#THE WAY THEY COMPLEMENT EACH OTHER SO PERFECTLY

[danrifics]

Hello Bethanie. my name is Nelson and i have been dating Dan for the past year and i need advice

it all started a year ago, i am from Ireland but i was visiting some friends in London. just a few months prior, i got out of a longterm relationship and was feeling down, so they took me to a gay bar to lift my spirits and thats where i saw him, the most glorious hunk of a man you’ve ever seen, the type of man you’d risk everything for, the type of man who’s smile alone could send you to the ground, the type of man you’d take home to your parents… That man was…..Phil lester. but he was unfortunately already talking to another guy but, next to him was Dan, standing there awkwardly with a hint of jealousy in his eyes as Phil chatted up the other man. I mean, Dan was very attractive but he was no Phil. “oh well. i suppose i could still take him home to meet my parents” i thought to myself as i gathered up enough courage to talk to him. as soon as i walked over to him, he started loudly flirting with me, complementing my accent and laughing at jokes i didn’t even make. almost like he was trying to prove something as he profusely glanced over at phil and the man he was talking to. Phil didn’t seem to care and i didn’t think anything of it. before i knew it Dan took me back to his house and we hooked up. the next morning i was a little shocked to find out Phil was Dan’s roommate and they built the house together. i thought it was a little strange but i overlooked it and Dan and i decided to continue seeing each other.

our relationship started off perfectly! i think we’re truly in love! however recently i started noticing some….things. for our 6 month anniversary, Dan went all out and got reservations to a fancy restaurant, i was ecstatic! i got all dressed up and headed all the way to London only to find out he took Phil with him instead…. and then valentine’s day 2024, i bought Dan very expensive gifts and he came all the way to Ireland and showed up on my doorstep with flowers and chocolates. i thought they were for me but he just asked me if i thought Phil would like them and left. then there was 3 weeks ago. it was my birthday but no one realized and i spent the day watching Dan film some really weird video with Phil, something about slime or something. they held hands and at some point Dan wore Phil’s jacket???? but it’s not just Dan, whenever Dan calls my accent sexy, Phil starts doing a very insulting impersonation of an Irish accent.

Bethanie do you think this means anything? am i overthinking things? im fairly certain these things mean nothing and Dan and i are in love but i think confirmation that im just being silly from you would help a lot!

nelson... hun... im so sorry i have to break this to you... but i think your boyfriend is in love with another man..... i looked up your boyfriend and his friend phil and i watched some videos and theres this one video dan made where he basically says he's in love with phil and im so mad for you that you had to find out this information from me, i think you deserve better nelson......

[stormyoceans]

The clock on the wall of the restaurant was still showing the same time, for the third time Mhok had checked. He glanced down at his phone - no, it hadn't broken; Mhok was just impatient. And his phone screen was blank as ever.

He sighed, and returned to mopping the floor. Maybe all of this hard work would get him a raise soon, if his new boss noticed. That would be worth it.

His pocket began buzzing, and Mhok felt a fond smile beginning before he even had the phone out. Sure enough, the screen was lit with his boyfriend’s name.

"Good evening," he said, warm and low into the receiver. "If you'd like to place an order, I'm sorry, but the restaurant is closed."

Something in Mhok seemed to settle and relax, just hearing his boyfriend’s voice on the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, Phi," said Day, explaining about his family and the unexpected change of their plans.

Mhok had guessed that it would be something like this; actually, it could have been worse. He should probably feel grateful Day could call at all. He hummed, and told him not to worry. "I'll just have to be better next year," he murmured, with a self-deprecating smirk, "so Santa will be nicer to me."

Day's voice dipped a little lower. "Let's say that Santa is listening right now," said the younger boy. "What would you ask for?"

Mhok barely hesitated, certain of the only thing he wanted - the thing he'd want even if he had everything else in the world. "I'd want to be with you right now," he almost whispered, with the ghost of a sigh.

"...The moon is beautiful tonight. Wouldn't you say?"

Mhok's heart leapt into his throat, beating with a sudden wild hope. He wished so much... and there was only one way to know.

He moved instantly to the restaurant doors, pushing them open with firm, calloused hands, and knowing exactly the person he wanted to see.

And for a moment, for just one breath of a moment -

He'd breached a different threshold, in a different place, while something like deja vu made the faint glimmer of hope in his stomach into an endless star-filled canopy, millions of constellations strong. And his steps were uncertain, but his heart knew who to look for... the shape of this memory held a different face, and the word on his lips was a different name, but it was the same moment, somehow, the same longing, the same unbearable separation finally ending, this time for sure, two souls coming home, like magnets across a universe -

He blinked, and the moment was entirely his own, once more. Just a passing thought, an odd trick of the light in the courtyard, and it didn't matter anyway.

Because he saw Day, his Day, just as he'd wished.

"Day," Mhok breathed, his heart full. He swallowed past the sudden knot in his throat, blinking away the tears that gathered inexplicably in his eyes.

"Merry Christmas," said Day, smiling at him.

---

(it's me again, hi 👋 after ep 10 i had to send this too hope you enjoy 🤍)

SLACK JAWED SHAKING OUT OF MY SKIN CRYING SHITTING YELLING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS FOAMING AT THE MOUTH SPINNING COUNTERCLOCKWISE ON THE FLOOR WAILING WEEPING HOWLING SCREECHING EATING GLASS GOING INTO CARDIAC ARREST MAKING A LOBOTOMY APPOINTMENT CRAWLING TOWARDS THE EDGE OF THE HIGH RISE BUILDING IM ABOUT TO THROW MYSELF OFF OF ASCENDING ONTO A HIGHER SPHERE OF HUMAN CONSCIOUSNESS

ANON IM ONCE AGAIN SAYING THIS IN THE MOST AFFECTIONATE AND ADORING WAY POSSIBLE BUT YOU ARE - INDEED - INSANE. THIS IS MADNESS. LUNACY. DERANGEMENT. LITERALLY CAN WE HAVE A TALK. CAN WE HAVE A CONVERSATION. A DISCUSSION EVEN. YOU DID NOT JUST MAKE MORK HAVE A VISION OF PUEN OPENING THE DOOR OF THE GLASS HOUSE AND FINALLY FINDING TALAY AFTER HE CAME BACK FROM THE OTHER UNIVERSE. AS IF DAY'S SIDE BACK IN EPISODE 4 DIDN'T ALREADY RUIN ME. CURRENTLY IN A DEAD FAINT IN FRONT OF MY SCREEN EXPERIENCING THE ENTIRE RANGE OF HUMAN EMOTIONS LIKE

"the shape of this memory held a different face, and the word on his lips was a different name, but it was the same moment, somehow, the same longing, the same unbearable separation finally ending, this time for sure, two souls coming home, like magnets across a universe" <<< I CAN'T EVEN. FORMULATE [ISABELLE ADJANI TUNNEL SCENE FROM POSSESSION] [FEMALE HYSTERIA] [SUICIDE]

[fullmetalgirl98]

Iza kecchaku hikari sasu sono basho e!

[niuxita21]

Sorry. I got carried away with the gay stereotypes. I too have a lot to learn. And I went a bit too far sending Elena to kidnap you. I’m sorry. Ana, you and I are a team and complement each other perfectly. And you’ve taught me a lot about the business world, but I know other things as well that I can teach you.

Bonus: Ana’s reaction to Mariana saying she could teach her other things... 

[llycaons]

man idk if I can read this. is a wwx without his strong sense of right and wrong and his kindness and his close ties to his family even wwx? so far he's been callous, childlike, self-centered, attention-seeking, cruel...he's more his obnoxious novel self, which plays very poorly into this AU because he doesn't appear to have any redeeming qualities at all besides being smart and funny. his teasing in canon is fairly innocent since he doesn't truly have bad intentions and tries to make amends when he actually hurts lwj (when he realizes he does), but the way this is going it's definitely got more of a xue yang and xxc vibe to it which. idk I don't think im on board

[ale-wosofan]

I love you

Alexia x R

R realizes she’s in love with her girlfriend

warnings: none!

a/n: just something I wrote after seeing Alexia up close during a game and realizing I might actually be in love with her. Almost a thousand words of pure fluff. Enjoy!

-----

The smell of coffee and sound of Spanish music playing wake you up. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you stretch your limbs, taking your time to enjoy your morning before having to get up.

After a few more minutes you finally decide to leave your bed. Taking a hoodie and putting it on, you walk into the kitchen. The sight you find, however makes you stop in your tracks.

Alexia is cooking –what seems to be– breakfast for the two of you, which is not weird at all. Except it is because she’s doing it in your shirt.

This shouldn’t surprise you as much as it does, considering the two of you are at your house and Alexia wasn’t planning on staying the night. But there’s something about seeing your girlfriend wearing your clothes that just makes sense. You feel warmth spreading all through your body and can’t help but stare at her a little bit longer, trying to memorize the scene in front of you.

