#yeah I wrote another essay so what

[gayloringinplainsight]

"Rights are being stripped from basically everyone who isn't a straight white cisgender male," she tells Vogue, when asked about why she chose to, all of a sudden, stand up for LGBTQ+ rights. "I didn't realize until recently that I could advocate for a community that I'm not a part of."

Source: https://www.out.com/news/2019/8/08/taylor-swift-says-shes-straight-despite-all-bisexual-rumors#toggle-gdpr

I was waiting for this to come through my inbox lol. (There was more then one ask about this but I'm only responding to the first.)

There's lots to unpack here but the first and foremost thing is: She doesn't actually say here, "I'm straight." It was a perfect opportunity. It was the ideal conversation. She punted. Why?

Why did she instead give this vague, circuitous, carefully couched answer?

She calls out communities encompassing sexuality, race, and gender, followed by saying, "a community that I'm not a part of." There are lots of communities that she could have been referring to, but she crafted the sentence in such a way that makes it unclear which one. She could have been talking about the trans community. She could have been talking about the poc community. She could have been talking about the ace community. She could have been talking about the gay male community. There are lots of possibilities. In this carefully worded sentence, she deliberately avoided naming the specific community she's talking about.

Another thing to consider is that many, many closeted people don't consider themselves part of the queer community. They don't feel like they belong because they're not out and proud. And even once people come out, it often still takes time before they feel like they're part of the queer community. That was certainly my personal experience. Cara Delevingne said something similar in her Hulu show when discussing her own coming out.

Let's move on. The link anon provided isn't the source. It's an article quoting the source. The actual source is the 2019 Vogue cover article. And the full article is important because there are lots of interesting things that give context to this quote.

First, there's a great deal of conversation about gay stuff and lgbtq+ rights. And the writer makes a point of saying about this subject matter that Taylor seems to enjoy that part of the conversation "as much as she’d enjoy a root canal." Wouldn't a straight ally be eager to discuss this? They would. And a closeted queer person would be uncomfortable and panicking at the thought of having to talk so blatantly about this subject. The writer also makes a point of saying that once the conversation changes to music, Taylor lights up and her demeanor and speech patterns relax dramatically.

The other important context that the Vogue article discusses is Taylor's very long history of supporting lgbtq+ rights. Everything from the Mean mv of a gay boy being bullied to the "boys and boys and girls and girls" line in WTNY to donations to lgbtq+ organizations to giving out queer awards to queer people to dedicating Dress to Loie Fuller, an openly gay artist. There are plenty of other examples of Taylor advocating for the queer community that aren't mentioned. All the way back in 2008 she participated in the LOGO queer anti-bullying PSA. In 2009 she was in Seventeen magazine taking a stand against the slaying of a teenager for being gay.

Why is this important? Because it proves that Taylor is lying in the quote in question. "I didn't realize until recently that I could advocate…" girl yes you did. You've been advocating for years and years at this point. She's lying. She's lying. She's covering herself up. She's hiding in the closet and hoping desperately that no one notices.

And this isn't the first time she's done this either. During the 1989 press tour she gave an interview where she was asked about the "And you can want who you want / Boys and boys and girls and girls" line. As the interviewer is starting to speak about this, a look of pure panic immediately takes over Taylor's face:

And then she starts stumbling around trying to give a coherent answer. At one point she stutters out, "And also I wrote this song, um, I wrote this song, kind of, kind of following, the, uh, when gay marriage became legal in New York." This interview was in October 2014. Gay marriage had been legal in New York since June 2011. Sooo three years later is "kind of following." Right. Sure, Taylor. Nice closeting. You really nailed it.

Okay let's review. She doesn't actually say she's straight even though this was a perfect opportunity to do so. She doesn't name the actual community she's talking about, giving herself cover if she ever comes out. She's closeted and probably doesn't think she's part of the queer community anyways. She full-on lies about not knowing she can advocate for others. And the writer states Taylor seems deeply uncomfortable talking about lgbtq+ things even though the context of the article was that blondie wanted to make it clear how much of an ally she is.

None of this remotely adds up to hetero. And none of this comes even close to Taylor saying that she's straight.

[trickstersaint]

the scientist’s question: which acid will burn the rainbow out of the sky without leaving a scar? // july 2023 // on "The Birth-Mark" by Nathaniel Hawthorne

[phinnking]

oh ok. so im gonna kill this guy

[rosesradio]

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[aspeckof-stardust]

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[esote-rika]

A bookstore meet cute I wish I could experience | Spencer Reid

Category: Fluff with S4 awkward, nerdy rizz Spencer

Warnings: use of Y/N, unedited (tenses keep shifting, sorry)

A/N: this is just 1.8k words of self indulgent self insert. Like this is inspired by some unpleasant experiences I've had talking with men about books in the past lol, and reader's responses defensive responses had been me at some point. i feel like a conversation with Spencer Reid would heal me, thus this fic. Also, save me, s4e9 Spencer Reid, save me.

He seemed like a fixture to the bookstore, if fixtures moved on their own. Or if they moved up and down the aisles with elegant fingers tracing the spines of the books on display. Or if they dressed like a rumpled professor, complete with the black rimmed glasses. He just seemed like he was part of the space, and you thought that every bookstore should probably come with one - a tall, attractive nerd who drifted all over the room like some sort of phantom. Maybe that would help with the literacy problem. It certainly would bring more people in, make them more interested in reading.

You've been trying to figure him out from afar, as subtle as you can. You're not a creep, after all, but he cuts such a lonely figure that you couldn't help but wonder if he needed some company. A part of you wonders if he's noticed you as well. This store is your late afternoon treat, after all. You come here every Friday, without fail, even when you know the inventory is unreplenished, simply to bask in the presence of books.

And then he started coming in regularly, and you had another reason to come.

You never approached him. Something about simply knowing he's there, while remaining a stranger, is thrilling. You can romanticize him if he's a stranger, project all the wholesome fantasies and book boyfriends you have upon him with no sense of accountability.

It also means you avoid the disappointment if he turns out to be another condescending know it all, eager to put you and your reading habits down because oh your tastes are so girly.

No, this was better. You're a flaneur, you tell yourself, you're here to be part of the space and observe from within, even though you doubt this is what Baudelaire had in mind when he wrote that essay and defined the term.

Still.

You smile to yourself, crouching down to check the books on the lower shelf, and also to catch a glimpse of his legs. He'd been on the other side of this shelf for the past five minutes, and you've gotten a soft chuckle when you saw his mismatched socks.

However, his lean form is nowhere to be seen. He seems to have moved to another aisle. With a small frown, you move to stand up, only to feel a tug.

“Shit,” a quick glance down reveals that a familiar looking shoe has accidentally stepped on your long skirt. You hadn't realized it billowed out around you when you knelt down.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!”

You look up and realize why the shoe looks familiar. It's him. You couldn't see him in the other aisle because he'd moved to your side, so silently you hadn't even heard him.

“Sorry, oh gosh, I didn’t notice.” He steps off quickly, and you watch as his cheeks bloom bright pink. A pink that quickly travels down his neck.

You stifle a laugh at how easily he blushed. “It's fine.” Your attempt to stand is more successful without his foot pinning the fabric of your skirt to the ground.

“I've messed up your skirt though.” He says, looking at the brown smudge left behind on the skirt.

“It's no big deal, it’ll come out.” You shrug, getting a good look at him this time. He's taller than you thought, with a sharp bone structure that's softened by large, hazel eyes and pouty lips. His hair is slicked back, curling at the nape of his neck, the color a soft brown that matches his eyes. Yeah, one of him should really come in every bookstore, you think.

“O-okay, uh, if you're sure…” He says, rubbing his hands on his pants. A nervous energy emanates from him, disrupting your idea that he's calm and tranquil.

Oh well, there goes that fantasy. Still, you wonder if maybe he's nervous because of you.

“I still feel bad though,” He adds, looking around, “Uh, how about I buy you a book for the inconvenience?”

“It's hardly an inconvenience,” You laugh, “But hey, I won't say no to a free book.”

He perks up, “Great. I'm Spencer, by the way.”

“Y/N. It's nice to meet you, Spencer.”

He repeats your name, and you find yourself enjoying the shape his mouth makes as he tests it out, lips and tongue wrapping around the syllables as if he wants to commit the way it feels in his memory.

You mentally kick yourself in the ass, wondering if you've read too many romance novels.

“Likewise,” He smiles, and you have to remind yourself that it's rude to stare at the lips of someone you just met. It's not your fault he has such pretty dimples, and you had the urge to count them. He continues, “So what kind of books do you like, Y/N? Romance?”

Your eyes narrow at that. You wonder how to answer. Yes? Would he judge you if you say yes? Is he one of those guys, the ones who only read heavy, intellectual books and look down on people who read fluff? Do you want to try and impress him by saying no, by scoffing and saying something like of course not I’m looking for a copy of Swann's Way by Marcel Proust? (which is the most “impressive” book you can think of at the moment). The idea seems too gross, too I'm not like other girls, and you immediately cross it out.

“And if I do?” you ask instead, surprised by the edge to your voice.

