#Using “I” statements in relationships

[hhhwnr]

ꨄPublic Display of Awkward — S.R

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genre: fluff/comfort word count: 1,1k

paring: Spencer Reid x Reader (established relationship)

warnings & summary: no warnings. Spencer isn’t used to public displays of affection—but with you, he wants to learn.

author’s note: lots of tenderness and public displays of affection! I’m new to writing on Tumblr and in English (which isn’t my first language), so please be kind. I’m open to suggestions or feedback, as long as it’s respectful :)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Spencer wasn’t the hand-holding type.

Not because he didn’t want to be, but because he wasn’t sure how.

In the quiet privacy of your apartment, he could press a kiss to your shoulder without overthinking it. He could hold your hand for hours on the couch, curled together beneath a shared blanket. But out there—in public, surrounded by eyes and assumptions and attention—it felt different. It felt… observed.

You were walking side by side, close enough that your jacket sleeves brushed now and then, but not touching—not really. The crowd around you moved in waves: parents tugging along kids, couples snapping photos, a street musician playing something jazzy near the café. Spencer kept glancing around, his posture a little tense, as he always was in bustling spaces.

You noticed the way his fingers twitched sometimes near his coat pocket—like maybe he wanted to reach for you, but didn’t know if it was the right moment. So you made it easier. You slipped your hand into his without a word, letting your fingers lace gently through his. A silent offer, no pressure. Just a question with skin instead of words.

Spencer went still for a beat. Not in panic, but in calculation. He looked down at your hands, then at your face, like he was double-checking your intent. You didn’t look back—just kept walking, giving him space to choose what to do with it.

And he did. Carefully, Spencer curled his fingers between yours and gave the faintest squeeze. Then, as you reached the edge of the sidewalk and paused to wait for the light, you felt it: his thumb brushing slow and deliberate across the back of your hand.

A small movement — thoughtful, almost fragile.

“Do you like when I do that?” he asked, voice soft, as if he might stop if the answer was anything but yes.

But you could only smile, feeling your heart thudding. “I do,” you said simply. “Very much.”

And he nodded—just once—like he was storing that information away somewhere important.

He thought about it later that night. He thought of how easy you made it look. How holding hands in public wasn’t a statement for you—it was just affection, simple and honest. How when people passed by, you didn’t drop his hand or change the subject or pull away. He thought about all the reasons it had always been hard for him: the scrutiny, the exposure, the fear of not doing it right. But more than that, he thought about how proud you looked when you had him close.

And he realized: if you weren’t ashamed of him, maybe he didn’t have to be ashamed of showing it either.

The next morning, while the two of you stood in line at your favorite little corner café—him reading the day’s specials with furrowed brows like he was reviewing a thesis, you gently swaying on your feet behind him—he reached for your hand again. No hesitation this time. His fingers found yours with a quiet certainty, warm and steady, and before you could so much as glance at him, he lifted it slowly to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Soft, casual even. Like he’d done it a hundred times, like it was something he did on every slow morning, in every line, surrounded by the half-asleep city.

“Spence?” You blinked, surprised, and tilted your head with a smile tugging at your lips.

He glanced down, eyes warm, a hint of mischief dancing there like sunlight on water. “What?” he asked, though he definitely knew.

“That’s… new,” you replied, grinning now.

He hummed, pressing another feather-light kiss to your knuckles—less hesitant, more familiar this time. “Well,” he said softly, “it’s what people do sometimes. When they’re in love.”

That startled something tender in your chest. You stared at him, caught off guard in the best way.

It happened again, days later, in the grocery store—aisles too bright, music too soft to recognize. The place was quiet for a Thursday evening. You were standing in front of the greens, comparing bunches of parsley like it was a life-altering decision, when Spencer drifted over to you.

He didn’t say anything, just came to stand beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. You felt him there more than saw him—his quiet, comforting presence, the way he always fit next to you without effort.

Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. A slow, thoughtful kiss. No hesitation, no awkward pause. Just his lips against your skin, gentle and grounding.

You didn’t move. Just closed your eyes for a second, let it happen, let yourself feel the way he was starting to settle into you—more confident in the way he loved you, in the way he showed it.

He pulled back slowly, hand grazing your lower back for a moment, and then wandered off toward the cereal aisle, as if he hadn’t just made your whole chest feel like it was glowing.

The “payoff for his efforts”, as Spencer later named it, was different — you were halfway home from dinner down the sidewalk when Spencer just… stopped walking.

It was subtle—just a quiet pause, like he’d remembered something important mid-step. You turned to look at him, brow slightly raised, but he wasn’t looking at the street or the sky. He was looking at you. Really looking. And not in that intense, cataloging way he sometimes had when he was working.

His hand found yours again, fingers lacing without effort, like muscle memory. There wasn’t a sound in the world except the soft clink of a spoon stirring coffee from a café behind you, the wet hush of tires on damp asphalt. And then Spencer leaned in—slow, hesitant for half a second—and kissed you.

It was soft, almost reverent. The kind of kiss that didn’t need to prove anything. That didn’t rush, didn’t take. Just… offered. The press of his lips against yours was gentle, steady, like he’d taken all the words he could never quite say and folded them into the space between you. It wasn’t his first kiss with you, not by far—but it felt like a beginning anyway. His fingers moved to your waist, squeezing it once, as if grounding himself. Your hand came up to rest lightly against his chest, where his heart beat quick and certain beneath your palm. And when he finally pulled back—just slightly, just enough to breathe—he stayed close, his forehead nearly brushing yours.

You were smiling. You hadn’t realized you were until he did too.

“I think I get it now,” he whispered.

You tilted your head. “Get what?”

“Why people do this kind of thing in public.”

Thank you for reading ♥︎

[theamberparadise]

Hello, This is my first time making a request on your block.

Can you do a NSFW and dating headcannon for Jeff the killer and ticci Toby x Jessica Rabbit like s/o ( separately ) , please

HI HONEY IM SO SORRY THIS WAS SO LATE TUMBLR DELETED MY 2K WORD DRAFT AND NOW I HAVE TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN IM SO SORRY

TICCI TOBY AND JEFF THE KILLER X JESSICA RABBIT READER

SYPNOSIS; How would Jeff and Toby react to reader who looks like Jessica Rabbit?

TWs; toxic relationship, blood

A/N; hi hon!! welcome to my blog!! im so sorry this was sooo late tumblr hates me sm, i hope you like this as much as i liked writing it!

ps! i assumed reader is also a killer.

"Seriously, what do you see in him?" "He makes me laugh."

TICCI TOBY

The first time he saw you, Toby was beyond bewildered. Were you real or were you another figment of his twisted imagination?

Nonetheless, his eyes were on you now. And he needs your eyes on him.

His first instinct? Flaunting his muscles at you whenever and wherever he can. Getting a glass of water? His shirt is suddenly off. Fixing yourself in front of the living room mirror? He mutters it’s hot then slowly rips off his jacket. Seeing him during training? He flexes his muscles a bit more.

He thinks this is a widely accepted way of getting girls when really it’s so awkward when he does it.

Second instinct? Getting as close to you as he possibly can just to sniff your scent. Even if you’re just leaning gracefully against a counter, he might walk in, head high, shoulders back while he leans right beside you. Not across, not near, beside. Like there aren't any more spots for him to lean on.

“Toby, hon,” you cleared your throat. “You’re getting a little close.” “Am I?” he cocks his head to the side. “My bad, I’ll move aside.” 