“You could be helping me instead of looking at me,” Alexia’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts “Buenos días, amor.”

“Good morning,” you answer smiling at her, still a little distracted.

Alexia lets out a laugh at how zoned out you seem to be and suddenly it hits you.

You’re in love with her.

You don’t know for sure what makes you realize it; maybe it was sleeping in the same bed as her, waking up to the sound of her cooking in your kitchen, seeing her in your clothes, or simply the domesticity of it all.

“Amor?” you hum at your girlfriend’s question “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

“Yeah, yeah, I just- I forgot I told my sister I would call her when I woke up,” you lie “so I should probably do it before we have breakfast.”

“Oh, alright. Okay, you do that and I’ll finish cooking in the meantime,” she answers walking up to you and leaving a kiss on your forehead.

As soon as you’re out of earshot you take your phone begging the universe your sister will pick up.

“Hello?” you hear a very sleepy voice ask.

“Help. I need help.”

“Well, that’s obvious. I’m surprised it has taken you this long to realize,” you roll your eyes at your sister's antics “What is it?”

Taking a deep breath and making an effort to lower your voice, you try not to think about it too much before opening your mouth to answer.

“I’m in love with Alexia. But, like, really in love. I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my chest every time she looks at me, or smiles at me, or touches me. I love the sound of her laugh, and how calm she looks in the mornings. I love that we’re the complete opposite and yet we complement each other perfectly. She’s just- I’m- I don’t know. I’ve been in love before, but this feeling? This feels fucking amazing, like something I’ve never felt, like I had never truly lived until I met her, you know? And now everything just makes perfect sense because she’s by my side,” you stop for a moment trying to gather your thoughts because you’re not sure you’re making a lot of sense right now “We’ve only been dating for a few months, but I’ve woken up today and she was there, standing in my kitchen, wearing my clothes and cooking breakfast for me and I just knew it. I love her.”

There’s silence at the other end of the line for a few minutes. You’re about to hang up thinking your sister has fallen asleep when she speaks again.

“Well, it seems to me like you already know how you feel. Now you just need to tell your girlfriend.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” you ask frustrated “I don’t even know if she feels the same way!”

“You’re even more of an idiot than I thought,” you hear your sister mumble “That woman loves you, probably more than you think. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t realized you love her until this moment. Now, about how to tell her? I have no idea, but you figure it out, I’m going to sleep.”

And just like that your sister hangs up.

You walk back into the kitchen with no plan but determined to tell Alexia how you feel.

“Breakfast is almost ready, you should get the-”

“Alexia” you interrupt her.

Looking up, your girlfriend stops what she’s doing when she sees how serious you look and nods her head, indicating that you have her full attention.

“What is it? You just used my full name so it seems pretty important,” she says letting out a nervous laugh.

“No, it’s, um- it’s not anything bad, I promise” you move towards her and take her hands in yours “I just- I love you. And, listen, you don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel the same, but I just really needed you to know.”

You bite your lip waiting for an answer that doesn’t come. Instead, your girlfriend puts both of her hands in your cheeks, forcing you to look up at her. You barely have any time to process what is happening before her lips are on yours, kissing you with purpose. After a few seconds the two of you separate, Alexia resting her forehead against yours.

“I love you,” she whispers against your lips and letting out a laugh “So much.”

[therainscene]

It’s blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, but the Alan Turing poster really tells us so much about Will that I consider it to be a significant piece of foreshadowing for S5.

First, let’s dissuade ourselves of the notion that Will chose Turing for his hero project for nerd reasons -- Will’s preferred flavour of nerdery is escapist fantasy, not computer science. He doesn’t know what an IP address is and the first thing he thinks of when he hears modem noises is a movie he likes.

No, he chose Turing because he admires him for being a gay man who accomplished so much in his short life.

On one hand, that’s pretty heart-warming -- the fact he’s willing to identify with other gay men and look up to them as role models shows us he’s making good progress in accepting his identity. On the other hand, it’s heart-breaking, because Turing’s story is not a happy one -- he was caught having a sexual relationship with a man and forced to choose between jail or chemical castration. He chose castration.

I remind you: Will identifies with this guy.

Will is growing up under the twin specters of AIDS and homophobia and likely assumes he’s destined to die young too. He’s been abused and bullied so much, I imagine he’s heard and internalized it all: that he deserves to die, that he’s disgusting, that he’ll never be fulfilled in life.

So when puberty begins crawling its way inside him and implants those shameful desires that make gay men so worthy of abuse... he chooses castration.

For all the sad pining he does in S4, we never really see Will express desire for Mike -- he never checks him out or shows signs of nervousness when they touch. He behaves with perfect platonic decorum at all times...

...unless we consider That One Scene With The Hose.

Sexual interpretations of this scene are controversial, and I can understand why; we’re so used to seeing Will as this innocent, immature little boy that it's shocking to catch him fantasizing so lustfully, even though these sorts of thoughts are pretty normal for a 15 year-old. But I think that’s the point. We’re supposed to feel uncomfortable about this, because Will feels uncomfortable about it too.

He’s done well in accepting his identity, but he’s an absolute repressed mess when it comes to accepting his sexuality.

So, that’s what the Turing poster tells us about Will. Here’s where the foreshadowing comes in: Will is not the only queer-coded character to have been metaphorically castrated.

Henry’s experience bears striking similarities to Turing’s: he too was caught engaging in a natural but forbidden behaviour and forced by his government to undergo a medical procedure to suppress that behaviour.

His villain speech to El in 4x07, which is ostensibly about his powers, also reads very strongly as a scathing criticism of heteronormativity, and it’s covered in rainbow motifs.

The metaphor here is obvious: Henry’s powers are a manifestation of his homosexuality.

Which implies that Will’s homosexuality can also manifest as powers. They’re repressed because he’s repressed.

It’s not a coincidence that the sexual tension was through the fucking roof in the infamous sauna scene. Every time Will’s supernatural ability to sense the Mind Flayer triggers in S3, Mike is also nearby.

What’s interesting about Mike is that his queer acceptance issues mirror Will’s: Mike has a healthy relationship with his sexuality (he casually checks guys out and plasters his bedroom walls with posters of buff dudes) but he just can’t bring himself to accept what this implies about his identity.

Always with the symmetry, these two. They complement each other perfectly; one’s hang-up is the other’s strength. They have a lot to teach each other about being queer.

And as repressed as they are, I think they want to learn from each other -- Will lets himself get flustered when Mike flirts with him in his bedroom, and Mike hangs on to every word of wisdom Will shares with him in their heart-to-hearts.

Internalized homophobia is a powerful force, but their bond is so strong that it empowers them to fight back.

Henry’s powers symbolize his anger at being mistreated and his desire to take that anger out on the world... but Will’s powers symbolize self-acceptance and love.

So he isn’t just going to defeat Vecna with his powers, and he isn’t just going to get the boy: these two things are one and the same.

[ian0key]

SAM/SASHA AND ALICE/TIM????

TMAGP ep 1-2 Spoilers!! (And TMA Spoilers!)

Do you realize how similar Alice and Sam are to Tim and Sasha?

Many of you talked about Alice being fun, carefree and the comic relief, like Tim in the first season.

But what happens if we look deeper? I start with Alice and Tim because I think they are the most obvious

-Alice does not have "professional respect" for either Gwen or Lena.

Just like what happened between Tim and Jon. But none of them go so far as to "completely disrespect them."(at least S1 Tim).

-Alice has a younger brother who she apparently cares a lot about, just like Tim was with Danny. Besides, (this is my theory), but the way they introduced Alice's brother, I get the feeling that his fate won't be very different from poor Danny's.

-They know more than they say, Alice clearly knows more than she tells Sam,Alice has been working for the government for at least 4 years, and the only time she acted seriously was to tell Sam that he shouldn't get too involved in the cases, because she saw people go crazy because of it.

Something similar happened with Tim in the first seasons, he knew that the Fears were real, he knew things about the stranger, he was looking for revenge..

And now on to the similarities between Sam and Sasha.

-They were both overqualified for their position, Lena told Sam that the job he applied for was too low for his level, but he didn't care,on the other hand ,Sasha must have been The Archivist, Gerdtrud knew this, that's why her warning notes were made for her, but Elias found out after Killing Gerdtrud and left Sasha as assistant and put Jon as The Archivist..

-Sam is calm, he follows Alice's games but is professional towards his colleagues, Just like the little we saw of Sasha, She treated Jon quite well even though at the time Jon was a bit... very Shitty.

That's why Jon trusted her so much.

-Curiosity , Sam asked a lot of questions throughout the first 2 chapters, and when he didn't get answers he started investigating on his own. When Sasha met Michael, she wanted answer,without caring about the danger.

Also, That could have been a foreshadowing that Sam will be connected to the Eye of this reality???.