He blinks, then shrugs, looking entirely innocent. “Then we should head to the romance shelf over there.”

Once again, you're surprised. Some part of you had been expecting a smirk, maybe a roll of his eyes, that look you get when you even dare to bring up the romance genre. But, no. He starts walking to a different part of the store and you're forced to follow.

“Why did you think I read romance?” the words escape your lips before you can stop them.

He ducks behind a shelf, his hair falling down and hiding his face but you get a glimpse of the bright red skin of his neck. He's blushing again.

“Well, it's - ah - that is, I've noticed you here before, and you always seemed to hang out here in the romance section.” He says in a rush, his head still angled away from you.

You feel simultaneously called out, and a little giddy. So he's noticed you, just as much as you'd noticed him.

“So you're a stalker.” You can't help but tease.

He lets out a sound, somewhere between an indignant sputter and a scoff. “What? No! I just happen to be very observant, it's a skill I've learned to hone for my job, and you're not very hard to remember-” He cuts himself off, peeking at you with a horrified look on his face.

Laughter tumbles from your lips, and you clamp your teeth down your bottom lip to stop.

“I was teasing you.” You say, trying to fight the giggles.

He seems relieved, but the crease on his brow remains, a sign of his previous embarrassment.

“And you're right. The romance section has the biggest amount of secondhand books that I can read while I'm here.” You explain. This aisle also gives you the best view of the nonfiction section, which he frequents, therefore giving you the perfect spot to observe him over the past few weeks. Though you leave out that part.

“Ah,” He nods, looking around, “See anything you like?”

“No, I'm actually looking for a copy of The Hobbit right now.”

He lights up, “Oh, you're a fan of Tolkien too? I love him, he's such a genius and completely innovated the fantasy genre! So much so that he - wait, if you're looking for The Hobbit, why didn't you tell me sooner?”

“You just started walking.” You reply, smiling at him. He's adorable when he becomes so animated, hands waving around like his body can't contain his excitement and has to find ways to express them physically. “Had to follow you. But anyway, I'm assuming you've read The Hobbit?”

He accepts your explanation easily, then nods his head. You can't help but compare him to a puppy, so eager and nearly frantic in his excitement.

“I've read every Tolkien book.” He says, and you're surprised to find his voice contains no hint of superiority, or cockiness. Just genuine joy. It's refreshing, “Including The Silmarillion."

“Oh wow,” You laugh, aware of the reputation that tome carries, “I've only seen the Lord of The Rings movies.”

“Well that's not sufficient at all! You're missing out on so much history,” He says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Mhm, well help me find The Hobbit first, before I move on to the trilogy.” You reply, already walking over to where you know the fantasy books are.

He follows you, smiling bashfully, “You know, I have copies of all the books… I can just lend them to you, if you want.”

You pause, glancing over your shoulder in surprise. “You'd let a stranger borrow your books?”

“Only if you promise to take care of them.” He says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“I swear on my life, I will not tarry your precious copies of Tolkien's masterpiece.” You make a cross over your heart for emphasis, which makes him laugh. This time, you stare at his lips shamelessly, enjoying the dimples that appeared from the action.

“Okay, maybe we meet up over coffee sometime?” he asks, fiddling with the strap of his bag. “I'll bring the books.”

You fight the urge to squeal. Your body refuses to contain the giddiness, and the sound compromises by coming out as a giggle.

“Yeah, sure.” you watch as he digs into his pocket, handing over a card. “Oh, how very professional.” You say playfully, accepting the slip of paper.

He ducks his head, and you see the beginnings of the blush creeping down his neck. It feels exhilarating, being able to make him blush like this.

“It's just more practical.” He mumbles.

You grab your phone quickly, typing in his number and giving it a call, so that your number goes through his as well. “I'll give you a call. But, you still owe me a book for this.” You motion at your skirt, at the stain of his footprint on the fabric.

He chuckles, “Of course. Can't go back on my promise.” he looks around the store and you're taken by the sight of him, looking like he's part of the space, like he simply belongs here. And this time, with you standing next to him, with him. “Take your pick.”

“I'm pretty indecisive.” You say playfully.

“I have time.” He smiles, and you find he has two dimples on one side of his face, and only one on the other. Your chest feels heavy with something that you can't quite put a name to yet, but you're eager for more of it.

[keijisdolll]

#K. AKAASHI |

NSFW ( ＾◡＾)っ✂╰⋃╯

blurred lines . . . ❤︎

(i wrote this rly late at night so it kinda switches between second and third person + its my first time... dont mind pls ⛄︎)

to say you and keiji were just friends was a little... vague to say the least.

not even a little, absolute bullshit.

you two go way back; always at one another's homes every saturday or friday night, playing games with kotaro or just binging movies together- all that cute stuff. obviously, you two love each other, dare i say are in love with each other, but it's just never been a point of discussion. despite all the stolen glances, his obsession with kissing the top of your head or holding your hips, you guys have just … never talked about it.

it's not that you didn't want to talk about it, you wanted more than anything to do unspeakable things to that man for years now...who wouldn't?

but of course, all you could do every passing day was pray that something could magically change and you'd have his affection and sweet words to yourself every day. he probably has his reasons too for not just folding and confessing already. hopefully if he even reciprocates.

but when he asked you to be his roommate and share a dorm with him two years ago at the beginning of university, how could you tell someone so pretty no?

that pretty much never helped the increasing tension between you both - sexually, or romantically.... but hey, the no confessions game was still going strong.

even now, when keiji just returned back to your shared dorm from one of his later classes, he found you laid out on the plushness of the couch, your cutely decorated laptop resting on your bare thighs as you were wearing a cute pair of pajama shorts. a few short sentences on the illuminated screen of your laptop which screams to him that you were probably just assigned a research paper.

"new paper assigned n/n?" he hummed softly as he rested his bag on the floor near the door and taking off his shoes.

"mm yeah... only thing is that it's due in 2 days.." she huffed softly with a little pout, a face he knew meant she was stressed.

"yeah? how much words is it?" he hummed softly, sitting next to her laid body on the couch.

y/n turned her laptop to an angle keiji can see it, an email from her professor which explained her prompt and the word count.

damn.

"only two days? that has to be a mistake." he raised his brows, adjusting his glasses.

"its not..." she sighed softly. "i asked him about it in class. he was dead serious keiji...my grade is so done. i don't even know what to write about. all i got done was the context." y/n turned to him, a pout on her lips.

he sighed, "calm down, okay? stressing out this much isn't gonna help you n/n." his hand went to her cheek, his thumb gently stroking the apple of her cheek. damn him and his charm.

"come here, i'll help you." he murmured, his arms gently taking her arms to help her sit up and come up onto his lap.

and around 3 hours later, despite the evident exhaustion in both of you from this damn essay, you were a little more than half way through the word count.

"god...you're the best keiji..." she sighed softly, leaning her head back on his shoulder.

he chuckled, a familiar one that never really failed to make you feel butterflies in your stomach. "can't have my favorite girl stressing now can i?" he ruffled her hair gently.

holy fuck.

why he made her sit in his lap was beyond her. all she knew was that his little name that he just called her made her clench around absolutely nothing, and she was so sick of this back and forth of trying to act like he didn't have an effect on her.

so she purposely squirmed on his lap while pretending to read an article, her ass moving teasingly but in a subtle way. she knew her subtle grinding didn't by any means go unnoticed by him, not how his slender fingers dug a little harder into her hips, and definitely not how his breathing grew more ragged.

"hey... n/n... you're squirming a little...please... it's distracting me..." he spoke with a strained voice, trying not to breathe noticeably.

"hm..?" she looked back at him, who knew how worked up subtle grinding can get him, his cheeks were insanely flushed, his fingers uncontrollably going on her bare thighs.

"come... get off n/n-" he panicked a little, his arms pulling up her torso to pick her up and trying to place her back onto the couch, but she went right back down, on his fucking bulge.

"oh fuck.." he choked out quietly his head going back against the arm rest.

"you're that hard from me barely even grinding?" she started. no turning back now for her. and to her surprise, all those years of chasing and wondering if he wanted her back... she felt so relieved from his next words.

"i can't fucking help it with you.." he swore helplessly. his needy hands guiding her hips to rub herself against his obvious bulge. "all this time and you don't think that i've been wanting to kiss you senseless since highschool..?"

and from that, her lips were on his, sharing wet and sloppy kisses that were making him leak pre cum into his sweatpants. grinding on his lap so nicely that she had him cursing into their sloppy kiss.

they eventually pulled away, a thin string of saliva between their mouths as her arms came up around his neck to steady herself as she ground on his bulge. gosh, his fucking print was so visible to her too from his sweatpants.

"fuck...i love you keiji.."

and within less than two minutes, your cute pajama shorts laid on the floor of your bedroom along with his sweatpants.

his hand held a handful of your hair while his other rested on the plush curve of your ass. his hips were thrusting so good into your drenched cunt, the room practically filled with the sound of your plush ass slapping against his hips and your muffled moans as he just sweet talked you.

damm him.

