its BEST to bring more attention to highlights and reflections to reveal the form a bit. they play the biggest role with darker colors

thats all i can think of. fun things to look up:

structuralization + contour lines + foreshortening etc. 3d lingo

form shadows

cast shadows

ambient light

contact shadows

subsurface scattering

im also just speaking out of my ass otherwise. i didnt look up any of these terms until the end now im inferring and hoping i got them right

and remember every time you shade mr boob will be rooting for you

[tasteracha]

kinktober — day four

kink: body worship with changbin

warnings: smut - MINORS DNI. implied thick!reader (but can be read with any body type). mentions of body insecurity. afab!reader.

when changbin get home from work, he finds you wrapped in a big sweatshirt and a blanket, hood pulled all the way up and your entire body a shapeless lump on the couch. it’s one of those days - not especially bad, but the kind of day that left you not wanting to be perceived. if you could have become one with the couch, you would have. 

living together is new - being together in general is new. you’ve been friends for years and years, but only took the plunge into a relationship recently, falling into each other in fast forward until you were moving in with him after just a few months. him coming home to you every day just felt so natural though, and with the frequency of how often one of you stayed the night at the others it just made sense. 

“hi, beautiful,” he greets you as he flops next to you, bone-deep tiredness clear in the way he melts against your side. he makes your heart squeeze as he nuzzles his head into your chest, and it threatens to beat right out of your skin.

“‘m not,” you mumble out, unable to keep it in. you’re usually so careful about separating your insecurities from him, scared to show them to him even though you know he would be nothing but sweet to you about it.

“excuse me?” he says, sitting up so quick you’re surprised he didn’t get whiplash from it. he left you no time to regret your words as he frames your face with both of his hands and turns your head to face him. “say that again.”

“i just,” you try and look away but he nudges your head back towards his face again. “i don’t think i am. beautiful. i guess i’m not ugly but i’ve never felt like i was something special, you know?”

“no, i don’t.” he says with intense ferocity, finality on his tongue like he was begging you to try and argue with what he knew was truth. “i’ve always thought you were gorgeous, even before we were together.”

“i guess i just don’t see myself that way,” you sigh, wishing you simply hadn’t opened your mouth. 

“every single part of you is beautiful, do you understand?” he rubs his thumbs against your cheekbones before sliding his hands down past your shoulders. 

“these arms?” he squeezes your upper arms with both of his hands, using his thumb to caress the skin there. “i dream about them, the way you wrap them around me when you’re happy or excited, it’s my favorite place to be.”

“but yours are too-“

“this isn’t about me,” he cuts you off, sharply but not unkind. he moves to your breasts, caressing them more gently than he ever had before.

“these? do you even see how many people stare at you when we go out at night?” he asks, pinching a bit at your skin. “it makes me so jealous, makes me want to take you home and keep you all to myself always. no one should be able to appreciate you but me.”

his hands roam further down, slotting themselves over your hips and squeezing with his fingertips. 

“see these? they’re what i use to hold you down when you’re on top of me. how else would i be able to get you in the exact position i want you, hmm?”

your breath picks up as his fingers ghost over the swell of your lower belly, and you have to resist the urge to curl up around yourself so that he doesn’t see you. 

“this?” he leans down to pepper kisses against your burning skin, leaving invisible marks that you can feel as though they were tattoos. “this is perfection. i want to bury my face in your stomach and suffocate in it, this isn’t a flaw to be hidden. it’s not something that you need to get rid of, not something that you shouldn’t have. it’s part of you, and that means that it’s perfect.”

his words are washing over you like tidal waves, wiping out your thoughts and replacing them with his. it’s all complimented by the scorching touch of his hands on your skin, you can feel him everywhere, consuming your entire being. 

“your thighs?” he continues, kneading at the skin around your quads. “they were made to be on a goddess, do you get it? i want to sink my teeth into them and never let go. i want to cover your thighs in bite marks until you can’t see your skin anymore, so they’re all mine.”

he grabs your ass with both hands, his long fingers covering a surprising amount of surface area as they dig into your muscle. 

“and do not get me started on this ass. this belongs in museums, on display so everyone can see what perfection looks like and feel bad about themselves for not being this perfect.”

and it’s a bit silly that you start crying because of that, but you can’t contain your bubbling emotions anymore. salty tears leave your eyes and you move to cover your face, but he stops you before you can.

“i don’t love you despite these things,” he says, caressing your face with the gentlest touch, feather soft. “i love you because of them. i’m sorry that i’ve never told you like this how obsessed with you i am. i think you are the most exquisite person that has ever walked this earth. do you understand?”

“yes,” you breathe out, finally understanding. finally accepting what he was saying.

“good,” he lets a smile creep onto his face, cheeks filling out. “now, will you let me make my pretty girl feel good?” 

you nod, taking in a gulping breath as he slowly undresses you, taking time to run his hands over your skin reverently. when he takes off your panties you’re surprised by how wet you are, the cold air hitting your pussy and making you shiver. he runs a finger through your folds, collecting the slick there and spreading it to your clit. 

“this perfect pussy? how could i want anything else when this is all mine?” he circles around your clit one, two three times before sliding one finger into you, slow enough that it makes you shiver. he crooks his finger inside of you, massaging your walls languidly like he’s mapping out every single millimeter of you to memory. it’s almost more overwhelming than when he bends you over and takes you on the kitchen table, hurried and frantic, because at least then you didn’t have time to think. now, you have all the time in the world to focus on the way he feels inside you, the way his free hand is warm on your thigh where it’s squeezing, the way his own breath catches when you clench around him like he’s the one with a finger inside of him. 

“i could keep my fingers inside of you all day, that’s how much i love it.” he slips another inside and you sigh at the stretch, your muscles tensing when he finds the spot inside of you that sends sparks running through your nervous system. he smiles at you, almost wickedly, before speeding up his movements, accentuating them by pressing his thumb to your clit. almost too fast, you feel your orgasm approaching, much slower than you’ve ever felt it. you can almost see it taking over your body, a golden light starting at your fingers and toes and spreading up your limbs to your core, slow inch by slow inch. you forget to breath, gulping in air when the light finally snaps into place, squeezing your legs around his hand as you ride it out for what feels like straight minutes. 

you come back to yourself in his arms, his fingers stroking the wispy strands of hair across your forehead out of your eyes. he’s looking at you with the fondest smile you’ve ever seen, like he can’t believe that he gets to hold you in his arms like this. 

“don’t hide these things from me anymore, okay? i can’t make you feel better if i don’t know that you’re feeling bad in the first place.” 

kinktober masterlist

[discoursecallie]

why are so many of vivziepop's queer characters just caricatures

this list is mostly based on helluvaboss because hazbin hotel's portrayal of sexual assault is so upsetting to me i can't watch it anymore

Blitzø- a (edit: pansexual) man who is a liar, a cheater, afraid of commitment and attachment, uses sex as a tool to get what he wants, mistreats his partners, sexually harasses the people around him, and is obsessed with sex and innuendo

Stolas- a gay man who is obsessed with sex and innuendo, sexually harasses the people around him, and whose gayness is responsible for his daughter suffering and his family falling apart.

Fizzaroli and Asmodeus- lumped together because again, they're gay men who are obsessed with sex and innuendo and harrass the people around them. At least their relationship is healthy.