- Both of their names start with "SA" but that's not very important /j

And finally, we analyze Alice and Sam as a duo and the parallels they have with Tim and Sasha.The two of them complement each other perfectly, they play each other's games and we feel their connection.

Besides Alice and Sam are exes (although I think it's more of a reference to Georgie and Jon) Sasha and Tim always had an "almost something?????".like we heard in the fifth season..

I don't know, at some point I felt like I was listening to the reincarnations of the chaotic Archives duo , you know what I mean?

(English is not my first language, please let me know if I have any spelling mistakes🙏)

[comradekatara]

i think in general we have a tendency to dismiss early book 1 atla episodes (with a few key exceptions) because it’s clear that the show was still kind of getting its bearings and generally didn’t hit its full stride until book 2. but i think “imprisoned” in particular is really underrated as an episode, and actually does for katara what “the warriors of kyoshi” does for sokka. what i mean by that is, both episodes showcase these characters’ unique capacity for excellence: in sokka’s case, “the warriors of kyoshi” serves as our first real introduction to his scientific approach to synthesizing new information and adjusting his worldview accordingly, his capacity for growth, humility, and open-mindedness; and in katara’s case, “imprisoned” is our first demonstration of katara’s indomitable revolutionary spirit as she fights for justice and to liberate all oppressed peoples wherever she goes, her capacity to inspire others coupled with her righteous anger and unyielding belief in doing what’s right. these are traits that define each character, respectively, and they are first introduced to us through these early episodes. each episode also starts with them making a mistake (sokka misogynistically belittles the kyoshi warriors, katara naively misjudges a situation that results in haru’s arrest) that leads them to then demonstrate their unique ability to rectify it. sokka not only apologizes to the kyoshi warriors, but is then trained by suki in a way that positions him as her equal. katara not only risks her own safety to find haru, but also liberates the entire prison rig in the process.

haru is also positioned as a love interest who complements katara perfectly, much in the same way that suki is to sokka. of course, haru is not katara’s “primary” love interest in the way suki is sokka’s, but they’re both established through very similar frames, and if not for katara’s other, more prominent love interest also being the literal titular character and thus overshadowing haru (the one (mustache-less) episode wonder), i think that people would realize that katara and haru are actually pretty perfect together. (also i need to believe that they kissed offscreen in this episode. jet cannot have been katara’s first kiss that’s just tragic.) i used to be someone who dismissed haru as some boring background mustache boy, and never really paid much attention to this episode because it struggles with that sort of early book 1 forgettability (you all know what i mean), but haru is actually a really well-constructed love interest for katara, and katara just really shines in this episode in general. i mean, she literally infiltrates a labor camp, gives a beautiful, passionate speech about the necessity of resistance, supplies them with weapons, and helps them to drown their captors. so i just think that we should all have more appreciation for “imprisoned.” it’s not remotely the best episode of atla, but if you love katara (and who doesn’t), then you should really consider revisiting it.

[capricorn-season]

Homophobia in drag

When I was a young boy, I loved spending the night at my grandmother’s house. There, I could stay up as late as I wanted, and in the morning, there would always be Cinnamon Toast Crunch for breakfast. But the best part was raiding the closet in her basement, which was full of the gowns she had worn in the 1960s and 1970s – frilly pink and purple confections made of lace, chiffon and silk. I would put them on and watch The Golden Girls, sophisticatedly sipping Coke from a wine glass.

When I was nine, my dad bought a video camera, a giant monstrosity that my siblings and I struggled to balance on our shoulders while we filmed home videos. Alone, I’d prop the camera on the coffee table and record myself modelling various outfits, explaining to the camera why this plaid shirt went with these cargo shorts, or why this teal Starter jacket complemented these acid-washed jeans so perfectly. I captured on camera the dance I had painstakingly choreographed to Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch’s ‘Good Vibrations’.

As a kid, I followed my two older sisters around like a shadow, mimicking their mannerisms – the way they tucked loose strands of hair behind their ears when they were concentrating on their maths homework; the way they jutted their hips whenever they were talking to cute boys. Like them, I was a naturally athletic kid. My favourite sport was lacrosse, but I much preferred to play with the girls instead of the boys. The boys were quick to push and shove, and they loved to whack each other with their aluminium sticks. Girls relied more on their speed, their reflexes and the skills they’d honed to keep the ball securely cradled in the shallow mesh of their wooden sticks.

I grew up in a fundamentalist Christian community – most people would call it a cult. From kindergarten to the sixth grade, I attended the community’s tiny school. Because enrollment was so low, there was no in-crowd, no separate cliques of jocks and geeks. In retrospect, I’m sure my classmates and especially my teachers noticed my gender-nonconformity – all of my home videos prove that it was glaring – but it went largely ignored. All that mattered was that we were good Christians, that we loved Jesus and evangelised God’s Word to as many people as possible. When I learned about homosexuals in Bible class, or about AIDS (which we were told God had created to punish homosexuals for their sins), I didn’t think for a moment that I was one of them. Sure, my first real crush, when I was 11, had been on a boy – Elijah Wood, an actor about my age whose performance in the 1994 B-movie, North, had captured my heart. But at the time, before sexual maturity, I mistook the longing I felt for Elijah with the more sanitised desire to simply keep his company and be his best friend. I indiscriminately absorbed all of the lessons I learned about homosexuals, as if they were and would always be irrelevant to my life.

The summer after my sixth-grade year, my family left the community and we moved to a neighbouring town. I began seventh grade in a large public school, where there was definitely an in-crowd. My new classmates wasted little time informing me how unacceptable it was for a boy like me to behave the way I did – the way I enunciated my s-words, the way I brushed my auburn hair, which I had highlighted the previous summer with Sun-In. They called me a faggot, delivered me notes that said everyone knew my ‘dirty little secret’. They asked me frequently, ‘Are you a boy or a girl?’. Well, of course I was a boy, I would respond, trembling.

Meanwhile, I was beginning to sexually mature; I was soon developing crushes that inspired more than just a desire to keep a boy’s company. With horror, I realised that I might actually be what the kids were calling me – which, I knew in my bones, guaranteed me a tragically short life and a one-way ticket to hell. That, after all, was what the old form of homophobia entailed. Self-loathing.

To survive the onslaught, I defeminised myself. I lowered my voice, started wearing baggy jeans and sweatshirts, cut the highlights out of my hair, and replaced my Mariah Carey CDs with Nirvana. Soon, the fear and the anxiety became too much to bear, and the only refuge I found was in alcohol and drugs.

In high school, with each passing year, my drug use got worse. After graduation, I lasted one semester in college before dropping out. Two months later, at the age of 19, I had my first of several stays in a local psychiatric ward. I was delusional, addicted to drugs and suicidal.

It was during my second stay in the psychiatric ward that I was introduced to a 12-step programme, which was how I would eventually get sober in my early twenties. It was slow-going in the beginning of my sobriety to accept my homosexuality. I began to reconnect with the young boy I had once been, the boy whose interests expanded beyond what was typical for males. I experimented with bronzer and mascara, and got French manicures and pedicures.

Engaging in these behaviours felt liberating for a while, but eventually the novelty wore off. In fact, they started to feel performative. I realised I didn’t need those things to be my authentic self. My ideas, my voice, the way I treat other people – these are the things that make me the person I truly am.

In 2011, when I was 28, I fell in love with a man. The following year, I joined the fight for marriage equality. After we won that campaign, I knew I wanted to become a gay activist. I wanted to help create a world in which feminine boys and butch girls could exist peacefully in society. A world in which gender-nonconforming people were accepted as natural variations of their own sex. Minorities, sure, but real and valid nonetheless.

The trans question

In 2017, at the age of 33, I enrolled at Columbia University, New York to complete my undergraduate degree. There, I was shocked to discover how gay activism had evolved since marriage equality became the law of the land. The focus was now entirely on personal pronouns and on being ‘queer’. My classmates labelled me ‘cis’, short for cisgender. I didn’t even know what it meant. All I knew was that they called me ‘cis’ in the same cadence that the seventh graders had called me ‘fag’.

Soon, I learned about nonbinary identities, and that some people – many people – were literally arguing that sex, not gender, was a social construct. I met people who evangelised a denomination of transgenderism that I had never heard of, one that included people who had never been gender dysphoric and who had no desire to medically transition. I met straight people whose ‘trans / nonbinary’ identities seemed to be defined by their haircuts, outfits and inchoate politics. I met straight women with Grindr accounts, and listened to them complain about the ‘transphobic’ gay men who didn’t want to have sex with women.

All around me, it seemed, straight people were spontaneously identifying into my community and then policing our behaviours and customs. I began to think that this broadening of the ‘trans’ and ‘queer’ umbrella was giving a hell of a lot of people a free pass to express their homophobia.

