#PREACH YOUR TRUTH ANON...

[project-sekai-takes]

mmj and l/n are only hated/ignored sm by the fandom bc they have no male members and more ppl need to talk ab that

as for n25, i feel like most only care about them for angst because their branded as the “sad emo group” even tho a lot of ppl completely ignore l/n and mmj’s stories which are arguably just as if not more “angst-able” and well written.

im tired of blatant sexism in fandom and pjsk is not an exception okay bye

.

[mssishipi]

devil in disguise — sjy

— anon asked: infidelity with jake would go crazy bro like he’d be saying “you’re so disgusting” and it’s true it disgusts him how his bestfriend’s pussy milks his cock

warning: cheating, jake is an asshole, explicit content (smut): unprotected sex, degradation. MDNI.

It was almost laughable—how you always clung to Jake's side, no matter what he did, no matter how much trouble he got himself into. It was as if loyalty blinded you, shielding you from the truth everyone else could see so clearly.

You were an angel, the one his parents adored, the soft-hearted girl who couldn't even bring herself to harm a fly.

Polite, gentle, the kind of person who would apologize even when someone else stepped on your foot.

It was hilarious how you always had an excuse for him, always a justification on the tip of your tongue every time he do something.

Like that time when he got into a fight because of some fraternity nonsense. His parents had been furious.

And yet, there you were, standing in front of them, your eyes wide, your voice trembling with conviction.

"Jake defended me!"

Except that was a lie.

Jake hadn't been defending you. He don't care. The guy had simply pissed him off. He always did. It had nothing to do with you, but you refused to see that. Maybe it was easier that way—to pretend Jake had some noble reason, that his fists weren't just another weapon he wielded whenever he felt like it.

It was almost amusing—the way you always listened to him, how you followed him around ever since the two of you were kids.

You were the kind of best friend who never strayed too far, always orbiting around him, always there. He wasn't sure if he should find it endearing or just plain irritating. Maybe a bit of both.

He could do the most questionable things, and without fail, you'd always have his back.

"Thank you, Jaeyun-ah! You know I don't like Jungwon—he's always ranked first. He deserves to be caught cheating."

You grinned at him, clutching your notebook to your chest as if he had done you some great favor. But Jake hadn't done it for you. He hadn't even thought of you when he slipped that answer key into Jungwon's bag. He was just bored, looking for something to break the monotony. Watching the teachers drag Jungwon to the disciplinary office had simply been an added bonus.

"It's okay, Jaeyun-ah! What you're feeling is valid. I'm sure Yuta deserved that punch—he's a creep."

You had been so quick to reassure him. But Yuta wasn't a creep. Jake had made that up on a whim, an excuse to put the guy in his place, to see him crumble. Because he was bored.

It was almost amusing—how you, of all people, always knew the difference between right and wrong. You were kind, the type to preach fairness, to stand up for what was just.

And yet, when it came to him, all of that fell apart. You always had an excuse, always a justification ready on your lips, as if his actions existed outside the rules that applied to everyone else.

Sim Jaeyun had you wrapped around his finger so effortlessly, it was pathetic.

And honestly, it was disgusting.

"Jaeyun-ah!" you squealed, your voice breaking into a moan as your fingers dug into his back, clinging to him. Your breath hitching as he hit that spot over and over again.

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. His phone buzzed relentlessly on the bedside table, the screen flashing with his girlfriend's name. Over and over, the call came, the shrill ring cutting through the muffled sound of skin slapping against skin. But neither of you moved. Neither of you cared.

It was disgusting—how easily you spread your legs for him, how willingly you became his escape whenever she couldn't satisfy him. You never hesitated, never even flinched when he came to you, already knowing what he wanted.

He still loved his girlfriend. With everything he had. But she could never give him the kind of mind-numbing, toe-curling release that you did.

"It's in a man's nature, Jaeyun-ah," you had whispered to him once, your fingers lazily tracing patterns over his bare chest, your body still warm from the aftermath of what you had just done. Your voice always had been soft and sweet. "Men have needs. It's only natural to seek satisfaction elsewhere when she can't give you what you want."

Jake remembered those words vividly, the way you had said them with such certainty, as if you truly believed them. As if your presence in his bed, tangled in his sheets, was anything but a betrayal.

"Maybe it's even her fault," you had added, tilting your head to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "She should know better. She should do better. If she really loved you, wouldn't she try harder to make you happy?"

Your justifications were always so effortless, so convincing. You never made him feel guilty, never accused him of being selfish or cruel. Instead, you framed it like you were the only one who truly understood him, the only one who could give him what he needed without judgment.

It was painfully obvious that you were in love with him.

And it disgusted him.

Every longing glance, every adoring smile, every saccharine word that spilled from your lips—it all made his skin crawl.

Yet, despite the repulsion twisting in his gut, he kept coming back. Again and again. Because at the end of the day, you were the only one who truly understood him. The only one who never judged, never asked for more than he was willing to give.

"I said don't give me marks!" Jake growled as he grabbed your wrists, prying your hands off his back where your nails had been sinking into his skin.

Without giving you a chance to react, he shoved you down, caging you beneath him. His arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders, trapping your limbs against your sides as his weight pressed into you. His knees planted firmly on either side of your thighs, bracing himself as he drove deeper, making you take every inch of him.

The bed creaked beneath you, the room filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, your ragged breaths mixing with his.

And despite the way he loathed the way you looked at him, despite how much your affection disgusted him—he still couldn't stop.

"You love fucking like this?" Jake growled into your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he drove into you with unrelenting force.

"Yes! Fuck, I love your cock inside me, Jaeyun-ah! Fuck me harder!" you sobbed, your voice breaking with each thrust. Your mind was drowning in the pleasure he ruthlessly forced upon you.

Jake exhaled sharply, his breath ragged as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

His arms tightened around you, locking you in place beneath him. He didn't give you a second to breathe, because your body was nothing more than a means to chase his own satisfaction.

Jake groaned as he felt you clench around him, your walls tightening, desperately trying to keep him buried deep. The way your body surrendered so easily, so pathetically. It was hilarious, how little self-control you had when it came to him.

"You fucking disgust me," he sneered. His thrusts never slowed as he tilted his head slightly, watching the way your face twisted in pleasure, eyes glazed over, lips parted as broken moans spilled from your throat.

"Getting off on your best friend’s cock? That’s just pathetic."

You shook your head wildly, fingers clawing at his back, legs trembling around his waist. "I don’t care!" you gasped, "just want you, Jaeyun-ah! Just want your cock—please!"

Jake let out a breathy chuckle, "Of course, you don’t," he muttered. His teeth grazed your shoulder before he bit down, hard, marking you. Your body jerked beneath him, a sharp whimper escaping your lips as he tightened his grip on your waist, pressing you impossibly closer, molding you against him like you were made to take him.

Your tongue traced the ridges of his collarbone, wet and hot, leaving a trail of saliva as if you wanted to claim him just as much. Jake hissed, his muscles tensing beneath your touch, his pace turning brutal. His name tore from your lips in screams, your body writhing, thrashing, but his arms locked around you, keeping you exactly where he wanted.

And then, without warning, your orgasm crashed over you—sudden, violent, leaving you gasping, eyes rolling back as your body went rigid beneath him. No slow build-up, no warning. Just raw, overwhelming pleasure that left you completely undone.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm pulsed through you, leaving your body trembling beneath him, Jake didn’t slow. If anything, he fucked you through it, dragging out every last bit of your high until you were left whimpering, overstimulated, body twitching against his pace.

"Look at you," he scoffed as he watched your fucked-out expression. "Completely ruined over your best friend’s cock. What would your parents think if they saw you like this?"

Your lips parted, but only breathless moans escaped.

Jake chuckled darkly, his pace faltering just long enough for him to grab your chin, forcing your dazed eyes to meet his. "And what about my girlfriend?"  he mused, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. "She has no idea you’re spreading your legs for me every time she turns her back. That you’re nothing but a cheap fuck whenever she can’t satisfy me."

For a split second, he saw that pathetic flicker of sadness in your gaze. But Jake didn’t care.

Because he knew you. Knew the way you worked. No matter how much he degraded you, no matter how cruel his words got, you would always come crawling back. Always.

Because that’s who you were.

Jake pulled out abruptly, leaving you gasping at the sudden emptiness. His hands were rough, impatient, as he flipped you over, manhandling you into the position he wanted. You barely had a moment to react before he shoved your face down against the mattress, pressing hard against the back of your neck, keeping you in place.

"Stay still," he muttered, his other hand gripping your hip, lifting your ass high in the air.

You barely had time to process the shift before the sharp buzz of his phone filled the room again, the sound coming from the bedside table. His jaw ticked in irritation, but he didn’t reach for it. Instead, he lined himself up with your entrance, cursing under his breath.

Then, without warning, he thrust back inside.

Another scream tore from your lips, your fingers scrambling against the sheets, trying to ground yourself as the force of his movements sent shocks of pleasure and pain coursing through you. Your walls fluttered around him instinctively, struggling to adjust to the new angle, but he didn’t slow down.

"Tighten up," Jake growled. "Feels like I’m just fucking my fist."

You clenched around him immediately, an attempt to please him, but the effort only made your body tremble harder. Your vision blurred as fresh tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks, soaking into the sheets beneath you.

Jake noticed. His fingers tangled into your hair, yanking your head up, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes were glassy, lips trembling, breath coming in short, shaky gasps.

"Aww," Jake cooed mockingly, tilting his head as his grip on your hair tightened. His fingers twisted cruelly in the strands, yanking your head back until your neck arched, forcing your tear-streaked face into view. "Is my sweet angel hurt?"