He moves literally three inches away.

His third and final attempt? Leaving you gifts! Although it does leave you confuzzled.

One moment your Versace heels are there, and the next second, you hear your door close and now it’s gone. The next day, you wake up to see your Versace heels back again, with a pair of sword heels from Paciotti– in your size.

More of his gifts would include a sketchy brand of lotion from a drugstore, a cracked eyeshadow palette, and a seemingly used lipstick.

You appreciate his efforts but you couldn’t help but feel perplexed.

Once he notices you haven’t been saying “thank you” to him like you should be, he trudges to your door post-mission holding a bundle of snapped flowers that looked like they were pulled from a couple’s anniversary date (it was) with his breathing awry and ragged.

He keeps his eyes steady on yours. And as soon as you asked what was wrong, he shoves the bouquet in your face, like he didn’t cause you to have an allergic attack.

“Fuh–flowers. For y-you.” You gently press the cloud of petals down. “Okay, Toby– Okay, honey.”

He would still press his gaze onto you like you owed him something (which you did) and after about five minutes, he speaks once again. “Why ha-haven’t you wearing m-my gifts?”

You stay silent, backing away as your heel meets the floor again, your face looking to your side.

You feel his thumb and index gently hold your face in the right direction– where he is, and leans even closer than ever.

“I wa-want you. Do you want m-me t-too?”

Ever since you said yes to him, his ego had been fueled to the MAX.

If somebody even slightly mentions you, he’s on them and joining the conversation he had nothing to do with. “Oh, h-her? Yeah, I pu-pulled her. Not li-like you g-guys can do anything ab-about i-it,” that statement earns Toby a nasty black eye, of which he thankfully didn’t feel, but caused his face to swell for a week. He crawls back to you seeking validation even though it was him who started the mess.

He does anything and everything for you if it means he won’t lose a part of his pride like he did last time with Clockwork. Complaining about the heat melting your makeup off? He’s installing a new air conditioner. Notice a rip in your oh-so-glittery dress? He’s suddenly suitable as a surgeon. Need to detangle your hair? He’s treating it like a frail animal.

It’s the same when you’re on missions together. A rowdy victim scuffs your shoe? “That little sh-shit,” he’s off hacking the poor guy to hell.

He blushes shamelessly when you call him "my boy" or "my good little champ" while pinching his cheeks, makes him feel like one of those guys back in his middle school that would steal his crushes.

And although all of this seems sweet, it doesn’t mean it won’t have toxic tendencies.

His jealousy problems can overwhelm the relationship. He immediately jumps to conclusions every time he sees you hanging out with someone who’s not him. “Why were y-you looking at h-him? You’re not th-thinking of talking t-to him, are you?” “Did you go for a smoke with them j-just now? You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

It hurts, yes, but try to actually pursue another guy and he’ll come crying floods with his knees on the floor, gripping on your dress like it’s his life line.

"Toby, baby, no pulling, please." You try to snag the fabric gently from him. "No, no, no, no, don't leave me-- p-please no, I'm s'sorry," he chokes out, "Never again, hon, please,"

NSFW 

The reason why he takes care of your hair so gently and attentively is because he likes to pull on it whenever he’s fucking you from behind or receiving a blowjob from you. Seeing you wince in pain while you’re so used to being taken care of by him is like cocaine.

He memorizes all the spots you like to reveal in your outfits just by him staring at you for hours on end. He uses this to his advantage and cheekily leaves bites on there.

Purposefully buys you makeup that isn't kiss proof just to see your lipstick stain his lips and his cock. Sometimes, he takes pictures of them and sends them to whoever was bullying him recently.

Have a meeting with the major proxies and need to orgasm in the middle of it? No worries, he’s under your dress sucking your clit like there’s no tomorrow.

Loves it when you wear heels during sex. He cums in his pants by the thought of you stepping on his dick with them.

Once he gets home after a particularly frustrating day of missions, he drops down to his knees and starts humping your leg with his bare cock while massaging your hands and arms through your silky gloves.

He circles his thumb on the seams of your long dress while you give him the best titjobs of his life.

Lives for the idea of you having a wardrobe malfunction in front of him and the other proxies. Lowkey a cuck.

Bites every cellulite line he finds, every stretch mark he finds, kisses every scar you might have and thanks you for even letting him.

Moans a little louder than he’s supposed to when you suck on his adam’s apple.

He finds cumming in your hair so enchanting, seeing milky white beads of his honey absorb into your smooth hair has him groaning.

JEFF THE KILLER

“Holy shit,” were the first words that escaped his mouth when he first saw you. 

I mean, how could he not? Look at you, all shiny and pretty, it’s like you were made by an angel from heaven. He’s seen his fair share of hot supermodels and sexy porn stars, but none of them even come close to a creature as beautiful as you.

His approach for you is… not great.

Catcalling, whistling, and pervy pick-up lines were his first thoughts. “ *wolf whistle* Nice tits, dollface!” “ *imitates animal clicking* Here, kitty, kitty.” “Over here, sweetcheeks!”

He does this especially when he knows others are watching. It’s his twisted way of calling first dibs.

Jeff loves how you play hard-to-get with other guys in a smooth, jazzy way. Even more when you do it to him.

When he feels as if you were ignoring him (which you were) he likes to leave twisted drawings of you taped on your door. Nothing too crazy, just you in your usual outfit of glamour and heels, but this time your boobs are way bigger than they are and your butt is wider than they should be. You figure that it’s how he looks at you.

You crumpled his drawings and threw them away? That’s fine, he’ll just go a little bit further and bring you a severed finger in a ziploc bag with a ring still on it. Surprisingly, the ring is actually a real diamond worth fifty thousand dollars. And it fit perfectly, too!

You thank him a day later and he thinks he’s the sexiest man in the world.

He then takes it even more up the road– weirdly just touching your hair with his grimy hands until you turn around and gently ask him to stop. Taking extreme observation of your face like it’s an art piece. Even stealing your perfume and spraying it on him even though he has never come close to even hugging you.

After Jeff feels like it’s time to go in for the catch, he breaks inside your room while you’re sleeping and hovers over you, caging you with his body. You’re still sleeping, face freshly moisturized and pretty. He lets his ragged, heavy cold breath blowing onto your face to wake you up, and once you do he grins even wider than humanly possible.

“Y’know, you coulda been sleepin’ in my bed.”

Once you said yes, he was on top of the world. He got cockier than he should really be.

He makes uncomfortably loud grunting and throat clearing noises to make everybody look at him and you, with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, beaming wildly like he just caught a bear.

He purposefully makes out with you in public view, not caring about your lipgloss absolutely coating his face

For his bit of toxicity, he isolates you whenever too many people serve as competition.

This stems from his insecurity of not protecting what he should be protecting, so to keep your eyes only on him, he either locks you up in his room or a wide plain full of nothingness.

He ventures and finds you pretty daggers to keep on a garter on your thighs especially if you have a dress with a huge slit, both for show and for protection, even though he’s there beside you practically 24/7.

Goes crazy for you in red. Going out in an all-red outfit for a date? He’s insisting you stay at home.

He lets you use his blood from his mouth slit as lipstick.

Speak to him in that sultry voice of yours and he’s in love forever.

"Jeffrey, baby. Get me my eyelash curler, will you?" "Oh, shit," he groans, throwing his head back. "You sound like sin, sweets."

NSFW

Remember him dragging you back to the house because you wore red? Well, you’re now on the floor, getting plowed into next week.