Angel Dust- yet another gay man who is obsessed with sex and innuendo and who sexually harasses the people around him. He's also a sex worker who's a victim of trafficking (harmful because sex work is so rarely portrayed as something consensual) and the portrayal of his abuse makes a mockery of real victims.

Alastor- an asexual character who is only asexual for the sake of jokes because Vivziepop thinks sexual harassment and not desiring sex are funny.

Any of these things on their own would be excusable but Vivziepop has a habit of consistently making her queer characters perpetuate harmful stereotypes about queer people, and her fans champion her as some kind of queen of representation because she portrays gay people whatsoever.

[vampiricgf]

Because I love you enough to turn around

(I will never turn from you)

leon kennedy x f reader

wc: 1k +

warnings : alcoholism, self guilt, self shame, mention of a noose as imagery, angst into like hurt comfort sort of thing

sorry im sick n also been thinking heavily about orpheus and eurydice and what it means to love someone enough to turn around (promise it's not all angst but it's pretty heavy on it)

You're in that twilight space between sleep and wakefulness when the door opens. There's no need to startle because you already know who it is, know from the heavy footfalls that make a particularly loose board on the floor groan as he slips off his boots. Know from the softer padding you catch turning the left hand edge, into the bathroom and just as you think it you hear the light click on.

Not every day can be a good day.

It's what circles around and around in your mind as you catch the sound of the taps squeaking on, the sink running at full blast. At least he has the decency to not climb into bed with you reeking of whiskey and possible bile. But you don't resent him for it.

You've never resented him for anything. Never begrudged him anything. Not the constant distance, the secrecy, the occasional white lie you knew was for your own comfort so you never told him you knew he was lying. Never asked him about details, never pressed him, never let yourself get so overwhelmed you dissolve into hysterics no matter how many times you felt yourself reaching that point.

And you don't do any of that now, as you feel the mattress dip with the additional weight and feel him staring at your back. You'd forgotten you put on one of his old t shirts, just to comfort yourself against the uncertainty of if he'd be back before the sun, aggressive and ever constant, demanded you get up and face another day.

Being with Leon was like being stranded on a sheet of ice. Uncertain of its thickness, if it could handle any fluctuation in weight or pressure. Terrified of every crack and fissure that threatened to spread, to send the portion you found yourself on plunging into subzero depths that would stop your lungs and squeeze like a vice grip over your heart.

But it was exhausting to constantly monitor for those hairline fractures, to be the loving partner while wishing you could just grab his shoulders and scream in his face about how desperately you needed him to get his shit together. But you'd never do that, know he doesn't need it from you of all people.

But you don't turn around. You don't give any indication that you're awake and aware and grieving like some old war widow for the millionth time in your short life for a man that still has breath in his body.

Not even as his fingers run down your bicep, hesitant as if he's touching spun sugar that threatens to melt with the slightest heat.

"I know you're awake."

You don't respond, let the silence hang heavy and imposing as a noose from a solitary beam, but you do turn then to finally take him in. And fresh chips are dug out of your own heart as you do, a proverbial ice pick gradually working to cleave you in half.

God has he always looked so tired?

"You should get some sleep," your hushed voice sounds flat, even to your own ears and you hope he doesn't take it as cruelty when it's not. It's a kind of bone deep, spiritual exhaustion. An unspoken wish for a rest so deep the entire world could collapse around you and you would be none the wiser, uncaring as the sky above and just as unseeing.

"I'm sorry." He says it to no one in particular as he turns away from you, stripping off socks and pants.

As you turn back over your eyes burn in the dark, like someone stuck two searing hot coals into the sockets and you bite your bottom lip hard enough to feel a sting. It's good, it's grounding. You shouldn't cry, not like this, not now. Just another burden added to the lump sum is all it would be.

So you don't, you level your breathing as best you can as you feel him climb back into bed fully this time, tentatively putting a hand on your hip as his chest presses against your back. He touches you like he's afraid.

And you're powerless against the way that one single touch acts as a battering ram, destroying the hurriedly constructed emotional dam in a spectacular splintering of wood, and you feel yourself start to tremble. The moisture from your nose is the next signal of disaster, the sign that there is no undoing what has just occurred. And your eyes are suddenly full of all the water in the world, as if you've drunk dry every sea and river on earth only to refill them from yourself.

It feels more like watching someone else weep and sniffle as if their life depends on it, being the unattached observer before turning away, hand over the mouth to hide the shape of words. Glad it isn't me.

But it is.

His arm comes around you, tightening up as he presses his own face against the back of your neck. And the tears flow ever faster, spurred by the shame of being the emotional one. The one that can't help but be naked in their weakness.

You don't move to shift him away, don't move to get up or hurry to the bathroom. You simply can't be bothered. If nothing else he can witness your grief, and there is a strange sort of comfort in that.

You could wail, berate him about breaking his promises of things being different, being better but what's the point of shooting at something that's already dead?

And it's then that you feel it: wetness spotting against the skin of your neck, rolling down your back before being absorbed by the well worn cotton. You feel it and you turn and your heart breaks again seeing his blue eyes twinged in red, one of the many different shades regret dresses itself in. Your reflection is drowning in saltwater, as if trapped in the sea with no hope of rescue.

So you cling to him, arms around his neck and fingers lacing a crown as you hold each other and you cry as if it might be endless. As if all that might exist for eternity is this: the longing and the waiting and the grieving and the sobbing. But in his embrace there is a hope, a small light that peeks through the cracks, so faint you could almost swear you imagined it.

He doesn't smell like liquor.

And for some reason it makes you sob harder, like you're trying to form the shrieking gale force winds of a hurricane from one small human vocal chord.

"I got hung up when we got back, I tried calling- figured you were asleep." His voice is a fragile thing, shaking as a newborn foal on its unfamiliar feet.

For all that you don't begrudge him neither does he towards you. He can't muster up indignation that you doubted him, not when recently he's given you no reason to believe in him. He knows the biting amber liquid is both a crutch and a dog collar with inward facing spikes. Hasn't ever been able to trace the exact point when he stopped seeking comfort in you and instead sought it in sticky bar tops and grimy shot glasses, a flask snuck into a jacket pocket. But it hardly matters when the damage is done.

He spends every day choking on each word he can't say to you. Each time he comes home like a stray that got in a fight to collapse on your doorstep, it bulges and sticks fast in his throat. Every time you cradle his jaw with your fingertips and clean blood from some fresh wound his esophagus caves in on itself. Every time your eyes get unfocused as they linger on his drunken form before you turn away he feels more of the paint peeling off himself.

All of you has felt so out of focus. So he clings to you now, squeezing your body against his like he might be able to absorb you into himself, tuck you away for eternal safekeeping, if he just tries hard enough. Like if he presses his lips to your cheeks, nose, forehead, again and again you'll gain more opacity with each one, be returned to flesh and blood like a princess turned to stone in a story. Awakened by true loves kiss.

So he kisses you, over and over and over. With each pass of his lips you seem to reanimate, hands fliting around his body like you can't decide where they belong, can't decide what part of him to touch or if you should touch all of him. His own drag the worn out shirt over your head, bare your body to his stinging eyes and it's like a salve for all the wounds that still feel like they're split open and oozing all over the floor.