You sniffled, trying to steady your breath, but the way he kept thrusting into you made it impossible to think, let alone speak. Your fingers dug into the sheets, knuckles turning white as your body rocked in time with his brutal pace.

And then you smiled—soft, sweet, broken. The kind of expression you knew would make something dark flicker in his eyes.

"I don't care, Jaeyun-ah," you whispered, your gaze met his, unwavering despite the tears threatening to spill. "That's my purpose, right?"

His reaction was instant. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and without hesitation, he shoved you back down, pressing your face into the mattress. The force knocked the air from your lungs, but you still moaned.

Jake cursed under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening as his thrusts turned erratic. You could feel it—the way his cock twitched inside you, the way his breath grew uneven, muscles tensing. He was close.

"Fuck, I trained my angel so well," he grunted, punctuating his words with a harsh slap to your ass. The impact stung, a sharp burst of pain that made you whimper. His moans were growing louder, more desperate, the telltale signs of his impending climax.

"That's right, Jake!" you cried out, voice breaking. "Make yourself cum in me—your fucking boring girlfriend could never!"

The second those words left your lips, his hand shot forward, slapping over your mouth and muffling your moans.

"Shut the fuck up," Jake growled. His other hand dug into your hip, his grip so tight you knew there’d be bruises tomorrow. "You don’t get to talk about her. Don’t fucking ruin my orgasm by running that filthy mouth of yours."

A sharp, burning twist coiled in your chest at his words. But at the same time, the thick drag of his cock against your cervix make your walls clamped down around him, squeezing so tight it forced a strangled moan from his throat.

"Fuck—" Jake groaned, his head falling forward against your back, breath ragged, body tensed as his thrusts turned erratic. His fingers dug into your hips, keeping you locked in place as he chased his release. "I'm gonna cum, angel."

A strangled sound tore from his throat, his grip bruising as he drove himself deep one last time. And then, with a low, guttural moan, he spilled inside you.

The heat of it, the way he pulsed and twitched against your walls, sent you spiraling instantly. Your orgasm hit violent, all-consuming, crashing through you with no mercy. Euphoria flooded every nerve, burning through your veins, leaving you boneless beneath him.

You gasped, lips parted in a silent cry, your body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure wracked through you. It felt endless, like falling through space with no ground to catch you, no way to stop.

Jake groaned again, feeling the way your walls fluttered and clenched around him, milking every last drop from his spent cock. He twitched, giving a few more lazy thrusts, fucking his cum deeper into you, pushing past the oversensitivity that made your thighs shake and your breath stutter.

Slowly, his pace lost momentum, his thrusts turning shallow, sluggish, until finally, he stilled. His weight pressed against you as he exhaled heavily, letting the last remnants of pleasure fade into exhaustion.

The room was filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, the sweat cooling on your flushed skin, the lingering heat of what you’d just done.

And then, as the high began to ebb, as the last shocks of pleasure melted into nothingness, the emptiness settled in.

A hollow ache replaced the euphoria, leaving you nothing more than a trembling, used mess sprawled out beneath him.

Jake let out a slow, heavy breath as he ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, his body still humming with the remnants of release. The warmth of you still clung to his skin, but he didn’t spare you a glance as he pulled out, leaving a mess between your trembling thighs.

Grabbing his phone from your bedside table, he stared at the screen, scrolled through the flood of missed calls and unread messages. The screen illuminated his face, jaw tightening slightly before he sighed, thumbs moving quickly to type a response.

Your gaze followed him, watching as he moved around the room without hesitation. He didn’t look at you—not even once—as he grabbed his discarded clothes from the floor, slipping his jeans back on, adjusting his belt with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before.

The scent of sex still clung to his skin, and he knew it. Without pause, he reached for the bottle of cologne he always carried, spritzing it over himself, masking the evidence of what had just happened between you.

You were still sprawled out on the bed, your chest pressed against the damp sheets, your body aching, marked, used. 

"I gotta get home before she starts getting suspicious," Jake muttered, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

But before leaving, he paused at the door, casting a dark stare over his shoulder. His expression hardened, his voice colder.

"Shut your mouth. You already know that, don’t you?"

You swallowed thickly, throat tightening as you forced a small, obedient "Yes."

For a moment, there was nothing. Just silence stretching between the two of you, thick and suffocating. Then, as if flipping a switch, Jake’s entire demeanor shifted. A slow, sickeningly sweet smile spread across his lips as he turned back toward you.

Walking over, he crouched slightly to meet your tired gaze, brushing a few damp strands of hair from your face before pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. The gesture was soft—mockingly so.

"See you next time, angel. Don’t do something stupid, hmm?" His voice was gentle, almost affectionate, like he actually cared.

And like the fool you were, you smiled at him, nodding eagerly despite the rawness in your throat, despite the soreness in your body.

Jake exhaled a quiet chuckle, tilting his head as he watched you. "My good girl."

Leaning in once more, he pecked your lips, his touch featherlight, almost tender. But beneath it, there was nothing. No warmth, no real emotion. Just obligation.

It was a role he played, a meaningless act that kept you tethered to him. And seeing you smile so sweetly, so utterly oblivious—it made his stomach twist with something akin to revulsion.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Jake let out a slow, irritated breath, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off something unpleasant.

Without sparing a second thought, he pulled out his phone, thumbs scrolling through his girlfriend’s messages.

You had always stood by Sim Jaeyun’s side—through every mistake, every decision, every selfish impulse. You defended him when no one else would, gave him everything without hesitation. It didn’t matter what he did; you always understood, always forgave, always stayed.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, nails digging so deep into the fabric they nearly tore through it. Your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.

You stared at the door he had just walked out of, the one he never even bothered to look back at.

You let a quiet breathy laugh—before it bubbled up into hysterical and unhinged. Tears streamed freely down your face.

"His angel, my ass."

The words dripped from your tongue. a wicked little smile curling on your lips.

You had always been there for him. Always the loyal one. Always the perfect, obedient little toy he could use and toss aside when it was convenient. You had let him take and take and take.

Your gaze flickered to the ceiling, to the tiny red light blinking faintly in the dark.

You were his angel, after all. His good girl. So predictable, so harmless.

How cute.

You tilted your head as your nails dragged lazily across your own thigh, smearing the mess he left behind.

You almost felt bad for him. 

Because, Sim Jaeyun did not, in fact, train his angel well.

[jinnie-ret]

stray kids reaction to s/o who can't sleep in the same bed

genre: angst, fluff

content warnings: cheating, implied toxic relationships (not with skz)

request (from anon): I wanna request a skz reaction to their s/o who has trust issues and prefers to deal e things herself and also prefers to sleep alone in her room n stuff bc she trusts them but she needs to work her way up with being comfortable and ok to feel vulnerable enough to sleep w them n how they'd react to s/o taking months to a year for the to finally allow themselves to sleep next to them or even the same room as them?

SKZ REACTIONS MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Bang Chan

Your boyfriend Chan had texted you asking you to come over last minute, but of course, you weren't going to deny you or him from seeing each other. The issue was, plans being this last minute meant you hadn't had time to shave your legs. You didn't think Chan was the type of guy to judge you or anyone for having hairy legs, but it was more so your own qualms about things, and not feeling like you were deep enough into your relationship to trust that it wouldn't make him look at you in a different light.

Currently you were both heading into his bedroom, ready to cuddle and get some sleep - yes, you had managed to get your boyfriend to steer away from staying up all night.

You dove into the bed, Chan chuckling behind you as you shuffled under the blankets, wiggling like a worm.

"Babe, what are you doing?" Chan laughed at you as he stripped out of his t-shirt and joined you in bed.

"Going to sleep?" your voice was muffled by the pillows your face was pressed into.

"Oh right, in jeans, yeah?" Chan laid on his side, brushing your hair out of your face.

"Sometimes when I nap in them they turn into pantaloons and I've really been into ATEEZ and pirates lately," you rambled on. Yes there was some truth in that, but it wasn't the thing that needed revealing today.

"Babe what?" Chan blinked confusedly at your rambling, "why don't you get comfy?"

"Ummm... Actually I think the sofa is more comfy, I'll just sleep there," you scrambled out of the bed.

"What's wrong with the bed?" Chan grabbed your hand gently, pulling you back towards him with a slight frown as he sat up, "you've slept in it before."

"I ummm..." your voice wavered, looking at the floor and chewing the inside of your cheek feeling awkward.

"Babe, just tell me," he shuffled over to be sat directly next to you.

"I haven't shaved," you mumble incoherently.

"Huh? What was that baby?" Chan wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer.

"I didn't shave my legs... I'm embarrassed," you admit with big eyes, looking at Chan's expression and hoping not to see disgust.

"Is that all? Babe I don't care if your legs are hairy, I want to be with a woman, not a little girl, I don't care if your legs get hairy it's natural, yeah?" Chan preaches to you after a sigh of relief. He had his arm still around your shoulder, yet he was rocking you side to side.

"Hmmm..." you said in thought, trying to fight off a grin appearing on your face and instead look contemplative instead.

"What, was it something I said?" Chan rose an eyebrow.

"Yeah actually..." you fake sighed.

"Oh I'm sorry what was it that I said?" Chan intertwined your hands, speaking carefully and wanting you to feel comfortable enough about what was said wrong.

"You say you want to be with a woman not a little girl, so why do you insist that I call you Dadd-" you start laughing, just about managing to get your words out.

"Stoppp, stoppp, go, shoo, you, go put your pyjamas on funny girl," Chan sighed with a laugh, unable to hide it as he pushed you to stand.

"Ok Dadd-" you turned to tease him again, before he cut you off.