At Columbia, I took classes on LGBT history, but much of that history was delivered through the lens of queer theory. Queer theorists appropriate French philosopher Michel Foucault’s ideas about the power of language in constructing reality. They argue that homosexuality didn’t exist prior to the late 19th century, when the word ‘homosexual’ first appeared in medical discourse. Queer theorists proselytise a liberation that supposedly results from challenging the concepts of empirical reality and ‘normativity’. But their converts instead often end up adrift in a sea of nihilism. Queer theory, which has become the predominant method of discussing and analysing gender and sexuality in universities, seemed to me to be more ideological than truthful.

In my classes on gender and sexuality in the Muslim world, however, I discovered something else, too. I learned about current medical practices in Iran, where gay sex is illegal and punishable by death, and where medical transition is subsidised by the state to ‘cure’ gays and lesbians who, the theocratic elite insists, are ‘normal’ people ‘trapped in the wrong bodies’. I privately drew parallels between the anti-gay laws and practices of Iran and what I saw developing in the West, but I convinced myself I was just being paranoid.

Then, I learned about what was happening to gender-nonconforming kids – that they were being prescribed off-label drugs to halt their natural development, so that they’d have time to decide if they were really transgender. If so, they would then be more successful at passing as the opposite sex in adulthood. Even worse, I learned that these practices were being touted by LGBT-rights organisations as ‘life-saving medical care’.

It felt like I was living in an episode of The Twilight Zone. How long were these kids supposed to remain on the blockers? And what happens in a few years, if they decide they’re not ‘truly trans’ after all, and all of their peers have surpassed them? Are they seriously supposed to commence puberty at 16 or 17 years of age? These questions rattled my brain for months, until I learned the actual statistics: nearly all children who are prescribed puberty blockers go on to receive cross-sex hormones. Blockers don’t give a kid time to think. They solidify him in a trans identity and sentence him to a lifetime of very expensive, experimental medicalisation.

I wondered how different these so-called trans kids were from the little boy I had been. Obviously, I grew up to be a gay man and not a transwoman. But how could gender clinicians tell the difference between a young boy expressing his homosexuality through gender nonconformity, and someone ‘born in the wrong body’? I decided to dig deeper into the real history of medical transition.

Medicalising homosexuality

What I learned validated all of my worst fears. I learned that for decades after their invention, synthetic ‘sex hormones’ were used by doctors and scientists who sought to ‘cure’ homosexuality, and by law enforcement to chemically castrate men convicted of committing homosexual acts.

I learned about actress and singer Christine Jorgensen, one of the first people in the US to become widely known for having ‘sex-reassignment’ surgery in the early 1950s. Jorgensen may now be celebrated by the modern ‘LGBTQIA+’ community as a trans icon, but he seemed more concerned with escaping his homosexuality, which he said was ‘deeply alien to my religious attitudes’. As Jorgensen put it, ‘I identified myself as female and consequently my interests in men were normal’.

I learned that of the first adolescents to be treated for gender dysphoria (or what was then called ‘gender identity disorder’) with puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones in the 1990s and early 2000s, the vast majority were homosexual. And I learned that these studies inform current ‘gender-affirming care’ practices.

Soon, I met detransitioned gay men who had sought an escape from internalised and external homophobia in a transgender identity. They continue to suffer severe post-surgical complications, years after their vaginoplasties.

I began to fear we had reached a point of no return a couple of years ago, during a conversation I had with a supposedly ‘progressive’ friend. I told her that, if I had been a young boy now, I likely would have been prescribed puberty blockers and gone on to medically transition. ‘And you don’t think you would’ve been happy as a transwoman?’, she asked me. Her question left me speechless. I couldn’t find the words to state the obvious: that I am a gay man, not a transwoman; that statistics tell me my medical transition may not have been successful; and that I would suffer severe medical complications. In any case, if I had transitioned, I wouldn’t be living an authentic life. After all, isn’t that what this is supposed to be about? Living authentically?

Sylvester, an androgynous disco icon of the 1970s and 1980s, was once asked what gay liberation meant to him. He answered, ‘I could be the queen that I really was without having a sex change or being on hormones’. Perhaps I belong in an earlier era, when newly liberated gays and lesbians rebelled against the medical and psychiatric experiments they had long been subjected to. Perhaps my early aspiration of expanding what it means to be a boy or a girl was nothing but a pipe dream. In Europe, there is hope that these medical experiments will cease, and that gay and lesbian adolescents will be spared from a lifetime of medicalisation. But in the US, nearly eight years after same-sex marriage became the law of the land, it is full-steam ahead with these homophobic practices.

For voicing my concerns about gender-affirming care for minors, I have been called a transphobic bigot. If that’s what speaking out against the medicalisation of homosexuality makes me, then so be it.

[codeinecraz]

JACOB ELORDI- New Year

summary- you and Jacob are celebrating the new year at the club when you get jealous of all the female attention he is getting.

Warning- use of alcohol, cursing, mentions of sex, use of y/n

December 31- 10:49 pm

y/n bent over the cool marble of the table, placing her elbows down on each side of her. She stared at the nearly empty cup of alcohol infront of her. For the past hour, she has been wondering around, filling her cup with every alcoholic beverage she could find. Her and her friends had come to a club that most celebrities attended at to celebrate the new year.

She also had to keep watch of how intoxicated she really got, because too much to drink could lead to one wrong move from her, which could ruin her entire career as an actress. Almost happened one too many times. Plus, she didn’t want to make a fool out of herself. So she continued to stare at the cup infront of her and play with her rings

It wasn’t necessarily boring, but she had been ticked off about something the whole time she’s been here. Her first few minutes at the club, she had spotted Jacob, one of her close friends. Then she looked at all of the woman around him. The worst part was watching him entertain them, buy them drinks, dance with them, or flirtatiously touch the strap of their dress.

Whatever he was doing, it irked her to her core. Her and Jacob weren’t dating, but they were those type of friends that had everyone questioning what went on between them in private. The upsetting part was, not much happened. They met, became close quick, both would flirt and talk for hours on end, and she fell in love. That’s about it. Who knew how he felt about her, he was difficult. There were countless time’s where Jacob would lay with her, or hold her, or hug her, but the kiss that she expected never came.

What she didn’t know was that Jacob felt the same way about her, maybe even more than she did. That night, he was doing everything in his power to get his attention from the second he saw her walk in. He didn’t want to go to her, he wanted her to come to him, to prove to him that she feels the same way about him, but she never came. He watched as she moved around with her friends, and laughed at whatever some guy was telling her, and poured relentless cups of alcohol.

He could have five woman infront of him, flirting and touching or whatever they were doing, but she was the only thing he could focus on. He loved the way her warm brown hair complemented her warm, toned skin. He loved the way her dress fell perfectly over her curves. He loved the way she smiled, even if it was fake. It was never fake around him, he knew that much.

Both were too scared to admit it to one another, so they waited for the other. She hadn’t moved from her spot, zoning out as her friends continued their conversation. When she looked back at the spot Jacob was just at, he was gone. Assuming he had snuck off with some broad he found, she picked up the glass in front of her and finished the last swig almost immediately. She slammed the glass down and ran her fingers through her hair.

Suddenly, she felt a light tap on her ass and spun around quickly, confused but not surprised that some random man would have the nerve to do that. Though, when she turned she was met with no other than the Jacob Elordi looking down at her, a half-drunken smile plastered on his face. He grabbed her hips and pulled her against his body. She pulled away and smiled, taking a minute to observe him. He was wearing a white Ralph Lauren polo, with the first couple of buttons undone, a pair of dress pants, and a random cowboy hat he must have found earlier. His hair was wet with sweat, same with his chest.

It was an attractive sweat, If that makes sense. She thought it made him look hot.. or just hotter than usual. She was brought back to her senses when he tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear and lowered his face into the crook of her neck.

“where’ve you been?” He mumbled against her. She sighed and ran her fingers through his hair. “around, you just get here?” She asked. Obviously she knew the answer to that but she wasn’t sure what else to say. You know when you’re mad at someone but you can’t even tell them why without embarrassing yourself? That’s how she felt. He ignored her question and looked up at her, “are you ignoring me?” he blurts. She furrows her eyebrows. She wasn’t ignoring him, he just wasn’t acknowledging her. “no.. why would you think that?” She laughs.

He half smiles and holds the side of her face in his palm. “I don’t know, just felt like it. Forget I asked.” He said as he lifted her up onto the counter. “Bored?” He tilted his head. She shook her head yes and giggled. He continued a conversation for a few minutes while he stood between her legs, covering underneath her dress while she pressed her dangling legs on either side of him.

While he talked, she stared into his eyes, thinking about what it would be like if they were together. She kept giggling and swaying as he talked, the alcohol really getting to her now. At some point, they had both gotten up to dance. The song “Sex on the Beach” by PARTYNEXTDOOR blaring through the speakers.

He stood behind her and held her against him as they danced and watched as people joked around on the poles. He grinded on her as she pushed against him, one hand against her back and the other holding his drink. She moved away and leaned against the wall, laughing as he started swaying around the pole. He laughed loudly and then closed his lips in to a puckered form as he continued around the pole. She laughed harder, holding her stomache and slowly sliding down the wall. He laughed and moved away from the pole, holding his hand out towards her.