Also goes crazy for you keeping your heels on during sex, especially when you can’t take it anymore and you’re pushing him off with them, just for him to push your legs up to your ears and fuck you deeper.

He likes it when you keep your dress on while you ride him. It makes the whole thing feel risky– forbidden.

Jeffrey likes you to get messy. One time, you come back from a rough mission looking like utter shit. Hair tangled like matted fur, dress ripped at the seams, stockings ruined, makeup smeared to hell… It took him everything from within to not pounce on you right then and there. Instead, he drags you by the arm, skin bruising under your glove to his bed and makes you look even worse the following morning.

He loves it when you have a full face of makeup and a pretty outfit before you have sex. It’s like a trophy to him– mascara stains on his pillows, your poor dress ripped to shreds on the floor.

Remember your sultry voice? Use it on him when you order him around and his heart will stop. He might cum in his pants without you touching an inch of his pale skin.

He likes making you stumble out of the door, limping out with his cum still inside and your panties in his pocket, leaving you to pray that your dress doesn’t fly up in the wind.

Do you like your bra being stolen from you? I hope so. Because he’s not going to return it after making you strike up a conversation with everyone while your tits threaten to pop out.

He purposefully messes with your clothing, cutting the seams just right so when you put it on it rips at the most ridiculous places. A huge rip from your clavicle to just under your tits. The seam at the slit of your dress lets go when you take a little step.

Loves watching your usually tired and sexy eyes shoot open when he hits that sweet spot.

[nobylerdoubt]

I saw a girl on Twitter saying that the scene in season 4 where Mike and El fight in the bedroom actually indicates a maturation of their relationship, that despite everything they are having more mature dialogues. Honestly, what do you think about that?

It... really doesn't. I'm working on a analyzation post about this exact scene in more details (which I was trying to get posted before I answered this so I could like back to it... but alas.)

But let's specifically look at the maturity of this argument. I'm going to be using a method that I use with my toddlers (I'm a teacher) when I'm analyzing where they are in their brain when using conscious discipline.

Now obviously my background and the context of this poster is obviously geared towards children and parenting/disciplining, but it applies to everybody, of all ages, all the time.

So, brief overview:

Brain Stem - Survival State: You don't feel safe - whether that is physical danger or you're afraid your needs won't be met. In this state, you're basically shut down. You're not listening to what others have to say, you're not using problem solving skills, you are acting on instinct. Not always necessarily an actual safety concern, but any perceived threat.

Limbic System - Emotional State: You feel physically safe, but emotionally raw. You're trying to protect your emotions, and are therefore acting emotionally (not logically).

Frontal Lobe - Executive State: Your physical and emotional needs are being met, and you are able to use logic and problem solving skills to learn and understand.

So when using this with small children we understand that if a child is screaming, crying, throwing a tantrum, trying to teach them a lesson isn't going to work because they're not in the right place in their brain to learn.

When looking at this from a more adult, or even teen perspective, to have a mature conversation both participants should be in their Frontal Lobe (Executive State) to be able to accept criticisms and acknowledge each other's emotions. (I would even argue that a mature conversation can happen if one is in their executive state and one is in their emotional state, because the one in the executive state can recognize the one in the emotional state and help them reach the executive state.)

Quick Note: "Mature" is a nebulous term. If you're not able to do this, or don't do it perfectly, this doesn't mean you're immature. People are more than just a brain diagram and parts of the brain. I'm just using this as a metric to talk about this argument as far as "maturity" goes. It's also not all that cut and dry, as we'll see. I don't blame either character for being ruled by their emotions.

Let's get into it:

I would argue that Mike enters this conversation in the executive state. He's had the night to cool down and think things over. He's the one who broaches the conversation by offering El some breakfast. However, he's bordering on an emotional state, and we'll see that more in a little bit.

El, however, has had the whole night (and a lack of practice self-soothing/getting back to an executive state) and is in the survival state. She is hiding from everyone else in her room. She fears herself, and she fears the other's opinion of her. I would say she's on the edge of the emotional state, given how her safety concerns are tied to her emotions.

Mike: So are we just not gonna talk about it?

El: About what?

Mike: I dunno, just maybe about like yesterday or everything.

El: there's nothing to say.

So right out the gates Mike starts with a statement that is a little bit leading. He assumes that they're not gonna talk about it. He doesn't enter the conversation with an open mind. If anything, he's pushing El further into her survival state because he's attacking her. Not very mature of him.

El shuts down any conversation. Not very mature of her. This evidently triggers Mike further into an emotional state.

Mike: yeah I guess um... I guess I'm just a little, uh... guess I just don't really understand. Why didn't you tell me what's going on here? I mean, you know I'm not exactly Mr. Popularity back at home. I mean you've seen it. I've been bullied my entire life. I mean, I know what it's like.

El: no you don't

Mike is definitely fighting to stay in his executive state and is failing, slipping into his emotional state because he feels betrayed that El wouldn't tell him something like this. I would say that is fairly mature of him.

El is further shutting down Mike's feelings as well as his ability to help her. She's also denying that his bullying was "as bad" as hers, in a way. She's devaluing his experience. She is still in the survival state and is trying to make sure she isn't further harmed. Not very mature of her. She pushes Mike further into his emotional state.

Mike: okay...? What don't I understand?

El: I am different. I do not belong.

Mike: you mean in Lenora?

El: anywhere.

Again Mike attempts to remain in the executive state, even as I'm fairly certain he's firmly in the emotional state. I would judge this as an attempt to remain mature, but he's slipping further into immaturity as the conversation starts to hurt his feelings.

El pushes herself further into her survival state by hiking up her emotions again, allowing her emotions to get the better of her. I'm gonna say not mature - but I don't blame her. Honestly whenever I say "not mature" I'm not blaming them for their responses.

Mike: Come on, you... you can't actually believe that.

El: Everyone looks at me like... like I'm a monster.

Mike: They just don't know you

El: You think I'm a monster too. Mike: What? El: Yesterday. The way you looked at me. You were scared of me. Mike: No. No. No, that's not...that's not true. I was surprised. Maybe I was a little upset in the moment, but I mean...I'm sorry, I just... I didn't know what to do. I mean, it was just so crazy, it happened so fast. But it doesn't change anything. It doesn't matter.

Mike is now denying El's experience, pushing her further into her survival state, and is being triggered by the accusation, whether it's true or not, that he was scared of El, pushing him further into his emotional state. He's growing more defensive and isn't taking accountability for his actions or how they made El feel. Instead he's justifying his feelings because of how "crazy" and "surprising" El was. Not very mature of him.

Mike: I care for you... so much. El: Care... but you don't, you don't love me anymore? Mike: What... who... who said that I didn't? El: You never say it. Mike: I say it. El: You can't even write it Mike.

El here is making an emotionally charged jump. Obviously she's been thinking about this for a long time, and emotionally stewing with this idea that Mike doesn't love her because he never says it. I'm not saying that's not a valid worry here, but she's making an emotionally charged statement and stating it as a fact. Not very mature of her.

Mike feels under attack, and is triggered further into his emotional state, and if you were to take a byler read on this (which we do, of course) you could even argue that he's bordering on the survival state, because he could be feeling that he is in danger.

El: From Mike, From Mike, From, from, from - Mike: Okay, okay, Eleven you're being ridiculous. What like... what is this? You know what I think of you. You're the most incredible person in the world. And you can't let these mouth breathers ruin you. Ruin us. I mean, they're nobodies. They're nobodies. And you're a superhero. El: Not anymore.