"Y/N!" he chased after you, tickling your sides as you squealed and laughed. You were glad that he didn't care about you having hairy legs. It was now reassuring in the future for any worries that you had, that he'd understand.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Minho

"I swear you hug the cats more than me," he smirked, simply teasing you from where he was sat at the other end of the sofa with Dori in his lap. You had the ginger babies Soonie and Doongie in yours. You were glad though because it brought you great comfort with the paranoia you had been feeling more and more recently.

He was your boyfriend, and you loved him, but you worried his teasing comments were actually subtle digs. You were still shy about being physically affectionate with him, particularly with sharing a bed with him.

"I-i'm sorry Min, I'm trying," your voice wobbles.

"Darling, I'm joking, don't worry," Minho lifted Dori off of his lap, standing up and stretching and not seeing the distress that still remained on your face. "Right, I'm going to get some sleep, you want to join?"

"I-i'm not ready yet, sorry Min."

"It's ok, darling." He always announced when he was going to bed, always leaving the question in the air so you could say yes if you felt ready. But that still wasn't the case this time, and as he turned to get a glass of water from the kitchen, he was stopped in his tracks by your cries.

"I-it's not because I don't love you, because I do!! I really do!! I just want to work myself up for it you know? I don't wanna be awkward and stuff but-" you had lifted the cafs off of your lap, feeling guilty and in that moment seeing him turn away from you felt like he was annoyed.

"Hey, hey, darling, where's all these tears coming from, hmm?" Minho soothed you, his voice slightly higher pitched when he was being gentle with you. "I told you, it's ok, really," he wiped your tears off of your cheeks.

"I feel like I'm being annoying," you sniffled, looking down only for him to tilt your chin upwards.

"I'd rather you be comfortable, ok?" Minho was always patient with you, "don't let it stress you out ok?"

"O-ok," you took in a deep breath, calming yourself down.

"I love you, get some rest, ok darling?"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Changbin

Your boyfriend was peacefully sleeping in bed, small snores escaping his lips as his face was squished against one of his thick arms. And he was a light sleeper, probably from previously living in a dorm full of boys before that were chaotic to say the least, and that was from what you saw meeting them outside of their home space.

You tiptoed into the bedroom, taking a deep breath. Never sleeping in the same bed as him was something you knew didn't deter him but you could see it when he'd miss you goodnight that he wished that you would sleep with him. That boy wanted nothing more than to hold you all night in his arms, but he respected your decision still. Tonight, things were different.

Slowly crawling into bed next to him, you lifted up the duvet and laid down beside him, slowly resting your head against the top of his back and an arm across his waist. You were nervous, yes, but you had missed his comfort after wishing each other good night, even though it had only been half an hour.

The beast had awoken, quite dramatically you must admit. But it was fair, considering you wouldn't normally sleep next to him he wouldn't be expecting anyone in bed next to him.

"Huh...? Woah! What?! Honey?" Changbin's initial murmurs had turned to surprised joyful shouts as he flew out of bed to make sure this was all real. You just sat there stunned with your hands covering your ears.

Your boyfriend did a happy dance, jumping into bed next to you as he wiggled against you, and instead he was the big spoon this time round. His heartbeat was racing and so was yours.

"Surprise?" you giggled, making him coo and squish your cheeks.

"My honey," Changbin kissed your cheek before cuddling up to you even tighter, "good night."

Now that, was in a much deeper voice in comparison to his excited shouts. The duality of this man, and he was all yours.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Hyunjin

"Baby! I haven't seen you in ages!" Hyunjin quickly got up from his seat, bringing you into a hug. With your usual solace in his presence you sink into his embrace.

"Hey Jinnie," you then sat down across from him in the cafe.

"I'm so glad you saw me today, I was worried about you," Hyunjin grabbed your hands, holding them in his.

"Worried? You don't have to worry about me," you offered an awkward smile, knowing fully well why he felt this way. He had asked you on multiple dates just to see you when he was miraculously free from his busy schedule. But each time you cancelled, getting worried you were falling too deeply only for it to be thrown away. You were scared to get close in case you got hurt, so you flaked out from each time he wanted to see you. It wasn't until your friends prompted you to see him that you thought maybe you should this time.

"You haven't been wanting to see me... I haven't done something wrong have I, baby?" Hyunjin worried, one of his hands releasing one of yours in turn to sip from his iced americano.

"It's not you Jinnie, I'm just... scared," you answered honestly, for the sake of reassuring him. It didn't feel fair for him to worry without knowing why you were really avoiding him.

"Scared? Of what?" Hyunjin leant forwards, elbows not resting on the table between you both.

"I-i don't want to ruin things between us because once we get closer we'll be going round each other's apartments and then it's sharing a bed together and I'm just not ready for that yet," you explained, words tumbling past your lips as you felt flustered.

"Oh baby, we never have to force anything, I'd never rush you if you're not ready. If your pace is slower than mine, so be it. I will not make you catch up with me, I'll be right next to you instead," Hyunjin promised you, looking deeply into your eyes so you knew it. "I wish you told me sooner, I've missed you so much."

"I missed you too Jinnie."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Han

"Please don't feel bad my baby, I really don't mind," Han pleaded, not wanting you to feel guilty. You both held hands as you were sat on the sofa watching a film, specifically, Spirited Away.

"You don't find it weird?" you weakly ask, eyes not leaving the TV screen.

"I've never been with anyone before that's felt the same way, but I love you, so I'm not about to throw that away because you're not ready to sleep in the same bed as me," Han spoke calmly, like it was something he had gone over in his head plenty of times.

"I want to, I really want to, Ji, I'm sorry babe," your voice wobbled, thick with emotion, Han kissing your hand as he tentatively brought your it to his plush lips, always careful with you. He was always understanding that you needed more time with things due to previous relationships.