Your kiss tastes of salt and of pain and of loss and of guilt. He wishes he could unhinge his jaw like a snake, swallow all of that ugliness in one pass and leave you as pristine as you were in the beginning. Before he ruined you. Turned you into a hollowed out city, teetering on the edge of uninhabitable.

But renewal, rebuilding, it's all possible. Crumbling structures can be fixed without ripping down the entire framework. They do it every day, how many does he drive past at any given time?

So his lips carve a tender path down the column of your throat until he's hovering over your heart, placing a kiss so chaste against the skin of your chest it's almost religious. You gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him still, hold him in just that perfect space above the thundering muscle echoing in his ear as it presses against your warm body.

Not since he was a child has anyone held him so firmly, so tenderly. Not that he would even allow it anyway, not from anyone outside of you. You were the first taste of softness. The first time you whispered that it wasn't selfish to want to be held he felt the fault lines erupting inside himself. It wasn't brave or righteous to continually deny himself or to self flagellate through every word and action, it was nothing but one continual act of self desecration.

But you poured all your love into an empty man, made him whole again and watched as he wasted it. Fresh tears pooled between your breasts, dislodged to drip down your ribs with every breath. He could cry for eternity and it would still never properly express the depth of his shame. Shaking fingers crawl spider like up your sides as he struggles to keep a firm hand on his own breathing, not give into the temptation of rapid, lightheaded madness.

Your fingers marking light trails through his hair soothe him, like calming a thrashing rabbit kicking against its cage. Slowly he can hear his own heart falling into sync with yours, his own chest expanding and sinking in time with yours.

It feels like maybe the world has stopped, stopped and fallen away and all that's left is this room and the two of you. One eternal embrace, stretching out across time like summer saltwater taffy.

And he swears a new promise, whispering against your skin like he could brand the words there forevermore.

I won't waste it.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Sweet Home

idk how the multiverse works so im just fucking up the worldbuilding but basically my hc is that whenever a dimension suffers trauma (too many ppl leaving dimensions, rift in time etcetc), it will create a shield around itself, preventing anyone from entering or leaving as it works to self-correct. 

(Yandere, dark, kidnapping, captive, delusional behavior, gn reader, implied deaths, talks of bombs)

Yandere!Miguel O'hara x reader

Honestly, you weren’t much of a threat. 

It was a rather misfortunate case of wrong place wrong time. One second, you were in your home, mulling about. The next, you were across dimensions. 

At least, that’s how it was explained to you. You had no idea there could be more than one spiderman, and now you were surrounding by millions. Maybe even billions. Here they all were. Heroes, all working together to save the multiverse, returning innocent people, like you, back to where they came from. 

But, according to Miguel, you were a special case. 

“It’s not too hot, this time?” He asks, his face in the same scowl as always. Before, you assumed he hated you. Now, you realize the man had a hard time showcasing emotion. 

It’s still there, though. You can see the concern in his eyes as they soften ever so slightly, as if he was remembering the scalding hot tea that burned your tongue. 

You tasted it, smiling at its perfection. When you mentioned you preferred something sweet, you had almost choked on the lump of sugar at the end of the cup Miguel prepared. After that, he was much more lenient with sugar. 

Ever since, you were put into his custody, he made it very clear your comfort would be his top priority. You never considered a superhero agency to be comforting, but the room he lent you was spacious and had a warm fluffy bed, food was always delicious, the guilt-filled gifts were always nice. It was clear the man spared no expense. 

“It’s perfect,” you say, “thank you.” 

He gives a smile. Though, it’s strained, like he’s not sure if he’s doing it correctly. He finally gives up, staring down at your techband. It wasn’t as sophisticated as his, you understood why you couldn’t have one, you were just grateful it stopped you from glitching. 

“So...is there anything new?” You ask, careful to broach the subject. 

You couldn’t go back home, not yet. It had taken a while for you to calm down when you were first brought here. You had been terrified, fearing for your life surrounded by these strangers who all strangely resembled spiderman. It was Miguel that had talked you down. He wasn’t patronizing, didn’t coddle you, but he wasn’t unkind. 

He explained things carefully. When you had been ripped from your dimension, something had gone wrong. The dimension had closed in, as if it were a living creature defending itself, an armadillo creating a thick shell. No one could go in or out. 

So, here you stayed at the spiderman’s headquarters, temporarily dimensionless. 

You peered into Miguel’s face. He was tired. He always looked tired. You wondered if he was getting enough sleep. Guiltily, you knew you were partially a reason for that. 

“Nothing.” He sighed. “We still can’t communicate to your spiderman, nor can we break into the gates. So far, no progress.” 

You had a feeling that’d be the case. You gave a strained smile, feeling more and more hopeless. 

“Hey.” His hand was warm on your shoulder. “I’ll find a way to get you back home, I promise. Don’t give up on me just yet.” 

He was close, leaning in just so your faces were inches apart. Miguel was just being kind, you knew that. But his height and stature had always intimidated you. A part of you was sure he knew that. It was why he would always hover over your, like it was some way to subconsciously keep you in check. 

It was an absurd thought. As always, you shook it off. 

“And besides, if we can’t, you’re always free to stay here.” He gave a lazy wave to the spacious room filled with gadgets you couldn’t even begin to describe. 

 It was a joke. You knew that. Miguel was adamant about ‘anomalies’ being returned to where they belonged. You were certain he would’ve thrown you back into your dimension if the situation were different. Yet, just the thought of staying here forever, never seeing your friends or family ever again tugged on your heart. 

You appreciated everything Miguel had done for you, he had gone above and beyond, but you were lonely. Due to protocol, only Miguel was able to see you. You understood it, but it didn’t mean you were not allowed to have human emotions. 

You longed for home. 

He must have seen it in your eyes because he pulled back some. The lines on his face hardened ever so slightly. He was angry. Not at you. Never at you. 

“You done with that?” He changed the subject, gesturing to your cup. 

Nodding, you return it to him gratefully. He stands up, grabbing the remnants of lunch and dirty dishes. 

“I’ll be back.” He tells you, and he’s assured you plenty of times that you weren’t, but it was hard not to feel like a prisoner as you watched him leave through a metal door. 

You waited for ten seconds, and then you rose from your own seat. 

There were only two rooms you had access to. Your own, and then Miguel’s office. 

Well, it wasn’t really an office. It was a large computer room, but Miguel always worked here, and you always kept him company, much preferring the companionship of at least one human rather than the solitude of your bedroom. 

Over time, he seemed to trust you a bit more. Or maybe he started underestimating you. Over time, he had accidentally given you most of the passwords to this place, not really paying attention as you not-so-secretly spied on his work.

You felt a little guilty for snooping, but a part of you was frustrated. You’d been stuck here for weeks, with no concrete answer. Miguel always seemed to evade your questions. You wanted an explanation. Assurance. 

Strangely enough, you felt a little old as you clumsily operated a machine that was decades into the future. It was a humbling experience. You typed in your dimension number, a sequence you knew by heart. 

Huh. 

You weren’t sure what a closed dimension looked like, but it certainly wouldn’t look like this. It looked fine. Despite your minimal experience with looking at dimension maps, you could tell the gates were opened. You could even see tiny dots flitting in and out. People.

Everything looked fine. 

Then...why did Miguel say you couldn’t go home? 

“What are you doing?” 

You hadn’t even noticed he’d come back. He had been so silent. Like a spider. 