Mike is lashing out trying to defend himself and is once again denying El's expirience and is even deflecting his part of the blame on to the kids bullying her. He's not acknowledging his part in the hurt he's caused here and is instead insisting that she is letting others ruin them.

I'll give Mike his flowers for making An Attempt to make El feel better, but given that he's calling her delusional for thinking he doesn't love her and shoving the blame on someone else, while still NOT SAYING the one thing she wants to hear - it's not an effective attempt at cheering her up.

So TL;DR - during this argument Mike and El both make "immature" choices that push each other into a more emotional space. Neither of them are able to accept criticisms or learn or grow from this conversation, so it's not productive. Original Twitter poster may have confused mature conversation topics with a mature conversation.

[saccharinescorpion]

i think some people were confused with one of my tags on my Farcille post and since i had been wanting to bring it up for a while, i guess now’s a good time: sometimes when i like a character or relationship (not always a romantic relationship by the way) i make a special tag for them, usually based on a relevant quote from their story. for Falin and Marcille, it’s from this omake from the Dungeon Meshi manga

this part in particular

while in this case it’s not about Falin and Marcille specifically i do like it for them, not necessarily because the conversation is about necromancy, but because it kind of embodies the same mix of the morbid and the tender that i love so much about Farcille. Marcille uses "romantic" here in the sense of "isn't it a lovely thought, though?" but through the nature of ~transformative work~ i'm using it to also refer to how, for Farcille fans, Marcille's act of nercromancy is incredibly romantic- to love someone so much you bend the laws of nature (and in Marcille's case, the laws of the world) to bring them back)

this is what my earlier post is all about in a way- underneath the sweet exterior, there is a darkness to Marcille and Falin's relationship, and if you trace it back far enough, it always inevitably returns to the looming shadow of death. but there's a kind of beauty to be found there as well, which in turn ties back to what i consider Dungeon Meshi's ethos- that even though life is hard and often painful, it's worth it. that's why i think the quote is perfect for them- because not only does it embody the beauty and the darkness, but it's also a retort to an unseen statement:

"Marcille and Falin's relationship is messy and complicated, and they'll inevitably face even more conflicts after the story ends"

"but (even so) it's romantic, isn't it?"

[catty-words]

i hope you don't mind me chiming in, but there is magical contrast in tfb's straightforward statement of fact lyrics & their extreme specificity. it absolutely gives them a unique and signature tone of voice while also allowing - as tfbeetle says - each listener to develop a deeply personal connection to the music.

to use op's first example, "santa monica" absolutely feels like it's about a specific memory & relationship. the memory has a distinct setting (santa monica, getting drunk under the stars) and the relationship has distinct issues (loving who i am cause what we are, and all this pressure the speaker's putting on himself to shape the relationship in opposition to the failed relationship models of their parents). but the chorus could not be more universal - provided you have an open heart and don't take gender too seriously. anyone listening who has gotten wistful over happy memories or felt haunted by the possibility of someone they no longer speak to being in the same spaces they're occupying has the capacity to be the emotional baby boy, emotional man.

and that contrast - the speaker of tbf songs being a universal everyman while also feeling so neurotically real as to be a guy you know and love for all his goofy posturing - is what makes the music first homey and then endlessly compelling. we all get sad, feel sorry for ourselves for being selfish, get hurt and then heal - it's a process, believe me. but not everyone has a lake they go skinny-dipping in with their friends or knows a guy trying to bike from rhode island to florida with a backpack full of pills or talks about new jersey that much if they're not from new jersey.

my personal favorite example of this signature in their music is "west virginia". the poeticism of using weather - a universal language we speak with each other - to demonstrate alienation from people you love because you're not experiencing the same weather... it's simple statement of fact - it's raining here and not where you are - and it's absolutely gut-wrenching!

so, agreed. the front bottoms use statements of the obvious to great effect. one might even say the folk wisdom of these obvious statements is the thematic crux of the music, the colorful and zany trappings of a specific life lived the vehicle by which the wisdom has been chased down.

I love when the front bottom songs just start with just like obvious statements like "sometimes I cry when I get sad" or "she feels emotion"

[everythingisamazing]

Listen, this could mean nothing, but I do wonder if it’s really a coincidence that the concept of Yin and Yang was used in relation to Jayvik — especially combined with Harry Lloyd’s old comment about how their relationship is needed to keep society together.

It just sticks out to me because I don’t think either idea — not the cosmic symbolism, not the structural importance — is something you’d come up with solely from what’s in the show. Yes, there is a timeline where Piltover is destroyed, but there’s also one where it isn’t. So both of those statements feel like they’re reaching beyond the present plot — like they’re hinting at a greater, long-term significance to Jayce and Viktor’s dynamic. And if that’s the case, I think we all moved on from that way too quickly. Because what do you mean, the relationship of those two nerds in their thirties is the embodiment of the polar yet complementary cosmic principle?? What do you mean they represent light and dark, logic and intuition, feminine and masculine, movement and stillness, warmth and detachment, chaos and order — and somehow it only works because they do it together? I don’t know much about League lore, but I do know there are literal gods in this universe. So choosing to associate Jayce and Viktor — two guys who just really loved doing science together — with that level of universal importance is kind of wild.

And it’s even weirder because usually it’s the fandom that leans into the grand, fantastical interpretations. Comparing them to Yin and Yang adds a symbolic weight to their bond that’s not even necessary to explain the events of the finale. If anything, it elevates it far beyond what any fanfiction I have seen has tried to do - implying that their “fusion” is more than just personal — it’s structural. It’s symbolic of opposite forces becoming inseparable.

But maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just poetic language. Maybe it was just a throwaway thought — a coincidence that both Harry Lloyd and whoever wrote that little exhibition blurb happened to share. Still. Just some food for thought, I guess.

[julietcpulet]

Can we PLEASE talk about Maomao giving Jinshi MIXED SIGNALS instead of flat out rejecting his advances? Jinshi is under fire constantly for forcing his advances on Maomao but I don't think Maomao has ever said NO to his face. Now, one could argue that this isn't befitting of her status as Jinshi is an Imperial member, so saying no would be disrespectful... but SHE knows who Jinshi is. She knows Jinshi would NEVER force her if he knew she didn't want it, so then why is she hiding behind her "I'm a commoner" excuse? Why not just tell him that she isn't interested? Instead of saying some vague shit like "it could NEVER work between us!" when she knows DAMN WELL, Jinshi will do ANYTHING to achieve his goals. She has witnessed firsthand in the rear palace how committed he is to see things through the end, so it doesn't really make sense for her to do all this unless a part of her secretly wants Jinshi to try. Not to mention the amount of times she's actually shown care for him PUBLICLY. Jinshi is just as confused as everyone else, so why is he getting flamed for trying to pursue the woman he likes who's done nothing but constantly give him hope?

Whew, putting me on the spot with this one 😅

I’m not sure if you’ve read the light novels so I’m going to just address this kind of broadly without trying to spoil anything or without light novel quotations. I’ll take it that you’ve at least seen the anime so I’ll use some moments from there and hopefully be able to address everything with that.