"god... you dont know how long i wanted to fuck you.." he panted into your ear, his skin slick with sweat

"keiji..." she cried helplessly beneath him.

"mhm baby... i got you...taking my cock so well." he murmured, his large hand squeezing her ass softly.

"you're so fucking pretty n/n, you know that?" he mumbled, placing sweet kisses and sucking hickeys onto her neck, his thrusts getting harder.

she couldn't even form a coherent sentence anymore. it's not like he was being crazy rough, but his cock was fucking long. and at a moderate, more fast pace like what he was doing, she felt as if she was seeing stars.

"ah...mmph..." she moaned sweetly into the pillow, knowing he was about to cum from how sloppy his thrusts were getting.

"mmh... there you go... oh fuck baby.." he panted, pulling out. his hand that was holding your hair let go, pumping slowly as thick and hot cum landed on your plush ass.

she panted softly into the pillows, her hips lowering from where he held them up as she rolled onto her back, his cum on her skin getting onto the sheets.

he panted soflty, pulling her into his arms and pressing a gentle loving kiss on her shoulder, while mumbling a soft, "i've always loved you baby."

its my first time writing so pls leave tips jjfnjjngjngjngjtn

[liliesformingi]

"much love, laufey" - a mini series by @liliesformingi. view series masterlist, and outline here.

3. 'valentine' - yunho x reader “i tell him he's pretty too, can i say that?”

author's note: bring me 900 million jeong yunhos right now.

People raised their eyebrows at you for rooming with a guy. “And you don’t have feelings for him?” they’d ask, over and over.

But Yunho wasn’t just a guy, he was your friend. Supportive, protective, kind. He was a comfortable presence, something familiar.

Yunho was studying sports science and physiology at university, but also wrote lyrics on the side. You knew he loved physiology and understanding the human body, but music was what he truly loved, what he spent ungodly hours working at and obsessing over.  But it’s not stable enough, he’d sigh, stretching his arms before returning to the essay on human development he’d been procrastinating for the past week.

You were studying psychology, but also took art history classes on the side. Yunho knew art was something you desperately wanted to pursue, but it was the same as it was for him. You took the smart route. Not necessarily the easy one, or the one you liked. You did what you needed to, securing your futures.

Both of you were scared of risking something, messing stuff up.

He’d bring you an iced coffee when he knew you’d forgotten to drink one while studying.

You’d make his preworkout for him to take before he went to the gym.

He’d go out and buy things for you when it was that time of month and you couldn’t get out of bed.

You’d blow dry his hair late at night when he was too tired to do it himself, insisting he’d get sick if he went to bed with damp hair.

He’d comfort you after each failed date, after each guy ghosted you or simply told you “You’re not what I want.”

Basically, you two were cosy.

It had been a quiet day. Both of you had upcoming exams, not for another few weeks, but close enough that it felt real, and both of you had fears of not doing enough. So if that meant going through notes for hours and revising on the sofa while he sat at the dining table, tapping his pen along to whatever he was listening to with his headphones while occasionally annotating a diagram, so be it.

Eventually, you were bored, hungry and worn out. 

Yunho had dark circles under his eyes, and you were struggling to retain your gaze on the harsh light of your laptop, but both of you refused to give up. Until you checked your phone and realised it was 3pm, and you were yet to have lunch, let alone breakfast.

“Oh, shit,” you mumbled, standing up and stretching before you made your way into the kitchen. You automatically pulled out two bowls and ripped open a packet of yours and his favourite ramen, setting the water to boil while you chopped vegetables and stirred the soup. 

You set the steaming bowl in front of him along with a pair of chopsticks and a spoon. He looked up gratefully, taking his headphones off and shoving his work aside. “Thank you, angel, I’m sorry, I could’ve made myself something-”

“Don’t worry, Yun, it’s fine,” you sat down opposite him, beginning to eat your food. You slurped noodles and yawned, occasionally exchanging the odd comment about work or school. You asked him about his music projects he was working on, and he started off on a vivid explanation about this amazing website of free music samples he’d found. You watched him happily, resting your chin in your hands.

“Sorry, I’ve been talking for a while,” Yunho chuckled. “How’s stuff with you? Got a psych exam coming up, yeah?”

“Mhmm. I just . . . my head’s in it, but my heart kinda isn’t. And it’s a lot of work. I’m tired all the time,” you yawned and stretched. “And my shoulders hurt like hell from sitting so awkwardly for hours.”

Yunho tilted his head a little. “C’mere.”

You stood up and winced slightly, waddling over towards him. He stood up, gesturing for you to sit in his place. You sat down, rolling your neck. He started pressing his hands into your shoulders, upper arms and neck; each movement releasing the pent up tension and stress from your body.

“Feel a bit better?”

“Mm, feels nice, Yun,” you sighed, leaning your head back and looking up at him.

Yunho didn’t know what came over him in that moment. Hands still resting on your shoulders, he leant down, and kissed your forehead.

You gasped a little, body startling. “Yunho, what the fuck?”

“I’m so sorry,” he gasped, immediately redacting his hands from your shoulders. “I don’t know why the hell I did that. Actually, no, I do know, and that’s the problem.”

“Yun-”

“No, let me talk. Please. I like you. Not even like, maybe love, I don’t know. And it hurts, knowing you probably don’t feel the same way and it hurts seeing you go on those dates and get hurt. It hurts seeing you hurt yourself by overwhelming yourself with schoolwork. So maybe I should just go. Maybe that would help.”

“Yunho, shut up.”

He looked a little hurt at that, raising an eyebrow.

“Let me talk,” you replied, eyes sparkling and cheeks a little pink. “I like you too, maybe love. I don’t know either. You just . . . surprised me. But I want you . . . I want you to do that again. But not on the forehead. On the lips. Do it properly, please.”

Yunho walked back over, leaning down and placing a hand on your cheek.

“That I can do,” he smiled.

taglist: @zelinkcrossing @hyunjiiza @zenlackszen @kur0kki @peskybirdysya @nujeskz @jessxxxfwd @xuchiya @bee-gremlin @radblizzardpizzas-blog @matchahintonagar @diekleinesuesse@xh01bri @lunaryoongie @jaehyunluvbot @k1xiara @cloudy-lilly @sunnysidesins @lveegsoi@arcvillie @flqwrlvr @huachengsbestie01 @subby-men-forever @lezleeferguson-120 @mrsminseochoi@alyssajavenss @0sunshinecryptid0@silveritydreams @moonlitarcade| send an ask, dm or comment to be added :)

[huxhsz]

🍎 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ when u come back

— synopsis: you call him home without meaning to, and caleb holds onto it like a promise—because even if neither of you says it outright, you already belong to each other.

— note/s: so i wrote an essay for my english class abt caleb. turns out i wrote the WRONG kind of essay. so i had to write another one. pure suffering but its caleb so all is acceptable!!

cross-posted on ao3! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

the first time you say it, it's an accident. it slips out like breath, like something inevitable.

"you know, being with you... it feels like home."

"what did you just say?" he asks, voice quiet, almost careful. you don't even notice, but caleb does.

you grumble. "i said, 'caleb is a big dummy,'" 

his hands still where they’re tying his boots, and for a second, he forgets how to move. he laughs lightly, because he knows that isn't what you said, but he plays along anyway. 

he holds onto the words a little too tightly.

he turns the word over in his head. he never thought much about it before. four walls, a roof, a place to return to. but you said it like it was something else, like it was something living. like it was something unshakable, something that belonged.

he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t want to break the moment. but when you leave the room, he flexes his fingers, trying to shake off the feeling sinking into his skin.

—

caleb has never been afraid of fire. he’s seen too much of it, grown up with the heat of war, of broken things burning. he doesn’t flinch at destruction, doesn’t look away from the ruins. but when he sees you standing in the doorway, sleepy-eyed, hair a mess, wearing his jacket over your shoulders—

he understands why people call it warmth.

“what,” you say, voice rough from sleep, “are you staring at.”

he doesn’t answer, just reaches for the kettle, pours you a cup. you take it without thinking, your fingers brushing his, and the contact is so brief, so small, but it sets something off inside him anyway.

he swallows it down. grins like there’s nothing pressing against the inside of his ribs. “thought you were gonna sleep in.”

“couldn’t,” you mumble, cradling the cup. “you weren’t there.”

he doesn’t know what to do with that. it shouldn’t make his pulse stutter, shouldn’t make his throat tighten. but it does.

and when you yawn and shuffle over to lean into his side, still half-asleep, he thinks—

this. this is it.

—

you make fun of him for how easily he fixes things. broken radios, busted engines, anything with wires and circuits. you hand him something ruined and he brings it back to life.

“what about people?” you ask once, chin resting on your palm, watching him work. “you think you could fix them too?”

he laughs, but it’s a quiet thing. “people aren’t machines.”

“but if they were?”

he glances at you, something unreadable in his expression. you wait for him to say something teasing, to brush it off, but he doesn’t.

“then i’d fix you first,” he says.

it catches you off guard. something shifts between you, heavy and quiet.

“i’m not broken, caleb.”