You whirl around to face him. For the first time, you realize you’d never actually seen him without his signature blue and red costume. His face was stony. His demeanor had changed, as if earlier he was actively trying to pretend around you. Before, he used to slouch slightly, his hands would drape awkwardly at his sides. Now, his back was straight, arms ready. 

You’d never thought Miguel as threatening before.

Still, you try your best to loosen the sudden tension in the room. You give a sheepish smile, hoping it doesn’t wobble like your heartbeat. 

“I think my dimension just opened up,” You mutter, halfheartedly pointing to the screen, “Does this mean I can go back home?” 

He steps forward. You inch backward as he makes his way over to the computers. All the screens shut off. You can barely see him in the dim light. 

He works he jaw, like he wants to tell you something but can’t. 

Despite your heart going a mile a minute, you don’t want to be scared of Miguel. The only friend you had here. You bite your lip, gaining all the courage you could. 

“Did you lie to me?” It was a stupid question. Of course Miguel would say no. He wouldn’t do this to you. He couldn’t. 

His eyes slice into you. Crimson. 

“Yes,” he says simply, “I did.” 

You weren’t expecting that. You couldn’t have. Your mind was whirling, desperately trying to piece together an explanation. 

The tears burned in your eyes. You forced yourself to keep them at bay. 

“Why?” It was barely a whisper, you weren’t sure if he had heard you. 

He rakes his hand through his hair. It was something he did when he was stressed. You’d once jokingly told him that if he kept doing that he’d go bald. 

You had joked with this man. 

“I was going to put you back,” He said, almost like he was pleading to you. As if you were his judge, his executioner, and not his helpless prisoner. 

“That was the plan. I was going to put you back but...” He sucks in a breath. He gives a laugh with no real mirth. 

“But then I realized how much safer you’d be here.” 

You didn’t understand. You take another step back. He follows. 

“Your dimension opened back up two weeks ago.” You’d been stuck here for three. “Communication has resumed like normal. I lied about that.” 

It felt like a sick prank. Like he would suddenly start laughing, telling you how gullible you were. 

But it feels even worse when he doesn’t do that. He just stares, almost like he feels sorry for you. 

You don’t want his pity. 

“You haven’t met your dimension’s spiderman, have you?” He suddenly asks. “He’s a good kid. But that’s all he is. Just a kid. Thinks everything comes easy. His fate is worse than most.” 

“His recklessness causes a bomb to detonate. 126 people die.” His gaze is stiff on your figure. 

“Including you.” 

You freeze, staring at him, unable to move. The word of your death still lingered in the air. 

“I told myself I’d send you back,” he continues staring into the dark screens, “But you were so sweet and you made me feel so-” He cuts himself off with a huff. 

“I always have to make the right decision. Every time.” He finally says, looking back at you. 

“Just for once, I wanted to be selfish.” 

“Miguel-” 

“I won’t.” He interrupts. “I’ll keep you here. I’ll keep you safe. I always keep things that belong to me safe.” 

You don’t like how he phrased that. You don’t like anything about this. This didn’t sound like your Miguel. 

Or did you even know him? Was the weeks of kindness all an act? A ploy to keep you satisfied?

Look how wonderfully that worked? You walked right into his trap like a stupid butterfly, struggling in the sticky webs. 

“You said it yourself,” you whisper, “I’m an anomaly. I can’t-I can’t stay in a dimension that isn’t mine. I could cause rifts-or-or even worse disasters.”

You try to throw his words back at him, hoping it’d knock some sense into him. He just gives a hum at your attempts. 

“Not if you stay here,” he replies, “Not if I keep you contained. Keep you here.” 

You shake your head, stepping back. This felt like a nightmare. The tears were falling in full force, down your quivering chin as you stare at him. 

“You-you can’t do that,” You mutter, backing up against the wall as he makes his way towards you, “You can’t do that.”

He crowds you against him, hushing you as he bundles you up to his chest, stroking your hair. He’s so warm. His scent of woodland mountains is so strong. He suffocates you. You hadn’t realized it until just now. 

“I know you don’t understand.” Miguel replies, sounding so genuine. It makes you sick. “But you will. One day. One day you’ll thank me for saving you.” 

Saving you. This wasn’t saving you. This was keeping you. This was killing you. 

“I want to go home.” Your voice breaks, cracks under the weight of his confession. “Miguel please. I-I need to go home.” 

For the first time, he smiles. A sincere smile. 

A condescending smile. Like you’ve said something adorably naïve. 

“Mi amor.” He purrs, affectionately kissing your cheek. 

“You are home.” 

[hypnotic-kink]

Tan lines?:)

100% RANT

Please don't take this personal @builtincalifornia, I'm not directing these comments towards you. I get the ASK, I went on vacation, and I have posted pics of my tan before & bikini pics. I did take some tan line pics and a few full body bikini pics on vacation, I was going to post them, but one super disrespectful guy ruined that request, so no, no tan lines will be posted ... I feel mentally abused after that guy. I also know I post some provocative pics and it can attract the mega pervs (who I end up blocking), I get it, I accept that will happen occasionally, and I can handle most comments. Some will say because I post pics "I'm asking for it," well, that's a bullshit cop out because you can have all the pervy thoughts you want to have, but you're either a decent human being in comments/DMs or not, so that excuse doesn't fly with me. Do better! Show your appreciation in a respectful way! I've gotten good at sidestepping this stuff but now I need to be crystal clear, my pictures give NO ONE the right to message me sexually, make demands, say nasty things and then get pissed when I say no and proceed to call me every name in the book. He's blocked and I will block anyone that displays childish behavior like that in DM or in my comments. If you agree with Him, block me and good riddance. If you think my pics are hot or sexy ...hey then I accomplished what I set out to do! I enjoy getting the aesthetics right on my pics, and that's awesome and I'm flattered when people think I took a great pic. Glad you like them! I also enjoy interacting on comments too, again, nothing wrong with that, newsflash, this is a photography and chat site (not a dating app). If I'm commenting to you that still isn't an open invitation to sexual comments or give anyone the right to have expectations towards me and I'll say most of you guys have been PRETTY AWESOME and I've cleaned out the really degrading ppl that used to make all the crude remarks. My blog IS a NSFW site after all, and I AM allowed to post whatever my little heart desires and let my exhibitionist side out in a safe environment if I chose to, there is NOTHING wrong with that. Don't get it twisted. I'm not here for a hook up, and I'm certainly not here to get you off. No one has the right to demand pictures of me. After 1 1/2 yrs. on this blog, the people I am friends with and do talk to in DM, you're there for a reason .... thank you for knowing my boundaries and respecting them and thank you for your friendship. Yes, women are allowed to have male friends on here, that doesn't mean we are sexting or have a sexual relationship with all of them. I do appreciate and value you. You're the best :)