She gladly took it, not even caring to look at all the girls around her staring her down with jealous looks. He pulled her to him so they were chest to chest. He pressed his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “I was waiting for you.” He spoke. “hmm?” You mumbled. “Before. I was waiting for u to come over but you didn’t.” He was hardly drunk, but she thought he was so he wasn’t worried about saying anything embarrassing, as she was drunk too.

“You seemed busy.” She almost scoffed. He stayed silent but made a confused face. “which one you gonna pick?” She motioned her head towards the woman around him, watching as they purposely bump into him and apologize just so they could get his attention, which failed every time. When he realized what she meant he laughed and shook his head. “There’s only one girl, you know that.” He yelled over the loud music, still holding his head against hers.

She giggled and took his glass out of his hand, taking a large sip. “yeah but..” she paused, taking another sip “do you really want her, or are you just drunk?” She asked while she held her other hand against the back of his neck. Their hips swayed in sync as they moved against the beat, the speakers now blasting the song “never be like you” by Flume.

He breathed deeply and smiled “I’ll always want her, drunk or not drunk.” She believed him, she’d believe anything he’d say, but she didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. She laughed and pushed off his chest. “Yeah whatever” she giggled as she walked away from him. He made a fake ‘offended’ face before laughing and following quick behind her. She sat on the short pedestal that the pole came out of. He stood infront of her and she held his hands, playing with his wrings. “Come here” he rolled his eyes after she ignored him trying to pull her up. She pushed her arms higher up in a way to say “get me up”

He lifted her up by the arms, picking her up. her legs wrapped around his body. He used one hand to stop her dress from riding up and the other hand rubbed up and down her back. Their heads were so close that their noses were pushing against each other. Still, she giggled and rotated her head slightly, making their lips come even closer. He pushed his lips against hers, gripping the side of her body. Her hands flew to his hair and lightly tugged. She smiled into the kiss, as he did the same. He pulled away, pulling her bottom lip in his teeth before releasing it and pressing his forehead back against hers.

both stood there, staring into each others eyes and giggling, not paying attention to anyone around them. She hoped that this wasn’t a one time thing, or only happened because he was drunk. She hoped it was forever.

[pinkhoodi]

sweet love, sweet mornings

✎ᝰ — mornings with dick grayson <3

♡⃕ — dick grayson x reader

♡⃕ — genre + warnings: fluff + no warnings !

♡⃕ — a/n: literally whipped this up after thinking about how handsome dick would look in the morning and ooooooo he’s so 😮‍💨

Ꮺ mornings with dick, when he is present, are very much dreamlike. his heavy snores fill up the room as he catches up on sleep but also the way his back muscles tighten with each snore in and relaxes with each snore out

Ꮺ dick is usually a light sleeper, many things can wake him up and have him on high alert. but oddly enough, when you brush your fingers against his body, his rigid figure softens and his snores become lighter. it’s like his body is trained to differentiate your soft, angelic touch from the touch of family or the touch of villains

Ꮺ but also, the beautiful, quiet moment of witnessing dick sleep makes your stomach twist and your lips give a cheeky smile, seemingly similar to a high school crush. his posture of laying on his stomach but also his back slightly turned to you made you infatuated and flustered by his physique. it also doesn’t help that his body is barely covered in clothing, only boxers, but who is to complain ?

Ꮺ secretly, dick goes to bed in barely any clothing cause of two reasons. one, he adores the tenderness of your skin brushing against his as you both sleep soundly, and two, he notices how flustered you become from waking up to your boyfriend’s rugged body on display

Ꮺ usually when dick wakes up, he gives you a good morning kiss on your forehead and a “i love you kiss” on the corner of your lip. sometimes he’ll try to be slick and get a full-on kiss on the lips but you swerve your head just to mess with him. he either pouts or rolls his eyes at your playful antics

Ꮺ majority of the time, he’ll have his arm wrapped around your torso and pull you closer to him. he’ll tell you good morning followed by many complaints, starting at how beautiful you look to how grateful he is to have you. he’ll drag his hand across the bed until it meets yours and intertwine his sturdy fingers with yours. he brings the laced hands up to kiss your knuckle and give a light squeeze

Ꮺ it does take a while for the two of you to get out of bed. you’re too in love with dick’s warm look from the morning sun and he’s too obsessed with your beauty to even notice the time passing by. not to mention, you both go on tangent about the busy workload you have, catching up on the bat family, and even dick telling his stories from last night’s patrol

Ꮺ the usual routine for the both of you, after getting out of bed, is the both of you going into the bathroom together to brush your teeth and wash your face. one of you offers to cook breakfast while the other is in the shower. usually, dick offers to cook since he loves loves loves cooking breakfast for the two of you

Ꮺ I truly believe dick is a master chef at making the best soufflé, fluffy pancakes that are thick, bacon perfectly crisp. he loves cooking them all

Ꮺ dick would have that corny apron that says “kiss the chef” while cooking breakfast. he would also have fifties music playing in the background or some lighthearted jazz playing. sometimes he’ll be too into the music and have a concert instead of paying attention to the stove

Ꮺ after dick is done cooking, he would usually swap places with you and head into the shower while you’re drying yourself. as he passes by you, he would press his fingers into your hips and give a light squeeze. he would look into the mirror and softly smile at how you two complement each other so effortlessly. he loves how beautiful y’all look as a couple, he loves it so much that he has you guys framed almost everywhere in the house

Ꮺ once both of you done with bathroom, he would set the plates up while you poured juice for the both of you and set the dining table for y’all favorite show to watch together <3

Ꮺ for the rest of the morning, the living room is filled with commentary from the both of you about the show, small chews of the food. dick constantly asks if you like the food just so he can be cocky with it, a stupid grin while you roll your eyes and pretend to gag just to playfully hurt his pride a bit

♡⃕ okay but like mornings with dick ???? I don’t think I would want the morning to end 😩

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: psalm 9:10

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟥 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[kingconia]

POMEFIORE WHEN THEY NOTICE THAT THEIR S/O HAS SHITTY FRIENDS

Vil Schoenheit.

— It takes some time from him to realise it. Not because he is stupid or anything, but he is always so busy, spending time solely with you, and you always say good things about them, so;

— But as soon as he spots you with them on some school event, he starts to understand something is really wrong. Why would they say all these sarcastic remarks? Especially, if you seem to be uncomfortable? He is furious;

— At first, he will have a talk with you. He just needs to make sure that you understand how toxic they are, and that they are really-really wrong. If you don't see that, or for some reason agree with them, he is sad and disappointed in himself for not noticing it earlier;

— ”Ah, my sweet potato, how could you think so bad of yourself? Just look at yourself in the mirror for a minute! Look at how charming you are. How I love every part of you...”

— Starts praising you more often! He is quite reserved on the public, but he clearly tries to do something good for you. Might pull out a complements on your ear quietly, when you see each other in school;

— ”Oh, who is this pretty lady is?” ”Ah, I am sorry that I bumped in you, darling. I just couldn't tear my eyes from you...”

— Once again, as Vil is busy and aloof, he will not call your fake friends out personally. But he will make sure that some measures were taken. And that they know that their single word against you will cost them so much. Especially, if they are from Pomefiore;

— Live, laugh, Vil Schoenheit.

Rook Hunt.

— Oh, of course he knows that. Rook spends half of time hunting down objects of his interest, but most of the time his eyes glued to you. Even if you don't realise;

— He hears everything. And he sees everything, too. There is no way to fool this man;

— He is immediately furious. But Rook's rage is different from most of the people; his rage is quiet, cold, and slightly... Delirious. But no one can hurt you, physically or emotionally, and he makes sure that others will know that;

— Firstly, though, Rook needs to make sure that you are not affected by their attitude. Whatever they are shitty for—making toxic remarks about your appearance, leaving you out constantly, or something else—Rook will make everything better;

— This man is literally kissing the ground you are walking on. No insecurity under his roof! No-no. If you ask him, he surely can become your servant, even. But you don't, so he continues to adore you in his own ways;

— But that I mean writing poetry about you and declaring it publicly, so everyone would now how loved you are. Gifting you small—or not really—tokens every day. Writing little notes of what it reminded about you. Ah, he can even spoil you with food and sweets! Anything you want, really;

— And regarding your friends... He will take care of it personally. In his own ways. Which can be extreme, but don't worry! They are alive, just frightened! But at least they apologised, right?..

— ”Don't worry, ma belle catastrophe. I will always keep you safe!”

Epel Felmier.