“i know,” he says, too fast. and then, softer, like it’s just for him: “i just don’t want you to be.”

—

there’s a storm outside. neither of you are sleeping.

you’re lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain hammer against the windows. lightning flashes, and a second later, thunder rolls through the sky like a growl. caleb sits on the floor beside you, legs crossed, fingers absentmindedly fiddling with a lighter.

“can’t sleep?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

you shake your head. “you?”

“nah.”

silence stretches between you. the kind that’s comfortable.

you reach for his hand without thinking, fingers brushing over his palm, over the calluses, the old scars. he doesn’t pull away. just lets you trace the lines there, slow and careful.

“you ever think about leaving?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“leaving what?”

“everything.”

he tilts his head back, looking at the ceiling like it has answers. “yeah,” he admits. “sometimes.”

“would you?”

he turns to you then, and there’s something in his gaze, something unreadable but steady. “not without you.”

your throat goes tight.

you don’t know how to say what you’re feeling, so you squeeze his hand instead. he squeezes back. the rain keeps falling, the storm rages on, but here, in this space between you, it’s quiet.

—

you’re both terrible at goodbyes.

when he leaves, it’s never for long. never more than a few weeks at a time. but it still lingers, still settles in your chest like something heavy.

he pulls you into a hug before he goes, arms tight around you, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you. like if he holds on tight enough, he won’t have to miss you.

“stay out of trouble,” he murmurs against your hair.

“no promises,” you say, trying to sound light, but your voice wavers.

he pulls back just enough to look at you. his eyes are warm, steady. “i’ll be back soon.”

“you better.”

he grins, but it’s softer than usual. then he’s gone, and the space he leaves behind feels bigger than it should.

—

when he comes back, you’re waiting.

he doesn’t get a chance to say anything before you’re throwing yourself at him, arms around his neck, holding on like you’ll never let go. he catches you easily, his laugh breathless against your ear.

“missed me that much?”

“shut up,” you mumble, but you don’t pull away.

he just holds you tighter. presses his face into your shoulder, breathes you in like he’s been drowning and you’re air.

and when you whisper, quiet but certain, “you're here,”

he closes his eyes and thinks, yeah.

he’s home.

[81pastrys]

Hi I have a request for dad Lando where his teen daughter (or son idm what kid just preferably teens) comes home from school where she did like a mock test in schl and one of the physics questions mentioned F1 and Lando as an application question. But I can just imagine her coming home and telling Lando how weird that was. I saw this one tt that was a F1 physics question and got inspired 😂

(idk where u live but I'm from England and we have these mock exams where we get scenarios and we just have to apply our knowledge to the scenario in question idk if it's the same everywhere but just wanted to clarify 😭)

The Mock Exam

Summary— Luka comes home and tells Lando about his Mock Exam

Warnings— he curses like once ; max and Lando curse

A/N— I do in fact live in the US so I had no idea what that was but thank you for the explanation!!! (I also did my own research)

Dad Lando List

Luka was studying his ass off for his Mock exam, yeah it wasn’t the real exam, but he really wanted to do good so he could race. Lando was streaming at home with Max while Luka was at school stressing out.

He got the exam and read each question carefully and answering to the best of his knowledge. It was easy for the most part, simple scenarios. He got to one and audibly laughed.

“Quiet please Mr. Norris.” The instructor said. Luka mumbled an apology and answered possibly the easiest question on the sheet. He had to explain how aerodynamics works in cars. He had gotten this lesson from his dad multiple times.

Possibly his longest answer was that one, going into details about slipstreams and such. He finished the exam and was dismissed. He got home and set all his books down.

“Luka!” Lando called out. Luka followed the sound to the game/office Lando had set up. “Hey, how was school?” Lando asked, slightly focusing on his gameplay with Max.

“I think I did good on my mock exam, there was one question about car aerodynamics.” He was kind of excited to tell Lando. “I wrote like an essay on it.” He laughed.

“I bet, I’ve explained it to you a million times.” Lando laughed. He died in game and looked at Luka now. “Jeez you’re tall.” He said, sitting in his gaming chair looking up to his 16 year old was a different view of Luka.

“I don’t know where I get it from.” Luka shrugged jokingly and Max laughed on the other end of the call. “Oh shit, Max is on?” Luka asked. “Sorry, language.” Lando tapped his son’s head and smiled.

“Hope you don’t speak to your mum with that mouth.” Lando said. Luka and Max talk gaming and Luka takes his dad’s spot to show off. Max would include Luka in gameplay when Lando was busy.

“Dad what is this setup?” Luka asked. “It’s horrible.” He changed Lando’s settings and played like a pro gamer. “Another question on the Mock exam was about computer setups, I think I aced that too.” He causally mentioned. Lando laughed at the off topic comment and watched his son play.

“Ahh I’m dead, they’re in that blue warehouse.” Max said. Max was streaming live and his screen was focused on Luka’s. The stream, Lando, and Max watched Luka 1v3 and win. “Good shit.”

“Alright, alright, enough of you playing on my account.” Lando said, jealous his son was better than he was.

“I’ll join in a minute, I’m hungry.” Luka said, giving Lando a fist bump and heading out to make food. Max laughed and Luka spun around. “What?”

“That’s definitely your kid, he eats the entire fridge and then just fucking sleeps.” Max says. Lando laughs at the call out and Luka rolls his eyes.

Max and Luka stream anyone?

@il0vereadingstuff @chertik-007vvv @pandabiiissh

[admirationandromantics]

Stress-reliever

Okay, so another request! I really like this one, and I had a lot of fun writing it too. Sorry it took so long, but I try to work at an acceptable pace. Anyways, this story is about reader having an assignment and being hella stressed because she can't understand anything. Josh, her friend, comes over because she doesn't answer any of his texts or calls and gets worried about how hard she's pushing herself. And he knows the best way for her to relax...

Word count: 3k (Unedited)

I let out a silent scream, slamming my fist into the book. Goodness sake, why was this so difficult? I look at my word count, and it’s nowhere near finished. I don’t even have a good point I’m writing about. Everything I’ve written before this has been great, or at least good. This was the exception. I don’t understand the lectures, I don’t understand the book, I don’t understand anything. No shit my essay would be trash. 

My phone start plinging, but I ignore it. I have to get this. Maybe I’ll read the chapter one more time. I’ve lost count on how many times I’ve already read it, but I don’t have anything better going for me. I tried youtube videos, getting someone to explain it to me, reading, writing, everything. This was stressing me out, and the deadline is in one week. I don’t have good sources, or backups. I can’t change the theme. 

The phone rings again, but this time, I put it on silent. I have to get this, I need to understand it. Maybe I need a breather? But I don’t have time. I stand up and walk to the window. I can at least get some fresh air inside, I deserve that. I click the lock, pulling the window open. The fresh winter breeze flows into my room, shuffling my papers and pulling my hair. The outside arena has been filled with water, making a large skating rink. A bunch of people are skating, some with families, some while holding hands. They’re probably all finished with tests, exams and deadlines. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the ice cold air. A shiver runs through me, and I take it as a sign to sit down again. This essay isn’t going to write itself. I correct my papers and open the book in the right chapter again. Just keep reading, just keep reading. I’ll get there eventually. 

***

A loud knock is heard on my door, pulling me out of my trance. I’ve written how much? 4 sentences? At this pace, I’ll have to pull all-nighters all week. Someone knocks on the door again, and I check the time. It’s late, not too late, but who would be here at this time? I get up from the desk, walking to the door and unlocking it. Outside in the hall, Josh is standing with his stupidly cute smile and a plastic bag. 

“Josh” I sigh weakly, hugging him while putting all my weight on him. I’m so tired, so stressed and sick of my studies. 

“You look horrible” he whispers back, hands going around me to stop me from falling on the floor. 

“Thank you, I appreciate it” 

“Have you been outside today?” 

I look up at him, giving a guilty smile. He sees right through me and rolls his eyes. I let go, opening the door wider to let him in. 

“Brough you take-out, figured you were too obsessed with whatever you’re doing that you haven’t eaten”

“You’re an angel” 

“I know” he smiles, putting the bag down and pulling off his jacket. He goes to sit in my desk chair, glancing over all my notes. 

“Hard stuff” he grabs a paper, reading quickly over the highlighted lines. I turn to the food, taking out the different boxes. Chinese food, how sweet of him. 

“I’ve never been this stressed in my entire life” I complain, my neck sore and eyes tired. I grab a roll, eating it quickly. I’m apparently very hungry too. 

“You know, I actually wrote about how stress affects-” 

“Stop!” 

“What?”

“I don’t want to hear about how it’ll kill me, you psychology majors are insane with your theories” 

“It’s not a theory”

“Do you really think knowing this will help me or stress me out more”

“Yeah, you’re right” 

I take another roll, sitting down on the bed and eating it. 

“You know, you could do something more stress-relieving…”

He’s smiling, but I don’t know why. I don’t have time to do anything else right now. But, if it worked, I’d probably understand and write much faster. The offer is tempting. 

“Like what?”