To the people that want to judge me based off my posting sexy personal pictures. KISS MY ASS, you don't know me. You haven't even tried to know the woman behind the pictures & I don't have to agree with any Dom on his opinion & I certainly don't have to obey demands, from anyone, male, female, Dom or not. I'm sure there are many women who post pics that feel the same way as I do. Am I a sexual person? Absolutely, but I'm also not all about sex, so stop with the assumptions. I'm also a one-on-one relationship kind of women who isn't poly and isn't into multiple guys. So many like to lump all us women who post pics together like we're all sexting everyone in this place, but for me personally, you're wrong. I'm sure there are some men in here that the same assumptions are made too. I am not sexting any man in here and I say that publicly because I know it's the truth. I'm not a whore, a slut, or easy because I post pictures of myself. I'm pretty damn selective and there are many in here that know that and have said perhaps my expectations are even too high. AGAIN, No one owns me in here, I'm not a punching bag for you to hurl derogatory words at if you don't get your way and no one has the right to have any expectations of me, nor send dick pics, and I don't even have to respond to DMs if I choose not to. I'm always nice and polite to people who message, until it's time not to be. Me being polite is also not an invitation to say sexual comments. If I wanted to go down that path, I would, and you would know it. I'm not looking. Also, when men post their own pics, I support them 100%, that does not mean I want to get with them, or I'm perving on them. It takes guts to put yourself out there, for men and women. Men and women support me so why wouldn't I support them?! You guys all rock too! While I'm on a rant, do not, I repeat do NOT ask for more pictures of me if you do message me. READ PROFILES DAMMIT, mines crystal clear. PS: I am far from a prude, just sick of comments that men would never say to me if they were face to face with me in real life.

[thatfandomslut]

It's Only You

Karen Shetty x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Trigger Warnings: reader experiencing feelings such as jealousy and insecurity & a fluffy ending

Request:

Can you do a Karen Shetty fluff with fem fem reader🥹🥹 with like reader getting jealous because so many girls like Karen which results in Karen showing her sweet, caring and protective side to reader 🤧🤧

Mean Girls requests are open.

Karen Shetty was the kindest girl in the junior class at North Shore High. Not to mention, she was funny and insanely caring. Additionally, she had a brilliant smile, long, wavy dark brown hair, and chocolate-colored eyes that shined brightly when she talked about the things she loved. (Y/n) (L/n) was absolutely in love with Karen. The only problem was, that so was the entire junior class. Of course, this seemed to be the price (Y/n) paid for dating one of the Plastics. Everyone was absolutely in love with all of them, and no matter their relationship status, they would be flirted with.

That was the problem.

(Y/n) felt her eye twitch as she stood beside Karen as Bethany Hughes batted her eyelashes at Karen. Bethany was blatantly ignoring the death glare that (Y/n) was throwing her. The regretful feeling of jealousy was settling in the pit of her stomach as she stared at the brunette. To say that (Y/n) was feeling angry at the situation would be an understatement. However, it was when Bethany's hand landed gently on Karen's arm that (Y/n) finally made a move to get rid of the girl.

"Right," (Y/n) interrupted, causing Bethany to narrow her eyes because now all of Karen's attention was on her girlfriend. (Y/n) plucked the hand of her girlfriend with a sickly sweet smile. "It was nice to see you, Bethany, really, but we have to get going. You understand, don't you? After all, it's not like you would want to hold us up on our way to class, would you?"

Karen noticed how tense (Y/n) was, and she wrapped an arm around her girlfriend's waist. A smile appeared on her lips when she felt her relax a bit against her arm. Karen was always protective over (Y/n). She understood that many people liked her due to her status as a Plastic, but she wanted to make sure that (Y/n) never felt less than. "Bye," Karen waved before looking at Bethany deep in thought. "Sorry, I forgot your name already," Karen admitted before shrugging and leading (Y/n), who now wore a giant smirk, to her class.

Unfortunately, (Y/n) didn't share this class with Karen, though their classes happened to be next door. (Y/n) was already in a sour mood over Bethany's little game when she heard the girls in front of her attempting to whisper. "You don't think Karen and (Y/n) are still together, do you? I was thinking about inviting Karen to go to Shane Omen's party with me." The two glanced back, not so subtly at (Y/n).

(Y/n) was doing her best not to look over at the girls as her cheeks heated up as annoyance bubbled in her chest. "I think they are, but I don't understand why. Karen is kind of out of (Y/n)'s league." This caused her ears to perk up as she stared at the blank paper on her desk. "I just feel like Karen could do so much better than (Y/n). She's not even as pretty as you, so maybe you should ask out Karen. Maybe, you can show her what she's missing out on with (Y/n)." The friend suggested with a shrug. (Y/n) had to swallow the lump in her throat as her eyes glossed over.

Maybe if this wasn't the second attempt to take Karen away from her on the same day or the tenth attempt in the last three days, (Y/n) wouldn't feel this way. (Y/n) took a breath before she realized she couldn't keep herself from crying. So, in an attempt to not cry in front of the class, she stuffed her things in her backpack and rushed out of the room before anyone could see the tear rolling down her cheek. She knew that people would find out if she was crying if she was in the restroom, so instead, she her way to her car.

(Y/n) couldn't help but feel insecure. No matter how beautiful Karen told her she was, it was suddenly trumped by the comment that one person felt she wasn't pretty enough for Karen. (Y/n) didn't realize how much time had passed until her phone buzzed. Karen was wondering where she was. Instead of responding, (Y/n) tossed her phone onto the passenger seat and curled up in the driver's seat. She felt guilty about her action, but right now; she couldn't face Karen. She just needed a moment to herself and to think about the comments of the girls in her class.

However, Karen was staring at her phone in confusion, wondering where (Y/n) could be. Meeting Regina and Gretchen for lunch, the two questioned (Y/n)'s absence. "I have no idea," Karen admitted, her brows knitted together in thought. "She wasn't in her class. I waited for her, but she never came out. When I looked in, though; the classroom was empty." Karen explained as the three headed into the cafeteria.

"Have you checked the restrooms or her car?" Regina raised her brows before glancing at Karen. This caused Karen to grin as she shook her head, excusing herself from the group to search for (Y/n).

(Y/n)'s car happened to be the last place Karen checked, but she was pleased to say she found her girlfriend. However, her smile dropped when she knocked on the window only to see tears streaming down (Y/n)'s cheeks. (Y/n) let Karen into the passenger's side and was met with the girl wrapping her into a tight hug over the center console. (Y/n) cried into her shoulder as Karen held her close, rubbing her back gently. "What happened?" Karen questioned softly.

(Y/n) pulled away, leaning her head on the window. "Everyone loves you, and I don't blame them. I mean, I love you, too. I am in love with you. But I guess I didn't realize I wasn't good enough for you until today. Everyone flirts with you, but I never felt like their flirts meant anything. Still, today, I heard these girls in class talking about you. One of the girls likes you and her friend let her know that you were better than me and that she was prettier than me. I guess I never felt this insecure until they said that." (Y/n) rambled, and realized she probably didn't even make sense.

Karen blinked for a moment as she took in her girlfriend's words. "Sometimes, I think I'm too dumb for you. I understand what you're feeling. I just want you to know that you're good enough, you're more than good enough. I love you, too, and whatever they said isn't right." Karen took (Y/n)'s hand gently as she smiled over at her.

"You're very smart," (Y/n) reminded her. Sure, Karen wasn't great at school and sometimes processed things a bit longer, but she was smart. At least, (Y/n) thought so. "I'm sorry for being so insecure. I guess I needed a reminder of how you felt, so thank you for finding me."