— He is quite observant, and you spent a lot of time together, so, of course, he notices that something is really wrong;

— He can't believe his eyes, though, when he realises how your friends threat you. For him, you are the most supportive and kind person in the world, and perfectly charming. He can't understand how anyone could ignore you, let alone brush you off constantly;

— Epel fully concentrates on fixing your mental state. He knows how bad it feels, to be dawned by insecurities. And he is not a perfect speaker, but he tries really hard to explain you how he sees your situation, how bad are your friends are;

— He is aware that he is not that impressive and scary as others, which means he can't scare off your fake friends. But Epel is smarter and more cunning;

— He uses what he has to make your friends pay for what they had done to you, uwu!

— He either will make sure that Rook or Vil will do something about that—he might dislike his house and housewardens, but, hey, they are useful—or ask to help his other friends. I mean, just pulling in this Jack would be already enough, but if anything, he has these two idiots from Heartslabyul to do something with it. You will not even notice! He is with you all the time, after all;

— ”Please, never forget that you are not alone anymore, and never will be! I am here for you.”

[stvrni0lo]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

matt sturniolo x reader (fluff)

summary: everybody knows that they like each other, so matt decides to finally do something about it

warnings/notes: kissing? one use of Y/N, pining (sort of), happy ending

requested?: yes! number 19 “c’mere…” and number 29 “them being in denial but everyone else knows they are in love” from my dialogue and actions prompt list

also requested by others ↴

- matt and the reader being really good friends who clearly have feelings for each other and are always flirty towards each other, and after he goes on tour he realizes how much he needs her and just kisses her once hes back

- friends to lovers with Matt where they share secret kisses and affection and when his brothers ask whats going on he just realizes he needs to confess to her? :)

> > >

It’s always been painfully obvious how much you and Matt liked each other. Chris and Nick knew it, Madi and Nate knew it - hell, even the viewers could tell there was something more to your friendship than meets the eye.

The more you two hung out, the more the tension grew. It got to the point where Nick and Chris had began avoiding being alone with you two - unless the other was there to prevent them from being a third wheel. All of this was so evident to everybody. Everybody except, of course, you and Matt.

The triplets were on tour for the past few weeks.

Matt had been face-timing you pretty much any time he could - he would tell you about his day, you’d tell him about yours and remind him just how much you missed him, to which he would reply “I miss you too. I’ll be back soon”.

Almost every single call ended with an “I love you”.

Chris and Nick would just look at each other and shake their heads. Your obliviousness was cute, but becoming increasingly annoying to both of them.

How could you guys not realize that you liked each other?

Matt hung up another call from you, setting it down with a giddy smile on his face. He made eye contact with his brothers, only to blush immediately upon seeing their faces. They knew. Of course they did - everybody did.

“What?” he asked.

Chris just raised his eyebrow at him as if to say ‘seriously?’

“You both are so stupid,” said Nick before turning around and entering the hotel bathroom to shower.

This only made Matt’s face grow hotter as he looked at his younger brother for an explanation. Chris only shook his head as he looked at the ceiling for a moment.

He came up and patted Matt on the shoulder, giving him a pitiful look. “You gotta tell her, dude.”

And in that moment, Matt knew he was right.

It felt like everything in him just clicked. Like all the hidden, longing glances he’d send your way, and the small kisses of adoration he’d place on your forehead - finally made sense. He wondered how he held off for this long. Maybe he enjoyed having you to himself, keeping your secret and private conversations about the future close to his heart. They felt special - you were special to him.

But it was high time that he told you that instead of keeping it behind closed doors where only your tired, sleepy ears would hear. Where you would forget his declaration of love come morning. He needed you tell you, to make you hear it, to make you remember.

Matt fell asleep with a jumble of anxiety and excitement - or maybe they were the same thing.

That night, he dreamt of you.

- - -

He remembered it so vividly. It was practically engraved in his head forever.

You were sitting on the docks, staring out onto the water. Your skin glowed beautifully in the sun, your eyes sparkling with the reflection of the water. Something about the afternoon sun complemented you so perfectly.

He recalled wanting to stare at you forever.

“What’s going on up there?” your gentle voice called.

He appeared beside you then, sitting right by you, his shoulder brushing yours. Everything in your body was yelling at you to scoot closer, to press your arm against his. And so you did.

Matt could sometimes still feel your fingertips brushing his hair out of his eyes, even to this day. He could never get enough of how soft you were around him - how much fragility you treated him with. It was almost as if he was special; and to you, he was.

“Just thinking…” he replied, his words trailing off as he looked down at your hands. Your hands which were dangerously close to his.

His finger twitched needily, their desire to entwine with yours becoming unbearable.

“About?”

Your smile was infectious, and he could’ve help but join in soon after.

He shrugged. “Nothing in particular,” he responded.

Yet you both knew. You knew there was something in the air that day - something electric; intoxicating. He wanted to be closer to you, not that it was possible. Your elbows were glued together, and your eyes never left each other’s for even one second. Somehow, he still wanted more. He wanted you to be his, and him yours.

But he never got the chance to say it then.

- - -

Yawning, you checked the time on your phone. 11AM. Usually you would call Matt in the mornings. He would tell you how cute you looked all sleepy and grumpy, and you’d tell him to shut up before brushing your teeth together on face-time.

Today though, he didn’t answer.

You tried to suppress your disappointment as you brushed your teeth alone, the sound of the water being the only thing to keep your mind occupied.

Matt was always a constant in your life. No matter the time or day, he was there with open arms, beckoning you to him. There was never a moment where you were alone - both figuratively and literally.

He was your home. Only yours.

Some days you would use your spare key to get into the triplet’s apartment just so you could sleep in Matt’s bed, enveloped in his scent.

It’s not like it was the first time you’ve slept there. You and him shared a bed many times.

Today was one of those days. Walking out of Matt’s bathroom, your teeth feeling fresh, you began to make your way to his room.

You smiled as you were reminded of a vivid memory with him.

- - -

It was a week before he was set to go on tour. You were sitting at the edge of his bed, waiting for him to show you the new clothes he bought.

Kicking your legs back and forth, you playfully groaned at him to hurry up. His laugh reverberated throughout your chest, traveling from the bathroom straight into your soul, your heart clenching at the sound.

You could listen to it forever.

“Alright, alright. Whatd’ya think?” he said as he emerged from behind the closed door.

Your eyes dropped to his arms and chest, admiring his new sweater. The clothing hugged his body perfectly, engulfing him in what looked to be a really comfortable fabric.

Admiring how well the color matched his eyes, you almost didn’t notice his hand waving in your face.

“Hello? Anybody home?” he joked.

Eyes meeting his once again, you smiled. Somewhere in between there though, your gaze managed to fall on his lips for a split moment - a split moment that he did not miss.

Matt swallowed harshly, suddenly feeling self-conscious under your stare. To you, he looked like the most handsome thing in the world. The way his hair fell in front of his eyes, obscuring his view - the way his fingers twiddled with the sleeve of his new jumper - everything. It made him look all the more beautiful to you.

“You look pretty,” you said, eyes never leaving his.

He blushed before mumbling a quick thank you - making sure to add in the fact that he wasn’t pretty; he was a boy.

But in your eyes, he was the prettiest.

- - -

Your trip down memory lane was interrupted by the sound of keys jingling. The boys weren’t supposed to be home for another 2 days.

The thought made you worry. Had something happened? Was there an emergency? All of a sudden all you could think of was Matt. Had he gotten hurt?

Rushing down the hallway, you were met with a pair of frightened blue eyes. He hadn’t expected you to be here. He wanted to mentally prepare before he came to see you - but apparently he had no choice. This was happening now.

Your heart stopped in it’s tracks, breath hitching at the sight of him. He was absolutely breathtaking.

“Matt?” you breathed out.

Seeing him in the flesh made your head feel fuzzy. You hadn’t seen him in weeks - to be honest, it felt more like forever. You almost forgot how nervous he made you, how your legs turned to jelly around him - how your stomach erupted in butterflies every time he gave you that signature smirk.

You knew you missed him, but it surprised you just how much.

Noticing that his cheeks were dusted a rosy pink, you presumed it was from the heat - or perhaps from the tension in the room.

Matt dropped his bags onto the floor, his keys clashing down straight after. Footsteps advancing towards you, he began to make his way to you, a newfound confidence coursing through his veins.

Before you had a chance to speak, his hands were on either side of your face, pulling you in. It felt like he was a magnet, and you were a piece of metal being drawn to him.

Lips meeting in a flurry of desperation, you sighed in relief.

It’s as if him kissing you made you realize that he was real; and that he came home to you.

You ignored the scratch of his stubble as your hands flew to the back of his neck, the other one burying itself in his brown curls. This was better than you could’ve ever imagined.

Matt pulled away first, his breathing uneven and quick. His hands remained on your cheeks, thumb rubbing across your jaw momentarily.

Your eyes were still closed, relishing in the excitement of the moment.

Once you opened them, you were met with a dopey smile and an adorably blushed face.

“That was-“ you said, taking a breath.

“Yeah,” Matt finished, resting his forehead onto yours. His breathing was still rapid, but it was calming down, as well as his racing heart.