“Well, according to your stress-patterns you-”

“Don’t psycho-analyze me” I threaten, pointing a finger at him, my hand now empty again. He puts his hands up, smirking. That stupid smirk. 

“Fine, okay. Let’s think of normal things then… taking a hot bath”

“I showered this morning” 

“It’s not to get clean, it’s to relax” 

“No, next” 

He shrugs, shaking his head in disbelief. I know I’m difficult, but he’s still here, so I haven’t cracked him yet. 

“Go for a walk?”

I laugh at him. No way I’m going somewhere, and when inspiration strikes I’m not there to take advantage of it. It might hit when I’m 20 minutes from home, and when I get back, it’ll be dead. 

“How about I put it this way Josh… I’m NOT leaving my room” 

He thinks hard, trying to come up with something. I subtle darkness coats his eyes as he looks up at me again, and I smile, intrigued by what he’s come up with. 

“I can only think of one more thing” 

“And that is?” 

He opens his mouth, but stops himself and snickers. I’m left in the dark. 

“Nah, you probably wouldn’t want to” 

I look around confused, throwing my hands out. I’m literally open to anything as long as I can relax a bit. 

“Oh, please tell me, I’m desperate” I whine jokingly, making him laugh. 

“Oh really? How desperate?” 

“Incredibly desperate, I’ll do anything” 

“Anything?” he asks, and I can already sense that I’ll regret saying it. He leans forward, loving that he knows about this secret thing which I don’t. God, he’s a prick. 

“Yes, now tell me” I urge, my curiosity overwhelming. 

“Fine, okay” he leans back on the chair, looking me up and down. “I mean, I could help you relax a bit” 

“With what?” 

“Jesus Christ” 

“Will you just tell me Josh?” 

He stands up, making his way over and cornering me with his arms. Oh. Ooooh… I heat up just from the thought, getting wetter by the second as I think about all the erotic possibilities of this encounter. 

That’s what he meant. I almost feel stupid for not getting it at first. But I have to remember that we’re friends, and this is a very intimate act. Would I really want to jeopardise our friendship for an essay? I already feel my body betraying me, heart racing quicker than my thoughts. 

My body gets the better of me, and I lean into him, capturing his lips and throwing my arms around him. He doesn’t waste time, returning the favour and leaning over me, pushing me back on the bed. Hand goes to my thigh, lifting my leg up. He places himself in between them, staying over me with the help of his other hand. A tight squeeze over my knee makes me gasp, and he uses the opportunity to put his tongue in my mouth. He explores all of me, touching in all the right places, occasionally rubbing where he senses I feel weaker. I pour all my tension into him, another form of it building up in my stomach, begging to be satisfied. 

“Josh…” 

He doesn’t stop, mouth instead moving to my neck as he kisses and sucks. 

“Tell me if you want to stop” he whispers against my skin. I don’t want to stop. I’ve wanted this for a long time, and using my stress as an excuse? I don’t know what will happen after this, but I do know that I want to fuck him. For as long as possible. 

He hits my spot under my jaw, making a loud involuntary moan escape my lips. I feel him smirk against my skin before biting down. My hand immediately flies to my mouth. It would not be good for me if the other people in the nearby dorms heard me. 

“I want to hear you” He’s quick to take hold of my hand, trapping it over my head, pressing my whole body down on the mattress. God he’s hot, I’ve never seen this side of him. I always thought he was ‘just talk no action’, but apparently I was wrong. 

“Fuck” I whimper, feeling messy and needy for him. He knew what he was doing, and it was working a little too well. 

“All my calls, all my texts, everything left unanswered…” 

“I was studying” I breathe out, voice high on ecstasy. His knee goes between my legs, and I lean against him, letting myself grind down on his leg. 

“Was it not just a trick to get me here? Don’t think for one second I haven’t seen those glances you give me when you think I’m not watching” 

“Josh…” 

“Don’t worry, when I’m finished with you, you wouldn’t  have to be so secretive anymore” 

He grabs the hem of my sweater, making me sit up a bit to drag it off. I’ve been home alone all day, so a bra was not necessary, leaving me half naked, the cold winter air from the window making my nipples hard. 

“Oh lord…” 

“Not gonna even the playing field?” I tease, tugging at his shirt. He laughs and unbuttons it, undressing quickly and throwing the garment on the floor. He does the same with his belt, dragging it off his jeans and leaving it on the floor. I feel a tug on the bottom of my pants, and he drags them off with ease, leaving me only in my panties. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful” he comments, laying himself on top of me again and capturing my lips on his. I feel around his upper body, gracing each curve and muscle. My hands wander to his back, pulling him closer, making him lay more of his weight on me. The kisses get wetter and sloppier as we keep going, my pulse going faster than ever before. I pull away a little, needing to take a breath. He uses the opportunity to work on my chest, kissing down my collar and groping my chest. His mouth keeps sucking, leaving dark marks all over my upper body. 

“Josh, please” I whimper, feeling the need overcome me. This is too much, I need him down there, fucking me senseless, just as I’ve always wished for. 

“I love hearing my name coming out of those pretty lips of yours” 

He moves lower, kissing the inside of my thighs and stroking my folds over the soaked fabric. 

“You’ve been wanting this for a long time haven’t you?”

I take a couple of deep breaths before answering, my body dysfunctional from all the waiting and different types of simulations. 

“Y-yes I have” 

“And you finally got what you wanted”

“Please” 

He raises his head, looking up at me. That stupid smirk is still plastered on his face as he’s come face to face with the reactions he gets out of me. 

“Say it again” There’s no use fighting him, my body begging to be touched. 

“Please” 

“Again” 

“Josh, please” 

“As you wish” 

His head goes down again, biting and licking my thigh as his fingers slowly drags my underwear off. It falls off my feet, and his tongue takes a long lick over my folds. My immediate reaction is to close my legs, but his hands stop me, holding both of them in their place. He takes a chance, one of his hands moving to my heat, stroking over the wet area. 

“You’re already so ready for me” 

His tongue finds its way to my clit, licking soft circles as one of his fingers moves inside me, curling upwards. My legs jolt again, but he doesn’t mind, instead keeps pumping his finger and getting me off with his tongue. I feel my edge come closer, and I try to hold it, not wanting to come so incredibly fast. 

“I know you’re holding back dear” 

I try to come with a reply, but it leaves my lips as incoherent erotic melodies, going in tact with his rhythm. He takes out his hand, relieving some of the pressure which is begging to be let out. I try to steady my breathing, but am interrupted as he puts another finger in, filling me even more up. His tongue applies more pressure than before, and I can’t control myself as I come all over him, spilling my juices down his fingers and lips. 

I take deep breaths, ecstasy washing over while throwing my head back. Fuck he’s good. I feel my legs twitch from all the action, pent up stress and energy leaving my body as the high lowers. 

I hear something hitting the floor, and look up to find him standing in front of me. Naked. Big. Holy shit, how am I supposed to take that. 

“You look scared” he smiles, going on top of me once again, giving me sweet kisses. I taste myself on him, but the passionate nature of it is almost… romantic. 

“Just, surprised” I manage to breathe out. 

“Oh, you haven’t seen nothing yet” he teases, giving me another passionate kiss. His dick graces over my folds, coating itself in my last high. His hand goes down to adjust himself, but before he inserts himself, he looks down at my flushed face, waiting for something. 

“You want this?” 

“Yes I fucking want this, Josh please” 

He doesn’t need to hear anything else, slowly inserting himself in me. I throw my head back, feeling him fill me up, widening my walls. He groans as he keeps going, letting out a deep breath as he’s all in. He waits a couple of seconds, still holding himself up over me. 

“Fuck, you feel so good” he exclaims, cheeks red and breath heavy. 

“Please keep going” I urge him, and he starts moving. Slowly going out and slamming deep into me again. It takes a couple of pushes for him to get his rhythm back. The room fills with both our moans, and I pull him down, killing some of them on our lips. 

He takes hold of my thigh, pulling my whole leg up, letting himself deeper inside. My nails scratch his back as he keeps going, both of our orgasms building up. I hold on to him, chest against chest, his pelvis rubbing against me as he slams himself in and out. 

“Let me ride you” I whisper, and he stops for a bit, taken aback by my request. 

“You sure?” 

“Get on your back” I breathe out, trying to sound stern. My tone fails me, and I just sound desperate instead, but I don’t mind. I want him, I need him. He obliges, laying down on his back. I move on top of him, and he looks up at me, mouth agape and eyes blank. He’s so turned on, so hard and so desperate. Probably as needy as me. I steady myself, lowering my body onto him, letting him inside. I bit my lip to stop my noises, feeling him go deeper than before. 

I watch his face, cheeks still pink and skin shiny. His mouth keeps opening, letting out the most vulnerable sound I’ve ever heard from him. 

“And I thought you looked good on top” I start, feeling a smirk find its way to my lips. “Turns out you’re even better under me” 

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come” he whimpers, grabbing hold of my thigh, bouncing me up and down on him. 

“That’s the goal” I lean down, kissing his collar and neck while still bouncing my ass on him. 

“You’re so incredibly hot” 

His grip tightens, probably leaving red marks which’ll last for days. I feel my core building up, getting awfully hot and tight. 