"Hey, hey, it's ok, I have an idea," Han grinned, leaving the sofa without any explanation and getting busy with moving things around in the bedroom.

~~~

"Come on, it's like a sleepover every night, I don't know why I didn't think of it in the first place..." Han felt proud of himself gazing across at you from the bed. You see, Han had taken it into his own hands to make you feel more comfortable around him to sleep near him, not quite next to him yet. Fortunately, his apartment came with a spare bed frame, bedding, the works, so he had set up a bed for you across from his own. It was perfect, right? You didn't have to sleep next to him in bed yet, but at least you could stay over this time, and one day cuddle in bed til you fall asleep.

That was what Han hoped. You on the other hand, were too busy in your own world, thinking about the worst things that could happen to mentally prepare yourself, your hand twisting the blanket in its grip.

"Baby, is it too much? I can drive you home now if you want?" Han stretched his leg out, nudging your foot with his own to shake you out of your thoughts.

"N-no I'm just gonna umm... Let you fall asleep first... Makes me feel safer so I know that you won't do anything you know," you rambled with your jaw clenched. That all too familiar lump in your throat was making its presence known and you didn't know if you were going to yawn or cry.

"Hey?" Han softly said.

"Y-yeah?" you nervously look up at him, only to see pure adoration and warmth oozing from those boba eyes of his.

"It's ok, yeah, I wouldn't do that to you, I care about you far too much," Han slowly walked over to you to allow you to process his movement happening in front of you, and brushed some hair back from your eyes.

"You're the best," you murmured, leaning your face further into his hand making him grin.

"I know, baby."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Felix

There it was again, that funny feeling. You hadn't gotten so lucky before being cheated on in your previous relationship, so when you smelt the different perfume on the pillows in your bedroom, you were heartbroken. You didn't have it in you to be angry at Felix, not him. Maybe just at yourself for not noticing it sooner. But maybe a part of you wanted the pain, to know for sure it was true, because you didn't leave straight away, no, you just waited for him to notice something was up.

"Hi love, you going to sleep?" Felix grinned as he came up to you, stroking your hair out of your face. And you let him.

"Yeah... I was going to borrow one of your pillows but I couldn't help but notice it smelt differently," you brushed his hands off of your hair.

"Oh, did you like the smell?" Felix beamed at you, ever so sunny when all you felt was blue.

"Are you kidding me? Did I like it?" your voice cracked. "Lixie, is this some sick joke?"

"Love..." he reached out to hold your shoulders but you backed further away.

"Don't. Please don't. I gave you a chance just then to admit what you had done. Is it because of me? Because I'm not ready to sleep in bed next to you, you have to get another woman? And don't try to tell me I borrowed that pillow last night because my perfume does not smell like that!" you cried, wiping your nose as you did and pointing at the bed in disgust.

"It could though, let me explain, love," Felix held your hands and even though he was the source of your upset, or at least the version of him that your brain created was, you sat with him on the sofa.

"It's a new perfume, not from another woman, but for you if you like it. I-i just didn't want to give you one and you didn't like the scent so I got the tester to try out and if you liked it then I was going to buy the bottle for you," Felix brought you into his arms whilst he explained, and you felt like a bitch.

"I'm such a bitch."

"No, no, don't be silly love, I didn't realise that it could have been triggering for you, ok, so don't call yourself that," Felix mumbled in his deep voice soothingly, kissing you on the head.

"I did like the perfume scent by the way," you whispered. That's what would have been more annoying - that the imaginary woman had a good taste in scents.

"I'm glad you do, love."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Seungmin

You had been judged many a time by your last boyfriend for your sleeping habits, whether it was for your not so soft snores or when sometimes you'd accidentally drool because of having your cheek pressed against your hand all night. So when you got with Seungmin, you were hesitant in sharing a bed with him, let alone falling asleep next to him. Sometimes you just couldn't help it.

The two of you had been watching a movie and foolishly you let yourself fall asleep, only to be awoken by Seungmin's giggles.

"I never knew you were a snorer, honey," Seungmin laughed to himself, but you were awoke in an instant, the sounds of your peaceful sleep cut off as you looked at him in alert.

"Oh sorry, I know I'm loud, I, umm..." you rambled awkwardly, cheeks inflamed in a rosy red tint, bringing the blanket more around your body in attempt to comfort yourself.

"Like a drone or something," your boyfriend giggled once more, but his smile faded at seeing you frown. "Hey I'm just joking..."

"No you're not," you mumble grumpily. It had to come back to this. Always. You couldn't help it. It was a habit for a reason.

"I am, I am, don't hide from me," Seungmin insisted, tugging the blanket away from you face, bopping the pout your lips wore.

"Stoppp, I'm embarrassed, Minnie," you pushed his hands away, well tried to.

"Don't be, I don't care, honestly, I sleep easily and plus you're not the only one who snores," Seungmin pulled you into his arms.

"You snore too?" you rose an eyebrow, you had never heard him do so before.

"No but Channie does. He's like a foghorn. So don't worry, yours is far better," Seungmin chuckled, teasing his leader when he wasn't even there.

"You sure? I never wanted to disturb you, is all," you look up at him as he leans down slightly to kiss you on the head with a sweet smile.

"Very, now please sleep in my arms, you can relax, honey," Seungmin gently rubbed your back as you turned to face him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Jeongin

Worst. Day. Ever.

Was it normal for a part time job at a cafe to be chaotic? No, not the one you worked at anyways. This was why it was such a surprise for you to deal with a rowdy customer that decided that he didn't like his coffee because it was 'too hot' and wanted a refund, all whilst you had the busiest shift of your life. Well, he certainly didn't get one after chucking the freshly brewed beverage all over you.

You were dismissed earlier by your manager, who could see how anxious you were feeling, and after you were checked over you returned to yours and Jeongin's apartment, being the first home for once. And you couldn't resist the comfort of his soft, plush bed as your spot to let yourself cry, despite the fact you've never slept next to him before. In fact, your unfamiliarity of being in the room distracted you from the fact the front door unlocked and that there were foosteps heading straight towsrds you.

"Jagi?" Jeongin asked confusedly seeing you curled up in his bed. It wasn't a sight he expected to see. He understood you had boundaries and didn't feel ready sharing a bed yet. The more concerning thing was the sobs wracking through your body.

"Oh?" you jumped, turning to see your boyfriend with care and sadness shining in his eyes at the sight of your tears.

"What's the matter, hmm?" Jeongin slowly sat down next to you, resting a hand gently on your knee. That was when you dissolved into tears once more. "Oh, jagi," he instinctively pulled you in for a cuddle, before you shuffled out of his arms.

"I'm sorry, I've just had such a bad day and your bed looked so comfy and-"

"Why's your neck all red?" Jeongin frowned.

"Angry customer, threw his drink at me, and it hurt, and then my manager sent me home and-"

"Come here," Jeongin quietened you, opening his arms once more which you accepted this time.

"I'm sorry," you cried into his chest.

"Don't be sorry. I don't care that you laid down in the bed. I'm more worried about you, Jagi, ok?" Jeongin's embrace became tighter when he heard your small whimpers, a clear sign that you were trying to stop yourself from crying.

"Just wanna forget about today," you mumbled sadly.

"I know, I know, let's ummm... Ok maybe not a hot bath... let me get some cream for you, treat those burns," Jeongin pecked you on the cheek, deciding against your skin enduring more pain from hot water, and quickly got up, soon returning with some ointment for you. He made the decision to gently rub it into your neck, having a better pair of eyes than you did. One, because you couldn't see it fully, two, because your eyes were still slightly blurred from tears.

"T-thank you, Innie," you kissed his hand before it fully pulled away from your neck, making a weird face as the cream went onto your lips, the taste of it not so pleasant.

"Silly girl, here," he wiped the cream off your lips with his thumb, kissing you just to make sure the taste still wasn't there, and then you were both satisfied.

"Love you, Innie."

"Love you too, Jagi, even with panda eyes."

"Shit, I forgot I wore mascara today."

"I know, Jagi, I know."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kai-lee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist

[ichliebemeinkissen]

out of curiosity, why do you use the word transandrophobia? to my knowledge it was primarily created to push back against women’s reasonable discussions of transmisogny in the community, but i don’t know intimately how it’s used now. would you be able to discuss a little why you feel it’s a useful term?

To your knowledge? Do you mean you just saw a bunch of people on tumblr shit talk it and you internalized that as the truth?

Transandrophobia is a good term for discussing a different subset of trans issues. It just happens that certain people of this community haven't unlearned certain beliefs, and take out their issues on other people under the guise of "defending" queers.

Transandrophobia as a discussion is not transmisogynistic, and if you lurked a bit in those spaces you can see that clearly.

.

Let me put it to you this way, anon:

On one hand you have a bunch of trans people coming together to talk about their issues. Poc and non-americans hold more of a voice than previously in conversations of trans issues, and it's all around a bunch of people coming together to do community work.

On the other side you have a bunch of bloggers who will constantly shit talk trans men for their identity, frequent sexual harassment against people who post about transandrophobia, major "anti transandrophobia" bloggers being routinely racist, misgendering people, including trans women, carying out harassment campaigns, etc, and all around being typically racist, intersexist, bio essentialist, self described radfems, exorsexist, etc.

.

I have been in these conversations for a while. The second group is nothing new, just manifests their hate in a new way. You tell me, anon, do you think I, a trans woman who constantly preaches about community & unity and listening to others in minoritiy groups, would choose the second option? Where I routinely see slop as a base of the argument? Genuinely go look and critically think about both sides and then come back to me.

This is why you can't just accept everything you read on your timeline, dear reader. You'll simply end up supporting whoever you see. Even though it's well known that people will hide their hatred behind "benevolence" or "protection".

I'm a bit ill so I cannot adequately say this any better, but I don't think I need to explain to you why I use the term. I think you need to learn the terms history and spend some time studying both sides, it should speak for itself.

[thekatebridgerton]

HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT THEY DID TO MICHAEL STIRLING?!

I haven't seen part 2 yet but I definitely saw the spoilers on my dashboard. And for all that its worth, I'm really sad about it right now.

I've seen a lot of posts invalidating the feelings of book fans by saying things along the lines of 'if you don't like Michaela Stirling you're ...you guessed it a #BadPerson' and I'm trying to process which person's feelings matter and don't matter in a world where those same people preach acceptance and support. I want my feelings to matter, I want to be allowed to be sad about the fact that this character I was looking forward to seeing is no longer going to be on screen. But the truth is a lot of people keep saying that my sadness and sorrow is invalid shaming people who feel like I do with all the self righteousness of a pastor in church. because apparently not liking the genderbeding of Michael Stirling makes me a #RaginghaterOfMinorities.