Your hands gently tugged his palms away from your face, holding them in yours instead. His wish came true as he finally laced your fingers with his. He felt like he could explode right about now.

Matt lifted his head so that he could look at you.

“Where did that come from?” you said as you giggled.

Matt simply smiled at you. “It was a long time coming. I should’ve done it sooner.”

It felt like you two stood there for hours, just longingly gazing at each other. Matt bit his lip in thought, his eyebrows creasing.

“Y/N?” he said.

You hummed in response, your eyes drooping at how content you felt.

“I love you.”

He had said it before, of course - but this time, you knew what he really meant. All the emotions he had been bottling up came flowing out with every syllable that left his mouth. You could see it in the way his brows were knitted together, in the way his hands squeezed yours, rubbing circles into your skin shamelessly.

“I know,” you said. “I love you too.”

You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck before pulling him in. This was all you had wanted for the past two weeks. Just him.

“C’mere,” you said, hugging him tightly.

His arms found refuge around your waist, tugging you unimaginably closer. He breathed in your scent, finally feeling at home. God, he was hopeless.

Fingers wrapping around your waist and hips, he practically squeezed the life out of you as he held you to him. He never wanted to let go, and he was starting to think that maybe he wouldn’t.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against the crook of your neck. His voice was muffled, but you could still make it out.

“I missed you too.”

At last, he got what he wanted. He was yours, and you were his.

- - -

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@lollibumblebee

@dwntwn-strnlo

@gracietaylorsversions

@20nugs

@thetriplets3

@sunshinewwx

@gwenlore

@gabbylovesreading

@ssturniolo

@opheliaofficial07

[chahnniesroom]

from this day forward

pairing: hwang hyunjin x female reader

summary: hyunjin and you have a tradition of trying to surprise each other with little things. he's a bad liar, but you love him all the same.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

a/n: a reader on ao3 requested hyune fluff!

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Ever since you started dating, Hyunjin and you have had a tradition of trying to surprise each other with little things, whether it be a small gift, food or drink delivery, or even an unexpected visit. 

It’s fun and planning out what you’re going to do next helps to distract you whenever Hyunjin is overseas for schedules or touring. Your favourite part is that even after a couple years, Hyunjin never seemed to be able to anticipate what you were going to do next. On the other hand, Hyunjin was bad at lying and you had gotten fairly good at reading his tells, although you didn’t have to fake your delight whenever you received something.

Sometimes, things don’t quite work out, like when you had found out that Hyunjin had an evening off and decided to drop by the dorms on your way home from work. You had knocked on the door, arms laden with takeout, just to find out from a bewildered Changbin that Hyunjin had gone over to your place and was attempting to cook you dinner.

Today, you had spotted a florist that had recently opened near your workplace and slowed your pace to admire all the flowers being displayed. You’re drawn to the carefully made arrangements and selection of potted plants, but it’s one particular bouquet that catches your eye and makes you stop in your tracks. You know instantly that you want to buy it.

It’s small and simple, but features the birth month flowers for both you and Hyunjin. The combination is unusual, but you think they complement each other perfectly.

You’ve always liked flowers, but it’s Hyunjin’s fascination with them that led you to have more of an interest in the different meanings that they could hold. 

You text Chan, who confirms that he’s available to let you into the dorms and that Hyunjin is in his room.

When you make it to the door and Chan greets you, his eyebrows lift at the flowers you’re holding.

“Are these for me? Aw, Y/n, you didn’t have to,” he teases, reaching out to grab them before redirecting to pull the door closed. He laughs when you pretend to ignore him and remove your shoes. “Hyunjinnie is still in his room, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

You knock on Hyunjin’s door, suddenly feeling nervous for some reason.

“Just a minute, hyung,” he calls out, sounding distracted.

You frown, but he clearly doesn’t know that it’s you, so you knock again.

“Hyunjin?”

“Y/n!?” he says, sounding panicked. “UH DON’T COME IN! I’M BUSY”

“Jinnie, what’s going on?” you ask, starting to get concerned.

“Nothing is happening!! I just- I don’t want to see you right now!” he says frantically.

You step away from the door, feeling a bit hurt. Although he usually likes it, maybe you shouldn’t have tried to surprise him today. Right when you’re about to walk away, you hear a slap, as if Hyunjin is face palming, and then a loud clatter.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Y/n! I want to see you, of course I do! But not right now! Please go away for a little while!!” There’s rustling in the background and the sound of the balcony door, sliding open and closed a couple times.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes! Just- give me another minute please!”

“Hey,” Hyunjin says. He’s leaning against the wall and his voice is deceptively calm, at odds with his dishevelled appearance.

You can’t help but giggle at the splotches of paint that are all over his skin although it’s obvious that he just changed into clean clothes. You had suspected that he might be painting when you heard the balcony door open, Hyunjin only uses that area to store his paintings, but this confirms it.

“What? Why are you laughing?” he asks petulantly, dropping the cool act.

“I’m not!” you deny, even as you continue to laugh.

“You are! Tell me what’s so funny,” he insists.

“It’s nothing,” you say. “You’re just so cute.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin says. He looks away, but is clearly pleased based on the way that he presses his lips together to prevent himself from smiling.

“Come here.” You beckon him closer and he gladly steps into your space. “You’re very cute and did you know that you have something here-” 

You reach out and use your thumb to touch a dot of purple that sits high on his cheekbone. 

“-and here-” 

You poke a smear of green that runs across his nose.

“-and here.”

You run your hand through his hair, fingers catching slightly on a few of the strands that have dried together in a blue streak.

“You know, you don’t need an excuse to touch me,” Hyunjin says, eyes crinkling into a smile as he pulls you even closer and wraps his arms around your body.

“Hyunjin…”

“What?”

“You know you actually do have paint everywhere, right? It wasn’t an excuse.”

Hyunjin’s smile dissolves and is replaced with a look of horror when he looks down and sees evidence of his earlier activities. 

“It’s not paint!”

“It’s not? Then what is it?” you tease.

“It’s- it’s- I got tattoos!”

“You, a professional idol, got tattoos on your face,” you say, amused.

“Yes,” he nods his head vigorously.

“Of… paint smudges?”

“Uh yeahhh,” he says slowly.

“Why?” You can see that Hyunjin’s brain is working at maximum capacity, trying to think of a way to explain. It’s funny, but you don’t want him to suffer for too long. “It’s okay, you can tell me that you’re painting. I won’t ask you what it is or who it’s for,” you say and you watch as Hyunjin slumps in relief.

“So what brings you here?” he asks.

“Hmm, do I need a reason? Is it not enough that I want to see you?” you respond playfully.

“Well when you put it that way…"

“But I do have a reason, I got you something!" You pull out the bouquet from where you’ve placed it behind the couch.

“Oh,” he says in wonder, voice soft. He reaches out to brush the petals of the flowers. “It’s us.”

“There’s a new florist close to work,” you explain, passing over the bouquet. “I couldn��t not buy it.”

“Thank you, Y/n. I love it!” He links your fingers together so that he can tug you in the direction of the kitchen. “We need to put it in some water, I think that I have a vase somewhere.”

“They’re pretty, right?” you ask as Hyunjin opens and closes various cupboards.

“They are, but not as pretty as you!”

“Hyunjin!” you gasp. “That was so cheesy!”

“What?” Hyunjin plucks one of the loose petals from the bouquet’s wrapping and drops it on top of your head. “These are beautiful, but you’ll always be my favourite flower.”

—

Almost a week later, you wake up to a text from Hyunjin.

[3:20 am - received]

hiii 

my petal~

can you come over later?

i want to see youuuuu

[7:03 am - sent]

why were you awake so late if you didn’t have a schedule ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

but yes i’m free this evening!

i want to see you toooo

[9:22 am - received]

i couldn’t sleep

was thinking of you

[9:23 am - sent]

stoppp 

you’re going to make me cry at work ㅠㅠㅠ

[9:23 am - received]

sorry, but it’s true~~

anyway, i won’t bother you while you work

can’t wait to see you <3

Work seems to drag along and you’re relieved when you’re finally allowed to leave the office. When you get to the dorms, Hyunjin is already waiting for you, leaning with the top of his head peeking out of the doorway.

“You’re here!” he says, pulling you out of the hallway. Once inside, he helps strip you of your coat and shoes, handing you the pair of slippers that you usually use.

“What’s the rush?”

“I want to show you something.”

“Oh?” You glance over Hyunjin’s shoulder but can’t see anything out of the ordinary in the living room. “Where is it?”

“It’s in my room, but it’s a surprise. You have to close your eyes.” You follow his instructions, jumping slightly when Hyunjin’s hands come over your face. When he speaks again, he’s close enough that his lips brush your ear. “Just in case, I don’t want you to look.”

As the two of you are shuffling towards his room, you hear the shutter sound of someone taking a picture.

“Hannie,” Hyunjin complains. “Why are you taking pictures of us?”