“Josh, I’m going t-”

“Do it, do it” 

I can’t hold myself, coming all over his cock, tightening around him. I give a cry, body sweaty and hot as I try to keep the rhythm going. The pain starts getting to me, the cause of overstimulation and exhaustion. He notices, and uses his hips and arms to turn us around. 

I slam back into the maddress, my breath being knocked out of me. I don’t get time to regain it as Josh ups his pace, slamming into me harder and faster. I grip the sheets, trying to stay grounded as I feel my whole body rocking back and forth. He leans forward, intertwining my hand in his, while still keeping up the pace. I grip his hand hard, tension building up again as he uses the other to rub my clit. 

“I love you like this, all fucked out” he whispers, making me tighter. I wince as I come another time, pain and pleasure shooting through me. I’ve lost feeling in my legs, letting them hang weakly around his waist. He grunts and moans, burying himself in me as he reaches his orgasm. I feel him twitch inside me, sloppily pulling out as he collapses beside me. His hand goes to my chin, turning my head towards him before leaning forward for a kiss. I let him, sinking into the small action. 

“Still stressed?”

“More exhausted, but no, I’m not stressed” I explain, slowly regaining control of my pulse. 

“Need a power-nap?” I nod, and he walks to the bathroom, coming back with a warm wet cloth and cleaning me up. We both drag ourselves to the top of the bed, getting under the covers and relaxing. I lean into him, feeling his body sink down. 

I think about the essay, everything I could’ve done in the time we fucked. The theme is hard, and the texts are difficult, but… Shit!

“Omg” I exclaim, sitting up. 

“What, is something wrong?” he asks, looking up at me with concern. I stand up, walk to the desk and grab my computer before laying down with him on the bed again. 

“I suddenly understood this one passage” I exclaim, not feeling that tired anymore. I actually understood something! Finally! 

I open the computer, and start typing on the related paragraph. This was gonna be good, I could finally get the parallel I wanted, and compare it to the subtext. 

“Well, I’ll be laying right here if you need me again” he makes himself comfortable, kissing my chin and letting his fingers rub soft circles on my arm. 

[deangirlsstuff67]

Oops… Wrong Number

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Who knew texting the wrong number could be so much fun !

Warnings: flirting, divorced Jensen, language, fluff, talk about trauma

Authors Note: I love Jensen and his family. This is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only.

—————————————————————————

Your best friend had up and moved to Texas of all places. She tried her hardest to convince you to go with her.

Why didn’t you?

Oh that’s right because at the time you were dating your ex boyfriend. You know the guy who was going to give you the world.

What a joke that turned out to be. Now you’re single and your best friend is in a different state. And has an entirely different phone number.

Y/n: *sends image* it’s boring without you here.

You were at your local bar where you and your bestie would spend Fridays catching up and unwinding. The whiskey sitting in front of you was doing nothing to curb the loneliness you now feel without her here.

Ding.

An image comes through from the number you have saved under your best friends name.

Y/f/n: *imagine* sorry but I think you sent that to the wrong number. However, I’ll cheers to boring nights at a bar with you.

Holy shit ! Staring at the imagine sent to you, you can’t believe your eyes. There was Jensen Ackles with a glass of amber liquor in his hands.

Jensen Fucking Ackles.

Y/n: omg I am so sorry. My best friend just moved to Texas and got a new number. I must of typed it in wrong 😳

Jensen: haha no problem at all. So do I get to know who’s drinking whiskey with me tonight?

Great the man wants a photo. I wouldn’t have given this a second thought if it wasn’t for my dumb ex boyfriend who has now given me a whole degree of body issues.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves you capture a selfie and send it before you can over think the consequences of your actions.

Three dots appear at the bottom of your messaging window, then disappear. Minutes tick by and still no response. Well it was fun while it lasted, locking your phone you order another round before heading out for the evening.

You really need to figure out your best friends phone number.

Ding.

Jensen: Damn, I almost fell outta my chair sweetheart, you’re stunning.

Y/n: 😳🫣 thank you.

Jensen: I’m Jensen by the way.

Y/n: I’m y/n. Nice to kinda meet you haha.

Jensen: haha it’s nice to meet you too y/n… well kinda ;) what’s a beautiful woman doing drinking whiskey alone on a Friday?

Y/n: usually my friend and I go out on Friday to catch up and relax. Hasn’t been the same since she moved.

Jensen: ever consider moving too? I can personally tell you Texas is beautiful.

Y/n: well considering who you are I would hope so lol.

Jensen: fan?

Y/n: yeah… weird?

Jensen: not at all. Saves me the trouble of having to explain my crazy life to you haha.

As the night went on you and Jensen talked about everything. Favorite movies. His acting career. The kind of books you wrote for a living. Even his divorce, which you never knew was happen.

This guys has never met you and yet his opening up to you as if you’ve been friends since middle school. I guess that’s the perk of texting a stranger, there is no judgement.

Jensen: so let me get this straight, he cheated on you with his best friend and left you for her, but then got mad when you went on a date?

Y/n: a date from hell I might add. Never let your friends set you up with a “good” guy.

Jensen: I don’t think that’s going to be a problem in my life 🤔

Y/n: you know what I mean haha.

Jensen: so dating just off the table for you then?

Y/n: considering I’m in my 30s and just came out of a long term relationship… I don’t have a clue how to date anymore. Maybe it’s safer to stay single. It’s scary out there 😒

Jensen: what if you accidentally found one of those good guys?

Y/n: might have to get an essay from them telling me exactly why they would want to date me cause at this point I think good guys are a myth.

Those three dots appear and disappear as you wait for a reply. Finishing your third whiskey, you pay the bar tender and start walking back to your house.

As you enter your house you hear your phone go off in your jacket pocket.

Taking out your phone, you’re surprised that there is basically an essay waiting for you from Jensen with a photo of him lounging on his couch.

—————————————————————————

Read Part Two Here.

Taglist:

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @lessons-of-red @spnaquakindgdom @yvonneeeee @syrma-sensei @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @deansimpalababy @nancymcl @tspmoff @idontwannabehere78 @foxyjwls007 @senjoritanana @leigh70 @maggiegirl17

[transfemme-shelterdog]

Hello! Local fascism expert here, and I'm gonna be talking about a common transandrophobic theme that I see a lot, and how it's actually a sign of fascism!

I'd like to introduce you to the philosopher/medievalist/social commentator Umberto Eco. He grew up in Fascist Italy under Mussolini, the OG Fascist (he literally invented the term).

Eco wrote an essay titled "Ur-Fascism" which has a list of 14 "criteria" or "features" that you'll see in fascist regimes

You can find a translated copy of this book here (as the original was in Italian)

I'd like to point you to point 8, pasted here for your ease of reading:

The followers must feel humiliated by the ostentatious wealth and force of their enemies. When I was a boy I was taught to think of Englishmen as the five-meal people. They ate more frequently than the poor but sober Italians. Jews are rich and help each other through a secret web of mutual assistance. However, the followers must be convinced that they can overwhelm the enemies. Thus, by a continuous shifting of rhetorical focus, the enemies are at the same time too strong and too weak. Fascist governments are condemned to lose wars because they are constitutionally incapable of objectively evaluating the force of the enemy.

An element of fascism is painting those you see as the "enemy" or "inferiors" (here, Jewish people) as both "ultra powerful", and "weak" at the same time. Another modern example is what Americans saw with Trump painting Biden as this ultra powerful, scheming mastermind who rigged elections in his favor, as well as a senile old fart who can't tell his hands from his feet. Strong... but weak.

Now, what other group of people are painted as both these ultra powerful monsters who hold power, privilege, and are sexual and violent predators, while also being weak, pathetic, little softbois who contribute nothing to the world?

Time and time again, you see trans men and transmascs painted as evil predators who are a threat, while also being "weak, frail, ex-women". This is legitimate fascist rhetoric, and I'm surprised that nobody else has picked up on the direct link between this contradiction and the emerging threat (or existing threat) of fascism that we see every single day.

Hell, there's a few other traits in that essay that fit their rhetoric as well, but I wanted to keep this post focused on the most commonly seen one.

So, yeah, TMA/TME users really are only one step away from being fascists (if anything, they're fascism enablers), and they need to realize this before it's too late.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 2 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

surprise sunday double drop!

insert the mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry meme here

dressed for success, armor on, time to do what she does best.

the way she visibly shrinks and trembles at the salem seven watching her. this coward is so terrified of dying and having to face her wife and son.