Karen gave her a giant smile, pressing a kiss to (Y/n)'s lips. "Don't worry, I only have eyes for you. It's only you." Karen said softly before kissing away (Y/n)'s tears. (Y/n) smiled at Karen's words, leaning into her touch, grateful for the chance to be with her. In this moment, (Y/n) forgot why she was so insecure. Karen was obviously not into those other girls, and this was something that (Y/n) was now brilliantly aware of.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

is there anywhere that in game that says the Mc is the same age as the other first years?? I've been seeing a lot of discourse like "yuu can't do this/be shipped with that person bc they're like 16!!" (for ships this mostly refers to malleus, leona, and lilia)

but I don't remember anything that specifically indicates this? people argue its because they're in first year, but there are canon instances of people enrolling late/being older than their classmates. I was always under the impression that yuu was dropped with the first years regardless of age.

idk I've seen a lot of people get into stupid arguments lately, acting like other people's mc's are a crime bc they're like 17 or 18 (or god forbid 19, even though leona is 20 and there are other... complicated ages).

sorry, this ended up a lot longer than I meant for it to

I think many do assume that Yuu is 16 since they’re in class 1-A and hang out primarily with first year students. However, there is nothing in the game that states Yuu is 16 or has to be (similar to the vagueness about their gender); it’s probably left open-ended so players can imagine their own “Yuus”. As mentioned by the asker, there is variation in the age of canon students (Leona, Lilia, Malleus, etc.)—and even in the Yuus featured in official TWST materials, such as 17 year old Yuuka Hirasaka from the Episode of Savanaclaw manga. I feel it’s pretty pointless to argue over Yuu being “canonically” 16 or which Yuus are and aren’t “allowed” to exist since the game itself is set up in a way that encourages using your imagination to come up with whatever kind of Yuu you want.

More likely, Yuu is lumped into a first year class for reasons other than age. Firstly, they are “half of a student” with Grim, who is starting out his magical studies as a first year student. The two need to stick together—they “complete” one another. Secondly, first year classes center on theory and are basically the only ones Yuu is able to take. The higher level classes require the practical application of magic. Grim is not to that level yet and Yuu is incapable of meeting those magical demands.

Mmm, I think that’s about all I have to say on this matter? I’m afraid I don’t care to delve too deeply into the shipping discourse mentioned—though I do understand being frustrated with fans policing and attacking others’ creations 💦 My advice is to just enjoy your own slice of the fandom rather than letting bad apples ruin your experience.

[turcott3]

angel

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings?: switches from third to second pov a few times, cursing, talks of fighting, talks of smut, crying, alcohol

loosely based on black mirror episode ‘arkangel’

(third person will be written in italics)

masterlist

-

2011

you found your way to the open pavement as the final school bell rang. the basketball court and black top was where everyone hung out that didn’t ride the bus, which was honestly a good chunk of people.

you found your way to your everyday meeting spot, and sat down on the large rock. the same rock where you met up with your sister everyday. you noticed the trouble maker kid outside as well.

his name was matthew. he was in the third grade, you in first.

you tend to watch him from afar, listening in on his conversations. something about him drew you in. you were so intrigued by his presence. recently, you’d discovered that he plays hockey, and now he was getting deeper into it

hockey this, hockey that. that’s all he talked about now.

all his friends were called over by their parents one by one and soon he was left alone, drawing his attention to you. he walks quickly over to you.

the two of you knew each other vaguely, you were at least on a first name basis given you’d been outside together many times before your sister graced you with her presence.

“so you play hockey?” you ask.

“yeah, how’d you know?” he asks, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“well i just heard you talking.” you replied.

“oh so you were snooping?” he retorts.

“well no i-“

“you wanna learn about it?” he offers and you nod.

“i think i should tell you about my favorite part.” he smirks.

he begins rambling on vaguely about the sport but focusing on his alleged favorite part.

fighting.

“and then he takes his fist and he-“

“matthew stop it!” your sister shouts, speed walking into frame.

“what?” he asks.

“stopping scaring my sister. you’re freaking her out with all your scary, violent stuff.”

“i haven’t even told her anything about it yet.” he spat his words out strongly at her.

“whatever. she’s 6, she doesn’t need to know about that stuff.” your sister says clenching your shoulder one last time.

“you can tell me another time.” you whisper to him, guarding your mouth from her view.

“i heard that y/n. and no, he won’t tell you another time. come on, mom is waiting.” she says tugging your sleeve. you couldn’t help but keep your eyes locked on his frame as he directed his story elsewhere. silly, frantic punching motions coming from the boy.

-

2013

you sat alone on the ground as you watched all the kids run around at recess.

more specifically, matt playing football with his friends.

you sighed as you picked the small weed flowers, stuffing the pretty ones in your pocket for later. you hear yells from the group of boys playing football and look up, seeing matthew slow to a stop, his eyes on you.

“hey guys uh, ill be back in a few.” he shouts, jogging in your direction. you felt a lump in your throat as he approached.

“hey y/n.”

“hi.”

“what’s wrong? everything okay?” he asks, genuine concern lining his tone.

“yeah, my friend is sick today so, i don’t have anyone to play with.”

“i’m sorry, here,” he pauses sitting down next to you, “now you have someone.”

you smile at the gesture. as much of a bad, misbehaved kid he was, he was always so kind to you, and you never knew why.

“so you play football now?” you ask, looking at the flowers you picked.

“nah, just here. can’t play hockey at recess can i?” he asks leaning closer, nudging your shoulder.

“yeah i guess you’re right.” you giggle.

“well since my sisters in middle school now, you can finally tell me about hockey. i just don’t wanna stop your game over there.” you continue.

“they can play without me.” he simply replies.

“oh…. okay.”

“so you wanna hear about it now aye?” he teases.

“yeah.” you reply shyly. he goes on to tell you about the new rules he was learning, obviously building up to his favorite part.

the fighting. again.

“i’m a lot bigger than the other guys so, it’s easy for me to beat them up.” he says.

“really?”

“yeah, i think i’ve broken a few noses. you should look on youtube when you get home. just look up hockey fights. they’re awesome.” he tells you finally as your teacher called out for you to come back inside.

“thank you for sitting with me matthew.”

“yeah you’re welcome, oh, and you can call me matt by the way.” he replies as you nod and walk away from him. growing more and more curious about him by the day.

-

2017

you were a month into your seventh grade year, freshly 13 years old. matt had moved on up to highschool. it made you a little sad not seeing him in the halls during school but since you rode with your sister, who was now a junior, you saw him sitting outside once school got out.

you sighed as you walked past him at a distance. swarmed by girls he seemed mildly interested in.

“ooo shiny new hockey player. kiss my ass.” you mumble to yourself, keeping your head pointed to the ground as you walked to your sisters car. you heard matt’s voice in the distance telling the girls he’d catch them later.

“y/n, wait up.” he calls to you, jogging to catch up to you.

“hey matt.” you smile lightly, blushing at him ditching all those girls to see you.

“how’s big ol’ seventh grade going for ya?” he asks as you continue walking.

“oh it’s good. kinda boring. middle school is dumb.”

“yeah well, i miss seeing you in the halls. highschool better come quick. i’ll catch you later y/n, my moms here.” he nudges your arm as you wave bye to him.

“was that matt?” your sister asks as you approach the car.

“yeah it was.”

“what did he want?” she scoffs as you both shut your car doors.

“he’s not some evil, disgusting monster you know? we’re friends, kinda.” you reply.

“i just don’t want him to be a bad influence on you.”

“you don’t see me fighting people at school do you?”