So, about Maomao sending mixed signals, it actually fits in perfectly with her characterization as an unreliable narrator. Basically, this means we can’t always trust what she’s saying because she often deliberately deceives herself, acts as if she knows nothing when she does or has no feelings when the opposite is true. This makes watching her behavior all that more important than listening to the words she says. This factors in to her relationship with Jinshi immensely as she never truly puts off his advances because as she begins to know who he truly is underneath the masks, she does develop feelings for him. Her actions speak louder than her words do. Her accepting more of Jjnshi’s touch, looking calm in his presence, seeking out his help with problems like Lishu’s ghost. She goes to and thinks about him without much realizing it and that is the telling factor in the honesty of her feelings beneath what she may say. If people take Maomao at face value they miss the genuineness of her character underneath and the beauty of her developing relationship with Jinshi.

You’re right that Maomao doesn’t ever come out and tell Jinshi no to his pursuit of her affection. To me there are several progressive reasons for this:

1. In the beginning Maomao deceives herself he couldn’t be interested in her to that degree due to their separation in status. Also, she does have deep seated insecurities related to her looks and being a servant so Jinshi’s interest merely doesn’t seem realistic to her, as such she doesn’t feel the need to turn him down. Even when they are in the cave together and have become so much closer she continues to make statements about them having a “master / servant” relationship when they have gone past that. She doesn’t entertain he could see her any other way so to her his feelings can be dismissed.

2. As things progress she sees his advances as his “childish behavior” which is a part of him she grows to know as his true self. This in turn brings her to develop genuine affection and feelings. However due to her own denial she cannot voice said feelings aloud or express them in a normal way but neither does she want to reject what to her has become a connection she feels safe and familiar with in Jinshi. This means she isn’t going to reject him outright and her outward actions such as not moving away when he touches her or making faces shows her growing comfort with him. As in the last episode she says she “missed this atmosphere” she had only when Jinshi is with her.

3. Finally, a part of Maomao at this point in the narrative (if you’re only at the Shi clan part of the anime) is starting to develop feelings but lacks understanding of herself enough to grasp the depth of them or how to express that at all. Due to her rough upbringing with her parents history and being raised by sisters who loved her in their own way but didn’t know how to fully meet her needs, she’s had to suppress much of her emotions her whole life. As such she lacks the ability yet to be clear about what she wants, needs or feels about a given person or situation. Even though it was clear she was beginning to understand Jinshi was royalty for some time, she dismissed it purposefully. She does the same thing with her own emotions. She won’t say no to his feelings because at this point she’s come to have her own kind of appreciation for being on the receiving end of them but lacks the capacity still to reciprocate, even if her affection is growing.

For Maomao it isn’t about her secretly hiding behind excuses or wanting Jinshi to fight for her like women who expect men to win their affections. In her case it’s that both she and Jinshi have a distorted sense of what love is and are learning together at the same time. She’s not keeping her feelings from him on purpose, she doesn’t understand them herself and ironically, it’s Jinshi’s unfailing pursuit of her that helps her open up to a better understanding of her own emotions to where eventually she can stop running and confront what she feels for him.

As for people being upset with Jinshi’s pursuit of her despite how uninterested she may seem, that is due to a lack of comprehension regarding the nuance of their dynamic. We see time and time again that Maomao has no problem with the ways in which Jinshi treats her despite her protests. This is further evidence of her ability to say one thing and mean another. She will talk of being put off by Jinshi involving her in his buisness, yet she’s the one going ten times as hard to solve the problems once involved, also sometimes making her own problems and involving him afterward. If people do not grasp that Maomao has a knack for self-deception than they will miss all the important aspects of how she relates to people in the plot.

Also, due to modern sentiments, people take things too much at face value with Jinshi seeming like the typical man who won’t take a hint and Maomao the exasperated woman getting hit on by a guy she has no interest in. This isn’t the case at all between them pretty early on. Maomao is put-off by him more at first due to his sparkly persona as the palace nymph because she discerns how fake it is quickly and doesn’t like it when he acts that way. He continues to pursue her because she’s the one woman who notices his beauty but also sees the person beneath any mask he puts on and sees his value beyond how he looks. So anyone who speaks badly of Jinshi is usually looking at his actions through a basic modern lense and not taking the time to see the depth woven into the story.

Overall Maomao isn’t trying to lead Jinshi on and he knows this. It’s why she’s often frustrated with him because he can read her so well. So his pursuit of her isn’t unfounded. What is seen as her initial resistance quickly turns into a soft affection which is where the anime is at currently. Hope this answers some of your questions and clears up Maomao’s feelings towards Jinshi a bit 😄

[momo-kageyama]

The Will to Stop, the Desire to Stay

—————————————————————————

Anime: KPop Demon Hunters

—————————————————————————

Male version of Mira x R.femele.

—————————————————————————

Miro, the male version of the protective tomboy character, and Y/N, a kind, calm, shy, cute and short demon who lives in the human world.

With all the sweetness, nervousness and intensity contained of two characters who approached slowly, in silence, and who now discover the courage to touch each other for the first time with their hearts.

Sweet, emotional and memorable between Y/N and Miro, showing how their relationship evolves with lightness, affection and silent connection. The vibration between them is not made of noisy statements, but of small and sincere gestures that say much more than any word.

The language is poetic, mature and respectful, focusing on mutual desire, affection and discovery. This is the night when they stop just touching each other with their eyes - and finally really surrender.

But it's not a shallow addiction: it's an emotional dependence disguised as desire, a place where they feel alive, safe and free - when the world out of bed is too hard to exist.

The language is intense, intimate and respectful. It's not vulgar - it's loaded with tension, surrender and meaning.

—————————————————————————

—Between soft lights of a coffee at dusk, two worlds meet in a moment of calm and discovery.

⸻

The afternoon was hot, but with that gentle breeze that seemed to sigh through the streets of Seoul. Miro had just left the heavy training with the group and decided to stop at a small cafe, hidden in an almost forgotten street, to rest a little.

He entered, smelling the comforting smell of tea and fresh bread. The environment was cozy, with few tables and an orange light filtering through the windows. While choosing a table, something caught his attention.

Sitting alone, leaning against the wall, was a little girl, with long black hair, attached in a simple way. She seemed so calm and delicate that she almost looked like a moving painting. His big, brown eyes were gentle and observant, but there was a curious glow there.

Miro hesitated for a moment, the shyness not very common in his strong personality surprising him. But something about her made him want to get closer.

He walked to her table, with a gentle smile.

- Hi. Can I sit here? - he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

She raised her eyes, surprised, blushing slightly.

- Of course... - he replied with a soft and shy voice.

As he sat down, he noticed how she shrankered slightly, as if the world around her was too big, but still she was there, firm, small, almost a refuge.

- You seem... calm. I like that. - he said, trying to ease the silence between the two.

She smiled, embarrassed.

- I try. Life here is complicated, but I like it... I really like this place.

Miro felt a heat grow in his chest, different from the adrenaline of battles - something sweet, simple, sincere.

She spoke with that natural calm, the kindness in every word. And he, in turn, felt that he could leave the weapons and masks for a moment.

The conversation flowed slowly, full of small shy laughs and exchanged looks.

She presented herself as Y/N, a soul who, despite her demonic nature, chose to live among humans, learning to appreciate her little beauties and fragilities.

Miro, in turn, talked a little about himself - about the struggles, the losses, but also about the hope he found in his friends.

As the sun went down, the two knew that that meeting was just the beginning of a deep connection, where strength and softness could go hand in hand.

———————

It was a clear night, the full moon illuminating the silent streets of Seoul. Miro walked next to Y/N after a meeting at the cafe where they used to meet. She was especially quiet, her eyes fixed on the starry sky, as if she kept something.