And lets be clear, everyone can say what they want, but book Michael Stirling is not going to be on screen, his story was too emeshed with the gender roles of the era, for a genderbent take to not strip and reorder the character's motivations and major plot lines in order to make him a woman. Michaela Stirling is for all intents and purposes a new and improved character. More power to her.

Still that doesn't take away the fact that I am sad and disappointed that Michael Stirling won't be on screen and that it will take me time to process this in a healthy way.

So in case nobody has said this to the crowd who is heartbroken over the genderbeding of Michael Stirling, those who feels upset and disappointed over the loss of a beloved character and don't feel brave enough to express it. Let me be the first to tell you that your feelings are valid, disliking the change in direction that was taken for a fictional character doesn't make you racist or homophobic or anti feminist or any other of those ' you are a raging hater of minorities ' epithets. ( Some of you may even be the kindest people I've met on the site) In my opinion, those feelings just make you human, and you should be allowed to feel it and process the loss in a healthy way without being told youre selfish and a bad person.

Does being heartbroken over this give anyone the right to go and harass actors like Masali Baduza for doing a job they were hired and paid to do? No. Does it give anyone the right to go send nasty harassment anons to people who actually liked the change? Also no. In fact it doesn't give the right to people who have a different opinion to harass you either. Boundaries are a two way street. Don't harass others and don't consent to receiving harassment is a rule we should all follow

But it does give you the right to feel your emotions, process them, accept the change and move on with a healthy mindset.

Its going to take me a while to get there myself, but that's what I'm doing.

And that's the tea

[mrs-monaghan]

Claiming you are a OT7 army but pushing and promoting the hate towards taehyung makes you a hypocrite.

Jkkrs are slowly becoming the vermin by pushing false narratives to match their perception of taehyung. It has come to a point whereby we are also starting to base reality of Jikook around villainizing Taehyung. It disappointing honestly to undermine a 10+ year relationship that vmin publicly claimed as soulmates just becuz of social media posts. Dubbing words such as envious to a person Jimin deems important to him is utterly disrespectful.

At the end of the day... WE DO NOT KNOW THEM... so we should believe in their words rather than conspiracies that lead to outrageous conclusions. We jkkrs always preach about how we should only believe in what Jimin and Jungkook say but here we are disrespecting Jimin's words. Words that was just spoken in last week's Sapporo episode.

The truth of the matter is that Jimin and Taehyung are still very close. It justifiable hating Taehyung's subfandoms but hating him is not becuz it based off baseless theories.

More and more each day we jkkrs are starting to resemble the vermin. So fuckin disappointed.

I know you need a Jikooker to yell at, but I take issues when people accuse me of things I haven't personally done. Just because other Jikookers are acting a certain way, if I haven't done what they're doing, I resent being accused of it.

I. Shaz. Love. V. I wouldn't say that if I didnt. Trust me. Or don't. Either way, read this

I had this talk with some friends on discord but here is the thing. I may still care about V but I can understand why some people have washed their hands off of him. I've said this 1000 times but as long as Jikook keep loving V, so will I. But that doesn't have anything to do with holding V accountable for his actions. Jimin and JK may be okay with him, but us as fans are still allowed to question his behaviour.

Jikookers will complain that during FACE everyone and their dog made posts supporting the album except V. Then people like u will say, you don't know them personally, V probably praised him privately. And I would counter with the fact that V posted about Dday and TXT's album. Does that mean he didn't praise them privately???

Same thing happened with MUSE even though the guy finds a way to still be online all the time even while enlisted.

When Jikook were enlisting he posted that shirtless facetime screenshot of JK. Was Jimin not enlisting too?? Why didn't he post about him?

JK himself has come online to correct things that V said. Pointing out that, that's not how it happened. So if JK himself feels the need to correct misinformation, why are we being side eyed?

V promotes everyone except for Jimin, the vermin notice this just like we do and do you know what happens? They go to town on Jimin talking about how V only promotes good music. That Jimin makes garbage music and that's why V can't support it.

I assume you're here due to that post I just made about them not knowing eo as well as they used to. Bro, I ain't making this up. We have seen this with our own eyes. Them trying to guess things about eo and ending up being wrong. That wouldn't have happened way back when. I could talk about the many, many times he has gone quiet only to finally post when the fandom is focused on Jimin.

You say that we don't listen to members, except that's all I do. I watch Vmin chronologically and they're not the same. U would see it too if u did the same. Jimin seems tighter with Jungkook Jhope and V seems tighter with the Wooga Squad. And like I mentioned before, we've seen on original content JK come online to ammend something V said so... how is that me not listening to members? RM saying that V is not very good at self awareness, how is that not me listening to members?

Anon, Vmin aren't the same. U wanna live in denial thats fine. But don't be mad when those of us confident enough to talk about it, do.

.

.

.

Tkkrs hate Jimin because of his bond with JK. But Jimin has never done anything to V. Additionally he does things that makes those morons come for Jimin everyday. That's why jkkrs get upset with him. We don't have an issue with him just because he hangs out with JK or is the closest to JK (he's not) And that is why angry anon, we will never be like the vermin.

[dayas]

“I begged you to stay” for Klonnie

You got it, Anon!

—

It was a funny thing, how life worked. Mystic Falls was Bonnie Bennett’s home, and she had crafted it anew. It became a safe haven for witches, and any supernatural creature seeking peace. Unfortunately, there was a war coming, and she didn’t know if she could stop it.

What she did know, though, was that life was bitterly unfair. New Orleans had been a place she’d once dreamed of going, had planned to make a home, but the man she’d wished to build with left her Virginia. That disagreement caught at her to this day, so much that her chest burned when she saw him.

He was as handsome as ever (one of the few benefits of immortality), a smirk sitting on his face in clear view. But Bonnie saw his eyes, hard and cold, and knew they were thinking the same thing.

“You know how beneficial an alliance will be with me,” Klaus was saying, though his gaze roved over every inch of her. It was understandable, Bonnie supposed — it had been years since they’d seen each other, after all.

“And you know how beneficial an alliance would be with me.”

Her counter was expected, spoken evenly. She continued, “But I can’t trust you not to cut and run. You say you value loyalty, but I know the truth. You’re a deserter, Niklaus Mikaelson.”

His eyebrows rose at her use of his full name.

“Do you want an apology, Miss Bennett? You’ll be waiting ten eternities before that happens.”

Bonnie’s laughter was a grating sound, stone scraping against stone.

“I don’t want anything from you ever again.”

“Ah, but you need me.”

“Do I? I have a coven of my own now, actual allies that value life instead of recklessly taking it. I have a home here. A home that I built.”

She watched his eyes flash, read their message even if it never passed his lips. She could have had a home with him.

“When your home is destroyed and everyone you love reduced to nothing but dust and ash, I hope you remember your words.”

Surprisingly, she is the first to anger.

“You’re exactly the same as you were!”

She hadn’t meant to raise her voice, but now that it was, she let her words fly like daggers through the air.

“You never believed in me! You never believed I could do this.”

“I always believed in you!” Klaus, quick to anger himself, matched her shouting in equal measure. “I was the only person who ever encouraged you to reach your true potential. You wanted to stay here, when you could have ruled with me.”

“I begged you to stay.”

Bonnie quickly wiped the tears that had gathered in her eyes away, trying as hard as she could to pretend that her heart wasn’t bleeding itself out again right in front of him.

“I wanted to do this with you. You left me.”

Klaus inhaled quickly through his nose, visibly incensed. Bonnie continued.

“You preach about loyalty, about ‘Always and Forever’, but when push comes to shove, it always has to be your way.”

She couldn’t stand there and look at him any longer. She felt physically sick — her stomach roiled, sweat had gathered along the edges of her face, and her body quivered.

“If I’m destroyed, let it be. At least I have the courage to go down with something I actually believe in.”

Bonnie fled then, wanting to be anywhere but that room.

She would prove him wrong, no matter the cost.

[deceit-and-knowledge]

..Hmmm..

Sage.. do you think becoming this depressed and hopeless was what lead you to eventually become shadow milk cookie? Being so drawn to the truth in which it hurt you, wanting to do ANYTHING to escape the cold, harsh reality you once endlessly studied, creating a false reality through deceit to escape your current one and eventually going MAD?..

…

Well, there’s something to think about!!! Hehe..~

-A Certain Anon(?)

f: it's inevitable.. what's the point. I hear people tell me there's a possibility I don't but I'm not sure anymore, maybe it's fate for every fount of knowledge to succumb to one thing he stood by backfiring on him. The truth hurts, yes. Lies are a comfort to many. But maybe... The truth just sucks.. the truth is what lead to who I am right now, someone wallowing in pain and mental agony over the mere thought that I could one day become a monster.

...I give up..

i don't want to be a monster.. but what if I can't prevent it.. I don't see the point in trying to be something I'm not.. haha..

teaching cookies, preaching knowledge and truth, caring for those that reside near bad in the spire. Educating young mages and wizards, what's the point? It'll all mean nothing one day, I have no name, no identity outside of the one curated by my creator's and those around me. I'm a nobody. Maybe if you think about it I'll be happier?... A happy beast... My knowledge and truth casted aside however.. who am I but a cheap created failure..

[lunarw0rks]

Hi!!! Can you please do 141+ Alejandro with a black widow s/o who’s a super bamf 💗

All Bark, All Bite | 141 (+Ale)

Warning(s): canon-typical violence, strong language, established relationship, fem!reader, mil!reader, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I combined this w/ a similar request. they requested that reader is part of an all-female squad called "The Widows" so creds to that anon for a partial part in this request! Not proofread.

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? 𓆩♡𓆪 ask box

SYNOPSIS; if there were a side-by-side of you at work vs. at ease; the difference would be striking. You were with the best of the best, hand-picked to join The Widows five years ago, based solely on your battle smarts and physical durability.

You've retained dialects and languages after spending years doing covert ops around the world, as well as an array of fighting skills. The most significant thing you've accumulated? Your partner.

Dating in the same line of work, paths were bound to cross. Yet, seeing each other was both a blessing and a curse.

Price

When you limped up to the porch, the sight of the lights illuminating the inside made you both cringe and cheer at once. Time was precious when you both were home at the same time; though you were dreading the questions surrounding your appearance. You didn’t have time to wash off and instead went straight home after filling out your after-action reports.