NO THEY ARE NOT WELCOME BILLY. WE'RE GONNA KILL THEM BILLY

look at how agatha's body language changes as soon as the others arrive. she's doing the thing!

lilia hasn't eaten in three days. she's poor, okay. her bed is literally inside her wall. (jen is mirroring agatha, interesting! they're both on high alert)

"High Priestess." Immense spiritual power, unwilling or unable to use it. meanwhile, future!lilia is sitting at the tarot table, looking for her coven through time. Unwilling or unable is a funny way to describe Jen's situation, I need to think about it a bit more.

she heard the Ballad, jen. you might even say she wrote it, jen. lol all her crime scene pictures are walls and gardens and random street corners.

look at the symmetry in this shot, it's beautifully composed. alice leaning against the door, a bit shy

I can't get over how agatha takes a moment to feel the weight of what she's about to do to sharon. the girls want a green witch and rio is out of the question, so sharon has to be sacrificed in her place, simple as that. a complete innocent. agatha is about to kill her.

branded is such a violent word too. as if the people of westview were cattle.

how lonely she's been since her husband died. how thrilled and glad she is to be invited to a party. I have very strong feelings about sharon and I'm gonna destroy you with them, don't you worry.

agatha's fake smile fades the moment she's alone. and you know the recurring joke about her forgetting sharon's name and calling her mrs. hart? it's on purpose, and it's demeaning, and it's a way to distance herself from her guilt. she does that with Tommy's name too. if sharon is a joke, maybe her death won't be so wrong. as if she's hurting a caricature rather than a real person.

agatha doesn't want billy anywhere near the crossfire

sharon took her purse but forgot to take off her gardening apron

future!lilia jumps back in time for a second to let us know she doesn't appreciate elphabagatha straddling her. couldn't be me.

BILLY HAS ALWAYS BEEN LINKED TO RABBITS AND SEÑOR SCRATCHY AND NICKY. IN THIS ESSAY I WILL-

nicky's bell!

lilia always singing backup is both hilarious and in character tbh. agatha would think she deserves to be lead singer. lilia would think she's undeserving despite literally sounding like patti lupone and being the most powerful witch around

(has there been anything from the costume department about lilia's necklace and vest decorations? they look fascinating)

herb, my guy. it's time to move to eastview or smth

there is absolutely NO REASON for agatha to be that intense. she is not doing any real magic, she's playing a part and being cheesy about it as usual

yeah, sorry girls. you are all great singers and harmonize together beautifully, but like. you know. patti lupone. she's on another plane of existence. like I said perfectly in character! lilia is that bitch!! be glad she has a heart of gold and the self-confidence of a shoelace, or she would literally be ruling a couple galaxies at this point

oh, alice, sweetie. while agatha is faking emotion, alice's tears are so real and painful. what's worse, agatha's feelings about the song are just as deep and complex, but she won't let herself feel them. especially not in front of other people.

gasp! how DARE YOU ma'am! lol they were all speechless for a moment at the intimacy they just shared and now they are deflecting

oooh Agatha trying to get a rise out of them calls Lilia a coward, jen a fraud and alice a disappointment. We have our lion, scarecrow and tin man.

well someone's panicking

well well well how the turntables

lmao billy going agathaahahahahahaha

kudos for making the salem seven so creepy on zero budget tbh

agatha looks at the Road, looks at the blue magic, looks at Billy. and you know what I think? this is when she knew. right from the start. that this is Billy, Wanda's Billy, and that he created this. Her heart is still pounding in panic, she cannot believe she's still alive. She could call the kid out immediately, but she still hasn't got what she wanted: the others' powers. and she has learned the hard way how dangerous chaos magic is, so she chooses to lay low and study the situation a little more. she is always, always scheming and studying and improvising, she is bullshitting when she takes off her shoes, needs to pretend she knows what's going on.

toto we're not in kansas etc etc. dear lord these scenes are so infuriatingly dark. it's gonna be a bitch to brighten them.

and that's it for episode two! next we look at sharon's tragic demise. shoutout to @73chn1c0l0rr3v3l for always being first to like and reblog, thank you!

go to episode 3 part 1

[startanewdream]

can you write a fan fic on Sirius giving Harry advice on Ginny. I need Hinny fluff!

This was sent so many years months ago, hope you'll still read it, Anon!

godfatherly advice

Summary: Sirius and Remus discuss Harry's love life. Set during OotP. Around 1600 words.

“Do you remember a girl named Cho Chang?”

It is the sudden change in their talk — they had been exchanging stories of their favorite Christmas dinners at Hogwarts — that makes Remus blink, surprised. He turns to Sirius, but his friend is now looking at the far corner of the kitchen where Harry is playing Explosive Snap.

“What?”

“When you were teaching at Hogwarts,” Sirius answers, sounding impatient. “There was a girl called Cho Chang, right?”

“Right,” Remus agrees slowly. “Ah—she was in the Fourth Year. Ravenclaw. Bright girl. She wrote this essay about curses—”

Sirius waves him off. “Fourth Year,” he muses. “One year above Harry, then. Different houses. Not much in common.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Pretty girl?”

He jumps. “I didn’t notice it! I was her professor—”

“Oh, get a grip.” Sirius rolls his eyes. “Think like a fifteen-year-old boy—never mind, you never mentioned your crushes back in school, I don’t think you were ever a teenager.”

Warmth floods Remus’ face, and he deviates his gaze. “Why are you asking, anyway?”

“Hum…” Sirius seems as embarrassed as he gets. “Rumour has it that Harry’s got a crush on this girl.”

“Rumour.” Remus glances at where Tonks and Hermione are talking with the Weasley twins. “I guess this rumour is friends with one of Harry’s best friends.”

“I am not discussing my sources with you. But if you can trust this particular rumour, and you can… Harry and this girl, Cho, got friendly before the end of the term.”

“Oh.” Remus watches Harry for a moment. With his overly large shirt and laughing freely as he plays Explosive Snap with Ginny Weasley, Harry doesn’t look his age. “I forgot he is old enough to have a girlfriend.”

There’s a grunt in answer. Sirius is frowning, displeased.

“What?”

“I don’t think she is his girlfriend. From what Ton—my source mentioned, it was just a snog or something like that. “

Remus raises his eyebrows. “Just a snog? That doesn’t sound like Harry.” Sure, Remus may have missed a few — a lot of — years staying away from Harry, but he got to know him during his time as a professor. And between Voldemort and the Triwizard Tournament, not to mention all the stress of this year, he doubts Harry has turned into some kind of Casanova since then. 

“No,” Sirius shakes his head. “But from what I got, Harry has had feelings for this girl for ages, but it is complicated—she was the girlfriend of the Diggory boy. The one who died in the Triwizard Tournament.”

Remus sighs. “Nothing is ever easy for Harry, is it?”

“Maybe,” Sirius mumbles, seemingly to himself. “But when Harry finally snogs the girl he’s been pinning for so long—you would think he might mention something to me.”

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Remus can’t help his smirk. “You know you owe him the talk, right?”

Sirius flushes slightly. “It’s not his silence that’s upsetting,” he says haughtily, clearly determined to ignore the second part of what Remus told him. “But rather—do you remember when James and Lily finally snogged?” That familiar jolt of pain hits Remus; his smile is wistful as he nods. “James kept smiling so much that it looked as if he had overdosed on an Euphoria Elixir.”

“And he couldn’t stop babbling about it—it was three in the morning, and he was still gushing.”

“Yeah.” Sirius looks older for a moment, his gaze far away before he nods towards Harry. “Does Harry look remotely like James did?”

“I don’t know. He seems quite happy now.” And as to prove his point, Harry’s laugh echoes in the kitchen for a moment. The cards have exploded, drawing everyone’s attention, though neither Harry and Ginny seem to mind. They are chuckling, and even though his own face is painted with soot, Harry jumps to smooth the small flames over the tips of Ginny’s hair. 

“Exactly!” Sirius beacons him to come closer, his eyes shining with mischief. “And not because of this Cho Chang girl, but rather…”

Sirius’ voice drifts away, conspiratorially. It takes Remus a few seconds — during which, impatient, Sirius glances meaningfully at the place where Harry and Ginny are — before he understands.

“Harry and Ginny? They are friends.”

“So were James and Lily.”

“Yeah, but aren’t you forgetting the part where James made a fool of himself whenever Lily Evans was around?”

Sirius shrugs. “Things never happen twice the same way. In fact, rumour has it that Ginny used to have a massive crush on Harry.”

“Hmmm.” Remus considers this for a moment, before deciding it is no big secret. “This one is true, when I was her teacher, I saw how she acted whenever Harry was around… but I thought it was because of that Chamber of Secrets incident.” He shakes his head. The things Harry faced at Hogwarts…

“Very romantic, I guess. The hero saves the girl… and usually gets the girl.”

“I think the hero was too young then to care about these things.”

“And now he is older, but he doesn’t seem to be caring for the right person.”

Remus blinks. “Aren’t you being too judgemental? You have just heard about this girl.”

“I am judgmental, but not of Cho Chang. I’m judging Harry.”

“Who is acting as a teenager for once?”

“I just mean… I thought they would make a good couple. Harry and Ginny. They share the same slightly twisted sense of humour and they seem good together.”

Remus sips from his goblet, allowing himself some time to consider it. Harry and Ginny have split up now; while Ginny is chatting excitedly with Tonks and Hermione, Harry has joined Ron, but now and then he glances at Ginny’s back — fondly, not exactly romantic, but maybe there is a spark there, a seed that could grow. There had been some storm over Harry’s head during that Christmas break, something related to the vision of Arthur being attacked; that storm is gone now, and though Remus has no idea of what exactly unfolded, somehow he thinks it was because of Ginny Weasley.