- Y/N, is everything okay? - he asked, worried about the aura of sadness that seemed to involve her.

She hesitated, biting her lower lip before finally looking at him, her eyes shining with a mixture of fear and courage.

- Miro... I need to tell you something. Something I can't hide anymore.

He stopped and turned to her, his eyes attentive.

- I'm not exactly... human. - she whispered, with a voice so soft that it looked like a secret thrown to the wind. - I'm a demon.

Miro's heart accelerated, a wave of surprise and alert rising through the body. He tood back a step, his muscles tense, but his eyes showed no repulsion. There was only curiosity and a hint of concern.

- Why? - he asked carefully. - Why didn't you tell me before?

Y/N took a deep breath, his shoulders falling in resignation.

- Because I was afraid. Fear of being rejected. Fear that you would move away. But I can't pretend anymore.

She stretched out her hand, showing a small bright mark on her wrist, like a tattoo that changed subtly with the moonlight.

- This is my true nature. But I don't hurt anyone. I chose to live among humans because I like it here, because... I want something different.

Miro looked at the mark, then at her sincere eyes.

- I won't leave you like this. - I said firmly, holding her hand gently. - I know who you are, and I still want to be by your side.

Y/N smiled, his eyes shining with gratitude.

- Thank you, Miro. I knew I could trust you.

They continued to walk, now closer than ever, with a shared secret that united them even more.

—————————————————————————

From distancing to complicity, what begins with shy gestures becomes something they didn't even expect.

⸻

In the beginning, everything was care and observation.

Miro always admired Y/N's calm, how she seemed to float around the world without haste, even carrying a heavy secret. She, in turn, felt safe around him - she didn't need to pretend to be someone she wasn't, nor hide her weaknesses.

They met in small moments: a conversation in the cafe, a walk under the golden autumn trees, exchanging light laughter and shy looks.

Over time, small gestures began to say more than words.

Miro began to notice when Y/N nervously moved her hair when she was near him, or when she let out a smile that illuminated her shy face.

Y/N noticed how Miro became more open, how his defenses slowly fell, and he laughed at things he never had the courage to do before.

On a rainy afternoon, while protecting themselves under the same umbrella, their shoulders touched for the first time.

The contact was brief, but enough to accelerate the hearts of both.

With each meeting, the distance between them decreased.

Miro began to look for Y/N's hand, who didn't pull, he just let himself be guided, confident.

They were becoming partners not only in the battles against demons, but also in life.

And even without great statements, the complicity spoke for them.

One day, while watching the sunset, Y/N broke the shy silence.

- You know... - she said, her voice almost a whisper - I never thought someone like you could understand me like that.

Miro smiled, holding her hand firmly.

- I don't need to understand everything. I just need to be here.

And that's how their love grew: slowly, gentle, but impossible to deny.

—————————————————————————

It wasn't planned. It wasn't perfect. But it was real. And it was theirs.

⸻

The night was cold, but the air between them was warm.

Miro and Y/N were sitting side by side on a wooden bench, in the silent garden that surrounded the old temple where they had finished a small mission. The stars were shy, but the full moon illuminated them like a promise hanging in the sky.

Y/N wore a long-sleeved blouse that even covered her fingers. She played with the sewing of the fabric, nervous. Miro was with his hands on his knees, looking forward, but his gaze lost... on her.

The two had been closer for days. Miro accompanied her even when she didn't need to. And she... she smiled more when he arrived. She was more red, more alive.

But nothing had been said yet.

Not with words.

Y/N sighed, his voice so low that he almost couldn't be heard:

- Sometimes I feel like I'm going to explode inside. Of everything I don't talk about.

Miro turned his face slowly.

- Me too.

Silence.

They stared at each other for eternal seconds. Y/N's eyes were shining. And those of Miro, who always seemed determined and safe, now carried doubt... and restrained desire.

She laughed softly, embarrassed.

- I never... kissed anyone who didn't want to hunt me later.

- And I've never kissed someone who left me like this... - he stopped, looking for the word - calm.

She looked at him, surprised.

And it was there, without haste, that he approached.

With her heart beating so loud that she could hear.

Miro stopped a few centimeters from her lips, respecting the space, waiting for a gesture, a yes, a touch.

Y/N closed his eyes.

And she was the one who shortened the distance.

The kiss was light.

Not urgent.

His mouth brushed hers like someone who discovers the taste of trust. And when the lips really touched, it was as if the whole world was silent - and only two hearts remained beating to the same rhythm.

Miro ran his hand slowly over her face, as if he wanted to keep every detail. Y/N held the bar of his blouse with his small fingers, like someone who is anchored in a good dream.

When they parted, their eyes were still closed.

Y/N was the first to open.

She whispered:

- We took a long time, didn't we?

Miro smiled, touching his forehead to hers.

- But it was worth every second.

—————————————————————————

— Moments between Y/N and Miro

After a long day of patrol, the two returned by subway, in silence, listening to the rain hitting the windows.

Y/N, so tired, leaned her head on Miro's shoulder without realizing it.

He looked at her, smiled lightly and stood still the entire way - even when his arm tingled.

He didn't moss. She came first.

———————

She was very quiet on cold days. A little more shy than usual.

So Miro learned how to make hot chocolate the way she liked it - more milk than cocoa, cinnamon powder and a pinch of vanilla.

Without saying anything, he just put the mug in front of her, and she smiled as if it were a flower delivered in silence.

It was the "I thought of you" that she loved the most.

——————

"The silent conversations that only they understand" —

In a coffee, on a mission, or in a difficult moment...

A look was enough.

An arched eyebrow. A corner of the mouth raising.

They understood each other without having to say anything.

As if one's soul had learned to read the other's.

———————

"The playlist he made for her" —

Miro wasn't one to talk much, but created a secret playlist on his cell phone.

With songs that reminded me of the way she walked. The sound of her laughter. The good silence she brought.

One day, she found the list by accident.

Read the name: "Y/N, when the world is beautiful"

She didn't say anything. He just hugged him from behind.

And he knew she had understood everything.

—————————————————————————

"Their First Night" —

When the skin meets the heart, silence becomes sigh.

⸻

The moon seemed closer that night.

The room was lit only by paper lanterns, spreading a soft light on the white sheets and the two bodies sitting side by side on the bed.

Y/N was with her fingers intertwined on her lap, wearing a light sweater, made of thin fabric that fell over her shoulders timidly - just like her.

Miro watched her as if looking at a star closely: with reverence, but also contained desire.

- Are you nervous? - he asked, with a low but firm voice.

She nodded with a small smile, her eyes running away from his for seconds.

- A little. And you?

Miro took a deep breath.

- More than in any battle.

They laughed. The ice that still existed between the two melted for good at that moment.

He approached slowly, touching her chin with the back of his fingers.

- If you want to stop, at any time... just say so. I love you before, during and after.

She didn't say anything.

He just leaned.

The kiss was sweet at first, shy, like all the touches that precede the discovery. But as the bodies approached, their breathing changed. The heat spread through the skins with desire - a sacred, anxious, ancient will.

Miro pulled the strap of the sweater with trembling fingers. Y/N got goosebumps all over when the fabric fell on her arms.

- You're beautiful... - he whispered, his eyes fixed on her, as if she were made of breeze and desire.

She put her hands on his chest, slowly pushing her shirt. His muscles tightened under the touch, but he let it. He left everything: control, containment, fear.