John was in the sunroom with only a dim lamp on—forgetting once again to shut off the rest of the house lights. You weren’t in any mood to scold him, though, nor did you want to. In the least arrogant way possible; you were jaded from keeping the world safe. His gaze ascended from the paperwork resting on his lap, then scanning your striking appearance; in uniform and stained with crimson.

❝It’s not my blood, John.❞ You sighed, a look of both defeat and nonchalance—it was a conversation you two had many times before. This time, it really wasn’t your blood, except for a few measly scrapes and scratches.

He blinked a few times, as stunned as he was the first time he saw you after a daunting mission. ❝Is that supposed to make me feel better, sweetheart? Go shower off.❞ You couldn’t be aggrieved, it’s precisely what you would’ve told him to do. Besides, the last exchange you wanted to have right now was one about work.

John and you did that enough, probably to a fault—being that the two amplest workaholics found each other.

Simon

The work was daunting, sometimes downright depressing considering the things you’ve witnessed, and lived through firsthand. It wasn’t easy to get back out there, put on your bravest face, and work with skilled swiftness. Though your other half had conquered the art of appearing half-hearted—his mind was constantly buzzing with feelings, especially after getting involved with you.

Simon hated your guts, purely for making him fall in love with you. His co-workers either die in front of him, die apart from him, or go missing so long they might as well be dead. He couldn’t handle it, the prospect of getting a sit-rep declaring you had been KIA.

❝What’s on your mind?❞ The weight on the thin barrack mattress shifts as he sits beside you, eyes trained on your failed attempt at masking your gnawing thoughts. God, his observance was irritating at times—how you couldn’t conceal the slightest hitch in your persona.

In truth, it wasn’t any specific memory that was chipping at your psyche. It was… everything all at once. The constant reminder that you had to be a soldier—hardened, snappy, and with little emotion plaguing your every tactical decision. And your decisions? The pressure of choosing the option with the least amount of casualties—never was it a zero.

Unbeknownst to you, you were silently preaching to the choir. ❝It doesn’t matter. Can’t sit here and let feelings stop my day.❞

Simon reached across the cot, cupping each side of your face with a headstrong glare—one somehow sterner than his default frown. ❝With you, love, feelings do matter.❞ He shook you ever so slightly as if he was literally jerking some sense into you. Normally, he would agree and order the softie to keep going.

But you weren’t weak-kneed, nor did you let emotions affect your work.

You were the strongest soldier he knew, second to no one, not even himself. Your ability to feel so openly off the field was something Simon could only voicelessly yearn for. Something he didn’t want you to renounce, as he had years ago. What kind of relationship would it be, if you were both stoic robots trained to kill? It wouldn’t be one at all.

Soap

The two of you separate was enough to make any superior cringe, but together? It had them white-knuckling, all while assured that you two could get the job done clean. He was called Soap for a reason, and you—well, your squad had been picked for a reason. No one was privy to your relationship, and that’s how you both wanted to keep it, purely to not let a conflict of interest affect future ops.

Johnny had to bite the bullet and fight the urge to show you off, gush about you, telling very long and detail-heavy tales about how you two met, and how it was a rocky start. He was starstruck by your skills, and you were adamant about remaining tactical, nothing more.

Clearly, the stubbornness had budged, given the rule-bending involvement you two were in. ❝Ye sure you can handle the boom, lass?❞ Soap smirked, finger hovering over the button of the detonator. He was grasping at straws to rile you up because he knew you were both forced to work with him—and would come home to him that night.

For him, it was a win. For you? It was a persistent thorn in your side.

❝Press the damn button before I hurt you, Soldier.❞ You hissed, covering your ears to shield them from the explosion… or his pestering, it could be a mix of both. Soap grimaced as he signaled the boom, a deafening rumble in the distance, loud and close enough to make the building shake.

Once it passed, you scowled at the sight of his faux-dramatics. ❝It’s ‘soldier’ now, eh? Why not just shoot me, it would hurt less.❞ Soap retorted, taking one more glance at the ash falling in the distance—the result of his own pyro-artfulness.

Oh, how badly you wanted to tussle with him, then apologize to him with a kiss simultaneously. And he knew it too. Your toughness was an attractive quality, one that aroused him, even when you pressed a blade against his throat the first time you were stationed together.

Gaz

Your work with the 141 had gone off and on for some time now. You were glad to interact with Kyle but dreaded every mission together on the off-chance that something went horribly wrong. But that was the cost of your line of work—a sentiment you reminded yourself of nearly every day. The only thing you could do was do your job and find limited time to cherish with him.

It was your lucky day; you had time to visit.

Though you had told Price it was to visit with all of them, you only wanted to see Gaz. The others were great company, sure, but out of the field? They could be… both a complete mess, while being the most tightly-wound group you had worked with.

You made brief conversation with each member, a polite nod or greeting until the small talk became agonizing to get through. When you reached the end of the line, finding Kyle, your expression of professionalism became one of relief. After months of only communicating through comms or phone calls—you were finally face-to-face.

❝Shit, I should get going. Duty calls.❞ Your gaze diverted from Kyle to your phone, a precisely-timed interrupt you needed to tend to right that second. He understood entirely, and it only gave him an excuse to snake you into his bunk that night.

Without realizing it, you intertwined fingers with him for a few seconds, whispering a romantic farewell before parting ways with him. One of his entire Task Force witnessed with a slightly dumbfounded expression on their faces. You, high in the Widows’ chain of command, gone soft and holding hands with Gaz. Frankly, they were slightly intimidated by your skill, the way you always presented yourself in action.

To be flirting with Gaz, it was uncanny. And the headstrong Sergeant Garrick now plagued with an unavoidable flush? The snarky jokes wrote themselves.

Kyle’s eyes widened slightly as you walked away, a slow turn towards his co-workers, interrupting the inevitable comment slipping through their lips. ❝Not a word.❞

Alejandro

Your comms’ static was a constant reminder of the inevitable crisis arriving. Until an update finally came through after several minutes of pausing. Your allies were in need of sniper recon; not just any ally, either—Colonel Vargas was in need of sniper recon. Though you always made your best effort to remain tactical and move with purpose, this one was your purpose—the reason you fight to come home during each deployment.

You radioed back, signaling for the neighboring Widows to follow in your path. If something were to go wrong, Alejandro wouldn’t be left empty-handed, he would have your remaining soldiers to assist. Your squad moved swiftly, some sporting pistols, while the other half had their precision rifles at the ready. The rifle in your hands typically held little weight in your trained arms, but right now it only seemed to be restricting your snappy advancement towards the compound.

Perhaps it was the figurative weight of not getting there in time to relieve them. There was no time to interject personal affairs, however. It wasn’t just Alejandro that needed your assistance—it was his men, the allied soldiers, and most importantly, the innocents caught in the mix of this active warzone.

Your soldiers began to clean the house, allowing execute authority to eliminate any hostile forces. An order that was both the toughest yet quickest one you ever had made, given the circumstances you were plunged into. Behind the thick metal door, there was a blend of bellows in both English and Spanish—the Vaqueros deep in cover when you seized access.

By the time you got close enough, few enemies were left, thankfully. As you poked out of cover from your overwatch position on the skywalk, ready to make your presence known to them, an enemy had come into view.

One that is about to get the upper hand on Alejandro. It was moments like these where your heart stopped, as cliche as it sounded. All the years of training, fighting, hardship, death—it all needed to matter right now, or nothing would again.

You aimed down your sights, watching as the man you loved struggled against the hold. Your watchful eye observed the scuffle until Alejandro had moved out of the danger zone enough for you to get a disabling shot. Once you knew the bullet would be tactical and on the book, there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation.

The trigger was squeezed, a suppressed pop of the high-caliber bullet, then the limp splat of the man grappling Alejandro. His gaze skipped around the room, an instinctive point in the direction of the shot. You stored the precision rifle, jogging down the steps that led to the catwalk, until you approached the life you had just saved.

He let out an impressed chuckle at the sight of you, his savior. ❝Why am I not surprised, Cariño?❞ His eyes danced from you to the enemy that had him staring death in the face. Though he masked it with humor, his verbal gratitude would never make the cut. In the field and in his heart, you had yet to let him down.

[lightlycareless]

I’d love to know how Naoya would handle sleepless nights with a crying baby. I can imagine he’d naturally get frustrated if it’s been ongoing for a while and the frustration would most likely manifest in how he handles his feelings of helplessness in his ability to soothe his baby. Idk, Naoya trying really hard to take care of his baby but struggling is just so cute to me.

Hello anon! agjhajkhajkgaggaha aaaa thank you so much for sending in this ask!!! It was the perfect excuse to develop something I think Naoya would feel/develop when having a family with you :>

I won't say much, just let you read the whole thing hehe.

anyways, here are the warnings: none. a bit of fluff. naoya is a frustrated, insecure father. but he's a good man now so. (also we're back with baby Naomi ❤️❤️)

happy reading!

Naoya is frustrated.

And not just with the baby crying or being woken up by it—but with everything.

He knew that having a child was not going to be an easy feat, no one told him it would be, even expecting this to become the most difficult endeavor of his life, even bigger than what his career as a sorcerer entailed.

Yet, no amount of research, advice, even classes could’ve prepared him for the real deal.

Naoya considered himself very lucky to have a wife and mother as loving and attentive as you to support him in this new stage of his life, but even when you were willing to stay home and take care of Naomi while he went out to work, he still wanted to be there, spend time with you, the baby, feed her, change her, take her out for walks, spoil her—be the father he never had.

But life wasn’t to be that giving to him, and he’d soon face the consequences of his extended absence, the main reason of his current frustration: starting from Naomi’s occasional unfamiliarity towards him, to his inexperience dealing with her sleepless night.

He could’ve let you handle it, let you get up from the futon as he continued sleeping, but he’d seen it in your eyes—the exhaustion, the continuous commitment you had to your daughter and what little it allowed you to rest or do anything for yourself, really.

Naoya was eternally grateful for all you’ve done for this newfound family, and for him, so, wanting to show his appreciation, he’s decided to get off futon the moment Naomi started crying, stop you on your tracks, in favor of him tending to her.

Only to find himself regretful, useless, and upset, that he didn’t know how to ease her cries.

“Naomi, pumpkin…” Naoya would coo, gently taking her into his arms and resting her small head against his shoulders. He never gets used to this sensation, how small and delicate she was against him. “Don’t cry, papa is here.”

The baby continues to cry, still irked by something he has yet to figure out—clearly unsettled by the man who proclaimed to be her father.

He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to say it out loud and make his shame even bigger, but he couldn’t cower in fear anymore.