“They would match,” he agrees, and then, because this is Sirius he’s talking to, he adds carefully, “but you shouldn’t meddle with them.”

“I would never,” Sirius rebuffs at once, but there is a mischief spark in his eyes, so alive, that Remus knows this isn’t the end of it.

“Sirius—”

“Speaking about match-making, don’t you think my cousin looks splendid tonight?”

The inevitable flush that floods his cheeks is enough to make Remus change the subject.

He isn’t really surprised to find out, a couple hours later, that Sirius has cornered Harry as they clean up the last remains of supper. 

“How are things at Hogwarts? Any good news?”

Harry seems taken aback. “You know how things are,” he says, looking at Sirius as if he’s considering his godfather lost his mind. Remus winces, then unsuccessfully tries to get Sirius’ attention.

“I was thinking about things you might not mention in a letter or during a fireplace call, like… Maybe some romance in the air?”

Smoothness, Remus considers, was never Sirius’ strength. Harry flushes a deep red, all his attention in drying the dishes as if his life depends upon it.

“Er—okay. Not anything worth mentioning, just the same.”

“The same,” repeats Sirius slowly. Perhaps he senses that Harry is ready to run — his eyes have shifted to the door a couple times as if he is considering how many steps he needs to be away from there — because Sirius suddenly smiles. “You know, your father never had eyes for anyone but your mother.”

Harry’s eyes open. “Really?”

“Really.” Sirius looks only encouraged. “Now, James was a popular guy, a Quidditch hero, had a great sense of humor, and of course an amazing taste in his best friend, so there were girls chasing after him, but he never cared for anyone else. And he was right, because he and Lily… they were just perfect, destined to be together.”

There’s a dreamy expression on Harry’s face. Remus knows Harry is away thirsty for any information he might receive from his parents, so he may just be considering this new piece of the puzzle that are his parents. But as he drifts, destined or not, Harry’s gaze seems to fall on the corner where Ginny is now sitting by herself, playing with the cat.

And Sirius, bless him, notices it. He barely contains a grin.

“So, you get what I mean, right? When you find the one, you know you did. Someone with whom you really connect, someone who makes you laugh, who gets you. You don’t waste your time snogging anyone else…”

Harry blinks, suddenly pulled back to Earth. “Snogging?” His gaze is suspicious. “Who said anything about me… snogging?”

“No one. This is not the point, I just—”

“It’s late, I should get some sleep.” Harry glances helplessly at Remus, who nods.

“We’ll leave for St Mungo’s early tomorrow,” he agrees.

“Right.” Sirius looks as flustered as Harry does. “But Harry—you understood what I said? About the one—”

“Yes, yes.” Now Harry is almost at the door. “Good night!”

Remus gives him a few seconds before shaking his head at Sirius. “You should not have—”

“I just did what I am sure James and Lily would like me to do. They would adore Ginny.” The mischief is back on Sirius’ eyes. “Speaking of—I heard Ginny might be dating someone, I think she needs a piece of advice as well.”

“Fred and George have mentioned her Bat Bogey Hex—” But Sirius is not listening to him anymore, already crossing the room. Remus sighs as he sits to watch the scene; he supposes he could use a last laugh before going to bed.

[thisismeracing]

Mó paz | LH44

SOCIAL MEDIA AU

― Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x brazilian!reader (she/her) ― Warnings: curse words, mentions of food, typos (not proofread). ― Summary: It's time for the Interlagos GP and fans are excited to see how Lewis' Portuguese sounds after becoming a citizen AND dating Yn. ― A/n: Shout out to @queenshikongo3 for suggesting this piece. 🤍 ― A/n:² none of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps. everything else is made up by me, and I do not allow it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛

✷ my masterlist | my taglist here | patreon masterlist ✷ Support my writing by reblogging, and leaving me a message 🤍 ✷ Consider buying me a coffee if you liked it or subscribing to my patreon for exclusive content!

yn

liked by patriciaramos, danielricciardo, and others

yn México te amo, pero yo extrañé mi hogar! 💚 (Mexico, I love you, but I missed my home)

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carlossainzssy Charles is their kid, and in this essay I will- ☝🏻

ferrarifinesse Thank you for sharing the Charles pic, YN!!!!!

lewishamilton te quiero! 😘 (I love you!)

 ⤷ popyn the way he always say's he lovers her using the language of the week's Gran Prix, I- I wanna be loved like this!!!!!!!!!!!

mercgoldenyears not George following lewis like a lost puppy/lost kid, I actually love them sm omg 😂

 ⤷ yn but he is our grid kid! <3

 ⤷  charles_leclerc what about me???

 ⤷ oscarpiastri and me?

 ⤷ landonorris I don't exist???

 ⤷ yukitsunoda0511 I'm feeling betrayed

 ⤷ mickschumacher So am I!

 ⤷  yn lewishamilton please help me here, the kids are fighting

 ⤷ lewishamilton sebastianvettel help, seb!!!

 ⤷ redferrari16 this is so funny LMAO

mirrorballeclerc the matching yellow aesthetic pic, they're truly soulmates 😭💙

lewishamilton

liked by seujorge, charles_leclerc, and others

lewishamilton Mais uma volta para casa 🇧🇷 (Another homecoming 🇧🇷)

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brunamarquezine 💚💛 bem vindo de volta!!! (Welcome back!)

44brcitizen I am the happiest person, I actually never had a sad day in my life, I can't remember ever struggling, or whatever, life is beautiful! 🌷🌸🌻💐

monacoocon The Brazilian flag is actually so pretty, I'm always mesmerized

yn 😍😍

⤷ 1dformulaone yeah, babes, that's your man (I wish it was mine, with all due respect KJDSGKJDSG)

mercedesamgf1 💜💚💛🤍

georgerussell63 vamos! 🇧🇷 (let’s go!)

⤷ sassyrussell Carmen wrote this, I just know she did 😂🤍

*the first story says "She's writing new songs".

lewishamilton

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lewishamilton mó paz! 💚

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badgalriri 😍😍😍❤️

linikeroficial amo amo amo! (I love love love)

missionfortyfourr mó paz means to be in peace, chilling, serene

⤷ mercmickie and the fact that the song talks about being at peace after he came into her life, that he's there to stay, that her life's different now?!!?!?!?!? I AM SOBBING

lewandyn she's so pretty, so smart, so talented, so perfect ughhh 🩷😭

⤷ lewishamilton yes, she is ❤️

⤷ norrizzlando your honor, he's in love!

interlagostrack LINDOS, PERFEITOS, DONOS DE MIM!

yn Te amo muito, vidinha 💗 (I love you sm, my life!)

⤷ lewishamilton te amo, meu amor

⤷ russellrain "meu amor" alguém por favor, me ajuda, eu desidratei de tanto chorar (“my love” someone pls help me, I just dehydrated from crying)

⤷ totolobo TE AMO, MEU AMOR DSKGJDSKJSKDHJ

roscoelovescoco I’s love’s you!

princessyn Stream Mó paz on spotify!!!!!!!!!!!!!

carmenmmundt 🩵🩵🩵

franciscac.gomes lindos! 🥰🤍

yn

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yn Que dia incrível cantando com os amigos em casa, e que noite perfeita celebrando com eles! Amo vocês 💘

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sunnysainz we all know who she was looking at in the first pic hehe

tsunodaangel Omg, I love them so so much 🥲

lewishamilton 🤩😍😍

lewishamilton caraca, foi incrível!!!

⤷ charleslehoe he's officially Brazilian now!!!!! LOL

patriciaramos a mulher mais linda do Brasil!!! (The most beautiful woman in Brazil!!!)

⤷ yn te amo, paty! (I love you, paty!)

swiftieyn why haven't we got a collab w xnda yet?

⤷ yn you sure you haven't? 👀

⤷ schumachersbike OMG OMGDKJSDKJG

seujorge 💛💛💛

ricciardosmile 🎶 bom que cê chegou pra ficar pra sempre, com você mó paz 🎶

carsgoingvroom the "existe amor em sp" reference *cries* (it means "there's love in SP, it's a reference to a song that says that there's no love in Sao Paulo)

⤷ braziliangp how about the quote??!?!!? I melted (if the sun doesn't shine tomorrow I'll use your smile to light my day")

⤷ mickcedes omg you guys thank you sm!! I was struggling with my A1 and translator LOL 😅

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, besties! I hope you guys like this piece! Don’t forget to leave me a message/ask and follow me if you did *mwah*

Consider supporting me by buying me a coffee if you liked it or subscribing to my patreon for exclusive content!💘

©thisismeracing do not copy, steal, or translate my work. do not repost on a different media platform.

Taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @saintslewis @scorpiobleue @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @v1naco @dearxcherry @crystals-faith @peachiicherries @elliegrey2803 @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @soph1644 @cixrosie @darleneslane @itsmaytimetosaygoodbye @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @skepvids @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji (quick reminder to enable visibility so I can tag all of you guys properly ❤️)

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