Y/N raised his hands to the back of his neck and pulled him.

- It touches me as if I were yours. - she murmured, with newborn courage.

And he obeyed.

His hands traveled through her skin with slow precision, as if memorizing secret maps.

The kiss went down the neck. The bodies lay together, aligning naturally.

Sheets were pushed with the feet. Choppy breaths merged into the air.

They looked into each other's eyes when he penetrated her for the first time - slowly, as if they both knew that this was an eternal moment.

Y/N squeezed his shoulders, his eyes watered, but smiling.

- I waited for that. For you.

Miro kissed her again. Deeper, more whole.

The movements were slow at first - like dancing. Then more intense, more rhythmic, as the bodies learned each other's way.

Low moans. Sighs.

Ringtones that didn't ask for permission.

Only presence. And delivery.

That night, there was no more fear. Not even secrets. Not even skin without an owner.

There were two bodies rediscovering each other - and two souls who were already married even before any vote.

⸻

When it was all over, Y/N fell asleep with his head on his chest.

And Miro, for the first time in a long time, slept without armor.

Because now... he didn't need to fight alone anymore.

—————————————————————————

It wasn't just pleasure. It was where the world stood from hurting.

⸻

It all started after the first night.

What was supposed to be unique - maybe even rare - has become a habit. Addiction. Secret routine.

And it wasn't always about desire.

Sometimes it was about forgetting.

Forget the blood in Miro's hands. The judges' look of hunters. The scars on the back of Y/N - some visible, others invisible.

They fled to cheap rooms, quiet hiding places or even to the training room, locked inside.

There, they touched each other as if one was the healing of the other.

He kissed her in a hurry, like someone holding the air after days of drowning.

She took off his T-shirt even before closing the door, as if her skin was the only place where she felt alive.

Y/N was different when he touched her - more daring, freer, as if all shyness evaporated along with the heat.

- That's crazy, you know? - he whispered, with his forehead leaning against hers, still with his breath choppy.

- So don't stop. - she answered, biting her lip.

And he didn't stop.

The position didn't matter. The bed, the floor, the wall.

She mounted on him, her eyes half-closed, moaning softly just to provoke.

He pulling her by the waist, growling softly in her ear, like a beast tamed just by a touch.

They made love with their eyes open. Always staring.

As if they were afraid of disappearing in the middle of the act.

Sometimes it happened twice on the same night.

Sometimes, they didn't even expect dawn.

Sometimes, they just slept hugged, without having sex. But the body of one glued to that of the other was as necessary as breathing.

—————

—But there was a problem.

They started not knowing who they were outside that room anymore.

She trembled when he took a long time to show up.

He was restless when she walked away.

Sex became a bridge, but also a prison.

It was beautiful. It was intense. But it was also a refuge.

And they knew - in silence - that one hour they would have to talk about what they felt outside of there.

But until then...

Miro pulled her by the waist.

Y/N pushed him against the wall.

And they sank once again in the only place where the pain was silent:

Inside each other.

—————————————————————————

They tried. But the body spoke before the heart. And love, finally, stumbled loudly.

⸻

They hadn't seen each other for four days.

Four days that looked like open wounds.

Four days that Miro slept badly, and Y/N woke up crying without knowing why.

They had decided: it was too much.

Too much desire.

Too much dependence.

Too much need that didn't give a truce even on days of battle.

- We need to stop - Y/N had whispered, on that bench near the temple. - I'm starting to forget who I was before you.

Miro just nodded.

Without looking into her eyes.

Not knowing how to say that he was also getting lost - and enjoying it.

And then, on that rainy night, Miro appeared.

Wet, panting, with red eyes of contained anger.

She was lying down, wrapped in a blanket, trying to convince herself that she would survive the absence.

When he opened the door, there were no words.

Just the sound of the silence breaking.

He leaned her against the wall, the soaked coat dripping on the floor.

She pulled him by the face.

The lips met like a suffocated scream.

- I tried. - he murmured between kisses. - I swear I tried.

- Me too. - she replied, her voice broken.

The nightgown fell in a hurry.

His hands found her skin as if she were the only anchor in the world.

She moaned low when he lifted her on his lap, with his mouth stuck to his neck.

The whole room seemed too small to contain so much dammed emotion.

They made love as if it were for the last time.

But with the intensity of those who secretly wished it was forever.

The glued bodies.

The strong movements, then slow.

The trembling hands.

The mouths looking for every sigh.

And then, in the middle of the act, when she wrapped him with her legs, her watery eyes, her panting...

He said.

Without planning.

No rehearsal.

- I love you.

Silence.

She froze.

He stopped, still inside her, with his chest going up and down fast.

- I love you. - he repeated, now more firmly. - And no matter what happens... even if we break, even if it's wrong, even if it hurts... I love you.

Y/N cried.

But it was a light cry. Of relief.

Really wide open.

She leaned her forehead against his.

And he whispered:

- I love you too. I tried to stop out of fear. But you... you're the only place where I feel whole.

And then they moved again.

But now it was different.

It was sex with soul. Love in a hurry. I desire with root.

That night, they didn't get lost.

They met.

—————————————————————————

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

It may not be a specific lie, but just about her image in general? Like, being a bully, a diva, etc. And perhaps “8 years” also isn’t specific but more like “my public image has been tarnished since I became known as Harry’s girlfriend/fiancé” or something.

Harry and Meghan just do this thing. They say bold, vague statements to make people wonder and to make their fans feel like there is so much more to the story. Their fans will then fill in the blanks with whatever theories like they threw meghan under the bus to protect william, they’re protecting kate, william must be having affairs, etc.

So I guess the lie is really just about her being a bully/overall horrible person. And she said 8 years because she wants people to think she was such a threat william and kate have been trying to ruin her from the start because they’re all jealous.

Of course that’s not even the story they’ve told when we get down to the details, but that’s what their fans will take away from it and that’s what they will spread like trolls all over the internet.

But since Meghan mentioned 8 years, yes, let us look back and remember that it was her Markle side of the family who first told us about Meghan (not that I don’t think the Markles are not problematic themselves). When was it that Samantha started calling her Princess Pushy? So if we’re talking about Meghan’s overall “public narrative” since she became more known globally as Harry’s girlfriend, I hope Meghan is not forgetting that her own backyard has always been messy.

But of course, her cult followers will continue to blame William and Kate for all of it.

That's fair. I've seen that theory in a few places now - that the lie being told is about Meghan's image - but you're the first one to remind everyone that it was the Markles who actually created that. Not the BRF. I admit, I completely forgot about how the Markles came out of the woodwork, mainly because I remember them being vocal mainly after the engagement, rather than earlier in the relationship, like March - July 2017ish which is what I attributed the "8 years ago" comment to be about.

Anyway, we all know that Meghan is being intentionally vague about this lie and where it's from and who started it because she wants the attention and she wants the BRF to pay attention to her.