To see Naomi openly deny him, highlighting his lacking presence as a father, alongside his ignorance in these affairs, was the greatest pain he’d ever experienced.

It wasn’t fair that his responsibilities often pulled him away from the two; even when he did his best to earn a small “leave” to be able to support you after childbirth, it was very limited, almost inexistent, and from what he overheard from your staff, very, very difficult for you too.

Naoya felt ashamed to be called your husband, preach how much he loves you, and now Naomi, yet rarely be there alongside you.

But even then, you never reproached him. Not as harshly as he thought deserving. Instead, you’d reassure him that though you missed him, understood how invasive his job could be—having been raised in a similar setting— and how you knew what you were getting into when marrying him.

And most importantly: that Naomi loved him as her father and would grow to appreciate his sacrifices in due time.

Yet… his doubts remain; unsure if your words could be taken as truth, or if he’ll be able to swallow his anguish until then, because seeing her like, putting up a fight when he was trying to put her back to sleep…

Makes him feel like a failure of a father, the last thing he wanted to be in his family.

“Naomi, please—don��t cry, mama is trying to sleep.” Naoya would insist, as if she’d understood his words, or perhaps hoped she would. Naomi, of course, didn’t. “What do you want? Do you want to eat?”

She cries.

“Maybe a change of diapers?”

He checks—no. Nothing. Naomi simply continues wailing.

“I don’t know what you want.” Naoya laments, dissatisfaction in his voice. “In fact, I don’t know anything about you—or what you like. I don’t know your favorite color, your favorite plushie, if you prefer to go on walks or stay home with your mom…

But I know you’d prefer her to me right now, don’t you? Because you don’t know me either. I may be your father, but given how much I’m away, I could be a total stranger and it would make no difference to you.”

“Yet, you’re not—you are her father.” You suddenly appear, Naoya’s eyes swiftly dart over to you, confused, and perhaps bit annoyed.

“Why are you here? I told you I’d take—”

“Because I just remembered this is your first time putting Naomi to sleep when she can’t” you respond, walking over to him. “And I thought I’d be nice enough to tell you what I do.”

“…I’m supposed to know what to do.”

“Maybe, but there’s nothing wrong in asking for help.”

“That’s all I’ve asking from you, Y/N. Help.” He frowns. “I ought to know how to do something about this.”

“While the help is always appreciated, I never expected you to know everything… Not even I know it, and this is all I’ve been focused on!” you say, trying to cheer him up, but his remorseful eyes let you know he isn’t, not even close. “You’re great father, Naoya. Doing your best—that’s all that matters.”

“What good of a father can I be if my own daughter is like this because of me?”

“I’ve heard her cry when she doesn’t like something—this is not one of those times.” You respond.

“Then what is it?” he asks. “Why is Naomi crying?”

“There’s really a lot of reasons, but according to what Junko-san has told me, and the doctor, she could be hungry, have a leaky diaper, or… a nightmare.”

“A nightmare?” Naoya repeats. “She can have nightmares?”

“I don’t know, I suppose so, if it isn’t anything else.” You shrug, and a sudden wave of protectiveness washes over Naoya.

“How do I comfort her?”

You smile.

“I sometimes like to hum her a lullaby or tell her a story.” You begin. “Sway a bit too, Naomi really likes when you do that. She often falls asleep after that.”

“How do you do it?” Naoya asks quickly.

“Here, let me show you.”

Naoya is nothing but attentive to your explanations, the way you’d hold Naomi against your chest, how you’d softly hum her a nursery rhyme while gently patting her back—things that while didn’t seem to work, given the way she kept crying, didn’t sway you from continuing; in turn making him grow a bit nervous, doubt his own capabilities…

But he’d push through them either way, and once he thought himself well prepared (although very nervous) Naoya takes Naomi onto her arms, accommodating her against his chest, hand on her back, as he begins to hum a song he suddenly remembered from his childhood—one he thought long forgotten, but worked to soothe him eitherway.

Your husband didn’t think it would work, didn’t have faith that he’d be able to do as good as a job as you’d done until now, but he still tried, he kept moving forward even when Naomi’s cries echoed in the room and his insecurities prickled at the back of his mind…

Because at the end of the day, this isn’t about what he needs.

It’s about what Naomi deserves.

A present father, a trying father. Not one that would discard him onto the nannies or the mother, and only appear when it was suitable for him, perhaps even less…

He’s experienced that pain, that solitude, which clung to him well into his adulthood and barely managed to free himself of it thanks to your care—and it’s something he never wishes his daughter to live through.

No matter the obstacles, Naoya has long decided, from the moment you announced your pregnancy—no, when he realized he loved you, that he will do everything in his power to be there for the two. Even if his duties keep pushing him away for long periods of times, even if Naomi sometimes doesn’t like being with him… this is the least he could do.

“Look, Naoya!” you whisper excitedly. “She’s falling asleep already!”

He blinks, carefully looking down to her chubby face, quickly realizing she was indeed starting to feel drowsy, cries slowly quieting down as he lets out a squeaky yawn, a sound that makes both your and his heart clench with adoration, grinning at the sight. “Y/N, she is!”

“I told you you’d be able to do it.” You cheer silently. “Naomi loves her papa very much, after all.”

“She does…?” Naoya hesitantly asks, looking up to you. You nod.

“Of course, she does, you should see…” you suddenly yawn, perhaps inspired by your daughter. “You should see how happy she gets when you videocall us!”

“Really?” He beams, perhaps a bit too loud for the baby’s liking, Naomi whines. “Oh, sorry pumpkin.”

You chuckle.

“You should start putting her on the crib, so she doesn’t wake up when you move her.” You suggest, and Naoya nods before heading over to the crib, carefully peeling her away from him, laying her down on the soft mattress—thankful that she doesn’t begin to cry again while doing so—eventually covering her with the blankets, keeping her warm and safe from the harshness of the night.

At the sight of his adorable baby resting, chest slowly rising and falling, indications that she’s finally fallen asleep, Naoya can’t help but smile and gently caress her cheeks, before leaning down to kiss her on the top of her head.

“Goodnight, Naomi.” He whispers, Naomi gurgles. “Papa loves you very much.”

And the silence of the night, while lovingly admiring his daughter, a question crosses Naoya’s mind.

“… Does she really love me?” Your husband asks, going back to the previous subject.

“Yes, there’s no denying it.” you slowly say. “She… loves you…”

Naoya smiles.

“I was worried I wouldn’t be able to get her back to sleep.” He adds. “But… I guess she isn’t as afraid of me, or at all.”

“Hmm…”

“Thank you so much for everything, Y/N. You’ve done so much for our family; I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for it.” Naoya adds, cooing at the adorable way Naomi gently frowns, before turning back to you and heading back to the bedroom. “Anything you want, whatever you need, I’ll do it—just say the word and I’ll—"

Only to find you were already asleep, leaning back on the nearby rocking chair, exhaustion completely taking over your senses.

He chuckles.

You were exhausted too, that much he could see underneath the dim light of the moon, and while he feels a bit ashamed you still had to come to aid him, it is nothing compared to the love and appreciation he feels for you, as well as the reassuring words you gave him towards his doubts.

Naoya quickly heads over to you, carefully picking you up from the chair and carrying you all the way back to the bedroom, where he’d place you over the futon, underneath the blankets before cuddling up against you; taking in your warmth and scent that doesn’t take long to lull him into sleep, but not without sighing, giving your head one last kiss, before expressing the only sentiment he’s ever felt for you the moment his eyes laid on you.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I love you.”

him feeling useless because he's somewhat of an absent (although not voluntarily) father and hating how sometimes naomi doesn't feel that familiar/comfortable with him is 😭😭😭 ugh I'm out here humanizing naoya.

anyways, I hope you liked my take on it 🥺 this was really sweet and a bit sad to write, but enjoyable nonetheless!!

Thank you so much for sending in this ask, ajhgagjkakajgagjjak keep feeding my domestic needs... i dare you....

take care, and hope to see you soon!!!

[sgiandubh]

Why are you so angry toward Tony? Why do you call him names? If you honestly believe Sam and Cait are together, Tony is a non-issue. The only reason to be offended is if you want Sam and Cait to together, but you know she is with Tony, abd you feel he is between them. Your anger and rudeness the man shows you know the truth of their marriage, family and your bitterness she didn't choose Sam as a mate.

Dear Calling Names Anon,

I am not the one being angry, here: you are. You are so angry, in fact, that in your haste to hopefully bash me, you typed 'abd' instead of 'and' (also because you are on your phone) and you ate both a verb (if you want Sam and Cait to be together) and a preposition ( 'anger and rudeness towards the man'). Both lapsus calami (that's 'slip of the pen', for you) are very telling - mais, passons (that's French, for you: I know it pisses you off and I am so glad it does, every single time!).

I have read so many times the glorious POS you dutifully copied and pasted in that Anon box, that this time I knew I had to answer you, once and for all. You and the one who wrote this down first and then you all dutifully followed - no critical skills and never did have any.

I am not angry toward McIdiot. I am derisive and dismissive of the very lucrative part he agreed to play in that 🎪. As is, he is still a social zero and nowhere to be seen, unless she brings him along, but only at events where she knows virtually no one. No matter how hard you try to present him in an extravagant light, his real situation is well known, based on public records. Conversely, you are angry and contemptuous towards S, who has his own businesses and takes risks and makes a thousand mistakes. But who, unlike your hero here, is alive. McIdiot, that character paraded in front of us, comes across as a profiteer. Maybe McGill is a nice person. Maybe he is friends with C. McIdiot, the part he's been given in this shitshow, is anything but nice, interesting or attractive.

I call him McIdiot, that is true. You lie all day long about S, spreading lies and calumnies and innuendoes that cost him a LOT in the past. What you did had consequences IRL. Yes, you and your little harmless coterie, including its 455 Twitter and Tumblr sock accounts. You knowingly hurt someone who did absolutely nothing to you and 'rude' doesn't even start to describe your reckless attitude. What moral right have you to come here and give me lessons? That's rich, coming from people who repeatedly called me a liar, an idiot, assured their flock I was several other persons. Same people who, overall, take a sick, cheap pleasure of calling shippers either 'worms' or 'the mental ward'. So what the hell did you expect, coming here? A fucking welcoming committee? A potluck of revelations?

I do not want S&C to be together. I know S&C are together. You know it, too: otherwise you wouldn't be here screeching like a maniac in front of a closed door. You then proceed to assume knowing what I think and lecture me about what I should be thinking, instead: a very poor rhetorical strategy, indeed and a sure sign of confusion. For your information, McIdiot's absurdity will always be an issue, irrespective of their real status. And you are correct: I know a fairly consistent part of the truth about her 'family' and 'marriage'. What irks you is that I chose not to discuss many things I know in here and certainly not with you. You see, I have a personal policy, Anon: I don't share secrets with cowards. Ever.

You make me think of these harmless fools standing in the rain in Hyde Park's Speakers' Corner, who preach the imminent end of the world in front of an empty alley, Anon. Better go home: maybe Moo will make you a cuppa, once you get there.