“well no-“

“then there you go. he’s not.”

“okay y/n.” she replies, pulling out into the road and driving home.

you had no idea why she had formed this resentment for him. he hadn’t done anything to her, she just took what she heard of him and ran with it.

the rest of the drive home was quiet, she made you mad and you were done. defending matt against your sister wasn’t on the books today, but you were sure to get an earful from your mother later.

-

2018

you walked with your friend away from the buses and to the side entrance of the school, seeing matt leaned up against his brand new range rover, girls and his friends swarmed in a small group around him.

“look at that, matt’s sick new ride.”

“yeah.”

“let’s go see it.” she says grabbing your hand and dragging you in his direction.

“y/n.” he shouts, everyone’s attention directing to you.

“nice new wheels.” your friend says, staring into his soul, but him still having eyes on you.

“how you been, haven’t seen you around much this summer.” he asks you honestly.

“oh i’m good thanks matt. and yeah, nice car.” you blush.

“thanks. bells ringing soon. we should get going yeah?” he says leaning up off his car leaving his crew behind, slinging an arm over your shoulder as eyes hit you like daggers.

“can’t let you get lost on your first day.” he says and you giggle.

“matt.” you mumble and he stops outside your classroom, your friend waving as she turns off down another hall.

“what’s up?” he replies.

“everyone’s staring at me.” you say, escaping his grip.

“it’s just because of my new car, trust me, they don’t actually want me…. i think.” he doubts his words looking around.

“matt you know that’s not true.”

“okay whatever it doesn’t matter, i don’t give two shits about people. they stare, they stare. that doesn’t change me walking you to class.” he says.

“well you need to get to yours before you’re late.”

“yeah yeah i know, meet me after school today though, ill give you a ride home.” he he says as nudges your shoulder.

“okay, bye.” you wave as he walks off.

“meet me after school.” you whisper to yourself and scoff.

you sat with an old friend in class and she mentions the homecoming dance coming early. something you’d totally forgotten about.

“oh shit you’re right. i gotta start looking.” you giggle as the teacher begins the lecture.

hours later you found yourself walking to matt’s car, where he once again stood leaned against it. once you were close he climbed in, you shortly behind.

“why are you taking me home?”

“felt like being nice.”

“oh, okay.”

“so what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” you asked interrupting the silence.

“i just wanted to ask if you’d go to homecoming with me? i know it’s early so i figured i should get ahead.” he says turning his head to you, a blush spreading across your face.

-

“no way, no. you’re not going with him.” your mom says as you sat at the counter.

“mom, why not.” you groan.

“because, that kid is bad news y/n. i don’t trust him.”

“he’s not though, he’s perfectly fine.”

“and i don’t believe you. you can go with your friends, no means no.” she says, setting your plate down on the counter.

“whatever.” you reply, knowing you’re gonna have to text him the news within the next hour.

a short month later you found yourself all ready for the dance.

“you look beautiful.” your mom smiles as you walk down the stairs. you were meeting your friends for dinner, and still going to the dance with matt. behind her back of course, you didn’t want to tell him no.

you spent a while at the dance before you left with matt and a few friends for a bonfire by the lake, wrapped in matt’s blazer.

“can you pass me that?” he says lowly next to you as his friend tosses him a beer.

“matt, you drove.”

“i know, this is for you to drink.” he smiles.

“what?”

“come on y/n. you know you’re safe with me.” he says unscrewing the cap and handing it to you. you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him.

you’d never drank before and considering you were 15, you were a light weight. matt being 16 you expected the same but were surprised that he decided to only have one, which hardly gave him a buzz. next thing you knew you were sat in his lap on the log, hug him onto him. things around the fire had gotten awkward with all the couples making out.

“can we go sit in your car?” you whisper to him and he agrees, helping you off his lap and holding your hand all the way to the car, knowing uneven ground and heels were a recipe for disaster.

“i brought some stuff in case of something like this.” he says opening the back doors and revealing a few blankets and pillows. you looked up at him with a hazy smile as he tossed them in the trunk and pushed the seats down, the two of you climbing in and setting up camp.

you shed the blazer, tossing it in the front seat as you laid in a comfortable silence, the two front windows cracked for airflow.

“so.” matt says, leaning up on an elbow.

“so?”

“how’s the night been?”

“oh it’s been good.” you reply, turning your head to him and smiling to see his eyes locked on your lips, you quickly turning away.

“don’t get all shy on me y/n.” he giggles, pulling you closer to him.

“sorry, you just look really good right now.” you reply.

“and you look even better.” he mumbles before attaching your lips.

the night continued in full physical contact. he learned every curve and crevice of her body carefully, paying attention to every detail. making note of what she liked and disliked. teaching her the right ways to everything. his hands held her carefully as he worshipped her under his breath, quiet whimpers and curses leaving her lips every few moments, before it all came crashing down after a long few minutes.

“you know, you didn’t have to say those things.” he giggles to you.

“well those are things i learned while i’m watching porn on my phone at night, i- i didn’t know what to do. was it bad? i’m sorry.”

“no no, my love, you were amazing. you were perfect.” he says cupping your jaw and dipping down to kiss you one more time. moments later, they’re interrupted by loud bangs on the window.

“you’re so fucking busted. it’s almost two in the morning y/n. i had to come track you down.” you hear your sisters stern voice outside the car window.

“fuck oh my god, what the hell.” you scramble, making sure your dress was on straight.

“it’s not what it looks like.” you express leaping out of the car.

“yes the fuck it is.”

“please don’t tell mom. please i’m begging you.”

“no, i’m telling her you were with him after she explicitly told you not to.”

“hey that’s no-“ he starts and is quickly cut off.

“and you kissed him, and god knows what else. god just get in the car.” she sighs, pointing to her car up the hill.

“matt im sorry, i really am.” you sigh and he nods.

“it’s okay, i didn’t know they felt this way about me.”

“you don’t exactly have good rep, rempe.” you sister spits, shoving you along. immediately you text him apologizing profusely.

your sister knew he just took your virginity. it was no mystery, the windows were fogged and dripping, your hair came undone, his buttons were crooked. she swore not to tell all the details, but in no way were you ever gonna be able to go near him again. except for in the hallways at school.

“you know he’s trouble y/n. you let him get in your pants?”

“yeah i did, and he’s not as much trouble as you think he is. he’s very nice to me.”

“it doesn’t matter. you’re not seeing him again, you hear me?” she says sternly and you sigh, resting your head against the window.

“yeah.” you reply, a tear falling down your cheek as he texted back, repeating that everything was fine.

-

“what were you thinking young lady.” your mom startles you awake.

“what?”

“you were kissing matthew in his car at the bonfire? really?” she says standing at the foot of your bed with her arms crossed.

“i’m sorry.” you sigh, tears threatening to spill again.

“what did i tell you about being around him?”

“i know mom i’m sorry, i really like him okay? he’s not how you think he is.” you reply wiping the tears that started to fall.

“yeah well, i really just don’t believe you. he’s not a good influence y/n. it’s just a warning this time, you will not see him again.” she finishes and you nod.

“you know i love you.” she says walking toward your door.

“i know, even if that’s a tough thing to believe.” you reply and she chuckles exiting you room.

and that you didn’t. you didn’t hang out outside of the school halls. all you did was text. every. single. day.