“You guys are so cute together! Don’t worry, I’ll send it to you later,” Jisung says.

Hyunjin groans and continues leading you into his room, but you’re sure that if you had been able to see him, he’d be fighting back a smile.

When you reach his room, he leaves you standing for a second, before coming back to hold your hand.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now,” he says, sounding nervous.

You look up and gasp.

He’s painted a scene that’s from one of your favourite dramas where the characters are embracing in the snow. Although the facial features of the individuals are in Hyunjin’s distinctly abstract art style, with some modifications to their heights and hair styles. 

Instead of snowflakes, flower petals swirl around the couple, ones that match the bouquet you had gifted him a few days ago. In addition, peonies border the painting. They’re one of your favourite flowers, both for their beauty and the way that they represent hope and a future of happiness and good fortune. 

Speechless, you reach out and touch the painting, almost startled when your fingers brush against the rough canvas instead of silky smooth petals.

“It’s us,” you say, echoing Hyunjin’s reaction to your recent gift to him.

“You’re crying,” he says, concerned. “Is it too much?”

“Hyunjin-” you say, barely able to see him through the tears that blur your vision. You reach out and he meets you halfway. “Baby, it’s perfect. I love it and I love you.”

“I’m glad,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I love you too, my petal.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Living Waters...

Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

The Cursed Trio | Desert Oasis

...

Before setting off for the day, you made sure to grab an extra hairband, anticipating that Geto might need one if his broke. As it turned out, he had the same foresight, which wasn't all that surprising considering the amount of times you'd lose them.

Another curious fact, for some reason, everyone came to you whenever their uniforms got a tear or two simply because you had once mentioned liking to sow things back together

You swear Gojo would do it on purpose considering he always had his stupid fucking infinity on. Geto, on the other hand, likely made sure to be just a tad bit more reckless with his uniform before turning it into you.

He actually liked to watch you work, eyes entranced by the way your hands move and manipulated the fabric --- all while you hummed some tuneless melody under your breath

Moving on

Did you know that Gojo accidentally revealed to Yaga that you had a fondness for unique plushies? Since that day, Yaga began surprising you with a new plushie every day. Sometimes he'd toss them straight at your face, while other times, he'd leave them outside your door.

As the days passed, your room became a plushie wonderland, and you realized you needed to have a serious conversation with Yaga about this overflowing collection.

Despite your talk, the "plushie issue" remained unresolved. However, every Friday after class, Yaga started setting up the classroom to teach you how to knit as a way to compromise.

With this newfound skill, you took matters into your own hands and began creating mini-plushies of everyone around you.

For Kento, you designed a stylish cream business suit that perfectly complemented his rather bland calm personality. You also created a matching outfit for his best mate, Habaira, but in a sleek black color. Habaira was overjoyed with the gesture, though he playfully joked that he looked like his mini-plushie was ready to attend a funeral. Kento couldn't help but chuckle at the comment, a rare small smile gracing his lips as he softly muttered a heartfelt 'Thank you.'

For Ieiri, you crafted a unique plushie, dressing her in a doctor's coat and adding her trademark little cigarette, capturing her essence beautifully. She was absolutely thrilled when she saw it, expressing her excitement with a lazy smile as she kissed you on the cheek.

Yaga received a miniature replica of his current look, which he proudly displayed by placing it next to his computer monitor in his office. Sometimes, you'd catch him smiling at it.

Gojo's plushie was a fun challenge, with a spiky-haired version of him sporting a blindfold instead of sunglasses. Gojo playfully teased you about making a second version because you just couldn't get enough of him. You threatened to take it away, and he protested, holding the plushie just out of your reach. Lanky bastard.

(You never did see that plushie ever again tho, wonder what happened to it)

As for Geto, you searched the internet for some fashionable outfit inspiration and dressed up his plushie accordingly. He later humorously referred to it as his mini shaman (the fashionable outfit was a shaman's attire. Sorry not sorry) , but he assured you that he genuinely loved it. In fact, he liked it so much that he transformed it into a keychain for his bag, carrying it with him wherever he went.

I should mention that by now, your fluency in Japanese had improved dramatically. However, out of a sheer habit, both boys had the tendency to order for you. Then again, they also ordered for one another. Everyone in this fucking three-way has memorized each other's orders like the back of their hand.

You know their coffee orders by heart; Geto knows both of your favorite meals by heart, and Gojo knows both your and Suguru's favorite sweets by soul. (Sorry not sorry)

You all take turns treating one another, but often it's Gojo who insists on paying for you and Geto, given his big-boy bank account. (You will never reveal to them how somehow Mei Mei has become your sugar mama and pays you for simply existing, on the daily)

Geto can't ever drink your or Gojo's coffees because they're just too sweet. It's so sweet it could put a diabetic into a coma. So the two of you happily share taste-sips with each other.

On the other hand, Gojo couldn't handle the intensity of your and Geto's meals due to their overwhelming spiciness. Just the aroma wafting around would bring tears to his clear sky-blue eyes. As for you, vegetables weren't your preference, so Geto would kindly slide his plate close to yours, allowing you to discreetly transfer the unwanted veggies onto his plate without creating a mess on the table.

Gojo would then tease you for your preference, mocking you as he likened you to a small child. So properly, the only adult response was to engage in a game of footsies with him under the table until, accidentally, Gojo hit you a bit too hard, causing you to flinch and squeak. Geto noticed your reaction instantly, and he gave Gojo a piercing glare, silently warning him to be more careful. Gojo, feeling a bit awkward, focused on stuffing his face to avoid eye contact with Geto.

Ah, nothing like a protective mama Geto

Whenever you're trying to avoid Gojo and his endless taunts, you have a clever strategy: hiding in his dorm room, a place he never imagines you'd willingly go. As he spends the entire day searching the school high and low for you, you're actually inside his room, peacefully resting or just relaxing. Oftentimes, you snoop. Hehe

You possess like some Gojo-detector, giving you the ability to sense when Gojo is about to return to his dorm room. The moment you feel he is messing you, you swiftly sneak out unnoticed. He never manages to catch you, and the mystery of why his bed sometimes smells like you remains unsolved for him. That is until one night, he stumbles upon your favorite bracelet tucked under his pillow, the clasp broken.

You can't escape him anymore

Geto finds solace in your room, partly captivated by its enchanting fragrance. The persistent presence of an oil diffuser emanates an aroma that seems to be woven from the fabric of dreams. Its sweet and gentle, a lingering scent that holds a subtle allure, almost addictive in its embrace.

Lost in the allure of the ambiance (doesn't help that you like to keep your room dark and cold with blue lighting) Geto spends literal hours nestled amongst the plushies, lulled to sleep by the whole scenario. Whenever he departs from your room, the decent clings into his clothing. Leaving a trail of flowers behind that informing others of his presence in your room.

Speaking of him

Sometimes, you wake up in the dead of night, feeling something off. It's as if you possess a strange, innate ability to sense when someone is going through a rough time. Perhaps it's connected to your Cursed technique, or maybe your soul simply has a way of recognizing their distress. Regardless of the reason, you find yourself instinctively reaching for one of your pillows and following the invisible trail of energy.

Tonight, your focus settled on Geto's room. He had entrusted you with a key long ago, allowing you to enter his private space when desired.

You approached the door with a gentle, single knock (you have this specific way of locking that involves lightly tapping on the door with your nails. Much like a cat would) before letting yourself in. And there he was, sat up on his bed, his blankets tangled around his lap as beads of sweat trickled down his face. A haunted look in his eyes.

Geto prided himself on being able to maintain a stoic poker face, but even he had to admit. Out of your little trio, you were the one most attuned to their emotions. You could read the warning signs long before they fully manifested.

You slipped into his bed, performing your nightly ritual of unraveling his locks from the right bun he wore to sleep. Quietly, you would always mention how it wouldn't do any good for his hair and how it might give him more morning tangles (knowing well that you yourself slept with your hair loosely tied). Yet, with tender care, you gently massaged the palms of his hands, hoping to bring him back to the present, back to you.

And he came back to you, blinking his lovely onyx eyes as they lightly widened at the sight of you in your nightgown, sitting right next to him, his hand in your grasp as you cooed him back to safety.

No words were truly exchanged; that was for the morning routine. So, for then, the two of you simply settled back into his bed. His hand never left your own as you slowly placed it onto your chest, just where your heart would be.

Your heart beat, calm and strong, lulled him into a dreamless sleep.

...

(A/N): As I was writing this, you fuckers kept blowing up my phone with the amount of likes you were giving my shit. Like damn, I see now we have some early risers here. Goddamn.

I have such a headache rn it's not even funny.

The idea of being a Gojo-detector is rather humorous, isn't it?

Wonder what Geto dreamt about that had him so distressed. Is it the start of something or just your everyday PTSD?

Drop a comment

Feel free to buy me a 🦩

Hope you enjoyed!

Edited: 7/24/2023