http://www.cgpgrey.com, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

[dearweirdme]

“We are not entitled to full transparency from any famous person, public figure, or celebrity regarding every moment they're not on camera. They are entitled to personal, private moments. If they simplify a story or fudge the facts a bit about matters that are not our business, that is well within their rights.”

Well it would have been great if you lot applied this logic everywhere but I only see you make this argument the moment your ship do or say something that doesn’t align with your beliefs. With them you know that people can joke, bluff or even lie and you know not to take everything at face value because as you say “they are entitled to personal, private moments and simplify, or fudge facts” yet the moment this happens in a situation that benefits your narrative you forget that the same way your ship can bend truths others can too. I would take shippers a lot more seriously if you lot practiced what you preach.

Hi anon!

Please tell me this isn’t another attempt to make me treat Jkk and Tkk the same…. Or to make me reconsider Taennie 😭.

I do practice this always. I absolutely feel other members do the same. I feel all celebs do this.

I don’t actually care if you take me seriously though anon. My experience is that non-shippers rarely actually care to understand us, but rather try to act superior.

[davekat-sucks]

idk why some people think that like, everyone who interacts with you considers what you say as gods word or something. like im a fan of your blog quite a lot, but it doesnt mean i agree with everything! there is plenty of stuff i disagree with, but there is also stuff i do agree with.

its projecting, look how much the june stans consider what the hicu and hs2 say as gospel. they cannot comprehend someone having nuanced opinions, so they assume that if we agree on something said on this blog, we agree on everything (for the record, just as i agree on some things, i also disagree with other things said on anon asks or otherwise). they genuinely think everyone acts just like they do.

and that's why they act like such a hivemind or a cult, and overcompensate screaming "MEDIA LITERACY" or trite twitter memes like a broken record when someone tells them they disagree with june, even if that person is also trans themselves.

look how much they hate trans people that prefer trans masc john, or how they, despite claiming are suffering from SOOO much bullying and negligence, ignore trans masc roxy's existence completely and are found bullying/harassing people every single day.

these days june stans came here on this blog to admit that they genuinely think they are doing activism by supporting june and call a fictional character their "SISTER", all while insulting real life trans people that do not like june.

despite claiming they care SOOO much about women in this comic, not a SINGLE one of them has said ANYTHING about the "unmarried wombs" shit, or how one of the hicu writers, lysanthum, has drawn all that fucked up degrading porn with the female characters.

but the june stans have ALL the time in the world to write posts saying how much they HATE this blog or harass innocent artists minding their business off platforms all for drawing john or other innocuous ships in comparison.

so at this point, if they don't say anything about the double standards on the porn or the wombs shit, i take their deflective, hypocritical and repetitive statement of "IF YOU DON'T LIKE HOMESTUCK AND THE DIRECTION IT'S GOING THEN DROP IT" at face value and an admission that they like this homestuck filled with futa rape ntr shit, sexist transphobic homophobic shite and saw nothing wrong with anything karkat said. they like it, because june and davekat exists, nothing else matters.

tldr because this post got long: look how they only feel bothered when john, who is turning into june later, was called a pedophile for just talking to terezi/vriska.

they said nothing when meenah actually unironically fucked vriska when she was a minor and groomed karkat, all because they like her. they also said nothing when jane or jade were made into rapists, fascists, or molesters; or rose a cheater anime villain that got impregnated by dog dick.

they do not give a fuck about anything as long as they get their self insert june & vriska, and davekat.

if they say we should drop homestuck if we don't like it, why don't they apply what they preach and ignore fanart of john, from the ORIGINAL COMIC, portrayed as a man, or any other ship they deem as "problematic". or also simply IGNORE AND BLOCK this blog instead of writing posts about how much they hate it and how we are the devil or some shit for having different opinions than they do.

Anon speaks the truth like a boss.

[animentality]

You know, if you think about it… there’s something powerful about durgetash existing entirely in body language and implications. If it was stated out loud, especially by Gortash, there’d be a lot more question of “does he really mean it, or is he lying?”. It could be easily tossed aside as a manipulation tactic on his part. But when half the reason we ship it is based on little smiles and the tone of Enver’s voice when he talks to Durge? Well, how can you even question it being real. You can’t call it manipulation because he’s not getting anything out of acting like a lovesick fool. It comes off as he just can’t help himself but show a glimpse of what used to be between you. And the letter of forgiveness is compelling because it’s not a flowery, out of character confession of capital-L-love. It’s not basic and cringey and it doesn’t erode the monster that is the Dark Urge. It simply forces us to ask ourselves how deep that admiration for a chosen of a sworn foe has to go before it’s necessary to repent for it. Everything makes sense as soon as you ask the question “why would Durge feel the need to beg forgiveness in the first place? Surely simple admiration is harmless enough?”. Put together with that lovesick smile you get walking into the coronation? Everything falls into place, even for some of the normies once they get that far, and the game never needs to say a word.

you are preaching to the choir, anon.

I find it so intoxicating precisely because it has such small evidence... and yet that evidence is honestly kind of powerful nonetheless?

like on the surface level, yeah it's one note and a couple of lines and one scene... but.

orin literally has a note in her room specifying that you "worshipped" the other Chosens and I know she's not talking about Ketheric, who seems to view you with mild irritation.

plus he lives pretty far away.

the prayer of forgiveness is nuts too, because I simply don't believe you'd pray to your parent/god for forgiveness for anything short of blasphemy. and what is blasphemy for the child of murder?

why it's cherishing life. a life, specifically.

the life of your rival.

and like... EURGH, orin's stupid line about how Gortash has always known how to "leave you twisted in his cords" or something like that, like, the fuck do you mean by that, bitch??

and just... that one scene... he just prowls around you like a cat in heat.

he's so happy you're back.

and he isn't lying to you! that's honestly the most confusing and wonderful thing about it.

he is telling the truth about your relationship and he's telling the truth about wanting to rule the world with you, just like you promised.

he's the world's most dedicated and loyal boyfriend, who was never happy with your replacement and always wanted you back.

it's a fucked up thing they had.

it was also tender and sweet and oddly wholesome, considering how they both had a degree of respect and fondness for one another.

and that's why durgetash lives rent free in my head and heart.

it exists in the margins, as something quite imaginary, and also quite real if you actually stop and look.

it's a work of art, crafted by us, elaborated upon by our work, from scant evidence.

we were given scraps, but as starving mad creatures, that was enough to fuel us through the winter, and now we all bark for blood.

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

i read your new damian/jon fic, and it was amazing. truly heart wrenching in the best way. but i gotta tell you, i think my favorite scene was when lois and clark are arguing in the fortress as jon is waking up and the rest of the fortress moments that follow. i love the way you write their family dynamic, and i was wondering if you had any thoughts or headcanons about jon’s relationships w his parents that you could share?

thank you! I also enjoy writing them both because they're a beautiful family unit, something I don't super have or had when I needed it, and also because many moons ago, some Anon came to my inbox and demanded I stopped writing them ever. 😂

I think Clark struggles with being a father, mostly because he's scared he's not good enough. He struggles with being the Perfect Hero and a Good Father. Because how can he preach truth and justice when he knows deep down he would kill a man for looking at Jon wrong? How can he punish Jon when he does wrong, when he's known for only punishing bad people?

Lois obviously loves her son in the same way Clark does, though with less qualms about using lethal force to protect him. She also thinks he's a little dumb. Like he's so obvious when he likes someone and is such a bad liar about it. He's also so insecure and totally doesn't notice how his friends like Damian or Kathy absolutely adore him and look up to him. She also knew he and Damian were going to be close before Jon did, and even when both he and Damian denied it.

Jon, after seeing parents like Bruce or Kathy's family or the like, knows from an incredibly young age how lucky he is for the parents he has, and stresses often that he's not good enough for them, and will let them down some day.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Hi!. I don't know if you watch/consume some ts theories on the internet but there's this channel where a girl talks about red and maroon being about MH. I never thought about red being about him because it had jake all over it but i love your analysis and theories and they bring me some comfort so i would love to hear your thoughts on this take.

Hey anon, I'm choosing to believe this is sent in good faith, so if so forgive me if I get a little snippy.

But: I absolutely do not consume "theories on the internet" because Taylor isn't a TV character, she's a person who shares her truth as she experiences it through her art. People need to stop turning her and her life into a sim because it's completely rotted their brains and warped the way they interact in society as a whole. To be blunt, if the source of whatever is coming from a platform that can be monetized (most especially Tiktok which lends itself most easily to this, but also Twitter and Youtube), you have to assume that what people are putting out is for the purpose of getting eyeballs on it to make money-- in this case, off of Taylor. To be fair, there were some content creators I enjoyed previously in small doses because their reactions and insights came out of a place of love and relating to the music, which is why we're all here, but I find especially since TTPD, people have lost the fucking plot and are going full-on conspiracy theorist through her discography. I haven't been able to watch any youtubers (the only other platform I watched since I don't do tiktok or twitter) since the album came out and only use tumblr to engage with Taylor's music now.

As to your question, no, Red absolutely isn't about MH, because Taylor and Matty didn't even know each other until after 1989 was recorded. Point blank, end of discussion. I'm not going to say with 100% certainty who it's about because I'm not in Taylor's head and I'm trying to be more flexible about making absolute statements unless there are incontrovertible facts (like this one), but like most of the album, Red is almost assuredly about Jake. And in the same vein, I'm trying to practice what I preach and reiterate that I'm just some girl on the internet whose opinions hold no more weight than anyone else's, and am trying to move away from speaking in absolutes on main like "this song is about this person/this event," but Maroon to me is very obviously about Jake as well. And IMO Taylor has made that very clear, too.

TL;DR: that take is terrible and uninformed and ignores very obvious themes in her writing as well as actual provable facts, and at best was created by someone very unfamiliar with Taylor's work and history and at worst was created by someone specifically to up views to make more money off their channel.