-

2022

matt knocked on the door and anxiously rocked back and forth on his heels. he knew that her sister and her mom weren’t his biggest fans. hell, you could say they hate his guts, but he knew he had to make it right.

“we don- matt? what do you want?” her mom sighs opening the door.

“i’m taking your daughter to prom.” he says firmly, a light smile on his face.

“she has a boyfriend?” her sister interjects walking up to the door.

he sighs as he looks down at the flowers.

“listen, i know you guys aren’t my biggest fans,” he starts.

“yeah, you could say that.” her sister mumbles.

“but i know this isn’t my news to air but, he broke up with her this morning. we’ve been friends for years, texting for years, whatever. she was so excited for this dance and i- i really fucking, sorry, i really care about her. i really want her to have a good night, i’d do anything to make sure she’s happy and i’d do anything to make things right with you guys.” he states heartfully.

“well.” her mom sighs, her heart seemingly growing larger for the boy that stood in front of her with a large, fresh bouquet of flowers and a nice ironed tux.

“and she doesn’t know, i wanted to surprise her, if that’s okay?”

“yeah it is. thank you matthew. we had no idea, we only saw her this morning.”

“yeah that’s about when it happened.” he replies scratching the back of his head as her mom shuts the door behind her.

“her rooms up there on the right.” she smiles lightly.

“thank you mrs. y/l/n. i really do appreciate it.” he replies making his way up the stairs, knocking lightly on the door.

“are you ready?” he says through the door.

“what?” you call back.

“can i come in?” he asks, you not recognizing the voice. you sat at your vanity with curlers in your hair and your makeup half done. you couldn’t stop crying.

“yes?”

“hey.” you see matt’s face peek through the door before stepping in, fully dressed in a tux, with a large, lush bouquet and a sweet smile.

“matt?” you say, putting down your brush, immediately standing up from your chair and walking over to him.

“i got these for you, i tried my best to match your dress.” he says looking over at the dress that hung from your closet door.

“matt.” you frown sweetly. for the first time since your freshman year, you hugged onto him, tightly. you feel him freeze for a moment before tossing the flowers onto your bed and wrapping his arms around you, picking you briefly up off the ground.

“thank you for this.” you say sweetly as you pull away, his hands still placed on your waist.

“you know i’ll always come around. anything for you.”

“really?”

“yeah, really.” he smiles, pressing a short peck to the top of your head.

“hey, we got reservations in an hour, chop chop pretty girl.” he giggles into your hair.

“i’ll be done, just give me like 30 minutes.” you reply, picking up the flowers and inspecting them.

“of course, no rush. it’s close by. i’ll be downstairs okay?”

“okay.” you smile lightly as he exits your room, your heart pounding in your chest as you got ready quickly. you zipped up your dress and grabbed the flowers, looking in the mirror at the perfect match he’d picked. you sighed in relief knowing the boy you’d been longing since you were a little girl surprised you and is waiting downstairs for you.

you breathe out as you open the door and turn the corner, walking down the stairs where matt and your mom were waiting, his eyes following you every step down.

“you look beautiful honey.” your mom sighs, looking at the gorgeous dress you’d picked out a few months ago.

“absolutely stunning.” matt says, eyes still locked on you.

“thank you guys.” you blush.

“let me get a picture of you two, uh, y/n stand on the second step, i want the full dress in without having to cut this giant’s head off.” she laughs stepping back with her camera and snapping a few photos.

“thank you for doing this for her matthew, i really appreciate it.”

“of course, anytime truly. your daughter is incredible.” he smiles at your mom, her eyes growing into hearts in an instant.

“you two have fun and be safe please.” she says, opening the front door for the two of you.

sis: use a condom, left some in your wallet ;)

you read the text aloud to matt when you got in the car, laughing at your sisters sudden approval.

“she gave you some? hell i already have some.” he laughs, backing out of your driveway.

“you know to this day, you’re the first of only three bodies that i have.”

“was i the best?”

“well i guess yeah?”

“what do you mean you guess?”

“i mean you were really the only one that paid any attention to my needs.”

“well of course, that’s extremely important to me.”

“then not i guess, you definitely were the best.”

“not were, are.” he winks, intertwining his fingers with yours in your lap.

the night was incredible. after the dance, your mom let matt come and stay over at your house, and you couldn’t believe it. he’d truly won your family over. you spent the whole night laid up in bed, kissing and touching and loving on each other for the first time since you were fifteen. everything felt the same, yet different. a mature kind of passion injected into the kisses you shared and the touches he laid on you. you would never trade his intimacy for the world. when you were with him, it’s like the world stopped spinning, and you were the last two people alive. he made your heart jump in the blink of an eye. you wanted him all along, even against your mothers wishes, and that’s something you’d never change.

“can i ask you something?” matt says as you laid contently on his bare chest.

“yes.” you reply leaning up to lock eyes with him.

“listen i know this is really really fast after this morning, and you can say no and i will understand either way but um, would you be my girlfriend?” he asks nervously and you giggle, locking your lips on his.

“yes, a million times.” you smile, speaking on his lips, reconnecting them after your brief words.

“you have no clue how long i’ve been trying to get to this point. it was hard with your mom and sister hating my guts. and you just got broken up with this morning.” he giggles.

“yeah well, i was gonna start hanging out with you again behind their backs if they didn’t start liking you. and, i’ve been wanting to be with you for years matt, nothing is too quick when it comes to you. nothing.”

-

2024

“matt.” you call out from the couch, adjusting your position trying to get comfy.

“yes my love.” he says running and sliding across the wood floor of his apartment.

“can you PLEASE get the pizza off the counter and bring it over here.” you beg.

“of course, you wanna watch a movie or something? maybe not do a whole lot of watching.” he says with a smug look on his face as he rounds the end of the couch, placing the box on the coffee table.

“how about we finish this box first and then we can talk….. or not talk.” you reply teasingly.

“i love you so much.” he smirks.

“i love you, matt.” you reply with a scrunched nose, pressing a short kiss to his lips as he got settled on the couch next to you.

over the course of the last 2 years, you’d grown inseparable, falling in love in a matter of weeks. he was there for everything. graduation and all. you hadn’t left his side since the night of your senior prom, and you fully planned on starting a life with him. which unbeknownst to him, this life you’d talked about had already begun.

“hey so, i actually had some news.” you start, finishing your slice.

“go on?” he mutters, shutting the box.

“well, fuck i wanted to make this like a big deal but i’m telling you before we fuck.” you sigh, realizing you should wait.

“no no, what is it, it’s okay baby.” he perks up, taking your hand in his.

“matt im pregnant.” you spit out, gritting your teeth waiting for a response.

“are you for real?” he says, his eyes widening, a quick nod following as a response. a huge smile grows on his cheeks as he practically jumps on you, squeezing you so tight you can hardly breathe.

“you’re carrying our baby. like our baby. wow. i can’t believe it. oh my god, i’m so lucky, i’m so excited wow. i love you so much y/n, you’re gonna be the best mom. i’ll make sure you have everything you need and so much more.” he says, his hands placed on your cheeks.

“thank you handsome, i’m glad you reacted well to that, i was nervous. thank you, i love you.” you reply hugging him back.

you were anxious to start this life with him, but you knew from the start all those years ago that you were taken care of.

ever since the day he approached you on the playground in third grade you knew he was never gonna leave you. never in a million years.

-