[prefer-unique]

How to Resolve Conflicts in a Relationship Without Hurting Each Other

No matter how perfect a relationship may seem, conflicts are inevitable. Disagreements don’t mean your relationship is failing—they mean you are two different people with unique perspectives. However, the way you handle these conflicts determines whether they strengthen your bond or create lasting damage. Many couples fall into the trap of blaming, shouting, or shutting down during arguments.…

[m4jesty-love]

How to Resolve Conflicts in a Relationship Without Hurting Each Other

No matter how perfect a relationship may seem, conflicts are inevitable. Disagreements don’t mean your relationship is failing—they mean you are two different people with unique perspectives. However, the way you handle these conflicts determines whether they strengthen your bond or create lasting damage. Many couples fall into the trap of blaming, shouting, or shutting down during arguments.…

[featherxquill]

The thing about me is, I’m so rejection sensitive, at least where friendship is concerned, that I have learned to completely ignore the part of my brain that tells me that someone is mad at me or hates me and wants rid of me, essentially granting myself cockroach levels of resilience to passive-aggressive social rejection and ghosting. So yes, I will be That Person. I have absolutely no shame and I will send you 32 things that made me think of you even if you haven’t replied, I will persist in asking you to hang out. Like I choose to believe that everyone is just busy or forgetful or has their own shit going on, it’s the only way I can be a functional human being. So if you want to get rid of me that’s completely fine, but I will take none hints and I’m going to need you to Set Some Clear Boundaries, Ma’am.

[anghraine]

I had a longer, grumpier post about this that I've been drafting (it's past midnight but I'm delaying lying down for COVID+asthma reasons), but I actually do also find the raw quotes about Elizabeth at Pemberley pretty funny. Her impressions of the expensive interior are like:

It was a large, well-proportioned room, handsomely fitted up. Elizabeth, after slightly surveying it, went to a window to enjoy its prospect.

The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to the fortune of their proprietor; but Elizabeth saw, with admiration of his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine,—with less of splendour, and more real elegance, than the furniture of Rosings.

Mrs Reynolds could interest her on no other point [than Darcy]. She related the subjects of the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the furniture in vain.

they were shown into a very pretty sitting-room, lately fitted up with greater elegance and lightness than the apartments below; and were informed that it was but just done to give pleasure to Miss Darcy, who had taken a liking to the room, when last at Pemberley. “He is certainly a good brother,” said Elizabeth, as she walked towards one of the windows.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth's impression of the land:

The park was very large, and contained great variety of ground. They entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through a beautiful wood stretching over a wide extent. [...Pemberley was] backed by a ridge of high woody hills; and in front a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste.

The hill, crowned with wood, from which they had descended, receiving increased abruptness from the distance, was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was good; and she looked on the whole scene, the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it, with delight. As they passed into other rooms, these objects were taking different positions; but from every window there were beauties to be seen.

They entered the woods, and, bidding adieu to the river for a while, ascended some of the higher grounds; whence, in spots where the opening of the trees gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of the valley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods overspreading many, and occasionally part of the stream. Mr Gardiner expressed a wish of going round the whole park, but feared it might be beyond a walk. With a triumphant smile, they were told, that it was ten miles round. It settled the matter; and they pursued the accustomed circuit; which brought them again, after some time, in a descent among hanging woods, to the edge of the water, and one of its narrowest parts. They crossed it by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of the scene: it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and the valley, here contracted into a glen, allowed room only for the stream, and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood which bordered it. Elizabeth longed to explore its windings; but when they had crossed the bridge, and perceived their distance from the house, Mrs Gardiner, who was not a great walker, could go no farther, and thought only of returning to the carriage as quickly as possible. Her niece was, therefore, obliged to submit

On reaching the house, they were shown through the hall into the saloon, whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. Its windows, opening to the ground, admitted a most refreshing view of the high woody hills behind the house, and of the beautiful oaks and Spanish chestnuts which were scattered over the intermediate lawn.

[shannonsketches]

Hello, I love reading your DB analyses and headcanons on Vegebul... Was wondering how you imagine Vegeta realized and dealt with his growing deeper feelings of love towards Bulma after the Cell Games? Would he have confessed it outright to her or been more subtle about it?

Hello!! I love yelling about Vegebul, thanks (to you and everyone!) for sending me asks!

I like to think it's been all but unspoken for almost their entire relationship. Bulma's a big romo goober on the surface but she has a lot of trust issues like Vegeta does, and I think for as smart as they both are they both struggle sometimes to put their more fragile feelings into words.

As much as I talk about Goku and Vegeta and their relationships with their wives being foils, I think something they have in common is that their actions have always been much louder and much more meaningful to each other than words.

While I think that Bulma and Vegeta do both appreciate verbal affirmations, I also hc that genuine vulnerable emotion is an easy way to throw them both off their game, and I've always imagined their confessions to be very quiet, if not completely non-verbal.

tldr I think after the Cell Games Vegeta's confession was just Being There for his family and putting in the work to learn what his role is and what his life looks like now and how he can be what his family needs him to be with the options he has. (Saiyans are masters of adaptation, as we know)

In the same vein, one of my favorite things about Bulma's growth as a character is that as a teenager/younger woman she thought the ultimate love was a man who was performative arm candy that she could cart around in public to show off how loved and adored she is, and being with Vegeta seems to have changed that expectation.

My hc is that her needs became more grounded in what was solid and stable and real and her confidence was rebuilt in the shape of someone who didn't really need anything from her, but continued to choose her anyway, and Vegeta's was too. They're both used to positions of strategic leadership and resource acquisition, and expect their value to be limited to how much those positions are required by their peers.

While they both clearly enjoy certain kinds of attention, outside of the occasional performance, Bulma and Vegeta are both very solitary operators. They would do just fine without each other. They're not emotionally dependent on each other. They're not resource-dependent on each other. They could both easily find other physical outlets. They don't need each other at all.

They want to be together. They chose to be together. They keep choosing to be together. They seek each other out, they miss each other, they like each other, as full and complex and weird and annoying and recovering people.

I think that matters a lot more to both of them than anything else, and I think that's been their way of confessing how they feel for a long, long time.

[noireservoir]

So like when people say "what do you people do" when it comes to talking about sex, relationships, going out etc. I don't think it's always good to take it as a bad faith "lol you're a loser adult who doesn't do SHIT" thing but like. I think it's a fair question. If the majority of people that interact with these topics on here aren't having sex or aren't in relationships or make an effort to go out and do things *if you can* then why do so many of you have very, very subjective opinions about these things.

[lyricailove]

I've seen this said in the fandom before and it kinda rubs me the wrong way. One: because it misses a crucial point of Ian's s5 storyline and two: I think some of the people are misremembering the dialogue of that scene between Fiona and Mickey in s4.

What Fiona says: He might be Bipolar like our mom. It's a condition where he experiences high highs followed by low lows. If left unchecked he could become suicidal and will need to be hospitalized.

What some people in the fandom heard: He might be Bipolar like our mom. I'd rather shove him in a sanitarium so I don't have to deal with him.

Fiona was not saying that Ian being in a hospital would be easy for her. She was saying that if he doesn't get the help he needs, going to the clinic and seeing a doctor, he could end up being hospitalized. It's one of those instances where a character that people tend to dislike gets their words taken far out of context and twisted into being something else entirely.

Mickey immediately panics and says that no, they're gonna take care of him themselves and he'll get better that way. Even if Mickey has to hide all the knives himself. So that's what they do. Fiona and Lip don't berate Mickey or yell at him for not wanting Ian to see a doctor. They allow him to take care of Ian and look out for him.

It's not until all of Ian's loved one's are on the same page that he's able to get the help he needs. Unfortunately, he had to have a break and run off with Yevgeny for that to happen. I feel bad for Svetlana having to be that worried about her baby and I know that had to have been incredibly traumatic for her. But I think I want to write about Svet and Ian's relationship one day so I'll dive into that more when I do.